Chapter 12: Tidings of War
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Something cold was pressed into her hands.
The blade felt heavy - her fingers clumsy and shaking as she made the prick on her finger. Her exhale was sharp but the cut yielded.
A single drop of red fell into the bowl- joining those of her siblings. A lock of her hair was snipped, thrown into the mixture as words of the ritual were chanted reverently, calling for divine guidance and blessing, and above all, kinship.
Hair and blood- flesh and bones once known to another; fire to meld them all together.
With the deaths of those she once called family, the orphaned ward of Kasumioji was released from her bonds- fatherless and destitute, a true wanderer forsaken by all. Yet by the offerings and the protection of the ritual, she was bonded and forged anew to assume her true form.
She smelled the smoke and stilled herself. The ashes of the burnt concoction were smeared across her forehead, and the mark anointed with scented oils.
Her chest felt so tight that she could hardly breathe. Time was agonizingly slow as she waited for the ritual to take hold.
The chanting ceased.
"The ancestors have accepted you as one of our own! It is done!"
Her eyes opened to feel the sun on her face. Grey eyes held the gaze of her new sisters as she gave into the warmth of their embrace. Yoruichi's smile was fierce and bright; and the sight made her stand up straighter, smile harder in response. Ichigo stood somewhere further away- far enough that she couldn't see him but her heart felt his presence.
The ancestors have spoken and deemed her worthy.
Fingers traced the golden stitching at the trimmings of her dress, the multi-coloured inlays hand-sewn into the fabric. She was truly free- free to live, to be and to have. No more pointed side glances or whispers about her misfortune when they think she wasn't looking.
Orihime- the sister of a sheikh and bonded to the main family of the Kurosaki clan- she answered their call with a declaration of her own. Her love seared, marked and burned true; in time, he will see her flame.
The brightness of the sun was hard on her eyes but she smiled nonetheless, breathing-
This was only her beginning.
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Night had fallen and the celebration was in full swing by the time Rukia joined the party.
Food was given freely and she accepted it with thanks. Someone pressed a drink to her hands and with that drink in hand, she was free to wander and mingle, though sticking to the shadows was more of a force of habit by now; casually observing the antics of the tribesmen in between the tentative sips.
At the center of the merriment and blushing drunks, she spied the happy family. Orihime, the latest addition to the Kurosaki family and the star of the celebration- was a cheery vision of rosy cheeks and carefree laughter, surrounded by well-wishers and her new sisters as she simpered and chattered.
The grand matriarch herself seemed to be embroiled in a discussion of sorts with several elders- older men who seemed deferral to her. Despite the constant cacophony of people trying to talk over each other, Rukia had slinked close enough to the group to overhear the words 'spices' and 'weather' mentioned repeatedly. She wondered if that meant that the tribe was due to move soon- continuing on their usual trade route to reach the ports before the season's end.
That left only the Intended unaccounted for.
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"Enjoying yourself?"
Her eyes narrowed. Being caught off guard was a humiliating thought for an accomplished swordsman like herself.
"Do you enjoy sneaking up on people, my sheikh?"
His smirk was infuriating. "That depends. Do you enjoy eavesdropping on conversations, Healer?"
Rukia huffed. She should have known better. Talking to him was draining.
She made an excuse of seeing Nanao and Nemu amongst the crowd and excused herself from the Sheikh's presence, but the man was insufferable to a fault. Physically trailing after her to make sure that he was never more than five steps away, his eyes were watching her, marking her every move- much like how she had been in her quiet observant ways but louder in his intent.
The weight of his gaze felt heavy and his stare prompted others to notice her presence.
She didn't like it. Shadow-working was pointless in this state.
"Stop following me!" she snapped.
The crowd and their din of merriment dimmed. There was enough distance between the two of them and the source of celebration that she wasn't worried about being overheard or chided for her lack of reverence to her leader.
"I just happen to be going the same way."
Rukia snorted. His lies were terrible. He could learn a thing or two from his aunt and she told him as much.
His response to that was merely a shrug and said, "Your cup is almost empty. Let me get you another one."
He all but snatched the goblet away. Her hands shot out of their own accord to grab at the base, grappling with him for control as she gritted.
"I am not a heavy drinker by nature."
"We'll just get you some coffee then. You've earned it. We owe you a great deal for saving my aunt and solving the murders."
His words angered her. Lady Shirayuki would be most disappointed with her naiveté, the way she was played like a puppet on a string by the Intended. She was supposed to be smarter than this- smart enough to stop whatever the Intended planned to set into motion.
The man in question currently stood to her front, blocking her escape. He was trying to herd her back to the celebration and she was not amused to say the least. She dug her heels in.
"I have only done what my duty entails me to."
Something playful seeped into his eyes- making them more golden than brown and Rukia backed away from him, purely out of loosened her hold, and frowned as she realized that the cup was now firmly in his possession.
It was annoying. The way he was holding the cup high, keeping it just out of her reach- lording his victory over her for something as simple as the possession of a cup made her scoff.
Fine!
She thought; he can have the stupid thing! She was leaving anyway.
She half-turned, eager to put some distance between them but he had reached out with his other hand and with a slight tug, pulled her back into his orbit. His hand was large compared to hers; easily wrapping itself around her wrist and firm enough that she couldn't shake it off.
She glared at him. The lazy smirk he shot back in retaliation was insolent as though the feat of securing an empty cup in his hand and her wrist in the other was some legendary conquest and she had the strongest urge to hurt him. Her duties as a Guardian didn't mean that he was allowed to get away with his blatant disregard for social manners.
Her eyebrow twitched.
"Unhand me right now."
"Come back to the celebration with me."
Her eyebrows furrowed, "Why?"
He shrugged; mischief evident when he countered, "There's food, arak; music playing, people dancing. Why wouldn't you want to go back to the celebration?"
Rukia huffed, made to lean in close when he took a step towards her. The tip of her nose almost brushed against his naked chest and his scent was a surprising combination of leather and smoke- masculine, raw, heady. He smelled like danger- like the faint echo of magic coursing through her veins, all that power sitting right at the tip of her fingers- and her body reacted accordingly, craving for more and fighting against the implications, all in the same breath.
She tried to ignore the warmth of his touch, the tap of his fingers on her pulse.
"That's a question. Not an answer."
His eyes darkened, voice husky. "How's this then? Come with me so I can ask you to d-"
The Sheikh suddenly stiffened. All traces of playful humour gone in the instant as his eyes hardened. His gaze shifted to a distant somewhere, focused on an object that was just far enough from her line of vision that she couldn't see without squinting.
She turned. In the darkness and amidst the flying clouds of sand and dust, she could just barely make out the outline of a rider on a pale horse, speeding towards them with no signs of stopping.
"Get behind me," he ordered, as he drew his blade and readied his stance.
The sudden change in behaviour was jarring but Rukia understood the urgency of the situation.
A part of her balked at the thought of taking orders from him, empty hands longing for a blade of her own but her lack of weapon meant that she had little to no say on the matter itself when the Sheikh made her stand behind him. This was the second time this had happened and she was getting quite sick of being defenceless.
Hearts thundered in tandem to the beat of hooves against sand as the mysterious rider loomed closer.
Man and horse came to a sudden halt as the distance between them shortened to a mere twenty human paces. The dust settled and the hooded rider dismounted.
The Intended stood unmoving as the grip on his blade tightened.
"Show yourself!"
The rider stepped into the light and pushed his hood back, making himself known.
Ichigo's sword arm lowered and sheathed the blade. He went to the stranger, embracing him as a true brother.
"Ishida!"
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The first order of business was naturally to feed the newcomer. It was the way of the desert people and hospitality was a duty placed above all else.
Between the first dish of meat and the second round of coffee, they introduced the stranger as Uryuu, a son from the illustrious Ishida clan and the Sheikh's cousin on his mother's side.
Rukia could not picture him as a member of a wandering nomad tribe.
Family resemblance must be a strange and fickle thing. Much like how she had trouble picturing the Kurosaki twins and Ichigo as siblings; Rukia found the idea of a blood relation between the Sheikh and his cousin to be just as farfetched. Seated next to the Sheikh, Uryuu looked to be a quiet, scholarly man. He didn't look as though he had spent a day under the sun, much less last a full day of riding across the desert lands. Here was a man she would have thought to belong amongst books and scrolls, cloistered behind city walls and other comforts of a city life.
Nonetheless, the Sheikh had embraced him and called him by name. He was a guest, practically family even- and treated as such. The tribe offered him the first cut of the meat and kept his cup full throughout the evening.
But the joviality seemed strangely forced. That night there was no tales of glory nor were there songs woven of the stars and the moon; the hum was mellow and after the children had fallen asleep, came the deep, lulling ballads of heroes cut down before their time.
Rukia's glance flitted to Nanao. Her hands were shaking and she had seemed strangely unsettled since the Ishida scion came to dine with them. There was something haunted in her eyes. Between them was a sleeping Nemu who had nodded off like most children as the men broke into songs.
"Do you know him?" asked Rukia.
Nanao nodded tersely, a gulp of her drink as she answered. "Yes, a long time ago. Those were… unsettling times."
Rukia chanced a glance at the main table where their guest of honour was seated- in between their sheikh and the latter's aunt. That same muted air didn't seem to affect them as they regarded each other warmly with broad smiles. If anything she thought it made the Intended look livelier, the way his roguish grin came to meet his ey-
"Why are you here?"
The music came to an abrupt end as the tribesmen's movements halted. The festivities had stopped on account of one man's voice and Uryuu looked at once ill-at-ease and embarrassed by the attention.
Her train of thought disrupted, Rukia's eyes snapped over to the speaker.
The glare Ichigo directed towards him was sharp enough to wound and bury.
"You're drunk, Grimmjow," the Intended's voice was deceptively smooth- his anger carefully controlled as he sought to salvage the situation without causing further disruption, "I think that's enough for tonight."
Grimmjow shrugged.
"You know you're dying to know, Cousin. The only difference between us is the fact that you're not man enough to voice them out loud. I say fuck that-" he took a gulp of his alcohol, ignoring the horrified looks from the tribesmen- "I demand to know what you're doing here, Ishida! We still remember what happened all those years ago, the death of our fathers and brothers in arm. How dare you show your face here!"
"That is enough!"
Ichigo's admonishment came harshly and soundly.
"Leave now, Grimmjow before you say something you'll regret in the morning. Uryuu is not to be blamed for the attack. His loss cuts just as deeply as ours do."
Grimmjow's rage seethed and glowered, making the tribesmen nervous. His ensuing rant was half parts the musings of a drunkard and the other, of a haunted man.
He spat.
"Our fathers were fools to take him in. We should have just left him- should have just left him to burn. Spirits take him and the rest of his forsaken clan! We should have never stepped in between fate. We picked the wrong side- fools with a death wish to go against a tribe like the Espadas. Le-"
Ichigo slammed his fist against the table. Cold fire burned in his eyes and the grit in his voice was unmistakable.
"Leave now or I will remove you from this clan. Permanently."
The threat of expulsion was sobering enough. Scowling, Grimmjow picked himself up and left, flanked by his followers on both sides.
Yet, the damage was done. The party and celebration had come to an early end as many of the tribesmen begged leave, retiring for the night after the intense ordeal.
"He's not wrong," said Uryuu with a sombre tone, "my clan cost you many lives. If the tribe hadn't answered our cry for help then the Espadas wouldn't have set their sights on you. Those men wouldn't have to die. You would still have your parents, Cousin."
Ichigo snorted.
"Grimmjow's an idiot. Ignore him. We may have lost people to the Espadas- good, honourable people like my parents; but you lost everything. If anything, my loss pales in comparison to yours."
"Ichigo is right. It is pointless to compare losses," said Yoruichi as she pushed the platter of meat towards her nephews- by blood and by marriage, "Less talking and more eating, especially you, Uryuu. You are too thin."
"That's to make sure the wild animals won't come for me. All bones and no meat won't make a good meal. Even a desert mouse will make a better meal than me."
His joke went unappreciated as Yoruichi simply ignored it to ply more meat on his plate.
"Don't joke about such things. It's not the wild animals you should be worried about. The Espadas never forget a slight and they could be anywhere. The Horned Man will make quick work of you."
Uryuu frowned, decidedly confused.
"The Horned Man? Oh you mea-"
Yoruichi's eyes widened in alarm, quickly stuffing a piece of bread into his mouth and stopping him mid-sentence. What a fool the boy was to invite such misfortune!
"Do not speak of his name!" she hissed. Names have power. For the same reason why Karin was her little black bird but never the ill-omened crow, the tribesmen make it a point to avoid using his name. To invoke that unholy one's name was a sure-fire way of courting death and other calamities.
She glared. "Have your years inside those hideous buildings of stone rot away your brain?"
The scholar apologized in earnest but Yoruichi's frown was deep and prominent.
She sighed. "I've made a terrible mistake. I should never have let you go. The Ishida bloodline ends with you and you've already lost your common sense, forgotten your pride as a wanderer- gone and filled your head with all those silly ideas of people living in rooted houses instead and the chicken scratches they are so fond of using."
Urahara pulled her away and set her with a drink in hand. His tone pleasantly exasperated.
"Dearest, you are over-reacting. Now sit and let the boy eat in peace."
Uryuu stared at the pair with wry amusement. He had almost forgotten how nice it felt to be fussed about and looked after. It felt good to be home again.
"You're always welcomed here, you know. Between the two of us, I'd pick you over Grimmjow any day," said Ichigo as he refilled his drink.
Uryuu's reply was almost teasing, "Be careful what you wish for. If I stay, you might find yourself favourless and title-less. Aunt Yoruichi has always liked me better."
Ichigo scoffed. "You can have her. All she does is nag anyway."
He neatly dodged the piece of fruit that his aunt threw at him. His sisters giggled and Yoruichi's glare was sharp but Ichigo was unperturbed as he continued, "Besides, we both know it's Karin that's her favourite. My position as Sheikh is safe- for now. Won't you consider staying for good?"
Uryuu said nothing. Ichigo understood his silence.
Survivor's guilt made Uryuu restless and his wanderlust took him to many strange places and a visitor to even stranger sights; drove him to abandon their nomadic roots to seek solace in the world behind walls and learn of their ways, but even that wasn't enough. All the knowledge and riches known to mankind wouldn't be enough for a haunted soul.
Ichigo sighed. It was time to change the subject.
"So, what have you learned then on your travels? Met the moon and learned her secrets yet?"
Uryuu laughed. "Nothing as grand as that but I have seen wonderful things nonetheless- inventions that make the night sky bloom with colour and ways of killing a man without sinking a blade between his ribs. But that's not why I am here."
Ichigo raised an eyebrow and Uryuu's steely gaze met his.
"The Espadas are coming. The trail of burning cities they leave in their wake mark their path. He is coming."
The Sheikh could feel his fingers shaking. The throbbing of his scar flared like a warning- his mother's protection, the wrath of his ancestors and kinsmen; his prayers have been answered and now it was the time to act.
"You have a plan in place, I assume."
Uryuu's nod was curt.
"The Vizards have agreed. With your permission, I ride eastward the next dawn for the Shinigamis."
The shark-toothed grin that Ichigo shot him was unabashedly feral. It was a look that Uryuu found himself mirroring. The thrum of anticipation and the hunger for revenge shied just beneath their skin- years of shame and the burden of their guilt finally coming to an end.
The two brothers in all but blood shared a look.
The Espadas may be a monolith- untouchable in their prowess but their sins will not go unpunished. Men- tribes of different tongues, allegiances and beliefs find themselves united in their loss, brought together by fate to finish the work of their forefathers.
Vengeance would be theirs.
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And so the plot thickens. I hope you all enjoyed the IR interaction. Slow burn for a reason but we'll get there.