Hunting the Slave

by The Kujaku

This is the follow-on to The Peacock Trilogy. After the battle with the Demons, Yumichika has lost not only Ruri'iro Kujaku, but his seductive reiatsu, as well. Still, his physical beauty returns to its full height, and when Yumichika finds himself kidnapped and sold into slavery, Ikkaku will stop at nothing to rescue him from the depraved outlying kingdoms.

37. Chapter 37

Dear Reader, sorry for the delay in posting. I took a much-needed week off to do some work around my house. I enjoyed writing this chapter because I like the character interactions. I'll give you fair warning now, the next chapter will be another one of those emotional rollercoasters, so enjoy this one while things are still pretty peaceful in the wonderful world of Gonow. Peace, TK

Chapter 37 Storm Clouds Gathering

"Are you sitting in the lonely barn
as the storm clouds gather?
Are you hoping for another miracle
and the Happy Ever After?"

Hoping for Joy
John Lodge

"I have called this meeting because Ayasegawa has been found."

The head captain's announcement was received with a variety of well-regulated reaction from the assembled captains. The fact of Yumichika's abduction had been well known since Ikkaku had come to the Gotei 13 three months earlier to report his disappearance. And while it had struck several of the captains as odd that Yamamoto would dispatch a team for the sole purpose of locating a former Shinigami—for what concern was Ayasegawa to the Gotei 13 after his departure?—to others, it had seemed the decent thing to do. But calling a meeting of all the captains to announce that he had been found?

Yamamoto went on. "He is a slave in the household of a very powerful man, Orator Nelphune of Gonow. If we decide to retrieve him, it will not be easy." A pause. "In fact, there is every chance that even a successful rescue will result in much bloodshed and destruction."

Captains Ukitake and Shunsui regarded each other with sidelong glances. "If?" There had no mention of "if" in their previous meeting with the head captain. Was Yamamoto reconsidering the wisdom of his earlier decision?

Captain Soifon spoke up. "With all due respect, Head Captain, I recognize that Ayasegawa used to be one of our numbers, but I don't understand why we would put forth the resources to rescue him when there are millions of other souls enslaved in the same manner. We've never taken an interest in rescuing them. Why would we suddenly decide that there's one slave worth rescuing – and only one?"

Genyrusai knew her questions were legitimate. But how much of the truth was he prepared to divulge?

"Ayasegawa has abilities that the other millions of slaves do not possess," he replied. "And if put to the wrong use, those abilities are among the most destructive known to Soul Society."

"From Ayasegawa?" This from Captain Rose. "I know his zanpakuto destroyed the demons all those years ago, but do you mean to say there was more to him?"

Yamamoto was silent for a long moment. "There was more to his zanpakuto."

"But his zanpakuto was destroyed," Rose put forth.

"No. Ruri'iro Kujaku was not destroyed. He still exists," Yamamoto corrected. "And if he is corrupted by others of his kind, Soul Society could be facing its own destruction."

This sounded so extreme that it brought an almost scoffing remark from Captain Kensei Muguruma who had replaced the fallen traitor Kaname Tousen as captain of Squad Nine, a position he had previously held long ago. Kensei was a severe, unsmiling man who had the appearance of a man built for fighting. He was broad and muscular, and he made sure those muscles were on display in his uncovered arms and chest. He wore his gray hair short in a near-military style, but his demeanor tended more towards that of an impetuous spoiled child than a military officer. He was short-tempered and gruff, and he saw no reason to be otherwise. "If Aizen couldn't destroy Soul Society, how much more of a threat can the zanpakuto of a former Fifth Seat be? Ayasegawa had nowhere near Aizen's strength, and even with Ruri'iro Kujaku's true abilities, I don't put it on the same level as Aizen's Kyoka Suigetsu."

"You speak like a fool," Yamamoto chastised. "Aizen had rule of Heuco Mundo. He could not marshal enough power to overcome Soul Society. He hadn't the wisdom or restraint to recognize his own weakness . . . or to acknowledge the strength in others." A pause. "Ruri'iro Kujaku is of a class whose reach extends far beyond Heuco Mundo, far beyond Soul Society, beyond the living world. That neither he nor Ayasegawa ever realized what he is may well be the only thing that has prevented them both from succumbing to total corruption."

All eyes were upon him, all ears waiting for the revelation of this secret power.

Yamamoto decided the truth was the only way to go. "Ruri'iro Kujaku is an Atmen."

The room was silent.

At length, Captain Kuchiki spoke up. "The Atmen are widely acknowledged as nothing more than a myth these days, the remnants of a disregarded creation fable."

"By minds too small to acknowledge the possibility of existence beyond that which they can see and control," Captain Ukitake put forth.

"My mind is hardly small," Byakuya said in a monotonous voice. "But the Atmen are fantasy images from millennia gone by."

"Your doubt is at your own peril," Yamamoto warned. "Time and the cycle of death and rebirth have removed the memory of the Atmen from many souls. But I have been here—in Soul Society—longer than almost any other soul. My memory has not been tainted by the procession of incarnations. I remember encounters with the Atmen. I can attest to their existence and their power."

"What does it mean, then, if it's true? What does it mean if Ruri'iro Kujaku is an Atmen? That he has the power to create? Isn't that what the Atmen were in charge of? Creating new souls?" Captain Rojuro Otoribashi inquired. He had replaced former Squad Three captain, Ichimaru Gin – also a long-ago defector to Aizen's side. He was a flamboyant man, delicate in manner—almost a caricature of the dandy—with thick blond hair that fell down below his shoulders in light-catching waves, violet eyes that were softer and more melancholy than the violet of Yumichika's eyes, and a habit of dressing with frills and fringes that sometimes showed around the edges of his Shinigami uniform. But other than his appearance, he was a very blasé fellow who sometimes came off as condescending. To his friends and acquaintances, he went by the name of Rose.

"That is precisely what it means," Yamamoto replied.

"But then how is that dangerous?" Rose asked.

That opened the floodgates.

"Ayasegawa was a Shinigami for centuries, and I never saw him create anything."

"He kept Ruri'iro Kujaku hidden all that time, so how powerful could it have been?"

"This is ridiculous. Atmen don't exist—with all due respect, Head Captain."

"So, how does any of this matter if Ayasegawa is a slave in the lower east—"

Yamamoto rapped his staff on the floor. "Silence!"

Immediate quiet descended.

"It seemed that Ayasegawa did not know Ruri'iro Kujaku was an Atmen," Yamamoto explained. "But that does not matter. What you must know is that Atmen are prone to corruption and wickedness, no matter how decent their master. They were given incredible power; and once they become aware of it, they like to use it." He drew in a deep breath. "On his own, I would not fear the corruption of Ruri'iro Kujaku. It seemed to me that he was not aware that he was an Atmen. Indeed, that is why I felt it was safe for Ayasegawa to be away from the Gotei 13 and live in a remote area. But now that he is in the lower east, there is greater need for concern. The lower east is home to other Atmen."

This time the incredulity at such outlandish a claim was kept silent.

Yamamoto went on. "Those Atmen have already detected Ruri'iro Kujaku's existence and are attempting to draw him out. If they succeed, Soul Society may face devastation of the kind not seen since before the Gotei 13 was even formed. And that devastation could easily spread beyond this world into the entirety of creation. The Atmen have those powers. They exercise them at their whim."

At this point, Captain Hitsugaya, who had remained silent until now, spoke quietly. "Why would their discovery of Ruri'iro Kujaku prompt them to start trouble?"

"It may not," Yamamoto replied. "But it is not a chance worth taking. If the information I have received is correct, Ruri'iro Kujaku may be a member of the Seventh Choir. They are the most easily turned, and if he joins forces with another of his choir, one who is already debauched, it is highly likely he himself will succumb to the darkest inclinations of the Atmen."

"Choirs? What's that?" Kensei asked.

Yamamoto gave a brief explanation, followed by an admonishment that his captains should study the history and theological volumes in the library.

"But if their power is to create, then how can they destroy?" This question came from last of the three new captains, Shinji Hirako—who, like the Kinsei and Rose—had been a captain previously, Squad Five in his case. As one of the Visored, he had suffered through the same exile as Kinsei and Rose, only to be reinstated as Squad Five captain after Aizen's defeat. He was an interesting character who wore his blond hair in a pageboy cut with bangs that hung down to his eyebrows. His face had a perpetually droll expression on it, and there were times when he looked one blink away from falling asleep where he stood. His teeth were his most noticeable feature as they had an unnatural railroad track-like appearance; and occasionally, he would open his mouth in just such a way as to reveal a tongue ring. Still, despite his oddities, he was a good captain, more interested in the welfare of his squad members than his own fulfillment.

"Matter is finite," Yamamoto replied. "When too many souls are created with no matter to house them, the struggle for the finite begins."

"But a soul can exist without a material body," Shinji put forth. "That's what Soul Society is."

"Yes, but when there are more souls than material bodies, two things happen: Soul Society becomes overcrowded, and unhoused souls linger in the material world."

"I don't understand that," Juushiro protested. "How can there be such a thing as too many souls?"

It was not a wholly unexpected opposition. Captain Ukitake was well-known among the Gotei 13 captains as being the most sympathetic, the most optimistic, and the least prone to giving up on even the most hopeless cases. It might have been his own long-standing infirmity, but he tended to view existence—regardless of its quality—as a blessing. The chance to exist spiritually was its own merit. To have a physical body at some point was a boon.

"I did not call this meeting to discuss the moral implications of soul creation," Yamamoto stated. "We have only one goal and that is to find the best way to retrieve Ayasegawa without instigating a war with the Atmen in the lower east."

"You're saying, then, that we will have to sneak him out," Rose said.

"That's a job for the Stealth Force," Kensei put forth, and he already sounded like he wanted no part in any rescue attempt.

Captain Soifon was not going to have anyone else volunteer her squad's services. "This doesn't exactly qualify as hostage extraction.'

"But it is a rescue operation—"

"Don't you think they'll come looking for him even if we do manage to rescue him?" Kyoraku asked Yamamoto, ignoring the petty squabbling. "From what you've told us, the Atmen don't sound like they care what they destroy if it means they can add another of their kind to their ranks."

"That is what we are here to discuss. We already have operatives in place," the head captain replied. "If we can extract Ayasegawa using those resources, that would be the least risk."

Captain Hitsugaya wondered, at that moment, why Matsumoto was not being included in this meeting. She was the only one who had first-hand knowledge of Ayasegawa's situation in the lower east; yet she had been conspicuously excluded from the meeting. And from what she had told him, the lower east was every bit as depraved as its reputation warranted. But the iniquity was not what concerned Toshiro Hitsugaya. No, his thoughts swirled around the fact that this was the first time he had ever heard any mention of the Atmen other than in passing referral to the myth of their existence.

He had no reason to believe that the head captain was speaking anything less than the truth. Clearly, the Atmen did exist, but what were they? There had to be more detail than the little bit he had just heard from his commander's lips. It seemed paramount to Hitsugaya, that if the main threat in this case were the Atmen, then it was necessary to learn all there was to know about them before attempting to infringe upon their staked territories . . . and the things they held in their possession, to include Ayasegawa.

But listening to the prattle going on around him, Toshiro doubted that all the captains shared his thoughts on the matter. Captain Kuchiki seemed indifferent. Captain Otoribashi gave the impression of viewing the situation through the lens of a disinterested academic discussion. Captain Komamura had remained largely silent and unreadable. Captains Soifon and Muguruma clearly did not want to participate in any rescue attempt, and it seemed that they might not even believe what the head captain was telling them about the existence of the Atmen. Captain Zaraki, not surprisingly, was absent. Only Captains Ukitake and Kyoraku appeared to have already moved from the debate phase into the planning phase.

Toshiro's hand moved to the hilt of his sword. "It's going to be a long night, Hyorinmaru," he said internally. "Help me remain patient."

---

So, this was the man.

And what a man he was.

Ikkaku was certain he had never met a man as repulsive as Regent Kennah, and that was saying something, for Ikkaku had met a great many repulsive men.

He judged the Regent to be five to ten years younger than himself with the appearance of man whose adolescent lack of hygiene had followed him into his adult life. Everything about him seemed . . . greasy. From his yellow and oily, pock-marked skin to his thick and oily jet-black hair—still sporting a few streaks of fading red—he put Ikkaku in mind of what it felt like after consuming heavy amounts of fried food. He was thick but not in the leastways overweight; no, his bulk was muscle, and there was no lack of it.

His manners were grotesque, and Ikkaku could take some solace in knowing that even his own manners had never been as vulgar as what he was now witnessing. Kennah scratched, pulled, picked and rubbed whatever part of his body suited him whenever it suited him. He was loud and crass and stuck in the perverted mindset of a sex-crazed teenager but with an adult body.

He was dangerous. Ikkaku could see that right away. Unpredictability lurked in his eyes, and indifference rested on his shoulders. He was the kind of man who would not bat an eye at any loss of life, even the life of one close to him – if there were anyone close to him, which Ikkaku somehow doubted. To Kennah, other souls were mere means to an end, there at his whim and for his enjoyment, expendable and easily replaced.

All this Ikkaku could glean from his first look at the man.

Three days had passed since his induction into the ranks of the house guard, and now he was going on his first mission as part of the security detail for the Regent's hunting outing. Of course, given that the hunt was conducted on Kennah's private lands, the security functioned more as a cheering section than protection; but that was no matter. Ikkaku could cheer well enough along with the rest of them, for he knew that in four days there was a big celebration being held in Orator Nelphune's house. And he was determined to be part of the detail for that event, and if he used his wits, he could find a way to see Yumichika.

And so he overlooked the fact that Kennah's quarry of choice was humans, the Regent's justification being, "Here, they're just slaves. After I kill them, they have the chance to go back to the living world and be something important." It was said with cold glibness, but there was a crooked ring of truth to it. Ikkaku used that sliver of truth to soften the impact of what he was about to take part in.

But before the hunt could begin, the Regent made a point of approaching his newest officer.

""So, you're Gacko's replacement?" Kennah asked without wanting an answer. He looked Ikkaku over with unimpressed eyes. "You look about as tough as he was, and where is he now?" A smile tugged at his thick lips. "Are you tough?"

Ikkaku didn't hesitate. "Very tough."

This answer pleased the Regent. "Could you beat him?" he asked, motioning towards Dunkip.

"Maybe," Ikkaku replied.

"What about him?" Kennah nodded at Captain Hlayma.

Ikkaku answered honestly. "I doubt it." Here, in the lower east, without the benefit of his spirit energy, he considered himself little match against someone like Hlayma, who'd had decades—maybe centuries—to perfect his fighting technique without using reiatsu.

Now, Kennah's grin was ear-to-ear. "Well, I can't beat either of them with a sword. But let's see if you can beat me." He drew his own sword as he spoke.

Ikkaku showed an unruffled face as he pulled out his own weapon. "What are the terms of victory?" he asked casually.

"Disarmament," Kennah replied. "Maybe death, if I'm not careful."

"Just like getting into Squad Eleven," Ikkaku thought with satisfaction. He nodded once. "Suits me fine."

The Regent seemed to like this rather flippant answer. He lunged forward with a waist-level slicing movement that could not be easily classified as any sort of sword-fighting move. But while such a maneuver might have rattled any other opponent, for Ikkaku it was like a return to the days of his wanderings. An ugly, undisciplined manner of fighting with no finesse, no rules and not a care for anything other than the thrill. Ikkaku knew this manner of fighting. And he knew he could prevail.

For nearly a quarter of an hour, the contest went on. For the first several minutes, Kennah had been on the offensive, driving wildly forward and forcing Ikkaku to backpedal across the meadow in which they were gathered. But despite Kennah's ferocious attack, Ikkaku did not feel threatened. The Regent was not a good swordsman by any measure. And so, as Ikkaku fended off the sloppy attacks, he found his mind otherwise engaged. If the Regent was not a good fighter, then how was it he maintained his power? Why did no one rebel against him? Why didn't his own officers topple him? What hidden ability did he possess that kept everyone in line and fearful of him?

As he pondered these questions, he caught sight of Hlayma, standing on the perimeter of the meadow, and a subtle glance from the captain conveyed the message that it was time to end the bout and get on with business. Ikkaku took this as he cue to move from defense to offense; and once he did so, the contest was over in short order. Within a minute, he'd disarmed the Regent and, in a show of respect, picked up his master's weapon and returned it to him.

"Not bad," Kennah said. "Not bad. You're nowhere near as good as Hlayma, but you're not bad. What's your name?"

"Harsho Otomaki," Ikkaku replied.

Kennah gave a single nod. "Good. Good. Hlayma made a good choice." With that, he scabbarded his sword and waved his arm. "Onto the hunt!"

As Kennah moved out with his entourage following, Ikkaku fell in with Dunkip at the rear.

"I don't get it," he said quietly. "He can't fight worth shit. What makes him so powerful?"

"Don't let what just happened fool you," Dunkip warned in a near whisper. "He may be crappy with a sword, but he does that so you'll feel superior and let your guard down. His strength isn't in his sword-fighting. He's got other abilities that make swords look like child's play. But he lets people think they might have the possibility of toppling him, and if someone is a traitor who thinks they can best him, they become careless and reveal themselves sooner than later. The Regent doesn't mind if someone wants to leave. If you want to leave, he'll let you. But if you're a traitor, you don't want him to deal with you."

Ikkaku grinned. "Do you think I'm a traitor?"

"No, I'm just speaking in general terms," Dunkip replied.

"Have there been traitors against him before?"

"Plenty. When you're such a powerful man, there are always people trying to bring you down," Dunkip replied. "But no one's even come close. Kennah's . . . untouchable."

"But why? What are these powers you're talking about?" Ikkaku pressed.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Dunkip answered. "But I'm sure you'll find out for yourself in short order. The Regent doesn't keep his powers a secret."

Ikkaku nodded then changed the subject. "You know, I was hoping Captain Campion would be here with us. Maybe the Regent would have let me try my hand against him."

Dunkip shook his head with a mirthful grin. "You really are asking for trouble, you know."

"I just want to meet him," Ikkaku replied. "I've heard so much about him, I want to see if he's as great as everyone says he is."

"Well, you'll get your chance tomorrow. Captain Hlayma is taking you on the detail for the Orator's party. And Captain Campion will be going along, too. The Regent thinks he's rubbing it in Nelphune's face, but he doesn't understand that Nelphune will be happy to see Campion, no matter what the circumstances," Dunkip stated.

Ikkaku nodded. "I think I can wait another night. I've waited this long."

"Just don't do anything stupid. Campion is not someone you want to piss off."

---

It took everything he had for Captain Zaraki to maintain his temper—and his sanity—whenever he was forced to deal with Captain Kurotsuchi. But, unfortunately, there were times when the only place to look for answers was in the scientist's twisted mind.

Kurotsuchi relished such moments as this, when men like Zaraki had to swallow whatever aversion they had towards him and come slouching forth in their search for answers to questions they could not solve on their own.

"To what do I owe the dishonor?" the Squad Twelve captain asked, not even deigning to turn a glance in his visitor's direction. He didn't need to see who it was; Zaraki's reiatsu was distinct and easily detectable.

Zaraki ignored the barb and went directly to the point. "I need your help to find Heykibi."

This was enough to pry Kurotsuchi's attention from his experiments, and he reacted with the enthusiasm of a child who has been asked to help catch a ghost. "Heykibi! Heykibi?!" His shrill voice reverberated through the room. "I haven't heard that name in a long time. What's your interest in him now, so many years after his betrayal?"

"That's my own business," Zaraki replied.

"When you ask for my help, it becomes my business, as well," Kurotsuchi informed him. He eyed Kenpachi with curious scrutiny. "Have you been looking for him all this time?"

"I tracked him in the living world," came the answer. "Now, I know he's back in Soul Society, but he's hard to find. He never had a lot of spirit energy."

"You still haven't told me why you want to find him." A ghoulish smile played on Mayuri's lips, painted black as part of this day's persona. "Are you angry with him after all these years for what he did to break up your little band of heathens?" He paused, and his manner was sinisterly caustic, like a man painstakingly inserting pins into a voodoo doll. "After all, if he hadn't created the demons, no one would have ever found out about Ayasegawa's zanpakuto being kido, and you'd all still be one big, happy, bone-headed, blood-thirsty family."

"I don't give a shit about that," Zaraki replied. "Shinigami come and go. No one's irreplaceable. The reason I want to find Heykibi is because he might prove a fit opponent."

"Ho-hoo!" Mayuri hooted a laugh. "You never considered him a fit opponent before. Why now? Come, come, you can't pretend that you don't hold a grudge against him for what he did to your squad. Oh, true, true that you never gave a damn about Ayasegawa or Madarame, but you liked what they did for the squad. You liked their . . . lethality. Isn't it true that you're looking for revenge? A grudge match?"

"You're an idiot," Zaraki snorted. "I came here for your help, but I'm not going to beg. I'll find the bastard myself. It'll just take longer." But as he turned to leave, Captain Kurotsuchi stopped him.

"Don't be so obstinate," the scientist chastised. "I didn't say I wouldn't help you. And I didn't ask you to beg. But I think that, if I'm going to help you, I deserve to know why you want to find him."

Zaraki considered. He had many reasons for wanting to find Heykibi, but there was one in particular that gnawed at him.

"The creature he created . . . it was defeated by a kido zanpakuto," he stated. "Kido is no way to fight."

"So, you're hoping he can resurrect the creature, giving you the opportunity to defeat it using physical means," Kurotsuchi surmised. "After all, you can't have a waif like Ayasegawa outdoing you."

"I just like a good fight," Zaraki replied evenly.

"Hmmm," Mayuri nodded thoughtfully. "Now, you say you tracked Heykibi to the world of the living. How did he get there? Through a senkaimon?"

"Through reincarnation," Zaraki replied. "He must have killed himself here in Soul Society so he could return to the living world."

"To throw people off his scent . . . of course," Mayuri concluded. "And he's now back in Soul Society, but you don't know where."

"Yachiru and I saw his physical body, dead in the living world," Zaraki explained. "He didn't look anything like the Heykibi we knew here, but it was him. The bastard may not have much spirit energy, but he does carry the aura of all those incantations he has inside him to make zanpakuto. Even in the world of the living, it's like a . . . a residue everywhere he goes. But it's damned hard to detect."

"Do you know how he died this time?"

"Neh, we just saw his body. The soul was already gone."

Mayuri paced slowly, gesturing with his hands at each spoken thought. "So, we must ask ourselves if his death in the living world was accidental or on purpose. Did he mean to die in order to return to Soul Society? Or was his death mere happenstance? There are ways to plant a seed of memory in a soul that enables it to recall its previous incarnations both here and in the living world. Oh, it's not readily known how to do it, so it's not practiced often. And for good reason: it's dangerous and can lead to instability in weak-minded souls. But Heykibi might have known how to do it." He stopped long enough to tap the thick clear glass of a large vat of some preserving liquid in which there were objects floating, the identity of which was better left unknown. "But if he did kill himself with the purpose of coming back here, what is his underlying goal?"

Captain Zaraki regarded him impatiently. "I don't care about any of that. I don't care how or why he died. I don't care if he killed himself so he could come back here. I'm only interested in the fact that he's here somewhere, and I want to find him and defeat him."

"What if he doesn't want to fight you?" Mayuri asked. "What if his returning soul recalls nothing of his previous scheme? You're chasing after the demon, and the demon doesn't belong to him anymore."

"He can create another one—"

"Ha! And they call me mad!" Kurotsuchi burst out into raucous laughter. "You want to face that kind of destructive power again? You're a bigger fool than even I took you for."

"Then tell me," Zaraki said in a low, seething voice, stepping up and taking Mayuri by the collar of his white lab coat, "As one fool to another . . . how can I find him?"

Mayuri plucked Kenpachi's fingers from his coat like picking ticks from a dog. "What's in it for me if I help you?"

Zaraki grinned. "I won't kill you."

"Psha! You couldn't kill me even if you tried," Mayuri scoffed. "I'm always able to . . . put myself back together." He picked up an electronic tablet from his workspace. "The first question to answer is how did he die—you should have ascertained that before returning to the Seireitei. And then . . . how did he get back into Soul Society. The hell butterflies have flawless memories of every soul they've ever escorted—"

"There are thousands of the damned things. I'm not going to go interview a bunch of fucking insects—"

"How badly do you want to find Heykibi? Mmm, I thought so. Now, stop griping and maybe you can get back to the world of the living and find out how he died."

"Why does that make a difference if he's here now?"

Mayuri's face grew pensive and sly, as if he were channeling the thoughts of someone else. "Because if it was a self-inflicted death, then I would not discount that idea that Heykibi chose this time to return to Soul Society for a reason."

"What reason?"

"Perhaps he wishes to reclaim the demon, if it is to be found. Or he wished to exact his own justice on the man who destroyed his creation." He ran one long fingernail thoughtfully across his lower lip. "Has Ayasegawa been found? I saw Lieutenant Matsumoto earlier. She was a member of the team that went out searching for him. I think I need to go have a chat with her."

"You really think Heykibi would go after Ayasegawa?"

"It's a possibility," Kurotsuchi replied, but in the silence of his thoughts, he added, "Or he'd go after his zanpakuto."

"Then I should probably find out where Ayasegawa is—"

"Leave that to me. You should do as I said, and go back to the living world. Find out if the man you say was Heykibi killed himself. You've got free time for a little while, since your squad just came off the wide patrol. In the meantime, I'll begin checking traffic though the Senkaimon. When did you say the man died?"

"I don't remember . . . a month ago, maybe."

"And you're just coming to me now?"

Zaraki scowled. "I didn't want to come to you at all. Yachiru and I tried to find him on our own. We had no luck."

"Of course not, you idiot baboon. But now, we can work on it together. I have my own reasons for wanting to find Heykibi. Good, good. So, now get out of here. You've got your job, and I've got mine. See me when you get back."

Mayuri smiled to himself as he watched Kenpachi's departure.

I have my own reasons for wanting to find Heykibi.

And he suspected he would soon have his own reasons for wanting to find Ayasegawa. The captains' meeting that had been held the day before had raised many interesting questions, but he did not feel compelled to share any of the discussion with Zaraki, who'd not even found it worth his while to attend the meeting.

It seemed likely, in Mayuri's mind, that Heykibi—if, in fact, it had been Heykibi that Zaraki had tracked down—had known Ruri'iro Kujaku was an Atmen. Now, he had come to back to find that Atmen – the Atmen that had swallowed up his creation. For if Ruri'iro Kujaku had absorbed all the energy that had comprised the Demon, then finding him could be a double boon: the chance to possibly win over an Atmen and the chance to extract the energy to reconstitute the Demon.

Of course, if Heykibi failed, he might find himself returning to the world of the living as a new incarnation in short order. That would not have pained Mayuri in the least, for there was a strong enough animosity between him and the former head swordsmith. Still, the captain of the Twelfth Squad was not opposed to using the man to help track down the Atmen.

---

"You sure you wanna do this? You jus' spent all that time in the corner. You should be resting," Ulfa fussed as she helped Yumichika dress.

"This is Nelphune's biggest celebration of the year," Yumichika replied. "He'd never let me back out." He paused, raising his arms as Ulfa wound a sarong-style length of pale green silk loosely around his body. "Besides, I feel fine. I'm a fast healer."

Yilma shook her head as she set out the makeup on the table. "You know Damir already has the entire event filled for you. You won't get one bit o' rest." By event, she meant the two-day long celebration, and Yumichika was booked twenty-fours each day, with no more than a fifteen-minute respite between guests.

Yumichika drew in a deep, resigned breath. "I've done it before." Silently, he said, "And I can do it again, as long as I know help is coming."

He was already in the main house, in the sumptuous room reserved there for him whenever he had been offered up for entertainment. Yilma and Ulfa had been preparing him for the past three hours: bathing and perfuming; shaving away every strand of body hair—including his private parts—at the request of a high-paying client who had purchased a four-hour block of time; sloughing off dead cells and rubbing in lotion until his skin was as soft as a baby's; finessing the ever-longer black tresses that hung like a horse's mane over his alabaster white shoulders.

Now they dressed him in what was a fairly conservative affair, given the Orator's usual proclivity towards a braggart's ostentatious display of his finest possession. The fabric of the sarong was still see-through, but it was wound with enough dexterity so as to maintain at least a modicum of modesty. There was no display of his heritage this time, everything being discreetly tucked away into a beautiful green felt pouch with intricate gold designs woven in, and even this was obscured behind the folds of the sarong.

"I'm not going to wear the makeup," Yumichika stated as the last touches were put on his attire.

"You know th' Orator will skin you alive if you don't wear the makeup tonight of all nights," Yilma warned.

"He's perfectly content if I don't wear the makeup—"

"Maybe when you're servicing him," Ulfa protested. "But when you're there for his guests on his special occasion, he'll want you to be made up."

It was pointless to argue. Yumichika sat down at the table.

Yilma gingerly pulled back the styled hair from his face and tied it back with a ribbon, then began the wearisome task of applying Yumichika's makeup. But she had barely gotten started when Damir's voice came from the doorway.

"You're only now getting to the makeup?" He sounded disgusted and impatient. "The guests will be arriving within the hour. Here, move aside. Let me do it, old hag!"

Yilma never backed down in the face of Damir's tantrums. "You call me an old hag again, and I'll snip your manhood down to the size of a nursing mother's nipple."

Ulfa could not resist. "Not much bigger than it is now."

"The hog waller is missing two of its finest," Damir retorted coolly, sitting down and dipping the brush in the gold liquid eye color. But when he raised his hand to apply the stroke, Yumichika held up his own hand and blocked the attempt.

"I don't want you touching me, not even with the end of a paintbrush," he said plainly. "I've had enough of your hands on my body to last a hundred lifetimes."

Damir smiled prettily. "And how sweet it was. I still remember the taste of you as if it were only this morning." He tried again to apply the color.

And still Yumichika resisted.

"A taste like . . . the way flowers smell, like wisteria," Damir went on. "And so smooth . . . although I see you're even smoother now. Lord Jubavi will be thrilled—"

"Jubavi?" Yumichika sounded stricken. "You mean—Jubavi the man who . . . who sells children?"

"Precisely," Damir replied, adding with a wicked glint in his eye. "After all, he isn't just a seller, you know."

"He's the one who—who wanted me—who wanted me like this?"

"Shaved and smooth . . . "

Yumichika stood up and stepped back angrily. "Like a child! No! No! I'm not going to spend one second with that man! You can cross him off the list!"

"Oh, be quiet, you fool," Damir said, unruffled. "You'll do whatever the Orator tells you to do, and believe me . . . for what Jubavi is paying, the Orator won't renege on the deal. He's paid an outrageous sum for four hours, and he gets you for four hours."

"I won't do it," Yumichika insisted. "I won't even step foot out of this room tonight if—"

"You don't have to step foot out of this room," Damir chuckled, his satisfaction growing with each second. "But you won't be able to keep your patrons from coming in. And Jubavi is . . . oh, I think he's near the end of the list." He paused for a giddy moment. "He wanted you to be too worn out to fight him. Sort of like you were when we had you in the corner. Mmmm." He tweaked one of his own nipple rings and shuddered at the sensation coupled with the memory he was indulging. "It was beautiful seeing you helpless and begging. The way the chains stretched your nipples . . . the skin was . . . almost translucent. Slipping you with ever larger penetrants . . . watching your tongue wag as you gasped and panted . . . pushing inside you until you exploded . . . over and over again, when you kept crying that you couldn't do it again . . . oh . . . I want to take you in my mouth right now, every bare inch of you."

"Get out," Yumichika ordered, stepping back from Damir's encroaching grasp.

"No, no, no, you don't get to give the orders around here," Damir corrected. "You may have something he wants. And Lamos may be a good little lover. But in the end, I'm always the one he comes back to. I am Nelphune's favorite. And if I demand something, he'll give it to me. Well, except Campion. If you don't believe me, whose idea do you think it was to put you in the corner?" He drew face-to-face. "My tongue has sampled every spot on your body, open and hidden. My fingers have explored. My best weapon has filled every opening. And the Orator watched and enjoyed every second." He took a step back and a funny smile showed on his painted lips. "And now all I want to do is put your makeup on, and you won't let me."

"Take Jubavi off the list."

"That's for the Orator to decide," Damir replied. "You can propose it to him yourself." A pause. "But come . . . for now, let me just do your makeup. After the corner, I see you in a whole new light."