Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.
Author's note: I'm sure you're all wondering why it has taken me so long to publish this next chapter, especially since historically I post fairly steadily. The answer is that I had a very nasty fall and needed emergency surgery, and have had a slow recovery process. Thankfully, everything will be fine, but I'm adjusting to life in a wheelchair for the moment and have needed to catch up on work before I could get back to writing. Chapters will take me a bit longer, since I'm so backlogged on work and therefore I don't have as much editing time as I like, but hopefully I will be able to post on a regular schedule, even if it is occasionally biweekly. I appreciate your patience and thank you in advance for all your warm wishes - I hope you continue to follow my works and that the intermission didn't bother you too much.
"You're asking if my mother has a temper? You do know her shikai explodes on command, right?"
~10th division lieutenant Banzo Vojiro; eldest child of 7th division captain, Head of House Banzo Ichihime
Kanchi heard a hard knock-knock on the door to her room.
C'mon, you gotta be kidding me. Please no. "Yeah?"
"It's me," Ganju called from the other side of the door. "Can I come in?"
Kanchi facepalmed. Great. Just great. "Yeah, c'mon in."
Ganju came in and found his only daughter sitting on her bed. Her shoulder-length wavy brown hair wasn't tied up like it usually was, and she was still in uniform. To be honest, she looked a little bit of a mess. "Hey. I thought you might want some company."
Kanchi gave him a look. "Company?" That was odd.
"Yeah," he said casually. "Maybe... maybe like a game of chess, or something."
"Oyaji, you su- er, you're not very good at chess," she said, reminding herself that he was still her father and it wasn't respectful to talk to him like she did to her brothers.
"I know, but still," he shrugged. "I thought you might be up for a game."
Kanchi gave him another look, but ultimately shrugged. "I guess, if you want."
He nodded with a small smile, and Kanchi took out the chess set she had inherited from her late uncle, Kaien. Setting up at her desk while her father pulled over a small stepstool, the two sat down and played chess in simple, amicable silence for a while. Kanchi was a serious chess player and defeated him easily, but he tried to put up a decent fight nonetheless. Only the words "Check" and eventually "Checkmate" broke the quiet peace.
"Good game," Ganju said to her.
"Thanks," Kanchi accepted simply, not really wanting to say more than that.
"Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, hoping that his end-of-the-road attempt to get her to open up would help.
"No," Kanchi replied tenderly, and then kissed her father on the cheek. "...But thanks."
She still seemed distant, but Ganju was okay with it. His sons were one thing - he knew exactly how to deal with them - but his teenage daughter remained a mystery. Nonetheless, Ganju understood that despite his inability to penetrate her veil of standoffishness, he had helped in some way he could not understand. And, as a father, it was a victory he was happy with.
~Father and daughter, many years into the future
Hikifune Yoshino gulped as she eyed her opponent. Hinamori Momo was by far the most intimidating lieutenant in the Gotei 13 - even more than the imperious Kuchiki Hisako. The large scar that ran across Hinamori's nose and left eye, all the way until wrapped over her shaven head, was purple and pulsating with a dark brood of hatred; circling her searing left eye with a ring of red, mottled skin. The stare was cold and piercing, as if to say that Hinamori was eager to rip Yoshino's heart out of her chest, take a bite out of it, and then spit the still-beating flesh back down Yoshino's throat.
Deep breath, Yoshino reminded herself. Deep breath. Abarai Taicho said that I only have to last twenty minutes. Twenty minutes. That's it.
Oh my god, I'm gonna die.
~ 9th division 7th seat, Hikifune Yoshino, undergoing eligibility trials for the 9th division lieutenant's position;
sometime in the future
"Sheldon! How are you doing, buddy?"
Grimworth dropped his tray of cocaine, the powdery substance showering the geisha's hairdo in his lap. She stopped immediately, sensing the danger, and quickly relocated herself to the back wall. "...Q - you're here?"
"Yes, I am!" he smiled, his toothy grin displaying a distinct lack of insanity. "Isn't it wonderful?"
"...Yes - uh, fantastic," Sheldon said nervously. It had been a while since he had last seen Quentin, and he looked just the same as ever. Easygoing, laidback, impeccably dressed. Friendly, casual. The last kind of person you would expect to be a completely amoral bastard. "I didn't realize we were ready to proceed so soon."
"Yeah, me neither," Q answered, admiring the fine surroundings. "Nice place, Sheldon. You've really got it good here, huh?"
"...It's a living," he chuckled nervously.
"Too bad, eh?"
Sheldon breathed cautiously. "Ah, yeah - too bad, right."
"So you know where it is?"
"Of course," Sheldon answered quickly. "But it will take me some time to get it."
"Of course," Q repeated, without any devil's glint in his eye. "No doubt. In any case, can you direct me towards a lab? I've already raided the kitchen. Great octopus, I really gotta tell you."
"Yes, uh, the octopus is good," Sheldon agreed warily. "The lab is on floor six. Punch in access code 3281839854."
"Awesome," Q smiled, nodding. "Anyway, you go back to being Konoshibu, I'll just be on my way."
"Konoshima," Sheldon corrected carefully.
"Konoshibu, Konoshima, whatever," Q shrugged as he walked out of Sheldon's quarters. "Later, Sheldon!"
"Yeah, see you later," Sheldon replied nervously, only breathing a sigh of relief when the door to his apartment in the Central 46 chambers was closed.
-:-
A few hours later
"Oi, Kuchiki! C'mon already!"
Rukia was startled from her desk to find Toshiro staring at her. "Huh?"
"Why are you still here? Karin called me to find out what was taking so long."
Rukia looked at her watch - something she hadn't actually done in a while, come to think of it - and swore underneath her breath. She had gotten so wrapped up in the mess on her new desk that she had totally lost track of time. The 3rd division was in complete chaos - there was so much to do and she couldn't believe that her very first act as captain would be to go on maternity leave, so she had kept telling herself I'll go right after I finish this last thing...
And now she was about three hours late. Ichigo was really going to give it to her.
Flustered, Rukia put down the stack of unsigned paychecks. It was unconscienceable that someone could have failed to sign these before now, but she realized that they would just have to wait. It irritated her, but it was better than-
"Oi, c'mon! Shiba-san and Kuchiki-ojisan are waiting at the main senkai gate!"
"Nii-sama and Nee-sama? !" Rukia gasped. "What?"
"They're coming with us. You didn't know?"
"No!" Rukia answered, mortified. "They didn't tell me!"
"Yeah, well, hurry up!" Hitsugaya barked.
"Why in the world are they coming?" Rukia answered as she swiftly made her way to the door.
"Yuzu's cooking, I'm sure," Toshiro muttered mockingly, knowing of Byakuya's secret adoration of the young chef's talents. "And Shiba-san probably can't wait to tease her brother about becoming a grandfather. Now get moving, before Karin kills me!"
"Alright, alright! I'm coming!"
-:-
Momo arrived back into her private quarters, feeling exhausted. Her initial enthusiasm for hunting down Matsumoto's torturer had faded quite a bit, and she collapsed on her bed to go to sleep. The place was a mess, with laundry and unwashed dishes and random books and scrolls in various disarray all throughout; but she could not be troubled to even think of it at the moment. She was bone-tired, and both the mental and physical strain were oddly overpowering.
What am I even doing, she wondered to herself. I'm chasing after a ghost. I don't even know what this guy looks like. And to now get this new lieutenant Rantao-san involved? Who knew what Momo should tell her, and how Momo could even approach her about it? 'Say, by the way, my sword told me you could help me.' This was simply getting too complicated, and Momo's patience and enthusiasm were starting to rapidly decay.
Momo was torn between feelings of guilt, despair, and indifference. On the one hand, she wanted to avenge Matsumoto - on the other hand, she was fatigued and honestly didn't know how long she could continue to chase after some human while neglecting her duties as lieutenant. It wasn't like Hitamake could cover for her; he wasn't even in her division anymore.
Another part of her felt like she was giving up; abandoning her cause for selfish reasons. She felt ashamed that she would quit so easily. Yet another piece of her felt like it was pointless - avenging Matsumoto wouldn't bring her back from the coma she was now in.
And yet another part of her didn't give a fuck about anyone anymore.
Momo was miserable. She had warring voices in her head; and the voice of reason was the one she trusted less. Tobiume and Kyouka Suigetsu were a constant battle inside her soul - Tobiume's angry, impulsive, unyielding and unforgiving scorn against Kyouka Suigetsu's intellectual, calm, clear-headed demeanor mixed with lofty ambition and egotistic smugness. She didn't trust herself, felt herself spiralling out of control, and had no idea how to get a grip.
According to the calendar above her bed, Momo was supposed to go to Isane's wedding tomorrow. She knew she should go but didn't want to. She just didn't care about anything anymore.
A subtle odor of lavender hung in the air, and instead of providing a soothing effect, it irritated her. It was laced with a sharp, tangy taste that twinged her nostrils as the odor drifted in through her window. Some members of the 5th must have been burning incense to hide the smell of pot again. She was going to have to read them the riot act when she got her hands on their mangy little necks.
I need a smoke, Momo thought. And booze. A lot of booze. An entire barrel of booze.
She thought of Morgan. Momo envied him. His whole life seemed clear to him. He knew exactly what he wanted, how he wanted it, and why he wanted it. No confusion, no self-doubt, no self-recrimination or self-disgust. Momo wondered if she could ever understand herself that well.
Probably not, she figured. Maybe I should just kill myself.
Drained in more ways than one, Momo's thoughts wandered aimlessly as she changed out of her uniform, stripped off her undergarments, and settled into a light sleeping robe which she was too tired to even tie closed. Even though she thought it was foolish and stupid, she was comparing Izuru and Morgan in her head - why this particular stream of consciousness had seized her, she was unable to answer. Wrapped in thought, she absentmindedly put her zanpakutou on the sword rack by her bed - but when she looked up at it, alone on the wooden notches, she changed her mind and took it into bed with her.
Even though it seemed so contradictory, with its warring voices and raging opinions, something possessed Momo enough to compel her to hold it closely to her bosom. Soon, Momo's entire frame was wrapped around the sheathed katana; cradling it between her breasts and legs like it was a teddy bear; and she began to cry.
Crying forlornly, lonely and afraid of herself, and depressed with a gloomy, morose guilt of failure - for what, she could not quite explain - Momo drifted off into a half-sleeping state of tear-induced stupor, the lavenderishly-disguised air pushing her sleep into a state of self-detachment. She clutched her zanpakutou tighter and tighter, until her knuckles turned white; and the oddly-comfortable pressure of the scabbard between her thighs was distracting enough to break her unending stream of wimpering. Momo crossed her ankles over the end in an attempt to clamp herself into a fetal position. Pausing her shadowy-headed misery enough to wipe her eyes, Momo took a deep breath and pulled a blanket over her legs, which had begun to chill in the cold night air that was entering through the open window.
Falling asleep quickly, Momo suffered fevered dreams of longing. Longing to be something, to be someone; to be for something or for someone. When she awoke only an hour later, she was drenched in cold sweat, and felt unnerved in the extreme; as though she was only a guest in her own body. Her body itself was screaming for attention, and Momo rose to use the bathroom; failing to have done so before. Relieving herself in a drowsy draught, the lavender was fainter now and failed to disguise the pungent odor; but its soothing effect took hold anyway and Momo desired nothing more than to return to slumber.
Frazzled, rattled, and in bad need of a nicotine fix but too tired to fish around her messy room for something to smoke, Momo went back to bed; cradling Tobiume/Kyouka Suigetsu again. Again, the presence of her manifested soul close to her flesh was comforting, no matter that her soul was messier than her room. The soft leather of the hilt carressed pleasantly against the inside crevice of her bosom, and the resin scabbard, tucked tightly between her thighs, kissed her delicately with a possession of warm and eager fuzziness. In time, the fuzziness opened into somnambulance, and Momo returned to the world of dreams, full of flowers.
-:-
Ichigo's stomach clenched in anticipation as the senkai gate materialized inside Kurosaki Isshin's living room. He was so eager to see Rukia and have her there with him. Everyone had been waiting for her.
He was surprised to see Byakuya and Auntie K come through first, followed by Toshiro and -
Then his eyes buggered. "Rukia?"
"Ichigo! Sorry I'm so late! I'm so sorry!"
He just stood there with a derp face. "Uh, what's with the haori?"
Rukia's face went red. Perhaps it would have been wiser to leave it at the office before she came. "Well, uh... I was just promoted to captain of the 3rd," she bumbled.
"...When?"
Rukia gulped. "Um, three days ago."
"WHAT? !"
-:-
The next morning
"Do I really have to wear this?"
"It's tradition, Ichihime-sama. Heads of House are supposed to wear yellow to weddings."
"Fuck tradition," she grumbled. "I'm going to be proposed to over a knifecase. Tradition can kiss my hairy-moled ass."
Hey, that's degrading! Shiji whined. I prefer the word 'scabbard' or 'sheath'.
Shaddup, she mentally snapped back. I didn't say I wouldn't like it!
"Supposedly, your father liked wearing a yellow kimono, Ichihime-sama."
"Wonderful," she grimaced. "Burn it."
Makina laughed. "Now, now, Ichihime-sama, you can't go burning everything your father liked. He liked you, after all."
"Yeah, yeah," she grumbled again, allowing Makina to adjust the collar of her kimono. "Still, yellow? I'm going to stick out like a bruised banana."
"Banana, perhaps; bruised, I am sure not, Ichihime-sama."
Ichihime pointed to her face, but Makina dismissed her with a hand wave. "If I may, Ichihime-sama - enough with the self-pity. If we were in a cliche-ridden movie, that would be my cue to slap you across the face and tell you how ridiculous you're being. You're a powerful woman about to become engaged to someone who loves you. Fretting about a birthmark is really quite silly at this point."
"It's not a birthmark," she whined, trying to escape rebuke.
"Ichihime-sama," Makina intoned, "the rest of the world doesn't know that."
Ichihime sighed, resigned. "I hate yellow."
"You look nice, Ichihime-sama."
"You're just saying that because I write you a big fat paycheck."
"I am not!" Makina pouted akimbo.
"I'm teasing, I'm teasing, take a joke, Makina-chan," Ichihime grumbled. "How's my hair?"
"A touch disheveled, since you've been so fussy," Makina admitted, throwing in her own sass for a change. "I should really redo your braid."
Ichihime hauled a chair over and sat down melodramatically. "Well, then, hup to it."
Makina's fingers flew through Ichihime's hair as she hastily attempted to put the Head of House's royal hair back into place before her suitor would come to take her to the wedding.
Sure enough, the doorman's attendant informed them that Nikayui Adame had arrived at the Banzo Estate gate.
Makina picked up the pace. "...If I may, Ichihime-sama."
"What?" Ichihime answered in an unusually introspective and personal way.
"Are you nervous, Ichihime-sama?"
"...A little."
"Excited?"
Ichihime sighed, tilting her head downwards to make the end of her braid more accessible. "Maybe a bit in denial."
"Why?"
Ichihime's voice was soft and fragile. "I'm... I'm scared that it will happen all over again."
"And what if it does?" Makina challenged. "Are you going to crumble and die like an infatuated teenager? Wither and despair like your life hinged on it? Fall into depression over a mere man? What happened to the wise Head of House and the esteemed shinigami lieutenant I serve, who seized control of her House and rewrote its destiny? Would that woman collapse if some boy let you go? Or is it simply that you're afraid to admit that you've been self-obsessed with the past for all of these years, and the idea that someone loves you scares you - because it means you deserve to love yourself, too?"
Makina paused, nervous for her master's response. She anticipated retribution - as much as they were friendly, Ichihime was her master and Makina had crossed a line. Hell, she hadn't crossed it as much as driven a truck right through it.
Ichihime was quiet and still. She could feel Makina's fingers threaded in the end of her braid, on hold; waiting for her master to provide a response. Something. Anything.
After a good long moment of thought - deep thought, truly deep thought that was deeper than Ichihime had thought of in a good long while - she finally spoke up. "Say, Makina-chan."
"...Yes, Ichihime-sama?"
"How many times did you practice that little speech?"
Makina smiled. "Thirteen times, I think. Not including the many poor attempts at writing it."
Ichihime chuckled, but it slowly built into a bursting giggle and eventually a rumbling laugh. "Makina-chan, I don't pay you enough."
Her majordomo laughed. "Yes you do," she answered, making sure she kept the gag going. She had a feeling that it would be a recurring joke for a long time. "Now shoo, Ichihime-sama. Go to your Prince Charming. He needs his Princess."
-:-
Nikayui Adame waited with bated breath. He was unbelievably nervous. Proposing to a woman was challenging enough - maybe he would fumble his lines, maybe he wouldn't appear confident, maybe it wouldn't be romantic enough - there was so much that he could screw up to ruin the moment.
And instead of a ring - a nice, convenient, simple-to-present, classically-romantic ring - he had to present a scabbard. As if this wasn't complicated enough.
The case under his arm felt heavy by now, and his palms were sweating. Adame couldn't get rid of the butterflies in his stomach. What if she hated it? What if she regretted her decision to carve up the majestic Uryam into itty bitty pieces? What if she wasn't quite ready for this?
What if she had second thoughts?
What if she would only say yes because after being jilted, the idea of marriage was so dreamy that she did it for the sake of overcoming history, rather than just because of him?
These were questions that were too late to answer now.
Finally, at last, the door to the waiting room opened, and a footman came out. "Presenting the Honorable Head of House, Princess Banzo Ichihime-no-kimi!" he announced formally.
When Ichihime emerged, Adame could hardly believe his eyes. Ichihime was glorious; glorious and gloriously beautiful. She was in an elaborate yellow kimono, the traditional attire for a Head of House to a wedding, and it looked fabulous on her. Her hair, a feathery platinum blond that any woman in any dimension would have died to have, was woven beautifully and decorated with gilded orchids. Her aura was brimming with a regal something; a charm he could not even quite describe. Flagged by her majordomo, she stood at attendance, waiting for him to initiate.
It was admittedly daunting to stand before such a beautiful woman.
He bowed. "It is my honor to escort you, Princess Ichihime-no-kimi."
She rolled her eyes. "Oh give me a break, Adame-san. It's just me."
He straightened up, and then, inexplicably, he began to relax a bit. "I always liked that about you," he chirped.
Dear Kami, he is so handsome, Ichihime thought. "Are you ready to go?"
"N-n-no," he stuttered.
Ichihime giggled. "Adame-san? Did you just stutter? The eloquent and charming Nikayui Adame-dono stuck struggling to find his words? My, my; I think we must call a doctor, Hoshimura-majordomo."
Makina knew that in company with most nobles, her smirk would be considered gravely offensive, but Adame was another story altogether.
Adame chuckled. "You look wonderful."
Ichihime's smile indicated that she accepted his compliment even though her verbal response would have implied otherwise. "Stop being silly. I look like an overgrown banana."
"But I like bananas," he chimed, back into the comfort zone of harmless flirting.
"I would continue this little metaphor but I fear it would devolve into unintended innuendo about the best manner in which to remove the peel. So perhaps we should stop talking about fruit altogether," she laughed.
"And here I was wondering about all of the romantic metaphors I could make out of passionfruit."
"Aren't you a fruit smoothie," Ichihime smiled, but then broke into a snickering titter. "Okay, that one was baaaaddd."
Adame laughed, but realized afterwards that he was back to square one. It was, uh, time. "Ichihime-sama, I, uh... I-"
"-can't seem to find out how to say 'Will you marry me'?" she offered snarkily.
He blushed. "Ah, perhaps," Adame admitted meekly.
Ichihime took his free hand and kissed him gently on the cheek. "Yes," she whispered in his ear. "Yes. Yes, Nikayui Adame, I will marry you. Because one day I know I will love you. And anyone who could do that to me is the one person I want to spend eternity with."
His words were quiet, only enough to cross the few inches separating their faces. "I thought it was the man who was supposed to propose," he smirked.
"As I told your father," she smiled back, "I tend to defy convention."
He admired her tender, soft expression with deep happiness. "Convention is overrated," he answered sincerely.
Slowly, he stepped back to give him room to hold the box in front of her. He carefully undid the latch and opened it, revealing his gift of betrothal. "Do you like it?"
Ichihime's mouth was gaping. Before her was the most mesmerizing treasure she had ever beheld - a sheath for Shiji, carved and polished out of a black pearl that radiated a chromatic luster as though it teemed with a life of its own. It was simultaneously black as midnight, yet glowing like neon. There was nothing in written or spoken language that could describe the absolute marvel of what the Nikayui family had done to that hunk of oyster spit. It was far beyond anything that Ichihime ever would have been able to dream of expecting.
And with it were matching bangle-bracers. Spectacularly crafted, amazingly beautiful adornments for her wrists. She had not expected anything but the sheath, but the bracers were stunning. Ichihime instantly cherished them. There was nothing like them in the world.
"Adame-san..." Ichihime said breathlessly, almost in shock. "This - these - these are beyond description," she said. "They are the most incredible things I have ever seen in my entire life."
He smiled warmly, his usual charm settling in. "Go on," he encouraged her. "Take them."
Ichihime reached out from behind her and pulled out Shiji (in his black lacquered sheath) and held it in front of her for a moment.
Woot! New digs! Shiji hollered excitedly.
You little yellow-bellied oni, she laughed at him. Don't you live in a cave?
Yeah, but that cave looks a hell of a lot nicer than this one!
You smartass.
Hey, can I leave my piehole open this time?
For just a little bit, she chuckled internally.
Ichihime withdrew the brass tanto from the lacquered sheath and handed her craftsmanship to Makina. Reaching for the black pearl scabbard, she allowed her fingers to run across its smooth, polished surface. It was flawless. Flawless in every way.
Slowly and with great pride and deliberation, she lifted the tanto scabbard and gently slid her zanpakutou in it. It was a perfect fit, and the end locked into place as though it had been molded around the zanpakutou from the very start. A warm glow radiated through her soul; like it was finally home.
It was perfectly perfect perfection. Ichihime had never treasured anything more in her entire life.
"May I?" Adame offered, pointing to the bracers.
"Please!" she said eagerly, carefully placing her newfound treasure in the knot of her obi. She gestured to Makina, who instantly took the cue to retie the back of the obi knot in such a way as to show off as much of the new scabbard as possible.
Meanwhile, Adame gently cuffed her right and left hands. They must have been infused with some sort of pliable-force kido, since despite the hard outer surface, they did not restrict her flexibility or range of motion at all. She twisted her hands this way and that, and she could barely tell that they were there - but they were, and their splendor was phenomonal.
"Do you like them?" he asked again.
Ichihime seized his face with both hands. "I love them," she whispered, and kissed him.
-:-
"I must admit, I have never been to a commoner's wedding," Adame noted.
Ichihime was sitting next to him in the horse-drawn carriage on the way to the hall. She had scooted up close to him and was happily holding his hand. Under most circumstances, she would have found a horse-drawn carriage to be excessive posh. Today, though, she was in an unusually romantic mood and she fancied the bout of luxury for a little bit. "Neither have I."
"It must be unusual to have a Head of House attend one," he thought out loud.
She gave him a curious look. "Do you not wish to go?"
He shook his head with a puzzled response. "No, of course I wish to go. You are friends with the bride, aren't you? It would be rude to not attend."
"No," Ichihime admitted. "I'm not really close with Lieutenant Ceiling-Bonker. But she invited all of the lieutenants."
"'Ceiling-Bonker'?" he asked, completely confused.
"Eh, Yachiru-chan's nickname for her."
"For who?" he asked, confused. "And who's Yachiru?"
Ichihime shook her head. "I forget sometimes that you're not a shinigami," she chuckled. "The bride is Kotetsu Isane. She's 7'3". That's why the vice captain of the 11th - Kusajishi Yachiru - calls her Ceiling-Bonker."
His eyes went wide. "Did you say-"
"Yes," she laughed. "Seven-foot-three."
"That's... tall."
"It's a Kotetsu thing," Ichihime shrugged. "Her sister, Lieutenant of the 8th Kotetsu Kiyone, is also tall; 6'4" or something, I don't remember."
"Is the groom also tall?" Adame wondered.
"No, Yamada-san is actually rather puny, to be honest. It's cute."
He laughed. "They say opposites attract, I suppose."
"Indeed," she smiled, and squeezed his hand.
-:-
By noble standards, Yamada Hanataro's and Kotetsu Isane's event was a very small wedding. The guests included most of the top seats of the 4th division; save for 3rd Seat Iemura who was invited but could not come, considering that the captain, vice captain, and 4th seat weren't exactly available today in the main infirmary. Other guests included close friends of the extended Kotetsu family: Kyoraku Shunsui and his date, Rantao Kiku. Also in attendance was Shihoin Tokine and her guest Kyon Kandros, a request from Unohana Taicho so that Toki-san would have the opportunity to meet most of the members of the 4th in a social context. The small size was a necessity, given that neither Isane nor Hanataro could afford much.
Nonetheless, Ise Nanao had taken great care to stretch every last available penny. Nanao had been asked to plan the wedding and knew that Isane could not avoid inviting the other lieutenants, of which including Nanao's sister Rukia and the even more prestigious Head of House Princess Banzo Ichihime. For House Nobles to be present at a commoner's wedding was an extraordinary circumstance. While Nanao knew neither of them cared about such pretense, neither Nanao nor Isane thought it proper to overlook the fact that members of the Four Houses arriving at a commoner wedding was an incredible honor. So Nanao had gone to great lengths to insure that despite the small size of under fifty people, it would still be a formally grand affair, even if that meant squeezing every last trick out of every last dime.
Nanao was not surprised that Rukia would not be in attendance. She had her own celebration to attend. Nanao would have obviously preferred that the timing of events would have lended itself to both occasions, but real life was not always so convenient. Case-in-point, Komamura Taicho would have loved to be present to see Unohana Taicho officiate; but he himself had to stay home to watch Kitsune. (Kitsune was not the kind of boy one could leave with babysitters.) Nonetheless, Banzo Fukutaicho would be arriving shortly, and Nanao wanted to make sure that her presence would be appropriately noted and appreciated for the honor of hosting her.
Double-checking and triple-checking with the doorman (Banzo-dono not here yet - aargh), Nanao then went to make sure everyone was in place. Nanao's fellow bridesmaid Kiyone, who was wearing a matching lilac kimono, was escorting guests to their seats. Jushiro-san and Yamada Seinosuke-sama, in their navy dress uniforms as the groom's men, were doing the same. Unohana Taicho was already waiting up at the center stage. At first, Nanao had been concerned that Shihoin Tokine would also need to be acknowledged as an attending House Noble, but Unohana respectfully requested that she simply be seated up towards the front and off to the side, without a need for any further fanfare. Nanao could see the back of her head, its short purplish-tinted bob decorated with a single orchid, and she seemed to be okay at the moment. She looked nice in her yellow House kimono. Kyon, who was sitting next to her and dressed in a classic American navy suit, caught her glance and returned a 'we're alright' gesture.
Nanao looked at her watch. There was still a reasonable chunk of time before the reception would need to start, but she was mildly perturbed. Banzo-dono wasn't late... she just wasn't excessively early. Irritated nonetheless, Nanao dialed Hisagi on her cell. "Shuu?"
"Relax, Nan-chan, relax," he chuckled. "I'm sure they'll be here soon."
Nanao breathed. "Okay, fine... Is reception all set up? Does it look nice?"
Shuuhei shook his head amusingly. Nanao was such a perfectionist. "It looks perfectly grand. The same way it did when you checked in on it two minutes ago." He then surprised her by blowing on the back of her neck, making Nanao jump.
"Ahh!" She didn't realize he had made his way into the ceremonial garden while she was on the phone with him.
"Lighten up," he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist. "Have a good time. Everything will be fine. Kotetsu-san doesn't want you to spend her whole wedding wound up like a clock."
Nanao forced herself to breathe deeply as she let herself soak in his embrace for a moment. He was so good to her. "Thanks," she whispered, turning her head to kiss him on the cheek. Her cellphone then flashed a message: the Banzo House's carriage was arriving. "They're here. Go sit down."
Hisagi smiled and took his place up front on the left, where he had a reserved seat as a bridesmaid's guest.
Nanao signalled to the other members of the wedding party to go take their places, and they all came to the door at the back of the hall. Nanao gestured for Kiyone and Seinosuke to go prepare and escort the bride and groom from their respective locations.
"Always on top of everything, aren't you," Jushiro teased her as they stood waiting for the Head of House and her guest to arrive.
Nanao grinned. "I suppose if they ever kick me out of the Kido Corps, I can open up a business as a wedding planner."
"Shunsui wanted me to tell you that he thinks you look great," Jushiro added.
Nanao rolled her eyes. "Papa's told me at least seven times by now. I swear I think Rantao-san is jealous."
He laughed. "Oh, he's just being a proud father. It's amazing how he's grown up, hasn't he?"
Nanao laughed. There was truth to it.
-:-
"I hope we're not late," Ichihime said as Adame helped her out of the carriage.
Adame shrugged. "We're just guests."
Ichihime rolled her eyes. "Knowing Ise-senpai, she likely won't let the wedding proceed until we're there."
"Well, then we must hurry," he smiled, offering his arm as they made their way from the gate and into the catering hall's courtyard.
"Too bad Kuchiki-senpai and Kurosaki-dono aren't here. It would be so much more bearable if they were here to suffer the grand treatment along with us."
"Kuchiki Rukia-dono and her husband?" Adame asked. "I thought you said that all of the lieutenants were invited."
"Oh, they were planning on coming," Ichihime remarked. "But you know how it is. A new baby disrupts everything."
"A new baby?" Adame asked startled. "I hadn't heard - when?"
"A few days ago. They're off to see Kurosaki-dono's family. Supposedly a big shebang, too. Even Taicho-sama and Shiba-sama are going."
"Congratulations to them," Adame smiled. "It comes as a surprise. I know that she is rather petite, but-"
Ichihime was befuddled. "Huh?"
Adame returned an equally confused look. "Did you even know that she was expecting? I would have imagined it would be more obvious, at least towards the end of her pregnancy."
A dawn of realization hit Ichihime. She continued to forget that Adame, who wasn't a shinigami and therefore didn't run in her social circle, wasn't in the know. "Oh, I think you misunderstood. Kuchiki-senpai was never pregnant. She adopted an abandoned baby she found on patrol. Kind of like those Western stories of the stork bringing you a baby in a basket - really wonderful, isn't it?"
Adame seemed uneasy. "They... adopted?"
Ichihime looked at her fiance (a word which still quite hadn't sunken in yet) with an intense gaze of curiousity. "What is the problem?"
"Problem?" he asked, a bit dazed.
"Yes - is there a problem, Adame-san?"
He hesitated and looked askance. "I... uh... I thought adoption was generally frowned upon in noble circles."
Ichihime's eyes narrowed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Adame fidgeted. "Never mind, it's not important."
"Adame-san," Ichihime began, a bit annoyed. "What has gotten into you? You're acting weird."
"Forget it," he answered meekly.
Now Ichihime was peeved. "What is it? Do you disapprove?"
He breathed deeply and raised his eyebrows quickly, as though he was trying to dodge the question. "It's not my place to comment on it, really."
"Hey," Ichihime said sternly, moving in front of him sharply so as to force him to look at her. "You have a problem with that?"
Calm down, Shiji told her. You're getting worked up. That won't end well.
Ichihime was agitated but took a deep breath and tried to relax. "Adame-kun," she spoke softly. "Talk to me. What's the big deal? She wants a baby," Ichihime explained. "She's been dying for years to have one. What's the big deal?"
He looked askance, despite her hands on his arms trying to keep him focused on her. "It is a big deal, Ichihime-sama."
"Why? Why does such a silly thing bother you?" she asked, frustrated.
He looked back, and this time, he was irritated. "It's not silly," he insisted sternly, an unusually strong display from him. "I'm an Upper Court Noble by nothing more than birth. Without that, I'm a lower-middle-class businessman with no future and no promises of a better life for my children. The only reason I can marry you is because my blood is worth more than my name, and certainly a lot more than my empty purse. How can you not take this seriously?"
"As if I would like you any less if you were from common stock?" Ichihime challenged, letting her temper get the best of her.
"That has nothing to do with it!" he retorted, exasperated. "Despite what I think, everyone in Sereitei knows that marriage isn't about love! It's about birth, and entitlement, and a life that favors one over another based on who their mother and father are."
"And you think little Hikaru-chan's parents are anyone but Kuchiki-sama and Kurosaki-dono, just because she's adopted?" Ichihime fired back, irritated.
"What I think is irrelevant."
"Is that your solution? To cower from the system?"
"That system," he answered, throwing the word right back at her, "is what has given my family the influence to keep itself from the brink of poverty, time and time again. What do you know about a noble's honor? You have so much of it that you will never know what it is like to live without it - and you've even spent your whole life running away from it!"
Now that pissed her off. "All of a sudden, you care so much about your fancy name and your fancy family tree? !" Ichihime shot back. "Since when did you climb up on some high-and-mighty horse and care so much about your nobility? I suppose the next thing you're going to tell me is that this commoner's wedding is insulting to your Upper Court credentials. Well I'm sorry we had to degrade ourselves to come to some lame street rat's nuptials!"
"Um, I, uh, guess I came at a bad time," Nanao interrupted awkwardly. "Uh... um... wh-why don't you take a minute?"
Ichihime looked up to find Ise-senpai staring at them, wide-eyed and awkward. Aw shit.
Told you so, Shiji sighed.
Aw fuck. I would tell you to shut up, but this time it's totally my fault.
Told you so, Shiji sighed again.
Aw, fuck. Shit, shit, fuck, shit.
-:-
Momo awoke with a groggy groan. It must have been late morning, nearly noon; because the bright sun was piercing through a window right into her eyes; inducing a searing headache. She was twitching, in badly need of a smoke; and despite the bright light, she was chilly. Her head, skin, and muscles felt intensely numb; like she was coated in concrete and her head was filled with a thick, viscous sludge. Her ears were clogged and congested. She felt an uncomfortable sensation in her groin, though, and the absence of her zanpakutou nestled up against the sensitivities of her pelvis suddenly kickstarted her attention.
Sitting up quickly, she was startlingly yanked back down to the mattress; a disturbing way to discover that she had been chained to a hospital bed. She had hundreds of tubes and wires connected to her everywhere. Her senses returned, and Momo began to realize that she was likely about to become the victim of torture under the guise of medical treatment. Suction cups were glued to her breasts, a catheter had been inserted into her urethra, and there were dozens of electrodes taped all over her body. A ring of wire-laden accupuncture needles had been stuck in her torso and were clearly tapped into her saketsu and hakusui. Adrenaline flooded into her and she snapped fully awake, eyes peering around until they rested on a well-dressed man who was approaching from a corner of the room.
"Hello, Hinamori," the man grinned. "My name is Q. A friend of mine told me that you were looking for me!"
Momo's eyes quivered in terror as he opened a drawer and pulled out her zanpakutou from a drawer beside the bed. The sensation of a stranger's hands on her zanpakutou was horrifyingly intimate, a violation of her being; an extremely invasive act of disregard for her private self. She tried to scream at him, but no sound could come out.
"Oh, don't bother trying to say anything," Q dismissed. "I've deflated your lungs and temporarily paralyzed your pulmonary nerves so you can't inhale. Your blood is being oxygenated externally by a pump underneath your bed. Much easier this way. No air in your lungs means you can't make any noise. I really don't like to hear all the screaming, you see. It hurts my ears."
Q set down her zanpakutou on a table opposite her line of sight, and Momo quaked in abject horror as he picked up a chisel and hammer from a toolbox.
"That poison gas is really something, huh? Effective stuff - it takes a while to really seep into your system, but once you're under, you could sleep through anything. Obviously, considering all the work I did on you this morning to get you ready. Too bad it's so hard to mask - I still haven't figured out whether lavender or vanilla is better. Although I didn't have any vanilla this time - not in season in this dimension right now, you see. Of course, if Sheldon can find that little trinket I'm looking for, I suppose I'll be able to make as much vanilla as I want. That would be nice. I like vanilla. Ice cream; in my coffee. In my poison gas. Great stuff, you should know."
Momo struggled, but it was useless. His sterile hand moved to grip her zanpakutou tight, and she was powerless to move with her soul in his hands. He must have had significant reiatsu to suppress her like that.
"I'm so glad you're awake. Now we can finally proceed. Did you know that you have such wonderful facilities here in Central 46?" he said cheerily. "They have some amazing equipment in this private lab, I really must say. Top-of-the-line reiatsu meters! It's wonderful! I didn't have to waste any time building one myself. I got your spectral ratios, reishi saturation, spirit density, everything - utterly fantastic. Data is really precise, too. I got your entire workup within minutes! In fact, according to your readouts, you should be much stronger than the last lieutenant I had to work with; which is great. That Sasakibe fellow died way too quickly; it really put a hamper on my research. Anyway, enough banter - let's begin the zanpakutou disassembly, shall we?"
Thanks in advance for your reviews! (You're going to leave reviews, right? ;D) I'm sure you have much to comment on here. Next chapter: The wedding continues. As do other things.