Title: Moon Over the Tower: Chapter Twenty-One
Series: Bleach
Rating: R
Warnings: het (IchiHime), blood, scariness, religious topics. Should be read with the lights off.
Spoilers: This is AU. We don't need spoilers where we're going.
Disclaimer: These characters belong to a lot of Japanese people, namely people like Tite Kubo and Shonen Jump. You'll notice how none of those are me. This will probably (never) be updated weekly, until I eventually drop it like every other project ever. Not responsible for epileptic seizures or allergic reactions. May contain eye-and-brain-bleeding levels of radioactive ANGST and/or peanut products. Please sit a reasonable distance from your computer screen.
Author's Note: Sorry for such a long absence! Tumblr has given me the spark to start writing again, although I've already been drawing! I know this chapter has been forever in the making, but I hope you enjoy it! Hopefully there will only be another couple chapters of this one, and then we can close the book on it altogether! Thank you for everyone who's stuck with this story so far, and I hope you'll stay with me til the end!
"What the devil possessed you?"
Ichigo narrowed his eyes at his valet's hiss, looking at him from his side. Ishida looked heavily agitated, and with good reason. Ichigo had left all arrangements for Orihime's request to him.
To the valet's credit, he'd done an excellent job of carrying them out. And there had been a lot to carry out. Learning from the experience with Orihime's arrival there, the main hall and guest room would have to be warmed, fires lit, floors swept, food acquired, dishes cleaned and polished, and certain airs put on. Luckily, Ichigo's family was used to moving in more human circles, so even his little sisters knew how to behave. Still, it was a lot to do in two days' time and Ichigo's staff had worked ceaselessly to see it accomplished.
Worse yet was the fact that all of this was for one woman (two if Orihime was counted, and the servants didn't seem to think she should be). And as much as Orihime loved her sister, it wouldn't be too much to think that others might get resentful of being put out because of her over their Christmas holiday.
Fortunately, Ichigo's family had weathered the storm with a great deal of forbearance. They had taken it with good humor, and he'd concocted a reasonably believable story for them; Rangiku was Lady Inoue's older, widowed sister-in-law, and her closest confidant, so of course it would be natural for her to be let in on her impending elopement. And as far as Rangiku knew, the lot of them were just spoiled, if slightly eccentric, nobles.
And that was fine by Ichigo. In fact, he wanted nothing more at this very moment than to have all unwanted guests (as well as all welcome guests) out of his home and on their merry way. He could wait for his wedding night - actually, he was quite nervous about it, for a few reasons - but he didn't want to wait for it with his nattering father in attendance.
Just the thought of that made him wince. Whether it was the prospect of his father offering more unwelcome advice, or of him losing control of himself and hurting Orihime because of the distraction, he neither knew nor cared. Whatever the case, he didn't want to do something wrong and botch the entire deal. And his father standing over him the entire time would certainly increase the risk of that happening.
Maybe he should enlist his mother's help.
Looking over across the blazing, warm main hall, he could see that she was rather preoccupied. Masaki seemed to be busy entertaining Rangiku, while Isshin was just excited at the prospect of another fine young lady in his son's establishment. Ichigo shook his head in consternation - regardless of what his father thought, he wasn't the type of vampire to keep a harem like some of the other lords they knew. And as he watched his mother swat at his father's hand with her fan, he knew his father couldn't get away with it even if he wanted to.
Ichigo turned back to his valet, finally ready to answer his question, eyebrows puckered toward the center of his forehead. The look he gave him was full of palpable frustration.
"You know I couldn't tell her no," he replied slowly. "It's the least I can do, as she's leaving her entire life behind." Ishida's countenance softened; regardless of the extra work this placed on his shoulders, he had also grown fond of the castle's soon-to-be mistress and couldn't bear her any ill will.
"That's all well and good," the valet replied, "But what will we do if this human girl discovers us as well?" Ichigo arched an eyebrow.
"We were willing to keep Orihime here for a month," Ichigo pointed out. "It makes no difference. She won't discover us." An uncomfortable silence settled between them as Ishida had no rebuttal. Ichigo could tell he was unconvinced anyway. Finally, after an indeterminable length of time had passed, Ishida spoke again.
"Has she told you everything Ichimaru said?" Ishida asked softly, scanning the room. Ichigo wondered if he was looking for someone in particular.
"As far as I know," Ichigo replied, keeping his voice low in return. "I assume you're interested in Aizen's work with ghouls that he mentioned." Ishida's lips became a thin line as he nodded. His eyes didn't meet Ichigo's; instead, he was looking off at the man dressed in immaculate white across the room. His father.
"It's good news," he said tonelessly. "As twisted as that sounds. It's something I'd suspected for a while anyway." Ichigo's eyes flickered to Ishida's face.
"What is?"
"That they aren't mindless. That Nemu is still Nemu. Maybe it's just harder for her to get past her hunger." Ichigo's eyes glimmered in understanding. Even though his family had patiently humored Uryuu about keeping Nemu, deep down Ichigo had always suspected that his valet was over-projecting quite a bit onto the black-haired girl. He was glad to see he'd been wrong; if nothing else, the rekindled hope in Uryuu's eyes was worth it.
"You could talk to Urahara about it," Ichigo suggested. "He's always inventing and researching." Ishida nodded, his eyes still trained on his sire.
"I've already decided to," the valet responded. "His area of expertise seems to be finding ways to subvert our natural predilections; I've no doubt that's a large part of the reason why your father has been so intent on cultivating his friendship recently, as well."
Ichigo nodded. Ishida was correct, as far as he could tell. While his father had no compunction about taking human life when it was necessary, he wasn't fond of needless killing. Humans tended to be more useful alive than not, most times, anyway. But the larger 'predilection' to which Ishida referred was Ichigo's personal disorder. It was clear that was what was being referenced.
Of course, Urahara and the Marquis had been friends for ages, so it was also just as likely that they were seeing him more often because his assistance was more often required now. But that was a depressing train of thought and Ichigo shied from it.
"How go the preparations otherwise?" he asked, changing the subject. Uryuu removed his monocle and began cleaning it with a handkerchief he'd stowed in a vest pocket.
"If you mean whether they're advancing apace, I'd say they are," he sniffed. "It has been rather a bother otherwise. You wouldn't believe how low Lady Inoue's sister insisted upon her décolletage being for her gown! And for Lady Inoue's, as well! It was beyond the bounds of decency!"
Normally, Ichigo would've found his valet's consternation amusing. But considering what had happened the last time he'd seen Orihime in a low-cut dress, he was just a little grateful for his indignation. He certainly didn't need to be distracted by his fiancée's generous breasts during the ceremony, of all things; she was already well distracting enough as it was.
Another night, then day, passed uneventfully. Orihime wondered if the wait might not just kill her before she was already agreed upon to expire.
Of course, that was to be in a controlled environment, so she could hardly feel fear at it. It was agreed that the Count would be the one to do it; not only would he feed on her until the point of exsanguination, but he would also be the one to open his veins and provide her with her new life. She would hardly want anyone else performing the deed, nor did she think he'd be able to stand knowing anyone but him had been the one to do it. Of course, there would be people watching; Ishida and Tatsuki had already appointed themselves the task, and Orihime had heard that even Sado would be there. Understandably, the Count had been wary of having his parents there - it was a rather personal rite, after all - and his staff had agreed to keep hidden unless otherwise needed. They would at least have the illusion of privacy.
None of that was to say she wasn't nervous. Orihime was more jittery than she'd ever been in her entire life. And while she appreciated Rangiku's company, having her sister here and keeping up the charade for her was still stressful. While the others were perfectly at ease in deceiving the blonde - Orihime supposed from the practice of several human lifetimes - she was not yet used to it. At least Rangiku herself was eager enough to write off Orihime's nervousness as being due to virgin wedding jitters.
So it should have come as no surprise to her when she found herself ambushed by her older sister in her own room.
"Sooo..." Rangiku grinned from her spot, sitting right in the middle of Orihime's bed. Orihime knew the lilt of that particular expression; that meant Rangiku wanted her to go ahead and spill the latest gossip. Outside of the fact that most of the people in the castle at the moment were vampires, though, Orihime had nothing of interest to tell her. Instead, she stood before her sister in her night shrift, looking for all the world like a startled deer.
"Umm..." Orihime stammered. "I don't really..." Rangiku wasn't buying it for a second, and with a mischievous grin, she grabbed her sister's hand and pulled her down to the bed beside her.
"Oh, don't give me that!" Rangiku half-scolded. "I want the details! How much have you done with the Count?" Orihime's jaw dropped open while her ears turned a charming bright pink. Leave it to Rangiku to get straight to the point.
"N-N-Nothing!" she stammered. "He's been very kind and proper!" The twinkle in Rangiku's eye suggested she didn't buy it for a second.
"Come now, dear!" Rangiku tutted. "You don't expect me to believe that, do you?" Orihime's mouth pointed upwards in a little caret as she tried to look indignant; mostly, she just looked embarrassed, though.
"H-He hasn't!" Orihime exclaimed. But her lasting guilt kept creeping through her countenance. "Well... Not really."
"I knew it!" her sister clapped with glee. "Tell me everything! How was it? How big was it?"
"Not like that!" she continued. "He only touched me! A-And we were interrupted! And his family has been here the rest of the time and he's been busy with them and I've been busy getting ready so there hasn't been anything going on!" Everything Orihime said was true, really. But why did it feel like she was leaving so much out? Rangiku, on the other hand, merely scoffed.
"Oh, my poor innocent dear," she cooed, leaning to plant a kiss on her sister's forehead, "The two of you are going to be so hopeless!" Orihime was just a bit puzzled by this reaction, but before she could say anything about it, another voice interrupted her.
"She and Ichigo?" Rukia asked as she crept into the room. Orihime felt like she was being cornered; between the Marquise and her own sister, she knew she wasn't going to escape unembarrassed. "Oh, I quite agree!" Rangiku's mouth turned up into a cat-like grin when she saw that she had a compatriot in the room.
"Oho, another experienced woman!" Rangiku said knowingly. "We have to give my little sister a proper education before we send her off to her wedding night!" Rukia gave a firm nod while Orihime sat there, somewhat scandalized.
"You, too, Rukia?" she asked, with something akin to ashamed wonder. She had known that her sister had had some illicit lovers - Mr. Hisagi had been the most recent, but there had been a few since her brother had died. But Rukia? She was a noblelady! Maybe this was something common that other girls did, and she just wasn't informed of it? Did people normally defy the church like that?
"With that valet of yours, right?" Rangiku asked, ignoring her sister's obvious discomfort. When Rukia nodded with a triumphant smirk, Rangiku continued. "I knew it! I can't blame you, I don't think I'd be able to resist, either!"
"I suspect my brother knows, but he keeps trying to marry me off anyway," Rukia said with a devious grin. "We will soon have him convinced, at any measure!" Rangiku gave her a conspiratorial nod and a wink.
"Then you can obviously help my poor sister here," the blonde answered. "Poor, sweet Orihime needs to be prepared for her wedding night!" All color left Orihime's face as two pairs of predatory eyes landed on her.
"Oho, is that so?" Rukia asked, stroking her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I can offer advice!" Orihime really wished she wouldn't; she was just then attempting to disappear into her fluffy bed.
"The most important thing is that he prepare you beforehand," the black-haired vampiress continued unabated. "Your womanly parts can only make enough fluid if he treats them kindly!" Rangiku nodded in sage agreement.
"Otherwise, it'll hurt," the busty woman tacked on. Orihime considered making a run for the door. Did she really need to know all this? Couldn't she just learn it when she was married? Wasn't her husband supposed to teach her, anyway? The other two ladies continued on about maidenheads and fluids and stimulation, leaving Orihime's head spinning with ideas of her body as some kind of farm machine with cogs and gears.
They continued late into the night, Orihime having tuned them out long ago. Sometimes, being a little flighty had its advantages. As Rangiku and Rukia rhapsodised over the best positions and methods of insertion (some of which Orihime had never even thought possible), the younger girl drifted away on a cloud of daydreams and fairy stories. As lurid as her imagination had gotten those past few weeks, she still couldn't bring herself to picture the things the other women were talking about.
Finally, well after midnight, the girls broke up, with Rangiku proclaiming it time for her beauty sleep. Rukia obliged, leaving them, and Rangiku was soon curled into Orihime's huge bed like a cat. Having been up quite late at night lately, though, Orihime found herself unable to sleep. Instead, she quietly left her room, padding on slippered feet to find Tatsuki or one of the Count's sisters.
Instead, she heard the soft fluttering of a golden shadow. Orihime turned to see the smiling countenance of her soon-to-be mother-in-law approaching her from behind. There was something about the way she moved, fluid and silent as a cat, that Orihime found simultaneously eerie and graceful. More than that, though; she was suddenly overcome with the inescapable feeling that she was looking at herself in the distant future.
"Good evening, milady," Orihime said politely, ducking her head and giving a little curtsey. The Marquise smiled warmly at her, although considering she was fully dressed while Orihime was in a simple night shrift, the latter felt more than a bit under-dressed.
"No need to be so formal, dear," the vampiress gently chided, "Haven't I told you already? We're to be family. Please call me Mother." Orihime lifted her head and saw an amused twinkle in the matriarch's eye. Somehow, unlike the other two girls, this made her feel more at ease.
"Yes Mother," she replied obediently. The older woman extended her arm.
"Walk with me, dear," the Marquise asked pleasantly. Even though it was an order, Orihime felt no compunction to disobey, or even question her elder. Instead, she looped her arm through her elder's and began walking, much as two highborn ladies would've done in the city.
After several paces in comfortable silence, the Count's mother turned to Orihime. "What's troubling you, dear?" she asked. Orihime's cheeks turned pink at the question as her eyes darted away.
"Umm, the other girls," she began hesitantly, unsure of how much she should say, "They were trying to give me advice. F-For my wedding night, I mean." The Marquise chuckled knowingly.
"It's a bit overwhelming, isn't it?" she kindly said. "Don't worry. I was just as nervous as you are now, but had no one to offer me advice. Our house was not as full then as it is now!" Orihime could only imagine her mother-in-law's predicament when she had first been married. She wasn't even sure if the elder Kurosaki woman had the benefit of ladies-in-waiting when she had been newly created. Certainly she wouldn't have been able to see any human relations. Still, she seemed not at all troubled by it.
"How did you get through it?" Orihime asked, trying not to make her question too direct. Fortunately for her, the Marquise understood her shyness perfectly and was appropriately circumspect.
"My husband was so concerned with not hurting me that it scarcely mattered," she replied with a fond smile. "We learned together over time. Perhaps the only thing you should really concern yourself with learning for now is how our children are made."
Orihime had only the vaguest notion of how human children were made, let alone vampire children. Rangiku had made quite sure to instruct her in the way in which they were made, and to make sure she knew that they could (and often did) happen whether you were already married or not. Her older sister was quite aware that with Orihime being as comely and innocent as she was, one of the troublesome townsmen was likely to try and trick her into his bed at some point. But past the bare basics, Orihime had to admit that she didn't know much.
"Is that... Is that much different from humans?" she asked hesitantly.
"Not at all," the Marquise said. "It works in much the same way. The only difference lies in how often we are able to conceive. Because it strains our bodies so, we are only able to conceive once every ten years or so." Orihime was actually fascinated by this. Unlike the overly embarrassing talk her sister and Rukia had tried to give, this one actually held her attention. At the very least, it explained why a woman that was at least a hundred years old had only three children.
"But how will I know I'm ready?" Orihime asked. "What if I miss it?" The matriarch gave her a knowing smile.
"Oh, you'll know," she said slyly. "It's rather hard to miss."
Orihime couldn't help but think that was simply more than a bit ominous.
Much later in the night, when the human girls had gone to bed and the rest of the household had begun to settle, Uryuu found himself restless as well. He did as he ever did in times like these; he climbed the turret just above his chambers, leading to one of the castle's ancient lookout towers. From there, he could survey the white, moonlit landscape below.
Unlike other nights, however, there was a figure already ahead of him. The thin, white clad figure leaned out of Uryuu's favorite parapet, a cigar in hand, as he appeared to be studying the castle grounds outside.
Uryuu felt his backbone stiffen at the sight of him then. His relationship with his own father was strained beyond anything Ichigo and the Marquis could imagine. Beneath their constant bickering, there was at least a kind of grudging affection (and not-so-grudging on the Marquis' part). With his own father, however, Uryuu had only ever felt something like indifference; since he'd taken Nemu in, that indifference had even hardened into something colder, like bitter resentment.
As Uryuu turned to leave the room, hoping he hadn't been noticed, his father cleared his throat.
"I hear you have received news regarding that girl's condition," Ryuuken said, betraying no emotion. 'That girl' was obviously Nemu; he never referred to her by name, something that rankled the younger Ishida even now. Uryuu's eyes narrowed as he prepared to answer.
"Yes," he replied firmly. "Before he was killed, Ichimaru mentioned that the Duke had studied ghouls in great detail." He didn't feel like opening up more for the conversation his father very obviously wanted to have with him right now.
"I hope you will not be tempted to engage in anything foolish," Ryuuken said, implying rather clearly that Uryuu was always just a bit foolish. Uryuu felt a small twitch by his right eye. It was always like this with his father.
"If by 'foolish' you mean keeping Nemu with me and trying to help her," he began, not bothering to keep the accusation out of his voice, "Then yes, I am going to continue my 'foolishness'."
Sharp, icy blue eyes turned back towards him then; Uryuu could even see them in the dark, reflecting moonlight back at him.
"I was asking if you were going to seek help from Aizen," his father clarified sternly. Even though that clarification made Uryuu feel slightly better, he was still mostly indignant.
"Why would I ever seek help from such a devil as the Duke?" Uryuu asked incredulously. His father was no longer simply calling him stupid; he was questioning his integrity as well.
The older vampire's eyes flickered away from him then, going to rest on the moon hanging halfway over the winter sky. His breath, warmed by the cigar's heat, came out in a thin stream that floated into the glittering night. If Uryuu didn't know better, he'd think there was something almost melancholy about his father now.
"Because that's what I would have done."
Uryuu felt as though ice water had been dumped down his back. He couldn't imagine his father caring about anyone enough to want to help them unless it was out of duty, let alone someone as vulnerable as Nemu.
"Would have?" he asked, throat hoarse.
"Do you remember your mother at all, Uryuu?" the older man spoke, before puffing again almost nonchalantly at his cigar. Uryuu thought about the question. It had been at least sixty years since the woman had died; he knew that as a fact. He knew she had straight black hair like his. He knew she had kind eyes. He knew she was warm, even though she was a vampire just as they were. But beyond that vague impression, no, he couldn't say he knew anything about her at all.
"Somewhat," he replied after some thought.
"She was born a half-blood," his father continued, "Just like Miss Arisawa. We would not have been allowed to be married, so I chose to be disinherited instead. The Marquis took us in as help."
Uryuu's head spun. He had never even questioned where his father had come from, let alone his mother. To the best of his knowledge, the Ishida family had always served as head of staff for the Kurosaki family, back into prehistory. Instead, his father had chosen exile rather than to give up the woman he had loved.
"But why didn-" He was cut off as his father turned to face him fully.
"I had hoped," he interrupted, "that when the time came, you could step into the role that I had left, as a nobleman." Suddenly, all of his father's disapproval of Nemu made perfect sense. If he had given up his inheritance over a half-blood turned full vampire, there would be no way Uryuu could claim his father's title with a ghoul in tow.
"I'm afraid that will not be possible," Uryuu replied with finality, a small lump forming in his throat. His father nodded, taking a puff from his cigar.
"I see," was all the older vampire said, turning back to watch the moonlight from the tower. His father had never been a man of many words, and tonight was no exception. Sensing the conversation was at its end, Uryuu turned to go.
"I'm sorry you don't remember her," his father said abruptly, just as Uryuu's foot was about to touch the first step down. It froze in mid-air, its owner not quite sure if he should continue or turn back. "She was a remarkable woman."
There was a long pause as Uryuu reckoned what to say next. His father was obviously in an odd mood, one that he didn't quite think he'd ever witnessed before.
"She was a lot like you," Ryuuken said, almost to no one in particular, "Too soft-hearted for her own good." This made Uryuu smile, regardless of his own misgivings. His father wasn't speaking out of admonition; rather, his words spoke of love and devotion, no matter how awkward.
"Thank you, Father," Uryuu replied, turning again towards the stairs. The father made no reply, nodding silently instead, as his son went back the way he'd came.