Chapter Fifty One: Sacrifice
The hut was dark.
In the shadows, the eight year old Katsura could make out sobbing, a soft, frightened sound like the whimpering of a small child who had become separated from its caretaker in the crowd of people that populated the lower valley. Though he could see no sign of anyone in the dim light that faintly illuminated his surrounds in a greyish haze, he stepped cautiously forward, certain that he was not imagining it and that this time, at least, the voice was not simply in his head.
The floor creaked slightly under his weight, and he paused, tensing, but nothing flew from the shadows to attack him, and the child continued to cry, apparently oblivious to his arrival.
The chamber was cold, and though there were the cooled, blackened embers of a fire in one corner, it had clearly not been lit for some time. Running his fingers against the wall, Katsura's skin brushed against the familiar sensor for one of the spirit lamps his father had taught him how to use and he closed his eyes, screwing up his brow beneath his floppy fringe as he focused his energy on bringing it to life. At first it refused to cooperate, but after a few minutes it fizzled and began to glow, gradually brightening his surroundings and allowing him to see for the first time where he was.
Scraps of paper were scattered across the floor, whether blown by the wind or discarded by some unknown hand, Katsura did not know. He bent to touch the nearest fragment as it skittered along the wooden floor alongside his foot, but despite his best attempts, he could not make out the squiggles that decorated the page. As he released his grasp on it, allowing the sheet to flutter once more to the floor, he caught sight of a fleeting movement in the far corner of the chamber and he turned to see a curtain hung over a portion of the wall, twitching and dancing in the light evening breeze.
No, it was not dancing, but being moved, and a prickle ran up Katsura's spine as he realised the muffled crying was coming from behind this fabric divide. The parchment scraps forgotten, he hurried forward, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to cross the short few metres, for he knew that the one beyond the curtain was the one who had been calling to him. Grabbing it in grimy fingers, he tossed the worn cloth aside, and then stopped dead, staring in disbelief and confusion at what lay beyond.
Wooden bars, fashioned from imperfect bamboo sticks separated him from a tiny room that lay like a prison cell beyond, a rumpled blanket on the floor and a yellowed ceramic dish scattered with grains of rice and clumps of congealing soup the only indication of furnishing. It was not the cell itself that caught Katsura's attention, though, but its only occupant, a grimy, miserable specimen of a young boy who was curled up against the wall, tears streaming down his cheeks and his tiny shoulders shuddering with the violence of the sobs. At the sound of the curtain being flung back, he raised his gaze, his melancholy dark eyes meeting Katsura's for the first time, and in that moment, the older boy felt a jolt of something dart through his senses. The child too seemed to flinch, his eyes widening slightly, then, the next moment he was stumbling to his feet, his thin, fragile body pushing forward to the barred divide and his tiny, pale fingers stretching plaintively through the bars as though trying to grasp hold of Katsura's sleeve.
Too startled by the suddenness of the gesture to pull back, Katsura instinctively reached out to brush his fingers against the child's wriggling ones, feeling their cold, clammy surface. The child tried to speak, his lips not coherently forming the word, but, as they touched, Katsura heard the boy's tearful voice echoing through his head.
"Onii...chan."
Katsura froze, staring at the child in disbelief, but the boy's hopeless gaze had been replaced by a sudden flare of hope and determination and he scrambled forward, pressing close against the wood bars as he strengthened his contact with his impromptu visitor.
"Oniichan." This time the word was spoken, the word trembling but somehow certain in its intonation, and Katsura found he could not pull away, not when his young companion had reached out for him so wholeheartedly.
A flicker of broken, fragmented images flashed briefly across his mindscape, slithers of information but in a strange and disjointed order. As the boy's grip on his hand tightened, the pictures grew more vivid and compelling, yet although they were a violent melee of slashes and shadow, Katsura did not feel afraid. Somehow he felt he had come here to find this child - to protect him, maybe - and as he settled himself down against the bamboo cage, he felt the youngster follow his example, leaning up against the bars without releasing his hold on his rescuer for one second.
"Oniichan." The word was steadier this time, a firmness in the piping voice that had not been there before, and Katsura realised with a jolt that the tears that had stained the boy's cheeks had ceased to fall. Faint, disbelieving hope flooded the youngster's dark gaze, and Katsura was struck by the intensity of the stare. This child, with whom he had never spoken, and whose name he did not even know had been waiting for him, even calling for him, and the fact that this stretch of the village was nominally out of bounds had temporarily slipped his mind. All he could think of was that he had stopped the boy's tears.
Gradually, the youngster's eyes closed, his head lolling trustingly against Katsura's shoulder through the bars, and Katsura tightened his grasp on the tiny fingers, reaching tentatively to brush his other hand through the fine, dark muzz of hair that fell in shaggy, uneven waves to the child's chin. A dull hum of mental energy told him that his companion was sleeping, perhaps for the first time in some while, and a faint smile touched his lips.
I helped. I made him stop crying. Just like in the village, I helped.
"Katsura?"
The voice from the doorway made him start, swinging around guiltily as he registered the shadow of his father in the entrance of the hut. At the sight of him, Keitarou let out a heavy sigh, crossing the floor slowly and sinking down a metre or so away from his eldest son's position. He said nothing to begin with, his gaze flitting from Katsura to the sleeping boy, then he slowly shook his head.
"You shouldn't come here. I thought you understood that this was out of bounds."
"He was crying," Katsura said feebly. "I heard him."
"If you hadn't walked here, you wouldn't have heard anything."
"No, I don't mean like that," Katsura glanced at the sleeping boy, then, "In my head. Last night, I heard him. He was crying and calling to me, Father. I had to come find him and stop him from crying."
"Called to you?" Keitarou's gaze too shot sharply to the younger child. "You had a dream about it?"
"Mm, I think," Katsura frowned, then nodded. "I don't know, really. I just knew he wanted me to come here, so I did. I'm sorry I broke the lock, Father. I didn't mean to do that, only I had to get inside, and it was so stuck...and I pushed it too hard..."
"He's fast asleep," Keitarou pursed his lips together thoughtfully. "I've never seen him sleep like that, not in the whole of...but you're all right? You don't feel strange at all? You're not seeing any odd pictures, or feeling anything unusual?"
"Pictures?" Katsura looked confused, then shrugged. "Yeah, I saw some, but they weren't that strange. I mean ,they were plenty strange, but they were just like," he gestured with his free hand. "They were his pictures, not mine. I wasn't bothered by them. I think they scared him, though."
He hesitated, then,
"Father, who is he?" he asked softly. "When he saw me, it was like he knew me. He called me 'oniichan', but I haven't met him before, have I? Have I seen him in the village? And why is he here, in this place? It's cold and scary, and I don't think he likes it."
Keitarou looked pained, and for a moment he did not answer. Then, at length, he settled himself more comfortably on the wood, rubbing his weak leg absently.
"Forgive me," he said sadly. "I've concealed it from you, and I'm sorry. I thought it for the best, but maybe...maybe not."
He patted his son on the arm.
"His name is Kohaku," he continued softly. "He's five years old, and he's been living here since he was a baby. You've never met him, but I'm not surprised that he recognised you. You see, Katsu-kun, Kohaku is your little brother. He's here because he has bad dreams that make him and other people around him feel ill, so he has to be here,by himself like this. I kept you away because I didn't want you to get sick too - but you don't seem to be...maybe I was wrong."
"My...brother?" Katsura reeled, staring at the child as if seeing him for the first time. "But...I don't understand..."
"Your brother," Keitarou agreed. "I'm sorry for concealing it from you. I thought it best, but it seems as though you're able to reach him on a level even I can't. His dreams and delusions don't poison my thoughts, and maybe that's why they don't hurt you, either - since you're his and my kin. On the contrary, you've calmed him - I don't know how, and I don't suppose you do either, but..."
"I heard his voice in my head," Katsura remembered. "Nobody ever did that before - just spoke into my head without me trying to do it first. I think he was waiting for me, Otousama."
He ran his finger over the tiny hand, then, "Can't we take him home? He's so scared here, and if it's all right my coming..."
"No...no," Keitarou shook his head. "Unfortunately, we cannot. You are fine, but I can't be sure he won't affect your sister, and she's far too tiny yet to be able to cope with such a rush of spirit power, especially since she has none of her own to defend herself with. The people here are vulnerable, too. One person already became very sick and died because of Kohaku's spirit power, and so it's not safe to let him come home."
"Someone died?" Katsura looked stricken, and Keitarou nodded.
"It wasn't his fault," he agreed, reaching across to ruffle Kohaku's hair affectionately. "He didn't mean to hurt anyone, but I can't take the risk of it happening again."
"I see," Katsura frowned, then, "can I come here, then? Maybe, if I came once each day, I could talk to him and we could be friends. I think it would be nice, if I could do that. I'd like to play with him, and he doesn't hurt me."
"I'll talk to your mother, but maybe," Keitarou said cautiously. "For now, though, I'm taking you back home. Kohaku is sleeping, and hopefully he'll stay that way for a while. He's been quite bad recently, but I'm relieved to see him resting. It's hard to make him eat or do anything else when he's at his worst, and it's not nice, seeing him so troubled."
"What does he see, Otousama?"
"Things that nobody else can - things that haven't even happened yet, or things that happened a long, long time ago," Keitarou said matter-of-factly. "He's too young to explain them properly, but being here, like you, I can feel it radiate from him, and see the things he sees. It is a tremendous ability to be born with - a gift like no other, but great gifts carry great burdens, too. Remember that, my boy. Nothing in this world comes for free."
"If it's like that, I don't really want a great gift," Katsura reluctantly released his hold on the sleeping Kohaku's hand, getting to his feet. "I don't s'pose Koku wants it, either, not if it means he can't come home."
"Koku?"
"Mm," Katsura nodded, offering his father a grin. "I think he should be called Koku. Don't you think so? Kohaku is long, and he's only little, and anyway, it's a brother's job to give nicknames and stuff, isn't it? Some of the kids in the village have nicknames, and I think it would be nice, if Koku had one too. That way it's like he really is my brother, because I've given him a special name."
"I see," despite himself, Keitarou laughed. "All right. I suppose he won't mind, if you want to call him that."
He hugged his older son, patting him on the head.
"I'm proud of you, though," he added. "You broke bounds and that was bad, but you came here of your own accord, no matter how frightening it was, and that was good. You've begun to overcome your own terrors, and that's because you wanted to help Koha...Koku to settle, wasn't it? That's what a proper older brother should do - protect his siblings from harm. You have to be strong and unafraid, in order to set them an example. Both Sakaki and Koku will need that, in different ways - maybe I can see that you're ready to be their oniichan, more than I'd realised before."
"I will," Katsura's dark blue eyes became solemn, and he nodded his head. "I'll be their nii-chan, Father. I promise."
"Good lad," Keitarou grinned, slipping his hand into the other's and squeezing it. "But you also must promise me not to talk about this place or about Koku to anyone, understand? Nobody but your mother or I, never anyone else. It's for his own sake, and for the sake of other people. He wouldn't want to hurt anyone, and that's what might happen, if everyone knew he was here like this. All right?"
"Even from Sakaki?" Katsura asked, and Keitarou nodded.
"Especially from Sakaki, since she's the one most likely of all to be hurt," he agreed. "No, Katsu-kun, you must never speak to your sister about your brother. You might be all right knowing, but she almost certainly would not be. As a big brother - do you understand?"
Katsura was silent for a moment, glancing back at the still slumbering boy. Then, at length, he nodded his head.
"Yes, sir," he said gravely, "I understand."
"Katsura-kun, open your eyes."
Mitsuki's voice broke Katsura from the dreamlike stupor, and he opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times to bring her face into focus. There was something glittering and hazy between them, he realised blurrily, a cloud of energy filling the air and making it hard to see clearly her gentle grey eyes or her delicate complexion. Then, the next moment his awareness returned to him with a jolt, as he saw the young woman tilting something that looked very much like a sword hilt in his direction.
"Mitsuki...san?" the syllables came out jerkily, his hand rising automatically to push hers back, but she was too quick for him, looping her free hand around his wrist and pushing it gently back down onto the ground. The haze of energy dissipated into the ether, and Katsura realised it had been some kind of kidou, for now he could see clearly that, far from moving to hurt him, Mitsuki's sword blade had divided into particles of glittering light which now were embedding themselves deep inside the wounds Hajime's needles had left across his torso.
He wet his lips, then managed a single word,
"Why?"
"I shouldn't need to explain that," Mitsuki said matter-of-factly. "I'm a healer. I heal people. That's my job. The one who should be asking why is me - why, and how, and a lot of other questions."
Katsura pursed his lips, and Mitsuki's grasp on his wrist tightened.
"There's time," she said softly. "Seventh Division are distracted...and nobody else came out this far to find you. They won't disturb us, and right now, you can't move, let alone try to escape from me. That being the case, while I heal you, you can explain yourself to me. You can tell me what you were trying to do today...what your connection to Koku is...and, most of all...who you really are."
"You'd save a person not knowing all those things?"
"You saved me in the Spiritless Zone," Mitsuki did not falter. "My spirit power is weak yet, but strong enough to knit this kind of wound so you won't die. Besides, that wasn't one of the questions. I'm quite serious, Katsura-kun. I want to know...exactly what is going on."
"Right now...you look...like a Kuchiki," Katsura observed, resignation flooding his handsome features. "I didn't see it before, but that look...that tone of voice...it's there, isn't it? You are a Clan hime, Mitsuki-san...one who tends to the injured without discrimination, but a Clan himeall the same."
Mitsuki arched an eyebrow, and Katsura sighed.
"All right," he agreed. "Though when I do, you'll probably wish you'd not bothered coming to help me. More, maybe you'll want to hurt me yourself - I don't know. But I suppose...of everyone, I owe you that. I don't care much for Seireitei, but...I always felt that you were different, and I guess you're proving it again now. More...I know you helped Koku, too. I saw how you came with him...and I saw the bandages across his body. He was hurt and you helped him. You might not be my ally...we might be as far as we can possibly be from alliance now, but if you're at least his ally...then I will trust you, and hope...it's the right thing for me to do."
"Koku," Mitsuki's eyes narrowed. "So you really do know him."
"Mm," a sad smile touched Katsura's lips. "Yes. Yes, I do."
"Explain how."
Katsura eyed Mitsuki pensively for a moment, then nodded.
"I met him when he was five and I was eight," he said honestly. "He called out to me and I came to him. Like you did, in the forest - when the Hollow was attacking, I picked up your every thought and feeling and I couldn't stop myself from coming to help you. Koku was...like that. He reached out for help, and I went to him. And I found him."
He pressed his lips together,
"And then Father found both of us," he admitted.
"Father?" Mitsuki's brow creased thoughtfully. "So this was somewhere in Seireitei? Somewhere near here? Somewhere far?"
"I told you when we met I didn't come from Seireitei," Katsura shook his head, wincing slightly as the sword's healing magic began to knit deep into his wound. "I didn't lie to you then. We met in the Spiritless Zone. That was far from where I grew up, but...not as far as here."
Mitsuki's eyes opened wide with dismay, and Katsura nodded.
"I was born in Rukongai," he said softly, "Twenty five years ago, in a part where the Shinigami no longer go."
"Oh God..." Mitsuki's face paled, and Katsura felt sure that if her hands had not been occupied in healing him, she would have clapped one of them over her mouth in her dismay. "But you said...your father. People in Rukongai...they don't have...family. That doesn't...but you said...born. You said...that. So..."
"Mm," Katsura rallied his courage, meeting her gaze with a bittersweet one of his own.
"My full name is Aizen Katsura," he said slowly, watching the stricken look flicker across the grey eyes. "But you'd already realised, hadn't you? That when I said Father, I meant..."
"Keitarou," Mitsuki bit her lip.
"And the reason I was there, in the forest, to save you that day?" Katsura let out a humourless laugh. "Because I was the one who was meant to kill you. I was meant to kill all of you. Only I felt I knewyou...and I couldn't do it."
"Oh God," Mitsuki's fingers faltered from the hilt of her blade for a moment, before tightening, and Katsura shifted his body, moving his arm to touch her sleeve.
"Stop," he murmured. "You owe me nothing. I killed your friends. The Hollow...I controlled it. I drove it at your companions and made it fight them. I saved you - but I put you in danger. Your friends...their lives...mine is the price owed. You shouldn't heal me...not when I did such horrible things."
"Healers don't choose who to heal based on their deeds," Mitsuki spoke quietly, but Katsura could see the tears on her lashes and could tell that the truth had shaken her. "We heal because it's in our nature. Sometimes that puts us in harm's way. Even if what you said is true, Katsura-kun...I won't stop. This is my duty. As a healer, I don't believe in killing. Not even if the person I'm helping hurt those I cared about."
"But..."
"If you regret it, then you should use your life to atone for it," the glitter of Kidou strengthened around Katsura's body once more, and he felt the warm determination in its glow against his skin. "If you don't, then not even my healing power can really save you. You are already dead, if you can take innocent life and not regret it."
"Mitsuki-san..." Katsura hesitated, then, "I do regret it. I did it because I was told to, and I had always been raised to believe Shinigami were evil. But because I met you, I know they're not, all. I can't take back killing them, but I...am not proud of it. And most of all, not proud that you had to know I did it. I'm sorry...more to you than to them. I betrayed you most of all, yet you heal me all the same. I don't deserve that."
Mitsuki chewed on her lip, and for a moment there was silence between them, then she spoke, her words full of sadness.
"Twenty six years ago, I saw your mother in the forests of the Real World," she said slowly, moving her hand to guide the particles of Yuuyugo's blade deeper into the wound. "I knew then that she was with child. That child was you, wasn't it?"
"Probably," Katsura agreed.
"Then you're Keitarou's eldest child." Mitsuki's brows knitted together. "The Council searched for both Keitarou and Eiraki. They wanted Keitarou for many things, and Eiraki-chan..."
"Chan?" Katsura's eyes widened, and Mitsuki nodded.
"Once, we were friends," she agreed sadly. "Once, but a million years ago. The day I saw her in the forest, she tried to kill my cousin, and that I couldn't forgive. I learned then about Ribari, and that she'd been the one to poison him, too. I knew then there was no rescuing her...that Keitarou had destroyed her. But I wondered, sometimes, about the child. The Council - I know the Endou would've taken you and raised you, if only they'd found you, and then..."
She faltered, as the tears began to fall, and Katsura raised a bloody finger to wipe them from her cheek.
"It would've been a lie," he said simply. "I wasn't sent here today, Mitsuki. Even though what happened in Rukongai was because of Father's orders, and a lot happened because of it, I came here today for one reason and one reason only. I came because my sister was murdered - I came to be her vengeance."
"Your sister? Sakaki? The girl who killed Souja-dono?"
"And the others in the Spiritless Zone. Yes," Katsura nodded. "She was bloodthirsty, she was violent, but she was my sister and I loved her. Mother, Father, too. They're my family. If I'd been raised as an Endou, it would have been wrong. I regret hurting your friends, because I didn't understand. But I don't regret coming here today."
"Then I'm glad you didn't manage to kill anyone by doing so," Mitsuki said firmly. "Killing out of vengeance never solves anything. It only gives another family reason to grieve, reason to hurt. Sakaki was probably killed because she murdered Souja-dono. You came to kill because Sakaki was dead. Then someone would come kill you, and so on it goes. It isn't right, Katsura-kun. It's not justice, that way."
"It's the only justice that kid will get," Katsura replied sadly. "I can't expect you to understand, but I never met Souja-dono. I never met any of Sakaki's victims, and even if I had, well, I don't pretend I agree with everything she ever did. Or that we didn't argue. We did. But the most important thing to me has always been my family. and so I chose to come today. Father couldn't stop me. I came of my own free will. I can't go back - he made it clear that if I brought him trouble again, I shouldn't bother returning. I chose to come anyway. I knew I might be killed, but so be it. I had to put my sister's ghost to rest...and, maybe, sate my own feelings."
His eyes glittered slightly, and Mitsuki sighed.
"You're an Endou," she said regretfully. "You said it would have been wrong, if you'd been raised one, but today...I saw it, and just now, it flared up in your eyes again. Earlier...wasn't an accident, was it? Your power didn't just intoxicate you...you really meant to kill."
"I meant it," Katsura agreed regretfully. "I came to avenge Sakaki...and would've killed any who tried to prevent me, or died in the attempt. That was my choice...it was what I came here resolved to do."
"Then I'm the one who's foolish," Mitsuki reflected sadly. "Not all Endou have their claws out all the way when you first meet them, but...that will to protect, to defend, to fight and to kill...I just felt it raise inside of you again, even just talking to me. You can't help it being there, but it's there all the same. The hunting spirit of the Endou Clan brought you to be Sakaki's vengeance. I can heal your wound but I can't take that instinct away...which means...if I help you, you'll come back and try again, won't you?"
Katsura was silent for a moment, then he shook his head.
"I won't," he said pensively. "I won't, because it will make Koku sad. I don't want to do that. I don't want to hurt him, or his chances of finding the life he's never had, here."
"What do you mean?"
"You haven't realised that yet?" Katsura was surprised. "I told you, didn't I? We met when we were children. He was a little boy of five, a wretched sight in rags. Of all the people I've ever trusted, Koku is the one I trust the most. The person I have the strongest connection with is him, and it's been that way since that day."
"Then Koku is also from the Rukon," Mitsuki deduced. Katsura nodded.
"Yes and no," he responded, and Mitsuki looked confused.
"Yes...and no?"
"Well, as much as I am, he is," Katsura offered a hollow smile. "Koku is my brother, Mitsuki-san. I thought that should be obvious. Just like I was, he was born in the Rukon. Just as I did, he grew up there."
"Your..." Mitsuki's eyes became huge for a second time. "You mean...the boy Juushirou's been taking care of at Thirteenth...that boy is Keitarou's son too?"
"As much as I am," Katsura agreed.
"Then that boy is...Kohaku?"
"He is," Katsura confirmed. "Does that shock you?"
"I don't know," Mitsuki bit her lip. "I've heard so many mixed reports, and I didn't know what to make of them. Stories of a demon, a monster, someone capable of destroying the world. Now you tell me that person is deep within the Division of someone I care about very much. I don't know what to think."
"Someone you care about..." Katsura's eyes became slits, then he sighed, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't know who that is, but you shouldn't worry. Whatever I've done, Koku...he hasn't killed anyone. He hates the idea of killing, and Father has never been able to control him. Only...Koku has...certain things about him that make him valuable to Father, and I'm afraid that it might mean...he's not safe, not even where he is now. I want...I've always wanted to live in Seireitei. I want it for him, too. For most of his childhood, he suffered so badly that he tends to pull away, not trusting people. He trusts me, but I think...nobody else, and if I'm not there..."
"I see," Mitsuki's eyes softened. "When you talk about him like that, I...begin to understand why he's so wary and seems so lonely. He doesn't sound like a demon at all, the way you describe him - and the boy I met, he doesn't seem like one either."
"He's not a demon," Katsura agreed, "but he's not very comfortable around people, and I've always looked out for him. We have a connection...and if I sever it, I need to know that he has others to look out for him. He has the same bad blood as I do - but he's so much more at risk than me."
"In what way?" Mitsuki lowered her sword, setting the hilt aside and reaching out to help her companion into a sitting position, eying the wounds critically. "A little more Kidou, I think. My sword is about spent, but I still have some magic I can use. Tell me about Koku, and I'll try and muster it."
"He acts as though everything is fine," Katsura sighed. "He makes out that he can handle the world, and puts space between it and him, but deep down..." he shook his head. "I've told you before, but I can read people. Their thoughts and things. With Koku, when we first met each other, our connection was telepathic. From then, we've talked that way, through thoughts as much as words and...I guess I've picked up on his feelings because of that."
He looked apprehensive.
"Are Seireitei really convinced Kohaku is a demon? Will it put Koku in danger, if you know his real name?"
"No, not if I can help it," Mitsuki shook her head. "But I don't know...if it's something other people should know yet. Like I said, there have been stories circulating - rumours about this Kohaku, and that he poses a threat to everyone and everything in Seireitei. If that's really the young boy Juush...Ukitake-taichou has..."
"Koku isn't violent, and he's not as headstrong or as impulsive as I am," Katsura said sadly. "He warned me that following this path was dangerous, and he was right. Just...he's not like other people. Not like any other people. He's just...not."
"I imagine that, in Rukongai, there are few with spirit power like you or he have," Mitsuki pointed out, but Katsura shook his head.
"No...I mean, not just in Rukongai," he responded. "In Seireitei, too. Probably in Inner Seireitei, even among the Gotei. Koku is not the same. That's why people think he's dangerous - but it's not like that. It's not like that at all. He has a lot of spirit power, it's true, and if he was of the mind Father is, he could probably use it to cause a fair amount of damage. But he's...different. He is stronger than I am. Maybe he's stronger than Father is - I'm not sure, but the way Father treats him makes me think that potentially he could be. Potentially. He has the ability to cause great harm, but Mitsuki, the idea of causing other people pain hurts Koku more than anything else. He hates other people's suffering...yet he's had to live with images of it for his whole life. The more he's surrounded by death, the worse it becomes."
"Other people's suffering," Mitsuki's eyes softened. "That makes him sound like a healer. It's the same for us, you know. We feel other people's pain and we have to reach out to help. It's an impulse that's hard to fight, and it can cost our lives."
Katsura's expression became troubled, and he sighed.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't understand anything, and now I can't change it."
"No, but you can move forward," Mitsuki told him pragmatically. "That's why healers preserve life. If you have it, you can take action. You can atone for this. If you do, my friends didn't die for no reason."
Katsura touched a finger gingerly to the healing wound. What had seemed such a fatal, gaping hole only a short time earlier had now completely stopped bleeding, the pain dulled to little more than an ache and a thin, glittering haze of energy pulling the edges of the skin together, providing a makeshift scab through which his own body could mend. He drew his hand back, pursing his lips.
"Are you sure, using all this power on someone you know is a murderer?"
"You might be that," Mitsuki acknowledged gravely, "but right now, you don't sound like it. You sound like...a worried brother, looking out for his kin. Your aura changed completely...and...I like this you better. This is the Katsura-kun who helped me in Rukongai. This is the person I think you should try to be, if I heal your wound. So maybe, I thought, if I did that properly...you could try."
"Mitsuki-san..." Katsura began, but Mitsuki put a finger briefly to his lips.
"Tell me more about Koku," she repeated gently, and Katsura sighed, nodding his head.
"Even though we were both born in Rukongai, I really didn't meet Koku till I was about eight," he said quietly, his voice trembling slightly, and Mitsuki saw the distant look in his eyes as he remembered something she could not see. "Until then, I didn't know I had a brother. Father kept him away from us, and Mother spoiled me, but never spoke about him. It was as though he didn't exist."
"I don't understand," Mitsuki frowned. "Why would he do that?"
"Koku was different," Katsura explained simply. "Father thought it dangerous for him to be too close to us, especially as time went on. It was by accident that I met him at all. I didn't feel his thoughts, not exactly. It was as though something was crying out to be rescued - a frightened child, disturbing my sleep at night and haunting me during the day. Eventually I went looking, and I found the hut Father had locked him away inside."
"Locked...?" Mitsuki's eyes widened, and Katsura nodded.
"Koku...sees things," he said carefully. "I'm not sure how exactly to put it so that it makes sense, since it isn't really easy to understand. He sees things that other people can't see. Things that haven't happened yet. Things that happened long ago. When he was younger, they swallowed him up so he had no way of disseminating reality from delusion and his spirit power was so wild that it infected anyone who came near. One man went mad and died because he got too close, and so Father kept everyone away, just in case. He and Mother decided not to tell me about Koku because I might get into danger if I went near, but I found him all the same. He was just a frightened little boy to me, Mitsuki. I remember him, tears streaming down his cheeks, these pale clawlike hands reaching for me through the bars as though looking for someone to save him. I wasn't frightened. His delusions didn't poison me like they did other people. On the contrary, I was able to calm him. We bonded then, and when Father found us, we were curled up either side of the bars together, him sleeping peacefully and me holding onto his hand. That's when Father told me who he was and why he was there."
"Juushirou said that Koku had suffered from waking nightmares since he'd been here," Mitsuki remembered. "He asked me to look at him, but Koku wouldn't talk about it and didn't seem to want anyone to examine him properly."
"I guess he doesn't want to be locked away again," Katsura pressed his lips together. "It's only in the last five years or so that he's become rational enough for long periods of time. Father agreed to remove the interdict on his mixing with other people, and only under the condition that he became Koku, not Kohaku. People were afraid of Kohaku, because of the stories about the man's death and the aura of death surrounding the hut, so he had to become a stranger. Even my sister never knew that she had two brothers, and she always spoke to Koku so horribly because of it. I hated that, but he's just accepted it without a murmur of protest. He never called me Oniichan, and he called Father and Mother by their given-names, with honorifics, as though he was another person from the Rukon. He sacrificed his family ties for a taste of freedom, but its never really been that. His world is still so small, despite the things he sees, and the power he has sets him apart from everyone. He has to hide so much, including his feelings about things. In some ways he's smarter and seems older than I am, but in others he's still not grown up. And even though he has rationality now...it doesn't mean the danger is over."
"Do you think that he could lapse back into a delusive state permanently?" Mitsuki asked softly. Katsura shrugged.
"I don't know," he admitted. "He doesn't talk about it much, not if he can help it, but I don't think he's been so well lately as he was before. Death...upsets him. I don't know for sure what happened when he decided to come here, but I think it's fair to say that he saw your comrade die before it happened, and decided to try and stop it, regardless of the consequences to him or to anything else. He's so frightened of returning to that world of nightmares that I imagine he'd do anything - even try and save the life of someone who posed him a threat - rather than let it take over him again. He's said more than once that he hates Kohaku's existence, and often speaks of him as though Kohaku were a completely separate person. Maybe that's why he accepted being Koku so readily - I don't know. Father would exploit things too, of course - force him to use his abilities to see future and past events and it took its toll. I...I wanted to treat him normally, like my brother, because I was the only one who could. I tried not to let him dwell on things - but it never goes away completely. I don't know if he can control it more. Back in Rukongai Father worked with him a lot, but that's not happening here. He had techniques, tools...things to help, but here..."
"I see," Mitsuki's lips thinned. "Whatever Keitarou was doing to support his development has broken down because he's been with us and none of us know what we're dealing with. And, on top of that, he's surrounded by people he doesn't know, in a place he knows nothing about...a place full of spiritual stimulants that Rukongai probably doesn't have."
"Yes," Katsura rubbed his chin in agitation. "I'm worried he'll be angry that I've told you, but I want him to be all right. Please, Mitsuki-san, you have to believe me when I say he hasn't killed anyone. Sakaki and I have blood all over our hands, but he has none. I'm sure he tried to save Endou Souja-dono because he believed it was the right thing to do, even though he must've known what would happen if he did. Please help him to find a way to stay here, and a place to belong. I think if he has that...if he has people who accept and understand him as he is...then maybe he'll be all right."
"You really do love him, don't you?" Mitsuki said gently, and Katsura nodded.
"The rescuing wasn't all on my part," he said honestly. "Koku and I have a special bond - like I said, he's the only one I could ever talk to through thoughts as well as words. I don't really know why that is, because people with strong spirit power I can't usually connect with like that, but he...well, like I said, he's not like anyone else."
"I've sensed pain and sadness from Koku's aura when I've been with him, and also, wariness to the world around," Mitsuki admitted. "Now I understand why. He isn't just out of his familiar environment, but dealing with things that most people can't even fathom. I can see why folk fear him - everyone fears the future, in some way or another, and to have someone who can see into it is unnerving and uncanny for most."
"Koku's said himself that he knows too much, and that's his weakness," Katsura agreed. "It makes him very lonely...but I don't want him to be that any more. His hallucinations are usually bad ones, but once he told me about a place he'd dreamed of, a peaceful place near a lake, with flowers and birds and insects, with a blue sky and not a single cloud. He'd never left Rukongai, and never seen those things, but he described it to me perfectly and even showed me his memory through our psychic link. When I came to Inner Seireitei, I saw it for the first time. It's the garden alongside Thirteenth, where we met that night I came to warn you. In his dream, he said he was sitting there, laughing and talking with people he could not see and whose voices he could not place. It was this place...and so I'm sure he's meant to be here. He might not have seen it yet but...that vision is my one hope for his future, whatever happens to the rest of us."
Mitsuki's eyes softened.
"When you speak like that, I know you're not really a killer. Not at heart," she said, the glow of Kidou fading from her fingers. She got to her feet, reaching to retrieve the hilt of her sword before pulling Katsura carefully to his.
"I don't know about that," Katsura admitted. "But I made my choice. I chose my family over my chance to make peace with you and your people. That was my decision."
"A sacrifice for war," Mitsuki murmured sadly, and Katsura shrugged.
"Perhaps," he agreed pensively. "But we all have to have faith in something. My colours are nailed to a different mast than Koku's. I understood that today, but it makes me believe all the more that he should stay with you people. You...are not my enemy. I don't know if Seireitei is, either. The one who killed my sister isn't a shinigami, so I'm not sure. But for Koku's sake, if that's where he is, I won't fight any more against the Gotei. In return...please make sure he's all right. Please help him find a place he belongs - because in Rukongai, he never had that."
Mitsuki was silent for a moment, eying him sadly. Then,
"I'm going back to Inner Seireitei," she said softly. "If you are still here by the time the officers of the Seventh return, you will be arrested, charged and maybe put to death. I can't give you any more warning - my duty to my dead comrades won't let me cross lines any more than I already have. My life was saved by you, but also threatened by you. Therefore I saved your life, but I will not protect your life. That makes us even, I think?"
"More than," Katsura's blue eyes softened in grateful comprehension. "And Koku?"
"Koku is not a killer, and so long as Juushirou has him, no harm will befall him," Mitsuki replied solemnly. "The sins of the father aren't automatically the sins of the son. If Koku can be helped, I will try and help him. You have my word."
"Then that's all I ask. It's already more than I deserve," Katsura flashed her a rakish smile, but it was tinged with sadness, and Mitsuki's own clouded gaze told him that she knew they would never meet again.
Probably, the same goes for Koku and I too. Hard as it will be, I have to disappear. For his sake, maybe for Father's, too...I have to not exist. I already shut off contact, and now I'll have to maintain that block, no matter what happens, even if it means breaking another promise. I don't know what the future will hold, but for now, all I can do is take Mitsuki's challenge and see if I can find a way to atone for what happened in the Spiritless Zone. I owe her that at least, and if she has Koku's interests in her sights...
He reached across to grasp her hand briefly in his, before letting it fall back at her side.
"Saving you was something else I don't regret," he said softly. "This person who you care for, don't take them for granted. The world can change in a heartbeat, and its easy to get caught in the flow."
With that he was gone, slipping into shunpo as he pushed his battered body through the streams of light to a place far from the furore of Inner Seireitei.
Reaching the edge of a quiet copse, he used what remained of his strength to pull his weary frame up into the branches of a nearby tree. Hiding himself among the foliage, a bittersweet smile touched his lips, as he recalled how Sakaki had loved to use trees in her stalking games.
Well, little sister, I hope your soul can rest without blood spilt in your name.
He closed his eyes, resting back against the hard, twisted wood of the trunk.
For Koku's sake, I won't take any more risks. If he's there...today I saw clearly what he wants, and needs, even if he doesn't realise it yet himself. You and I, we cast our lot with Father, but Koku never did. Now I see why, and...maybe it's the right choice. I guess perhaps time will tell. If Father goes to Seireitei, it will be messy. I can only hope that - if that happens - Mitsuki's Gotei are able to protect Koku.
"I wondered whether you'd bother coming back here tonight,"
As Keitarou stepped over the threshold into the village, he found Eiraki waiting for him, her body wrapped in a thin cloak against the unsettled breeze. Her expression was impassive, and her words cold, but Keitarou could see the red about her lashes, and she knew that no matter how hard she tried to conceal it, she was still a mother who had lost her daughter. Eiraki's normally vivid blue eyes - the eyes that Sakaki had inherited, passed down from the legendary Endou matriarch, Yayoi were dull and clouded, unusually lacking in spirit and life, and at the sight of her, Keitarou sighed, moving to put his hands on her shoulders. She flinched slightly, but did not pull away, and Keitarou knew that, despite her anger, she had been waiting for him, unsettled and desperate for his touch and reassurance that all would be all right. She had probably spent much of his absence preparing Sakaki's body for burial, he realised with sudden clarity, as he registered the specks of blood that tarnished her sleeves, and for a moment he closed his eyes, wondering how he would tell her the full truth.
"I wondered if you would come see your daughter buried," at length, Eiraki spoke again, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. "I realise you have 'important things'," she spoke the words with genuine bitterness, "to do, which surpass your duty to your family in your mind's eye, but at the very least, I thought you could be a father for a moment, instead of a crusader trying to bring the world to its knees."
"Eiraki." Keitarou faltered, then bent to kiss her on the brow, genuine sorrow in his muddy eyes. "I'm sorry - I really, truly am. I didn't intend...if I had known what was going to happen..."
"I thought you knew everything that was going to happen?" Eiraki pushed him back, sudden life sparking in the bright, defiant eyes, and Keitarou caught a glimpse of the young girl he had first fallen in love with, who had gone through hell and high water to achieve his goals, even taking the life of the Kuchiki heir because it had made him happy. That spirit and rebellion had calmed and aged, her determination ploughed into her children and her loyalty to the Rukon people, but it somehow comforted Keitarou to know that within the woman still lived the girl who had truly understood him. He reached up to touch her cheek, then lowered his hand without making contact.
"I don't know everything. Even Kohaku doesn't know that, and I only pick up bits and pieces of the things he sees," he said softly. "When he was small, it was different. I could read much more from his aura, then - but as he's got older, and stronger...it's happened less. Besides, Kohaku isn't here...and if he knew Sakaki was going to die, he didn't tell me about it before we were parted."
"One child about to be laid to rest beneath the earth," Eiraki's voice shook, and Keitarou felt her hand slip into his, gripping hold of his fingers tightly as though afraid to let them go. "One disappeared into nothing with no explanation, and the third...Kei-sama, where is Katsura? He was here in the village, but he hared off in your direction, and now you come back here...without him. Tell me the truth...where is my son?"
"Alive, and in Seireitei, currently," Keitarou told her gently.
"He's alive?" Eiraki relaxed slightly at this, and Keitarou nodded.
"He and Koku are both alive," he assured her. "I made sure of it. But Eiraki, listen to me. Katsura went of his own volition to challenge the fox that killed your daughter. He was angry and I couldn't stop him."
"What else do you expect him to do?" Eiraki demanded. "He's an Endou. Vengeance is born into him. He's my son - or had you forgotten that?"
"I had not," Keitarou shook his head. "I suppose I underestimated how deep that blood ran through him - or rather, no I didn't. I knew he felt strongly about his kin, but I hoped...he would listen to my words and wait until such a time as we could make a meaningful assault on the shinigami's world. As it is..."
"He went to attack shinigami?" Eiraki's entire demeanour changed. "You said the one who killed my daughter was that cursed fox - you didn't say anything about shinigami! Why didn't you say that before, Kei-sama? Go back there! Go get him and bring him back! If you don't, the shinigami will..."
"I am not going back to Seireitei," Keitarou put a finger to her lips, shaking his head. "Katsura understood the risks, and he went there anyway. I told him to stay, and he defied me. I warned him before, Eiraki-chan. If he defied or betrayed me again, I would not take him back. He did so openly and knowingly this time. Whether he killed Sakaki's killer, I don't know. What happened to the fox remains unclear in my mind...though I think it likely he's died, I can't be certain of the circumstances. In the case of Katsura, however, there's nothing I can currently do about that. He made his own decision - if the shinigami capture him, then that will be that."
"You'd abandon your own son to the mercy of your enemy?" Eiraki's features had drained of colour, but Keitarou knew it was anger, not grief that had rushed through her body, for those bright blue eyes were now sparking at him, full of censure and disbelief. "Do you have any concept of what I went through to birth and raise that child, as well as nursing you through your injury? I could've chosen one of you over the other, but I never did! I worked hard to ensure that both of you, helpless as you were, had a chance to live and gain strength! Katsura's first steps inspired you to get back up and walk - or had you forgotten? Katsura's existence helped bring you back to life! You owe that child and I both your life, and yet you discard him, as though he were no more than trash? Who was it who preached and lectured me on betrayal and on trust, Urahara Keitarou? Would Keitsune-sama have abandoned youin such a casual, haphazard way?"
"Father?" Keitarou stared at her, a flood of emotions rushing through his own body, and he frowned, his eyes darkening.
"Father did abandon me," he said softly. "He left me as a four year old boy with not an ounce of protection in this world. You say I owe you and Katsura my life, and maybe I do - but it's me who has protected you all all these years. Katsura has chosen to turn his back on that protection. I would've avenged Sakaki. I had it in mind - but I needed more information. I needed to know I could protect both my sons and bring them back to you alive, but Katsura would not listen! He's just like his Endou forefathers in this respect - he doesn't heed common sense and rationality, and is always too keen to have everything done yesterday!"
"You know nothingabout the Endou, if you can speak about them like that." Eiraki's voice shook, and Keitarou snorted.
"You, who abandoned them, now try to defend them before me?" he said disdainfully.
"Yes, I abandoned them," Eiraki snapped back. "I abandoned them because I didn't agree with how they, or the others ran Seireitei. I chose to come with you, because at least then I would be free to make my own decisions and choices! It doesn't change the fact I have Endou blood, nor my pride in what that means. I am a hunter, and I hunt. I lack the power to do it as my brother does and my grandfather did, but instead I bequeathed it to my children - to Katsura and to Sakaki - and because of that mentality, they've served you and your cause well. Katsura inherited your spirit power and both he and Sakaki my hunter's instinct, so you made effective weapons of them both. But they aren't just weapons, Kei-sama! They are your children! Your daughter lies bloody and cold because you miscalculated, and now your son..."
Keitarou was silent for a moment, then he sighed, rubbing his temples.
"I have two sons. Wehave two sons," he said quietly.
"Kohaku is different," Eiraki pressed her lips together, and Keitarou arched an eyebrow.
"Different? So as a mother, you feel nothing for him?"
"Of course I have feeling for him!" Eiraki's temper flared up indignantly once again, thin hands on hips. "A mother's bond with her son is never that feeble, no matter how hard you work to try and break it! But Kohaku isn't a hunter, and he never has been. He didn't inherit that from me. He's not designed to kill."
"You're wrong," Keitarou shook his head. "Of all our children, Eiraki, Koku's life is most wound up with death. The things he sees, the power that lurks within him - of all our children, he is the one with the most to offer. Protect him, and we protect our cause. Through him, everything can be achieved. I know where he is, and I know how to reach him. I just need a little more time. I need Seireitei to follow my paper trail and spread their resources more thinly. I wanted Katsura with me, then - but he decided against. He's a grown man, and he chose for himself. I cannot keep covering for him when he makes an impulsive mistake."
"So, like Seimaru, you'll let him be killed."
"Seimaru was killed by your brother, and his own reckless greed. It had nothing to do with me."
"Seimaru was a monster and an idiot. Katsura is neither one. He is your son, and you owe him..."
"I owe him nothing, not when he chooses to defy me," Keitarou cut across her. "I'm sorry, Eiraki, but this is how it is. A mother loves her child, whilst a father expects obedience and filial loyalty. That is the way of the world - you can't pretend you don't know as much."
Eiraki fell silent, and Keitarou saw her eyes narrow sullenly.
"You don't understand anything about it," she said at length. "When it was just you and I, and I was the one risking my life for you, it was fine. I would've died for you then, and I would die again now. I love you and that has never and will never change. But I'm not afraid of you, either. Everyone else might be, but I'm not. I've seen you at your weakest, and vowed to do everything I could to bring you back to strength. A wife and a mother makes those decisions without a man ever realising the sacrifices she makes. Clan or District, Rukon or Real World, it's the same. You men fly ahead with your goals, and you never realise the pain of a mother who has to bury her own child. It makes me helpless, Kei-sama. I can't fight the way you do, or they can. I don't have those skills. But I would still put myself in harm's way on your behalf, if it meant that my children were safe at home."
"Eiraki..." Despite himself, Keitarou felt his heart tug at her sincerity, and he sighed, moving to slip his arms around her slender body and hugging her tightly.
"Katsura is alive," he told her softly. "I didn't just abandon him to his fate. Chudokuga interfered with those who pursued him, and threw them off his track. I could still feel his spirit power after they turned back from the pursuit - so I came back here. Your son isn't dead - neither of them are. I promise."
"That's hardly any comfort when they're so far away," Eiraki did not resist his embrace, but Keitarou could feel how tense she was beneath his hold. "You took my younger son from me when he was just born, and you never let me see him again until he was sixteen and a practical stranger. Much as I love Kohaku, I never had the chance to bond with him the way I did with Katsura. Now you've taken him from me too...it's hard to bear. My life is their lives...it's not just yours any more, but theirs as well."
"Then I'll give you my word," Keitarou spoke gently, moving to brush the wisps of dark hair out of her face and gazing down into her reproachful blue eyes. "I will go to Seireitei, and I will lay waste to the shinigami. I will rescue Koku, and we will create a world in which we can finally live, without shinigami oppressors chasing us at every juncture. We will put the past behind us and move on. No more fighting and no more hiding. And, when I have done that, I promise that I will seek out your other son. When there is no longer danger of him leading them to me and the people you care for here, then I will forgive him, and bring him home."
Eiraki eyed him sadly, leaning up against his body.
"You're not going to see Sakaki buried, are you?" she asked resignedly, and Keitarou frowned, shaking his head.
"I can't. There isn't time," he admitted. "I have already delayed too much by coming here. I'm sorry, Eiraki. I really am, but Sakaki's soul is already beyond our reach and there are others still living who will die if I don't move with speed. People I need - people we need if that future is ever going to come about. Without Koku's visions, I'm blind. I can only act on instinct and hope that it will be enough."
Eiraki sighed.
"Promise me one other thing, then," she begged, twisting her fingers through his and eying him plaintively. "When this is over, stop treating Kohaku as your experiment? When the fighting has ended, and we have the freedom you believe in us getting...then stop making that boy see things that make him so upset. I want my sons to live their lives free and happy. Both of them, whatever that means. So promise me, when there's peace...no more making Kohaku your guinea pig."
"Eiraki?" Keitarou eyed her in surprise, and Eiraki offered him a sad, bitter smile.
"I was a caged bird, prisoner of the Endou, bound to their whims and their outmoded traditions," she said softly. "I had no right to object, and I didn't know what it would be to live free. I chose this life so I could find out those things, and I don't regret that I did. Kohaku was ill when he was born, I know, and he caused problems...but that was then and this is now. I don't want him to be a caged bird any more, either. Promise me, Kei-sama. When this is over, we'll all of us live in peace? Sakaki died fighting for that cause...so promise me that your daughter's life won't be lost in vain?"
Keitarou let out his breath in a rush.
"Very well," he said at length. "If it's in my power to do, I'll grant you your wish. If it's possible to create such a place, then I won't experiment with Koku and his power any more. I'll find a way to seal it away for good, so it can't cause him any more pain. All right? Once everything is over, I won't need his power, anyway. It will be done."
Eiraki's smile softened, and Keitarou saw the relief in her azure gaze.
"Then I'll see Sakaki off to the next life without you," she said pensively, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek. "Go, do what needs to be done. Just remember you made that promise, and I will hold you to it. The world we're creating isn't your world any more, but our world."
Author's Note
As usual, here is the offering for Juu's birthday, 21st December – and the last chapter to be posted before Christmas. There won't be a chapter next week, so this is a Merry Christmas to all who celebrate (and a great Dec 25th to those who don't). As usual, it's not a very festive Christmas offering, sorry about that. But it DOES contain a bit of revelation of truth…
Yes, Koku is Kohaku. Kohaku is Koku. I know some of you realised that already. For those who didn't, all the red herrings along the way fudged the issue, ne. But his situation is exceptional. Only Eiraki, Keitarou and Katsura knew who he really was - therefore Sakaki's testimony, though often given, was always flawed. And the voice that lurks within Koku's mind, bullying him with horrific images of death and threatening him with complete domination? Well, if you've read Mirror Flower Water Moon, you know all about Kohaku and you'll most likely already realise the answer to that. But for those who haven't...I guess this story will explain that too in a chapter or three's time. Maybe ;)
All right, so with the title of this chapter, I'm going to explain a little bit about something that was one of the base inspirations for me writing this story and the characters I created within it, in particular those belonging to the enemy side. That theme was the Ten Forms of Death as epitomised by the Espada, and the fact that the word Espada in Japanese characters was written "ten blades." Now, I have not generated my own 'espada', but I did begin my plans for this story with the idea of having ten satellite figures around Keitarou, loosely based on these Espada concepts, in a kind of weird fanfic foreshadowing of Aizen and canon.
For those who don't recall, the ten are as follows:
1. Loneliness
2. Aging
3. Sacrifice
4. Emptiness
5. Despair
6. Destruction
7. Intoxication
8. Insanity
9. Greed
10. Rage
There have been some tweaks to these themes when it came to reality - sometimes working with a combination of the theme and the nature of the Espada when deciding the kind of character to manifest. Also, in some cases the characters took on lives and minds of their own, which took them some way outside of the original brief. Probably it's true that the one which fits the least snugly into the ten is #2, whose theme has become more about the grandiose, power-hungry arrogance of Barragan, coupled with the unavoidability of death. There is also another caveat - the power hierarchy Kubo employed with his Espada is not entirely present in my ten characters. Some of them are in the logical position for their power level, but others, perhaps, have a higher number than their ability merits, based on the way in which they manifest a 'form of death'.
Some of the characters are easily aligned with their 'theme'. This chapter has opened up the backstory of Kohaku and Katsura, and I'm sure it's clear now that Kohaku is Loneliness, and Katsura, Sacrifice. Sakaki is, of course, Destruction. Those were the easy ones. I think it's probably clear too that Kurotsuchi has the "emptiness" of Ulquiorra, whilst "Intoxication" represents all those pulled unwillingly under Keitarou's control, including Joumei, Hiko and Ohara... As for the others...some of Keitarou's allies haven't been revealed by name yet, but feel free to guess...
