Chapter 18 – Beast
What separates man from beast?
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Cognitive reasonings? Emotional governance?
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Then what of a beast that is capable of both... yet unable to use them?
He was more an animal than a person, baring his sharpened teeth to the cowering servant before him, the object of his fury. His eyes were black and his fingers flexing with protruding claws ready to strike, the evidence of what once was scalding hot tea spilled on the ground, the ceramic cup was shattered to pieces. It was the servant's fault.
His body was vibrating with overzealous excitement at the prey who dared to hurt his Light. A shift in the pitch-black eyes to his side showed the reddish burn on the redhead's hand, and it was all that he needed to attack.
"No, Byakuya!" Renji yelled, gripping the raven's hunched shoulders at the ready, running his uninjured hand soothingly across the wide expanse of the raven's back, the tips of his fingers glowing with Light. Slowly but surely, the strain he used to hold the beast down was lessening and he dared to release Byakuya's stilled form, nodding to the quivering servant boy to scramble with an apologetic smile.
He ran his fingers through his hair, hissing when he remembered he was using the burnt side. The beast was still growling from within the raven, a quiet yet dangerous rumble bubbling from his core as he watched the raw reddish skin being hidden by Renji's other hand.
He took the wounded hand in his and let out a sound that almost sounded like a burr, soothingly kissing the hand he held between his, even as it rapidly healed. Renji watched quietly at the display, the raven behaving more like an animal than a person capable of thoughts despite his appearance. Sweet as it may be, it concerned Renji.
"Use your words, Byakuya, you're not a mindless beast anymore," the redhead sighed, shaking his head. It has been months since the raven's birth from Chaos, he showed signs of rapid intelligence, understanding speech and conveying them. Yet when it comes to emotional governance, he seemed—uncontrollable. Erratic. Wild.
Dangerous.
"I can't control it," Byakuya finally spoke, his voice was rough from the growls he produced most of the time—holding a wilder quality than that made by normal people—yet his red eyes spoke of his shame. The anger, the darkness. The Chaos. He couldn't control them like he desperately wanted to.
Not entirely. He feared of hurting his Light in his mindless state.
"Yes you can," Renji persisted, smiling proudly—Byakuya was still capable of shame for his actions, after all, that's a really good thing—"I will guide you, remember?"
What separates man from beast?
.
"I won't let you stray."
.
His restraint.
Ichigo would've thought it a tall tale filled with nothing but nonsense and horse dunk if it wasn't spoken by the man who was obviously holding an enormous authoritative power on—well, everything.
"I didn't know..." that Byakuya wasn't even a person in the first place. That—that he was...
Well, Ichigo was nothing short of speechless.
"Not many does," the Tennō smiled, his eyes holding that faraway look as if reminiscing the past—tens of millennia ago, perhaps. It was bizarre to even grasp the concept of someone older than the Captain-Commander—and looked comparably younger—some being who may have witnessed the firsts of humanity. Yet he felt nothing but numb awe at the revelation.
"Why are you telling me this?"
The Tennō blinked slowly, shrugging his shoulders in an offhanded manner unsuitable of his stature. "Oh, nothing," he pursed his lips, and then looked at Ichigo sheepishly, "I have nothing to do." whilst a certain duo sort things out, was left out of his explanation.
Taking on a more serious expression, he gave Ichigo a strangely sharp look. "I just wanted you to know, in case you needed the information," he added, eyes as if observing Ichigo like a hawk.
It was a test.
Surely it was.
Why would the all-knowing being in front of him procure him such sensitive information?
Ichigo held up his hands in self-defense, "I... I'm not gonna use it against him."
He waited and waited as the Tennō did not seem to budge from his threatening glare. Despite his calm outlook, Ichigo could feel his reiatsu spiking and lashing about, as if readying him for a fight, anticipating—in excitement.
"I know," the Tennō finally broke the tense atmosphere and smiled.
With that, the malicious atmosphere was dissipated—Ichigo's own reiatsu was calmed, even subdued despite its wild, Hollow nature. His Hollow did not even seem to be there, farther away at the deepest corner of his mind, unchallenging.
He was an enigma, Ichigo decided in awe and a touch of fear as he kept his gaze on the Tennō. He deliberately increased the pressure in the room with a simple statement, blatantly giving off the impression that he was testing Ichigo for his loyalty, as if baiting him to give in. He was capable of subduing Ichigo's reiatsu without brute force of his own reiatsu.
He was formidable.
"You are trustworthy," the Tennō voiced lowly, the tone was light yet the substitute understood the gravity behind each and every word he uttered now, "he needed someone else who knew of his... disposition, when push comes to shove."
Despite the cryptic nature of the statement, Ichigo wondered how could it have been so clear in his head—was the Tennō in his head? The near horrifying realization of what those words mean dawned on him like a thousand bricks.
Use his Chaos to fight those invincible enemies.
Use his weakness for Renji against him, when he went out of control.
For Renji. He will understand.
Because Chaos is erratic. Renji would not be able to—or even wanted to, in his good conscience—use the raven like that.
The Tennō wanted him to sacrifice his morality and use Byakuya, manipulate his emotions when the need becomes desperate—
For Renji.
"I guess I never stand a chance, huh," Ichigo exhaled shudderingly. He pushed himself out of the water, using the rocks as leverage. He was quiet as he moved to his uniform, putting them on methodically, not caring that someone was watching his every move. It was numbness, he decided.
Truth be told, he didn't know what to make of the revelations. To know that they were bound... whether it was Fate, Destiny... or their own emotions for each other. He could see the undeniable truth in Byakuya's eyes as he was close to killing Ichigo for proclaiming that Renji should be his. The raven's Chaos was talking in his turn, but the man behind the monster was not backing down either.
And Renji...
"He cares for you," the deep voice of the Tennō broke through his musings.
He's in my head, all right. Somehow, the thought didn't frighten him. Numbness, he reminded himself.
Ichigo couldn't help but smile through his aching chest—the compressed feeling as if his heart was being squeezed by unforgiving hands.
"That would have to do," he whispered to himself.
This will not do, Byakuya thought viciously, snapping his jaws at the beast inside. Fighting against oneself, he decided, was the most gruesome battle one will ever face. Especially if you are the embodiment of Chaos itself.
His instinct was telling him to get rid of whatever irksome existence that was ruffling his feathers. But his mind screamed that it is Renji, do not hurt your Light!
It was naïve of him to think that whatever bound them together would prevent or even stop him from doing anything rash—especially to his Light. It was foolish of him to think that it was akin to a fairytale story, that he would overcome everything in the name of his feelings for Renji.
Yet here he was, seconds apart from putting out the Light for good.
"You are not going to manipulate my feelings, Renji," he grounded out through his gritted teeth.
"Those are your feelings," the redhead said softly, as if mercy wrapped around bitter truth, "your own emotions."
It was an undeniable fact that Hisana was dead before her time, because of Renji's Awakening. It was completely normal to feel lost, to grieve, and to feel anger. Hate. Especially towards the one who was the cause of such deeply entrenched hate. Even Renji would hate someone who hurt his family—he could feel the anger bubbling at the thought of Rukia or his Captain being harmed by someone.
It was only natural that Chaos would feel such dark emotions a million times over. It is the absence of control, after all—emotions running free through a limitless boundary, uncontrollable actions and the bliss of thoughtless deeds. Truly presenting imagery of a mindless beast rampaging in its path towards its own mindless freedom. Peace was abysmal in the face of such raw destructive force.
"They are warped and deluded, a fragment of the beast sealed inside," Byakuya shook his head, "they are not mine," he stated as if to convince himself more than the Light before him. Even he knew...
Renji simply wanted to be erased. He didn't want to die—nor did he want to be killed. He wanted to disappear within his shell of Seika, to simply be a holy object incapable of emotions and memories. At least then he was less harm than he was now.
But of course they were bound together. Their souls literally intertwined, binding his Light with the raven's Chaos. Renji was the guiding Light that shines on Chaos' path. Without a soul, without his soul... Byakuya would—
He would destroy.
So of course he would never be able to disappear. Of course he would have to bear his cross. The cowardly way out was simply not there for him, even as a choice. He felt stupid, knowing that the Tennō probably understood that already—more than anyone—and watching him desperately scrambling to run away from what his existence caused.
Renji didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. He could see that Byakuya was trying so hard for him, so hard to not hurt him. He could see the tortured soul of the man trying his damnedest to reign in the Chaos that was part of his soul. He was still fighting his battle, while Renji wished to flee like a cowardly hyena standing alone in the midst of a lion's den.
And yet.
What separates man from beast?
.
"Byakuya, can't you see?" he let out weakly, unable to face the raven even as he looked within himself, into himself, "your beast is you."
Your beast is you.
He could not stay in the room any longer. The atmosphere was suffocating him.
.
Is it the fight or flee instinct?
.
"We are not finished, Renji," Byakuya growled as he followed the redhead out of the room.
"Yes," Renji responded tightly, not looking back. "we are."
.
Is it how a man would face his fears and overcome boundaries?
.
Maybe for now. Or maybe forever. All he knew was that he did not want to pursue resolution right that moment. He couldn't. He didn't want to wash away the guilt, for it was his. If he couldn't disappear with his sins, then he wanted to carry its crushing burden with him.
Perhaps he would heal, in time.
But for now, he took a deep breath as he walked away from the chamber. If he couldn't cease to exist yet, then the least he could do was do something productive in the meantime.
.
No. It is—
.
"We got work to do."
.
Nothing.
It was 'surprise-Ichigo-with-the-appearance-of-people-he-least-expected-day', it seemed, because as soon as he walked out of the Kirinden with the Tennō in tow—though uncomfortable as it was since the 'god' was walking behind him—two people he truly didn't expect to see any time soon showed up.
One was a pleasant welcome, but the other... well, he could still feel the burn on his ribs.
It seems that he wasn't the only one surprised, because the deity behind him exclaimed rather exuberantly.
"Renji," the Tennō exhaled sharply as the redhead walked their way, a rather put out Byakuya following quite far behind him.
He admitted to feeling worried that neither of the pair would come out unscathed. Though he secretly hoped that the two would come out hand in hand and smiling at each other, definitely not... ten feet apart and sour.
"Ren," Ichigo smiled in relief as the former lieutenant approached them, "you're okay."
Renji beamed. "Ichigo," he grinned a little too widely for Ichigo's taste.
A little too forced. A little too—fake.
"I take it you two have made up?" the Tennō directly prompted as Byakuya approached the group at last. His hands were still clenched and he gritted his teeth at the insensitive remark, especially in front of someone he still deemed as an 'outsider'.
Seeing that, and Renji's frown, the large deity inclined his head. "I... see," he reproached solemnly, running a massive hand on Renji's tense shoulder in silent comfort.
He hoped that they would at least come to a mutual understanding. But it seemed that they decided to put off the matter entirely, with no resolution in sight. He feared that it would come back and bite them in the future.
Ichigo was entirely out of his depth with the internal communication and silent gestures the three exchanged, and he felt as if he didn't belong in the middle of such beings—even if one was... questionable.
But instead of walking away, he curled his arm around his best friend, at first, simply wanting to exchange a friendly gesture—but then surprised himself with how thin the redhead had gotten.
"You got skinny," he mumbled worriedly, only then observing the state his friend was currently in.
The white medical robe was hanging off his tall yet lanky figure, his appearance was borderline androgynous—like those male models Yuzu liked to fawn on tv. He only realized then that Renji was rather small-boned unlike what his previously muscular physique suggested. He didn't know if he liked his redhead looking like this. Especially knowing the cause of it was nothing as innocent as putting off exercise.
"Gotta work hard to earn back those muscles if you wanna beat me," he decided to pull off a joke to lighten the mood, seeing how uncomfortable the redhead looked as he made his observation.
"Stupid carrot," Renji grumbled, punching the orange-haired substitute lightly, "I can still kick your ass."
Indeed, even if his appearance was a little worse off, his reiryoku level seemed to be holding steady. Ichigo was silently grateful that at least lethargy wasn't a problem for his friend, even if he looked as if he was about to pass over in the next minute.
Internally thanking Ichigo a million times over for soothing Renji's turbulent emotions—at the expense of a growling Byakuya, but he was a possessive man by nature—the Tennō deemed it was as good time as any to breach into the conversation.
"Well now," he clapped his hands, looking at Renji, "maybe there's something you would like to share with us, Renji?"
"We got work to do."
"Yes," Renji confirmed, straightening up. He gestured to a more private location to continue his story, seeing that the lounging area in front of the Kirinden was empty—courtesy of the Tennō. It seemed that the Royal Guards were off trying to mend Senjumaru's city.
"It's about Aizen," he started as they settled. Ichigo and Byakuya stiffened at the name.
"Something you might wanna know about our past," the redhead continued softly, brown orbs glazing over as he relived memories that seemed so long ago.
Ichigo frowned.
"'Our'...?"
"Aizen-sama," Tier Harribel called, poking her head through the wooden door where she could see Aizen who was sitting outside. She thought she heard him calling out a name.
It was dark, the moon was hidden by the clouds and the air was chilly. He was supposed to be inside, strategizing for whatever else to come their way. It had been 8 days since them being stranded in the woods of Kyoto—the thin reiryoku in the area was slowly getting into the head of the Arrancars. They had to do something—better yet, they needed to move.
Yet there she found her master, lounging on the wooden walkway with his head rested upon one of the wooden beams. She never saw him looking as tranquil as he was then.
"Forgive me," Aizen turned his head a fraction to look at Tier in the eyes, his brown orbs uncharacteristically soft, his gaze far away, into a memory she couldn't have known.
He looked at the hidden moon, his voice quiet, "this is just very..."
"Nostalgic."
"Sousuke-dono, are you listening?"
He opened his eyes, not realizing that he closed them in the first place. He looked around the room, the elders were looking at him in strained nerves and concern. At least he knew which were the fake ones—the fat noble to his right who seemed overtly concerned and the simpering lot near the corner of the room—hiding their silly goatees behind their ridiculous paper fans.
"Yes," he said calmly, "you were telling me of the trade with the European merchants, that they are proposing a market expansion in Edo, right in the middle of such power imbalance."
Seeing the hesitation in the faces of the council members, he tapped his own paper fan on his thigh lightly, the sound making several old men flinched. He smiled internally—at least they still fear him.
"I refuse."
"Sousuke-dono, surely you jest," a bug faced councilman let out a short laugh.
He narrowed his eyes at the man, who nearly cowered in return.
"I will not endanger the lives of our workers to simply 'restore' the name of our clan that has been dragged to the mud when Odawara was defeated."
"Nobunaga-sama will be pleased if he knows that we are supporting his successor—"
"Why are we still discussing this?" he wondered aloud, "we agreed for the coastline, and that's what they are having. They should be thankful that they won't have to fend off bandits and trained mercenaries every few trees they stumbled upon in the woods. I will not have our family be one of the power-hungry dogs who will kiss Hideyoshi's wrinkled bottom to have a sliver of treat."
He stood up and glanced around the room, daring them to challenge his decision.
"We are done."
With that, he swiftly exited the stuffy room and made haste for his office, fearing what he would do if he listened any longer to their petty gossips about his 'silly' pride when they thought he wasn't around.
"He was the one who was so adamant about letting the Portuguese in, now he wanted them to stay put."
"Playing with that silly 'chess' set of his, what happened to his traditional upbringing?"
"Ah, our clan is doomed."
He gritted his teeth. Every little comment, every little jab at who he was slashed into his mind, thin pinpricks of papercuts that were more stinging than they were painful. He brushed them away, oftentimes. Acted as if he couldn't hear them. Acted as if they didn't say anything at all behind his back. One saving grace throughout this entire charade of playing 'clan' was, at the very least, they were cowardly enough to not plan a coup against him.
Yet.
He dropped himself on his desk with a loud thud, rubbing his face viciously trying to stop himself from growling aloud like a beast. He was half tempted to reach the neatly placed chess pieces at the corner of his cherry wood desk, swing his hand and smash the ornate imported mahogany board to the wall. He could imagine the intricately designed pieces scattering down the floor, some would even chip around the sharp edges and corners despite immaculate care. And he would watch with part satisfaction followed with immediate, crushing regret, scrambling to put the pieces back together and desperately polishing the chipped corners of the pieces and the hairline crack on the side of the checkered board, as if they would somehow be mended if he was apologetic enough.
So instead he opted to snap the nearby calligraphy brush in half with one bare hand, splinters be damned.
It wasn't that he was angry, no, he was—
"Sousuke," someone quipped almost cheerfully.
Furious.
"You look pissed," they said, he could almost hear them walk into the room as if they own the place, plopping down the side of his desk, where a silk cushion was placed—even though no one ever came by to sit in his office.
Of course, no sound was heard as they sit on the cushion, the elaborate pattern showed through their body clearly with the sunlight drenching the open area. They were not fond of closed doors.
"Understatement of the century," he heard himself grumble, though he wouldn't admit to ever doing so.
He looked at the semitransparent being that entered his domain, as if it was a normal occasion for a spirit to be around him. Capable of seeing ghosts since birth, he wasn't surprised to see one very close to his house. He didn't expect this one to linger around since his childhood—though it was not unwelcome.
"You're a ghost," he added with a sigh, "you won't understand."
"Oh I do," they insisted, leaning forward with what looked like a frown.
"More than you can imagine," they continued, raising their brows pointedly, "I went through a war, remember?"
Ah, this story again. Sousuke prepared himself of hearing hours long fairytale about his ghost fighting in a thousand-year war, against an enemy so powerful that even his most fearsome general was nearly defeated. Of course he didn't believe them, but remembering about the even longer nag he received when he once told them of his opinion, he held his tongue in check.
"Sure," he answered—too—quickly, a sweet smile on his face.
The spirit pouted as if they knew what Sousuke was thinking and graciously spared him from the torture of a spirit's history lesson. He could hear them sigh loudly, though no air was blown. It was one thing that Sousuke still find disturbing about them, 'ghosts'—their intangibility despite their physical projections.
"You're a good man, Sousuke," he heard them say softly, and he could sense the mood changing.
"They just want you to make the right decision for your clan."
He bristled. "They want to get on the good graces of the man who ruined the Hojo Clan for the sake of uniting Japan," he snapped, "for his own."
Now Sousuke was not in the school of idealism. He understood that certain sacrifices were needed to gain something. Hideyoshi's forces may have destroyed the Hojo name for good, and his clan might not ever return to some sort of power without getting on the ruling court like what the council suggested—but he agreed with the man's ideals. Japan must come united to defend from foreigners who wanted to take over their lands. But there was one thing that he couldn't stand.
Toyotomi Hideyoshi was not fit to rule.
He was an old, hideous, disgusting scumbag who would kill the lives of innocents to gain power. He ordered the slaughter of many children in his house, his men raping the women and killing them without mercy. He witnessed firsthand as his mother was ripped from his tiny hands when he was a mere 4-year-old, screaming for the guards to bring him to safety as Hideyoshi's soldiers proceeded to lay their filthy hands on her. They only stopped their rampage when the head of the house—his father—kneeled down and beg for mercy yet letting them get away with killing his wife when they were done—just so he could be spared.
He saw the ugly truth in humanity.
Hideyoshi took mercy on what was left of his family, him and a few older relatives—one assumed power of the house after his father committed seppuku from shame. Their family had to relocate to one of the smaller houses on Kyoto just so they could keep a low profile. He was a child, so he didn't fully understand what was going on. Didn't understand the true gravity of the situation.
All he knew was that his little cousins—his mother—were screaming in terror before going silent forever.
And he also knew—whoever those guards work for was evil—and he must perish.
"Perhaps," the ghostly figure mumbled, after a while.
What separates man from beast?
He decided to not talk about the matter any longer. He didn't know what might come out of his mouth if they continued the turbulent conversation. He was afraid that something that wasn't him—a beast, a monster—might show its head instead and frightened the innocent spirit—who boasted so proudly of a war they could not possibly have gone through while retaining such naivety—with its ugly, twisted imagination and plans.
Its freedom from morality?
"Sometimes I wonder if I'm truly crazy," Sousuke let out a small breath he had been holding in his dark musings, the strain on his furrowed brows relaxed as he observed the red wisps—as bold as blood, glimmering rubies and tender as a freshly blooming rose— swaying with the gentle wind, wishing he could touch them.
His ability to love?
"I wish you're real," he murmured quietly, fingers ghosting over the quiet silhouette of a redhead, the slightest touch destroyed whatever illusion he conjured in his mind, turning everything murky and dark.
"Renji."
He opened his eyes.
"Aizen-sama."
No, it's—
- to be continued -
Tennō Trivia #2
He looks like Hohenheim (Ed and Al's dad from Fullmetal Alchemist) with the personality of a chippy, cool and reliable uncle (think of Uncle Oscar from Pandora Hearts).
Four weeks... new... record yay?
I don't want to bore you with my reasons... just now that I got a life that needed some fixing, and that takes a lot of time on my part to write this story :')
Anyways, Aizen's past is coming~
So I think that the last few chapters are a bit heavy on context and drama. I hope it's not too bad, unclear and erratic. Please tell me if there's anything that I can do to fix it!
Please tell me your thoughts on this story. While I will try to continue writing it regardless, it would be nice to know if I've done things right, or if there are things that I should revise or do better in the future :)
Thank you for your feedback!
