Chapter 13: at the Marina
The main wharf of Karakura was deserted. It was approaching high noon and everyone -- the carters and the midshipmen, the layabouts and the touts -- all fled for the shade uphill, near the trees and the sidewalk retreats. The glare of the sun was persistent, scorching, and beat down its heat on one's skin with the sensation of a thousand tiny pin pricks.
No one in his right mind would suffer in this weather. The owners of the docked pleasure boats were still asleep, and the fisherfolk who earned their living from the sea were likewise at rest.
Yet two men, with silent footfalls and uncovered heads, blocked off the far end of the pier. They both observed a lone figure standing by the edge of the majestic wooden structure. The third man was reading an inscription on a stone slab.
" 'Munakata Kuchiki and his two sons landed on this shore on New Years 1610. They claimed Karakura and its neighboring islands as part of the Satsuma domain, and served as its faithful caretakers in the name of the Imperial family until the Meiji Restoration.' " The man's thin lips curled into a smile. "Such pretty lies, don't you think? Not a word about their retainers or their slaves who did all of the hard labor."
Byakuya Kuchiki knew the man somehow heard his approach. He chose not to respond to his opening gambit that sought to anger him. Instead Byakuya answered: "I would compliment you on your new hairdo, Aizen, except I would hate to be a liar."
The redhead turned and smirked. "So I've been found out," he said calmly. "I guess this disguise is no use to me now. It was fun while it lasted." Unceremoniously, he ripped off the wig and revealed his brunette hair. He smoothed a hand through its tousled waves.
In addition, he peeled off a a realistic layer of artificial skin, revealing the true contours of his nose and cheeks. "It's quite sticky to wear in this weather," Aizen explained airily.
"Wipe off those stupid fake tattoos too, you make me sick," Ikkaku mumbled.
But Byakuya shook his head. "Forget it, Ikkaku. I have to talk to him now."
Ikkaku backed off. He understood.
Byakuya Kuchiki advanced, yet he was unwilling to stand too close to his former associate. He tapped his walking stick on the slats of the wooden structure. "It was stupid of you to attack the Twin Fish Inquiry agents aboard one of my vessels," he said. "You thought I would not hear of this?"
"It was stupid of you to think I wouldn't know that already," Aizen replied, looking at the cane and rolling his eyes at the pretension of it. "There are calculated risks to every endeavor worth undertaking."
"Why did you do this to the Kuchiki? Our families have been affiliated for centuries!"
Aizen laughed; it was a harsh bark that carried over the low tide. "You Kuchikis never consider anyone your equals, have you?" he asked. "Not the Shibas or the Shihoins or the lesser families you deem your retainers and vassals, the Aizens, the Fons or the Ukitakes. Everyone else is supposed to pay tribute to you, either in kind or in labor. You're still living out your feudal dreams. But we owe no fealty to you. The old ties are no longer binding. We spit on your nobility."
The breeze that passed between them was heavy with the smell of brine.
"Is this all you have to say in excuse for breaking the law?" Byakuya raised his voice a notch. "Is this why you've been forging land titles and speculating in real estate that are all adjacent to my own? All my best barristers are busy fending off false claims created by you squatting on my boundaries. Your little business front, HM Realty, has cost me more than 70 million pounds in litigation and settlements."
"Land titles are nothing," Aizen sneered. "This land was here before you nobles decided to split it up among yourselves. Ancient history, but that's how it was. But sure, go ahead and put it that way as if I'm the only criminal. I started speculating with real land for sale, all adjacent to yours. But it got boring… so I altered the titles and merely borrowed a few yards, here and there, to make my estates more attractive to all the tourists who want to settle in our little tropical paradise. Don't you like the boom in the local economy? I'm helping the Commonwealth here."
"Is that it? Is this all about money?"
"Don't be foolish. This is not just about money. This is about respect -- giving and taking it by force." Aizen swallowed. "First, I thought I wanted equality. But I realized I wanted something more. I want to stand higher than you on this earth. So I decided to sow some confusion with those titles. But that game started to get dull, so whenever I sold something off, I would first poison its water source with arsenic." Aizen's smile was deceptively serene. "One of my partners with HM Realty -- never mind his name right now -- is adept with poisons and supplies me with all I need, in exchange for other goods I can ship to him."
"A white-collar criminal trapped on Hueco Mundo, I suppose," Byakuya Kuchiki spat out. "You used to be a man of integrity, Aizen."
"That's where you're wrong. You never really knew me to make such statements true," Aizen said. "Shall I tell you the first thing I poisoned with arsenic? Your ancestral deep well was so lovely, its story so poetic… I just had to make it my first victim."
Byakuya's eyes narrowed.
"We've learned to poison most of the pipe lines here in Karakura, but deep wells are my favorite. Yes. Gin and I got to know deep wells very well." Aizen smiled faintly at some fond memory, and enjoyed his little pun. "I assume that you can't escape the irony of drawing water from your poisoned deep well with your own hands, and sealing the fate of your wife with your petty traditions."
Byakuya Kuchiki was not a fool. He was the Kuchiki: it was expected that he was master of all his emotions. He controled the rage within him, and yet, also marveled at Aizen's underestimation of his powers of observation. He had noticed. Some of his more illustrious tenants had already complained to him personally about the strange illnesses they seem to get after drinking the water. Don't touch the water, he kept telling them, until my staff figures it out. Which is like telling fish not to swim in the sea, but he had tried.
That was the hectic week at work before Hisana died.
Aizen continued his narrative, eyeing Byakuya steadily, perhaps guessing his morbid thoughts. "Some people started to notice the water -- like that pesky Urahara. I wanted him silenced. Too bad the man who got the contract messed it up. It distracted the jury, and I was hoping for a guilty verdict." Aizen paused, as he thought about the girl trapped in the gaol on top of Sougyoku Hills. "It would have been a nice touch to the unforeseen complication in doing away with you."
Byakuya's thoughts whirled in his head.
There's blood in the water. Urahara. Ukitake's people.
Rukia.
Hisana.
"You were so happy to accept these abandoned pups into your home, while those who served your family for centuries was granted no more notice than a paltry mention in your will," Aizen said, each soft syllable dripping with vitriol. "I still can't believe you gave those bitches your name."
Byakuya still managed to ignore the insult. "My family was always generous with yours," he reminded Aizen.
"Not in the ways that truly counted," Aizen said. "Gin and I had to fight for every scrap of respect we could get. I say, enough. I was happy with the idea of all of the happy, grateful tenants of the benevolent Kuchiki clan dying of illness. I wanted there to be numerous fatalities before the truth came out."
"Is this why you killed Hisana?" His voice was low. His hand gripped his cane, as if he was merely waiting for a single syllable.
But once more, the answer was unexpected. "Oh, Hisana was collateral damage, a happy accident if you let me describe her as such," Aizen assured him. "As much as I despised Hisana and her sister, you always were the intended victim. Arsenic poisoning is a slow method for murder. Everyone's got an outer limit for the stuff. When I had gone about poisoning the groundwater, she seemed to be more affected by arsenic than anyone else. Your constitution, strangely enough, seems unaffected by the poison! I realized it would take longer than I thought.
"So I had someone else kill her off since it was useful to have you distracted by grief. Besides, what if her aversion to the hospital changed, and she was given a blood test for heavy metals by some overzealous doctor? Hisana had to go." Aizen eyed Byakuya sideways. "You've been unable to drink liquor lately, I take it? And having some sensitivity to food? Finally, a physiological reaction…! I liked the idea of killing you by degrees, a little more each day. I wanted to see your smug little empire crumble apart, like a fortress built upon sand."
Noticing that Byakuya's expression hardly changed, Aizen added: "Strange. When you didn't go into mourning, I thought maybe you were grateful she was put out of her misery."
Byakuya Kuchiki heard enough. The thick veil enshrouding his buried emotions was shoved aside. Byakuya reached for the sword concealed in his walking stick. The Senbonzakura was not the oldest blade in his family's arsenal, but it was the only one that came in this form. He jabbed it in Aizen's direction. "Let us finish this," Byakuya finally snapped. "I demand satisfaction. I know you call yourself a swordsman, too. Ikkaku has a spare, if you wish to defend yourself as a gentleman."
"My, my," Aizen said, highly amused. "You actually wish to elevate me to your level. It's too late! You've brought the wrong weapon to the fight. But I'll humor you with one of my own." From a holster he drew out his SIG P210-2 and aimed it at the other man's heart.
As Byakuya rushed towards him in a blur of motion, Aizen pulled the trigger. Thrown off balance by the sudden recoil, the shot went wild and there was a crash of steel smashing into flesh and bone. Byakuya withdrew his sword, blood dripping from its tip.
"Your head is next," Byakuya informed him, but Aizen was ready for him and steadied his grip once more, ignoring the gaping wound on his shoulder. He took a couple of steps backwards.
The second bullet shot out and ricocheted against the naked blade.
Feet pounded up and down the pier's entrance.
"Stop! Police!"
Three, four, five shots rang out in the muggy weather.
Stunned, Byakuya Kuchiki was hit repeatedly in the chest. He fell to his knees.
"Your head is next, Kuchiki," Aizen taunted. His finger itched for the kill.
"Hands up, Aizen! Now!"
The sixth shot came from the opposite direction.
Inspector Kurosaki could have sworn he didn't pull his trigger, so he was staggered when Aizen's body fell backwards into a graceful arc.
He looked over his shoulder to see Ukitake lower his weapon, a grim expression on his face.
Ichigo paused. He was waiting for the distinctive splash of a heavy weight falling into the sea. Instead, he heard strange clattering, a groan, and then the dull roar of a speedboat roaring to life.
Ukitake rushed to the side of the fallen while Ichigo ran to the edge of the pier. "What the hell --"
"You bloody fools!" Byakuya was piqued as he tried in vain to get up to his feet. "Aizen's getting away."
"It was silly of you to confront him," Ukitake scolded his client as he leaned to assess the damage. "You should have left it to me." He hurriedly ripped off the remains of the wounded man's designer clothes.
"The Kuchiki has no tradition for cowardice or stupidity," Byakuya said as he closed his eyes. His chest hurt from the impact of the shots.
Ukitake couldn't help but grin in relief. Under all the layers, there it was: a concealed bulletproof vest and an audio recorder. Its mechanism had stopped dead in its tracks, riddled with bullets.
His chest was probably going to be a mass of black and blue bruises, but Byakuya Kuchiki was going to live.
"I think Hitsugaya will enjoy retrieving evidence from that." The older man's satisfaction was cut short by the sharp sounds of live rounds being discharged into the sea.
The breeze was sharp once more with the scent of gunpowder.
Before Ukitake had time to turn around, Chief Inspector Shihoin was there. Her light footfall made her movements seem inhumanly fast. "Stop that now," she thundered at Ichigo. "Drop it!"
Obediently, the young inspector let his emptied Glock fall to the ground. It clattered and got caught between two wooden slats. The Chief Inspector picked it up.
The gun was still warm.
"He got away," Ichigo said dumbly. "I can't fucking believe it. After I finally figure it out, Aizen still got away." He stabbed an angry finger in the direction of the watery distance. The Chief Inspector could barely make out the figures of the two men, one silvery-haired and one brunette, sailing off to God-knows-where.
"I can't fucking believe it," he repeated. His clenched fist wanted to slam against the commemorative stone slab and pulverize it into little pieces. "His accomplice was waiting below the pier the entire time. I didn't even get to lay my eyes on the pricks."
Yoruichi Shihoin grinned. "You can look at some old mug shots and driver's licenses," she offered. "Really, Sosuke Aizen and Ichimaru Gin aren't the stuff of centerfolds."
"Why are you so relaxed about this?" Ichigo grumbled.
"Don't be stupid, Kurosaki," the Chief Inspector said, pointing. "I alerted the Coastal Authority on the way here. I had a feeling this was going to happen. For now it's all up to them."
They watched as two speedboats came out from nowhere and began to chase after the killers.
"Enthusiastic to help out, huh?" Ichigo said sarcastically.
"Of course they are," the Chief Inspector said. "All I needed to say was that the murderers of Inspector Abarai were on the loose, and they jumped. Nothing like the words 'cop killer' to get everyone to snap to attention." She turned to Ichigo and studied him sideways with her feline glance.
When Ichigo didn't reply, she decided to go easy on him. "Inspector Kurosaki. Wait for me at the office. We have things to discuss."
"But --"
"That's an order, Inspector."
Inspector Kurosaki opened his mouth once more to protest, but the Shihoin's ferocious glare made him stop. As she turned her back on him and radioed the boats in hot pursuit, Ichigo moodily stalked off. He hated being treated like a rookie, and hell, the Chief still had his weapon.
Ichigo paused mid-way and halted in front of Byakuya Kuchiki. The powerful businessman was being helped to his feet by Ukitake.
There was something that lay heavily on Ichigo's mind. He vented his frustration out on Ikkaku. "Why didn't you do anything, punk?" he yelled at the bald man. "You just watched them attack each other and do nothing?!"
"I had my orders," Ikkaku said stoutly. "As do you."
Ichigo glared. In the end, he kept his mouth shut and slunk off, fuming.
Byakuya grimaced at Ichigo's retreating back, as Ukitake and Ikkaku maneuvered him into a waiting vehicle. The bruises on his chest and ribs from the impact of the shots were black and painful. "That boy owes me an apology," he observed.
"I fancy he thinks you owe Miss Rukia an apology, too, boss," Ikkaku muttered.
The Kuchiki fell silent.
New Interlude Alert! (9-1-08)
I wrote two IchiRuki-ish interludes that I originally deleted from the main narrative. When I posted them over on my blog, however, some of my friends told me I made a mistake in having omitted them. (visualize me banging my head against a wall)
So with a little tweaking of the current chapter ordering, I just put them in now where they ought to be. If you want to read them, they are Interlude 6.2 (Tape Recorder, Part I) and Interlude 8.2 (Tape Recorder, Part II.)
I hope these additions are welcome. :D Thanks for your patience and all the great reviews. The last chapters will definitely be up in a week or two. Please stay tuned until then!