Chapter Thirty Three: Jun'ei's Flight
Kenpachi Yachiru.
Retsu rested her hands on the sill of the autopsy chamber, a frown crossing her features as she gazed out across the busy yard of the Fourth Division. Although she knew that she had a long list of things that needed to be done and that the massacre at the Eleventh should be taking prominence in her mind, try as she might she could not forget the hazy recognition that had flashed into the eyes of the mysterious patient that moment he had grasped her arm and met her gaze. It had been a brief moment of determined clarity, but there had been no opportunity to ask the stranger what he had meant by it, for he had slipped back into unconsciousness, his heavy eyelids drooping shut and his breathing evening out as he had returned to his stupor.
Retsu had been shaken, but she had not wanted to frighten Mitsuki with the potential implication of the man's words, telling her instead that the man's return to wakefulness was a positive sign and that she should monitor him yet more closely as he continued to recover. She had been firm and brisk in her command, allowing no probing questions, and Mitsuki, though her eyes had glittered with curiosity, had responded with her usual tact and understanding, accepting the order without asking any questions.
To think that that name would emerge now, in these circumstances.
Retsu sighed, turning reluctantly back towards the row of biers on which lay the corpses of three of the Eleventh Division members. They had all been formally identified now, and the severed hand had been matched to the corpse of a young officer by the name of Tanaka. In the centre lay Ikata's corpse, the biggest and broadest of the individuals, and then to his right, the blooded form of the unfortunate Karachi. In the room next door, Eriko and Madeki were overseeing the active post-mortem examinations of some of the other officers, but Retsu had taken responsibility herself for these three individuals, sensing that these corpses held the detailed clues to what had happened in Inner Seireitei that night. Both Ikata and Tanaka bore signs of wounding from Enishi's blade, although the wound to Tanaka's damaged arm had already been traced to the weapon of one of the injured Eleventh officers who had been found outside of Minaichi's chamber. The broken end of Tanaka's zanpakutou had been retrieved from Minaichi's body, but it had disintegrated to dust almost immediately, suggesting that it had already reached an advanced state of decay by the time it had been thrust into the Captain's side. Karachi had definitely been struck dead by Ikata's weapon, and the quantity of decaying blade reiatsu lingering around the wound had only added to Retsu's fears that, as outlandish as it might sound, Enishi's claim that all of the officers had been dead before the attack was not impossible.
But I sorely wish that it were, because I do not like what I feel I am about to prove true. These are wounds struck by weapons that have begun to fragment and rot into the wounds they caused. They were dead weapons, which is why Tanaka's sword broke so easily. Ikata's sword is older and endured for longer - but its fragility and the residue it left behind suggests the wielder was no longer in command of the blade when the blows were struck. These men were zombies acting on unknown impulses...and not puppets like those of Aizen Keitarou, but ones like the Dangai dead, whose hearts had ceased to beat and whose bodies had begun to decompose. I have yet to begin a detailed autopsy, but the scent of death is so pervasive that I can already see that Ikata and Tanaka did not die at Eleventh last night. Karachi was killed by Ikata, but his body remains fresher than theirs, suggesting he died more recently. These anomalies frighten me, but they cannot be ignored.
Retsu moved to stand beside Ikata's corpse, her expert gaze running over the corroding blade of the Vice Captain's zanpakutou. It was coated in congealing blood, blood which had already been identified as having come from members of the Eleventh, including the unfortunate Karachi, as well as the Thirteenth Division's Fourteenth Seat. Spirit matter on the hilt of Ikata's weapon had also matched the unconscious Minaichi, and only a half hour earlier Retsu had received a detailed statement from Kai about his investigation of the scene, including Kohaku's witness testimony of the events at Eleventh that night.
Kohaku saw Ikata strike his Captain, something no witness at the scene had been able to fimly report, and the reiatsu on Ikata's sword proves that boy once more correct.
Retsu touched a finger lightly to the sword, her lips thinning.
Kohaku has the Mirror sword, and the things he sees are founded in truth. I wonder how deep that runs, or whether it even matters. I hope it does not, but I begin to fear that it might. All of these things...may speak to us of shadows in a past most of us do not remember. That boy alone might be able to know the answers to my doubt, and yet, as a healer, causing him the distress and danger necessary to confirm my fears is something I wish to avoid. Ukitake-taichou has rehabilitated him and allowed him a fresh life here, but the depth of clarity with which he witnessed this event makes me wonder whether the threads of Seireitei's past are more vivid now in the atmosphere than they have been in several thousand years. If so, none of this is a coincidence. Nor is it the work of Aizen Katsura...not that I really believed that it was.
Retsu withdrew her touch from Ikata's zanpakutou, accepting to herself that the biological evidence made the possibility of an Eleventh Division mutiny a dubious reality. Enishi had told the truth about the scene into which he and his officers had arrived, she mused grimly, but then, she had not supposed it to be any other way. Houjou Enishi was a trusted officer not given to deceit or flights of fancy, and certainly not the calibre of individual to kill people unnecessarily. Although the detailed tests to calculate the official time of death for the officers were not yet completed, Retsu was experienced enough to know that the contrast between Karachi's bloodsoaked corpse and the congealed, blackish slime that coated the wounds of the other officers suggested a difference in their manner of death. Karachi's heart had been beating at the time of the assault, she reflected, an attack witnessed by an officer of the Thirteenth whose account of the incident matched with the evidence. By contrast, the wounds on Tanaka and Ikata were more severe, in particular in Ikata's case, for Enishi's sword had severed through most of his vital organs in an attempt to ensure the man's rampage was really at an end. Lack of blood loss indicated the cuts had been made after the heart had stopped beating, and although the time spent in the Dangai would probably make an exact determination of the time of death difficult, the more she looked at the corpses, the more she knew that they had been dead before they had stepped out of the Gate into Seireitei.
I must conclude that the actions of the Thirteenth Vice Captain, while unprecedented and vigilante, probably saved lives at Eleventh. And, though rough and bellicose a man he was, Ikata Jintarou is not guilty of the crimes his body appears to have committed, including the serious matter of a mutinous assault on his Captain.
Retsu knew that her duty now was to confirm publically and officially the rest of Enishi's story, that walking dead had invaded and attacked the Eleventh, but still she hesitated. Although she too valued truth and integrity, the implications of this scene, coupled with the strange patient's mention of an Unohana kinswoman long dead had made her deeply uneasy, even to the point of irrationality. As she had worried about what to do, two of the Eleventh officers found collapsed outside of Atsushi's office had regained consciousness and one had begged to speak to Retsu as a matter of urgency. Though still shaky and weak, the officer had adamantly insisted on giving a statement, indicating that the Eleventh Captain had attempted to send to Thirteenth for help before he had been struck down. In this unexpected witness testimony, Retsu had seen a brief way out of her dilemma. Minaichi's request for help, alongside the clear proof of Ikata's violent assault on his Captain and his men would likely be enough to exonerate Enishi from any wrong-doing and return him to his rightful rank and position without fear of censure. For a brief moment she had considered making this pathway her official judgement of the incident, but although the alternative frightened her, she knew that she could not conceal evidence that might ultimately lead to bigger problems later on.
For the time being, if that witness testimony goes to the Onmitsukidou, Houjou Enishi will be released and returned to his Division. I will not see an innocent man in prison or forced to face a disciplinary hearing where one should not exist, but I need a little more time to put together the threads of this and work out what it really means. I do not want to create panic that may not be merited, and I do not want to believe the direction in which my thoughts are heading, but I need to know for sure.
She removed her gloves, dropping them into the reishi incinerator that stood alongside the window and moved to open the door, gesturing to a nearby recruit to take a message to Eriko. She leaned back against the door post, considering her next course of action carefully. She had not enough solid proof to be sure of her fears, and she did not even know the full name of the patient who lay in the Fourth Division hospital, let alone his reasons for voicing that name. Until she understood his motives and his origins, she could offer the Council only circumstantial evidence, and in a matter of this severity, she knew that would not do. It might harm the reputation of the Unohana to voice such things aloud, but more than the prestige of her family, Retsu cared about protecting lives. Careless reporting might cause further unprepared missions to be sent into the Dangai, with disastrous consequences. As it was, the status of the missing Seventh Division officers was already a high concern, and Retsu did not want to trigger the worried Hirata into a full blown search assault by recklessly raising possibilities for which there was currently no verifiable evidence. District Seven was a politically uncertain place since the death of Hirata's son and heir five years ago, and Retsu had no mind to cause bigger dynastic and political shockwaves by driving a worried father into reckless danger after his daughter.
Still, although she knew this, she could not swallow her concern at having heard that name from the lips of an unknown stranger, dressed in old-fashioned apparel and found alone and unconscious in a clearing with no explanation as to how he got there.
Nobody in the Unohana talks about Yachiru-hime. Not now, and not for years. Yet that man saw me and spoke her name.
Retsu turned away from the door, allowing it to slide shut with a soft hiss. Selecting a fresh pair of gloves, she moved reluctantly back towards the corpses to take the necessary samples for further and deeper analysis. As she did so, something glinted faintly in the artificial light of the chamber, and she paused to glance at it, her expression becoming even more troubled as she traced her gaze around the decaying remains of what was clearly a much older weapon. It had been found thrust into Ikata's obi, but the moment she had tried to retrieve it, the blade had begun to crumble into dust, leaving little behind but a hilt, carved with a floral insignia which she did not immediately recognise, but which was clearly old - old enough to remind her of the sleeping stranger she had left back in District Four.
And then there's that. Where Ikata found it, I don't know - but it's another ancient trinket, rather like the one found in Rukongai at the beginning of this business. And as much as I try to push the concept out of my mind, my thoughts keep returning to that stranger's words...and the look in his eye when he saw my face. It wasn't fear so much as recognition, but that would mean...
She faltered, drawing her hand back from the sword hilt and turning back towards the autopsy biers.
I remember when I was small, some of the people at the main house thought me an ill omen because of it. My cousins would say that I looked like the pictures in the ancient genealogies, and people didn't always want me to inherit because of that. They thought I might be like her, but Father stood firm and made sure that they saw my healer training and how good at it I was. I didn't understand, not at first. Not till he took me to show me the shrine and told me the story of Yachiru-hime, the ghost that can't rest, always looking for vengeance against traitors and insurgents in the Unohana Clan. As a girl I was always afraid of that place, and once I knew that people thought I had her features, I made sure to never go near it if I could avoid doing so. I wanted to sever myself from that connection, and so I allowed the story to be forgotten. It was an ancient tale, after all. The corpse is long gone. And I have proven myself as the leader of the Unohana. But...
She sighed heavily.
A strange man in ancient clothing spoke her name, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, as though his doing so made real the vague fears that lurked in my mind, ever since the Dangai opened and the dead walked free. My family have always feared Yachiru-hime, but I know...she was not the one that was really to be feared. And if this...all of this...is really what I think it is, then it means that, somehow, the Soldier sword has awoken. Ikata and the others went into the Dangai alive, but came out dead. Kikyue-hime is still missing, and the safe recovery of those officers must be a priority, but the method of doing so concerns me. Because if we are really dealing with this particular Unohana skeleton, there could be a lot more bloodshed still ahead. And I have only a limited amount of time to dig up the right historical records and put the details together before more comrades become puppets ready to slay their allies in cold blood.
They had gone.
In the desolate monochrome landscape, Takasugi cautiously emerged from his hiding place behind a crystal tree trunk, scanning the sandy ground for any sign of his companions. When Kikyue had sent him to scour around the area, he had not supposed there to be any imminent threat, but, as he had picked his way through the oddly empty landscape, he had felt a flare of spirit power and had known instinctively that his companions were in danger. Rushing back to the point they had parted through Shunpo, Takasugi had been just in time to see a stranger cast some kind of spell over his comrades. Before he had even been able to draw his sword, the man, Kikyue and the other officers of Seventh Division had disappeared inside the Dome, and for a moment Takasugi had just stood there, fear and apprehension competing for dominance inside his heart.
His instinct was that he needed to save his companions, but the other, pragmatic part of his brain realised that, if he were captured too, there would be nobody to help them. The stranger had not killed Kikyue or her fellows, just rendered them unconscious, and so Takasugi had taken the decision to hide, biding his time until he was sure that everything was quiet. Worried as he was about his commander and Division fellows, he knew that to panic and give his position away would be reckless. For all his jokes and teasing, Takasugi had reached his current rank by resolute hard work and reliability. He knew that his spirit power was not in the same category as Kikyue's, so any enemy that had been able to take her off guard would surely kill him very easily. No, as worried as he felt, Takasugi knew that biding his time was the best option, waiting until he was sure there was no trace of the eerie, death-like reiatsu that had pervaded the whole area in the moment that the stranger had appeared.
As he had sought cover among the crystal trunked trees, Takasugi had felt a second flare of power, and then a hollow emptiness. Although the whole atmosphere here was unnatural, the sensation had reminded him of the opening of the Gate back in Sixth District, through which they had first made their foray into this unknown space. What this meant, Takasugi wasn't sure, although he remembered the keys that Sekime Mareiko had given to both Ikata and Kikyue and he half-wondered if one of the patrol leaders had activated their device.
If that were so, though, it would mean they'd have left me behind. Which means if it was one of Sekime's devices, it was probably Ikata. Kikyue-hime wouldn't leave one of her officers here. She'd wait for me to report first...meaning there's a good chance that whatever it was, it means Kikyue-hime is still in trouble.
Gritting his teeth, Takasugi approached the Dome with caution, his right hand never leaving the hilt of his zanpakutou as he drew closer to the strange, smooth building. Everything seemed quiet, and the door that Kunimori had opened earlier had once more closed, making it difficult to work out how to get inside the building. For a moment, Takasugi thought about firing Kidou at the wall, but then discounted it, realising that he would lose the element of surprise if he released spirit power recklessly. Instead he carefully began to run his hands over the even surface of the Dome building, trying to remember how he had seen Kunimori manipulate open the door. It took a while, but Takasugi was persistent, and eventually his probing fingers located the divide between one piece of panel and the other. Some further pressing and experimentation and there was a sudden hiss of air as, slowly but surely, the door of the Dome slid back, revealing the dark hole that lay within.
Takasugi gulped, swallowing hard. Then, not without misgivings, he stepped into the black.
He had no idea where he was going, and the pitch blackness all around him disorientated him further. It was not possible to tell whether he was going up or down, or even if he was simply going round in circles. He kept walking, his senses primed at every step for a sign of enemy activity, but there was nothing, just silence. In District Seven, in the past, he had patrolled all areas around the Endou manor and had even spent shifts at the prison, inspecting the prisoners through long bleak corridors of gloomy Sekkiseki-laced stone, but even in those grim locations, there was more of a sense of life than here. Here there was not even a rat to scurry across his path, nor an angry prisoner banging against the cell walls, and despite himself, Takasugi almost wished that he'd been assigned another round of prison duty than been chosen to come here, to this strange world of nothing.
But there are Hollows here, as well as strange shinigami, which means I need to stay on my guard. True, Kunimori-dono said they didn't come to this place, but I don't know if everything he said was true. I need to stay alert...I don't know what's inside this Dome. All I know is that Kikyue-hime and the others were taken inside here, and nobody's yet come out.
At length the interminable path of blackness ended, and Takasugi stepped out into a central chamber, shielding his eyes against the sudden and unwelcome bright light of the outside moon. The ceiling here was round and translucent, and he realised that his long trek and taken him to the top of the Dome building, into a large, airy room that showed signs of having been someone's place of work. Although he glanced at the scraps of paper, the characters written there were too ornate and complicated for even his Clan education to make sense of, but he scooped them up anyway, rolling them up tightly and sliding them into his obi in case they proved useful later on. As he did so, he caught sight of something dark on the floor of the chamber, and slowly he approached it, his grip on his sword tightening as he realised what it was.
Blood.
Takasugi was an Endou, and the Endou prided themselves on their ability to face blood and gore with equanimity, but in these circumstances, with his Clan's hime still missing, Takasugi could not help but fear the worst. Tentatively he reached down to touch the congealing stain, brushing his finger through the sticky substance and then raising it to his nose to sniff it, as if trying to pick up a trace of reiatsu. He was not a healer, and his attempts were in vain but, as he stood back up, he realised that there were other bloodstains around the chamber, crimson spots of defilement in an otherwise spotless chamber.
There was blood, but no sign of any bodies.
Takasugi stood up, wiping his finger clean on his hakamashita.
There isn't enough blood here to indicate anyone took a fatal wound, though. It's just patches, not a flood. There also isn't any sign of a blood trail. Whoever bled here should have left some kind of evidence of how they left this scene, but there's nothing. If they were superficially hurt, then I should be able to see what direction they went in...but there's nothing like that here. And...
He paused, running his hand experimentally through the air near where the bloodstains lay, and his eyes narrowed. Was that the faintest trace of a Senkaimon, or was he imagining it? He drew his weapon, cautiously poking at the unstable area of atmosphere, but there was no reaction, and with a sigh, he returned the weapon to his scabbard. If a Gate of some kind had been here, it was clearly not possible to activate it that easily.
Stepping back to assess his surroundings once more, Takasugi scoured the area for any sign of either Kunimori or the stranger he had seen accost Kikyue outside the Dome, but there was no sign of them. His brows knitted as he worked out the possible explanations for this state of affairs.
One, they've left this area and I didn't see them leave. Two, they're lying in wait for me somewhere. Three...
He bit his lip.
Three, they went back through the Gate that I think is here, but can't open. Maybe with Ikata and the others. Ikata was certainly getting all friendly with Kunimori-dono. Maybe Ikata opened the Gate and took them back. Or maybe they were forced to open the Gate, given that there's blood. It would take some force to take Ikata down, not to mention the rest of the eleventh's thugs, but I suppose, if it came as a surprise attack, maybe..? But that doesn't tell me where Kikyue-dono is...and that's my prime concern. I need to find her and my comrades so we can go back, too.
He hesitated, debating again the risk of using his spirit power and drawing attention to his location, but ultimately pushed the concerns aside in his bigger anxiety for Kikyue's safety.
If something happens to her, the Taichou will flip. That's not good for anyone, so I need to find her. It's not likely anyone's waiting for me, since nobody's really seen me. Nor is anyone going to send help, because nobody knows we're in any trouble. That leaves me to figure out how to deal with this. I was with them when Kunimori-dono appeared, but there were several of us there. The other guy appeared after I'd left the group. There's no reason to suppose they even know I exist. So if they're here, what I'm about to do may be suicidal. But I guess that's still my duty, so I'm going to do it anyway.
He rubbed his hands together, getting down on the floor and gazing at the clean space of marble that he had chosen with a resigned sigh.
I don't know if this will work in this place, but I guess I'm out of options. It's not like I even really have the proper powder, so I'll just have to wing it and hope for the best.
Slipping off his sandals, he tapped them on the floor of the chamber, trying to get every scrap of white sand that he could manage. It wasn't the regulation equipment for casting a spell like this, but it was made of spiritual matter, and in the circumstances, it was all that was available. Hoping against hope that it wouldn't fail him, he crafted a circle against the cold stone, marking in the rough patterns as best he could and closing his eyes briefly to draw together the words of the spell which he had learned so diligently as a trainee. As the syllables came together, he drew his spirit power into close focus, thrusting the palms of his hand down against the ground.
"Bakudou no Gojuu Hachi. Kakushitsuijaku!""
He hissed the spell command in a forced whisper, watching as the threads of spiritual energy locked together in an attempt to find his commander's circle flared briefly with light, half-numbers flitting briefly between the makeshift edges of the powder circle. Although Kidou was not his strongest skill, spells like Kakushitsuijaku were useful in the field, and so he had worked hard at mastering it. Although the spell had been cobbled together from surrounding ingredients, and the caster lacked the pure accuracy of someone of higher rank, it was enough to give him the faintest flickers of reiatsu, somewhere in the ether. These traces gave him some sense of slight comfort. Although he had failed to pinpoint her coordinates, he now knew that Kikyue's reiatsu was somewhere nearby, and more, she was definitely still alive.
He sat back on his heels, letting out his breath in a rush.
Whoever they are, they didn't kill Kikyue-hime. But she's not here, and my spell didn't trace her whereabouts accurately enough for me to pinpoint her either. Somewhere nearby - but where? This room is just a room...or is it?
Takasugi got to his feet, moving towards the smooth walls.
Maybe it isn't. Maybe there's another way through. My spell didn't alert anyone, so maybe there's nobody here. But Kikyue-hime is here - somewhere. So now my duty is to find her...so that we can all get out of here alive.
It had only been a short time since he had left the manor, but already Jun'ei felt as though he had been riding for hours. The horse that Shibata had chosen for him was an experienced and speedy mount but, to the frightened teenage boy clinging on tightly to the reins, it seemed like he was trying to keep his seat atop a wild animal. The beast's long legs covered the ground quickly, taking him further and further from the main home and the tutor he admired, and he knew that even if he were to try to make out landmarks, he would not know where he was.
He had never travelled far from the main manor. He had never had to, for, as a First Degree Kuchiki and in the direct line of inheritance, people were expected to come to him, not the other way around. While his father made frequent trips between Inner Seireitei and the Kuchiki estate, and even patrolled in areas far beyond Jun'ei's imagining, it had been a fairly sheltered life for the young teenager. If not for the deep sense of unease about the peril in which Seiren must have put himself to allow his charge to escape, Jun'ei felt sure that he would not have had the grit or determination to cling on as the horse galloped its way across the green and lush terrain, but although he'd resolved to himself to be of help to his Great Uncle, a forlorn fear inside of his heart worried that he might never see the other man again.
As they crossed from open terrain into forest, the branches of some of the trees hung low, brushing against Jun'ei's cheeks and tearing against his fine Clan clothing. Still they thundered on, the horse not hesitating for a moment even though the way ahead seemed far from clear. Was it really this way to the Coastal Province? Shibata had seemed so sure, but then, Jun'ei realised, the retainer might have just been trying to reassure his fears. Did the horse really know where it was going? Jun'ei knew that riding was a sport and pastime of the noble classes, but he had always had a healthy wariness and suspicion of the art, preferring to have both feet firmly on the ground. His father had scolded him a few times about his tense posture when trying to ride, telling him that the horse was smart enough to pick up on its master's unease, but he could not help it. Horses were big, stamping, snorting beasts that could easily trample a person if they were not careful, and Jun'ei had often secretly felt that he would be happy if no more of the creatures existed in Seireitei.
But here he was, riding headlong through the countryside towards potential salvation, and for the first time he found himself reviewing this opinion. The horse was certainly faster than he would manage the journey on foot, and seemed to have no hesitation about the route. If they could keep on this path, perhaps he would reach the Coastal Province in time. Maybe Seiren would be saved. Maybe he would really be able to help. Maybe...
A flash of brown shot out from the undergrowth, darting across the horse's path and suddenly the animal which had seemed so certain and so secure shied back, rearing up and kicking its legs with a whinny of protest and alarm. Jun'ei cursed, struggling to hang on to the reins for dear life. The forest creature, whatever it had been, had soon disappeared into the bushes on the other side of the path, but the suddenness of its appearance had unsettled the horse, checking the headlong flight and creating panic. Too late Jun'ei realised that the beast had indeed picked up on his own fears, and had been racing just below the panic line, adrenaline rather than confidence adding wings to its hooves. Now it was just another frightened animal, lost in the middle of the forest, and as it reared up for a third time, Jun'ei missed his grip, grabbing wildly in vain for the trailing leather thongs.
As though sensing the shifting of his weight on its back, the horse bucked and reared again, clearly intent on ridding itself of its burden, and Jun'ei found himself dumped unceremoniously on the forest floor. He scrambled back under the cover of the nearby bush, afraid that the animal might indeed bring his worst fears to life and trample him, but instead the horse tossed its head, letting out a neigh of fear before turning tail and bolting into the woodland. So relieved was Jun'ei that he had escaped the flying hooves, he did not realise for a moment that he had been abandoned in unknown territory, entirely alone and with absolutely no idea how close he was to the Coastal Province or even where Kinnya's manor was located within that region. Pulling himself stiffly to his feet, he dusted the leaf litter from his expensive robes, wincing as he realised that he had taken a bruising. His hakama had a long tear in it, and he had clearly caught his skin against thorns on his descent, for a thin trickle of blood was running down his leg, but he was in one piece and largely unhurt from his fall.
He took a deep breath into his lungs.
Maybe Father's right. Maybe there's nothing to fear from horses at all. I was afraid to fall, or be trampled, but I am quite fine, and the horse...
He faltered, his eyes widening as he suddenly realised his predicament, and he swung around, gazing with increasing horror at the emptiness of his surroundings. Forest flanked him on all four sides, but he had no idea from which way he had come, nor which way the horse had been headed before it had been startled from its purpose. Fear for his own situation was soon superseded by panic about the fate of his Great Uncle, alone at the Main House with unknown shinigami enemies threatening hostilities at his door.
I have to help Seiren-dono. Shibata told me...I have to...but I have no horse. I have...I have no idea where I even am.
He took a tentative step or two along the grassy path, then paused, glancing around him at the trees with a growing sense of helplessness.
All the trees look the same. The trees here still have sakura in bloom, so I must have travelled some distance from home but...but I don't know where here is, and there isn't a marked path. I don't even know if there is a local town nearby. How am I going to help Seiren-dono if I can't even get out of the forest?
For a moment, his panic threatened to rule his young senses, but he clenched his fists, repeating to himself a couple of times that his teacher was relying on him to convey the message to the Coastal manor. If he was to one day inherit the Kuchiki Clan, then he would have to learn to be resourceful, and also, to react in a time of crisis. Frightened as he was, he also knew that, if he panicked and ran away from his obligations now, his father would be disappointed in him. Whether Seiren had given his life to allow Jun'ei's escape was something he couldn't know, but even if his mentor was beyond help, he was still a blood Kuchiki with a duty to his family. His trembling fingers slipped to his throat, and he wrapped them loosely around the silver pendant that hung there, reminding himself of the heavy weight of responsibility it was to be born a member of District Six's ruling Clan. The cold sensation helped to reassure him, and he slid the pendant beneath his robes, turning once again to examine his surroundings.
The forest all looked the same, but the only thing that was guaranteed was that he couldn't escape the wall of trees by staying where he was. No forest could go on forever, he reasoned to himself. Drawing on the lessons Seiren had taught him about the make-up of District Six's terrain, he realised that there was also a high likelihood of settlements being located near to the woodland. It was illegal to cut down cherry trees in District Six, but most of the trees in this forest were not sakura, and Jun'ei remembered that the common folk used wood not just to heat their homes but also for crafts and trade.
So there must be people here somewhere. All I need to do is find them. Find them and command them to take me to the Coastal Province. I'm a Kuchiki Lord. They have to obey me. That's their duty, and so I need to do mine.
With this naive assumption in mind, Jun'ei identified what looked like a more trodden pathway between two large acer trees, and, gritting his teeth for what he suspected might be a long walk, he set off in that direction. It was hard to navigate through rows and rows of similar scenery, but as he walked, he remembered that although he had left the manor without any kind of proper weapon, he did have the small blade he carried with him for cutting food and other necessary tasks. Pulling it from his obi, he used it to notch the trees that he passed, congratulating himself on this clever idea. By marking the path, he would know if he had already crossed the same land, and as he broke through into a small copse, he began to believe that he could make it through to the outside of the forest on his own.
"Why are you hurting the trees?"
As he notched the trunk of a tree on the far side of the copse, a voice startled him, and he jumped, dropping the blade in his surprise. He swung around, seeing a small girl watching him, her arms full of discarded and broken twigs and branches. She had clearly come to collect firewood, and Jun'ei put a hand to his chest, annoyed that he had been so easily taken off guard by a child.
"It's none of your business," he told her smartly. "Go about your duty, little girl. I have an important mission to undertake."
"You know, that's quite rude," the child frowned, tilting her head to look at him pensively, and Jun'ei bristled at the scrutiny. The girl was roughly dressed in peasant clothing, her feet bare and her hair dusty and tousled. She was clearly the lowest of the low among the local District population, and Jun'ei's teenage Kuchiki pride rankled at being scolded by such an insignficant specimen.
"You shouldn't speak to me like that," he told her imperiously. "I'm a member of the Kuchiki Clan and I could have you arrested for speaking to me so familiarly without permission."
The girl's eyes widened at this, and she took a hesitant step back. Mollified by this reaction, Jun'ei bent to retrieve his knife, glancing at his companion.
"In recompense for your rudeness, I want you to take me to your settlement," he told her. "I have business with your people, and would speak to an adult about them."
The girl stared at him blankly, and Jun'ei sighed, remembering that he had told her not to speak to him without permission.
"You may respond," he told her frankly, and the girl sighed, shaking her head.
"I don't have any people. Nor a settlement," she said frankly. "Just my Nii-chan. But he won't help you. He doesn't like people like you."
At this unexpected response, Jun'ei's indignation flared up once more, and he grabbed the child by her shoulders, causing her to drop her burden as he gave her a little shake. Whatever he was about to say to her, however, was lost as there was a tremendous rustle from the trees overhead, followed by the descent of what could only be described by the bewildered Jun'ei as a shadow dropping from the sky towards them. Before he could react, or even ready his blade, the stranger had pounced, pinning him to the ground with his fine Kuchiki clothing pressed hard against the dirt. The young girl shrieked and Jun'ei felt a knee in his back, preventing him from wriggling free or getting up. He tried to twist his head around to see his attacker, but it was to no avail. The man had him held in a way that suggested he knew exactly how to overpower a stranger, and despite his earlier indignation, Jun'ei felt his fear beginning to return.
"Who are you, and what do you want with Homare?"
The voice was low, and Jun'ei could feel the warmth of the other person's breath against his ear. He wriggled again, but it was to no avail, and a fist came down on his hand, forcing the blade free from his grasp. Gloved black fingers curled themselves around the hilt of the weapon, and Jun'ei saw it drawn away from his line of sight. A cold prick of metal against the skin of his cheek told him that his own weapon was now being used against him.
"I asked you a question," the voice said again. "I suggest you answer me. People die in this forest, and the animals pick apart their bones for food. If you don't answer, I might leave you here for them, so I suggest you tell me. Who are you, and what do you want with Homare?"
Author's Note: Like Father, like son?
There are nuances and differences in the meeting of Homare and Jun'ei compared with that of his father Shirogane and Shikiki all the way back in Fourth Maki. Of course, Jun'ei knows nothing of that particular escapade...
Also a moment of spotlight for Takasugi. He's a new character for this story in the Seventh line up. It seems to be that the one sure fire thing that will happen in any story I write is that somehow I will bully Hirata. It seems that, with Kikyue missing in the Dangai, I'm true to form. Good thing there are people looking to help.
Poor Hirata. He has a really hard life. I'm surprised all of his hair isn't grey by now.
And...that is probably it for this wave of updates for a while. I have some academic things and deadlines coming up and they will be occupying me for the forseeable future. But look for some more Tenka Ransei in the summer, with any luck...
My sincere and warm thanks to all who keep supporting this story and Team Stupid. Cookies all round :D