Chapter 13: Winds of Change
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Her new cousin was strange.
Strange in the way that horses were strange to men and men were strange to birds and his years away from the tribe had only made him stranger, disconnected from the rest of them.
Orihime had vague memories of a boy who left the tribe with the blessings of the old sheikh to find his place in the world just as she was getting assimilated into the Kasumioji household; but this man standing before her- bare from the waist up, criss-cross of scars dotting his back- was all too sinewy and pale to be the same boy that she remembered.
She averted her gaze.
"Your clothes, Cousin."
He jumped at the sound of her voice. Eying the neat fold of clothes she held in her arms, he mumbled his thanks and wasted no time in shrugging on the tunic. It was Ichigo's- dyed green at first but the colour had since faded with use. The sleeves were longer than expected, somewhat broader at the shoulders but otherwise a good fit.
A distinct frown was on his face as he regarded the excess length.
"She really didn't have to do this," he grumbled, rolling up the arm sleeves to a respectable length and Orihime fought the urge to laugh.
His arrival drew out a side of Yoruichi that she had never thought possible. The woman was smothering in her maternal instincts to clothe and feed. Despite the urgency of his mission, Yoruichi had made him stay longer, made him pack extra provisions for the journey ahead, and insisted that his worn-out clothing be replaced with some of Ichigo's old clothes or the Shinigamis would never believe that he was an envoy sent by the tribe.
It was a difficult logic to argue against.
"I could alter it for you if you don't mind."
The words left her mouth in a hurry. She wanted so badly to be useful for Ichigo's sake. This was the first time she felt that she was in a position to do so.
"How kind of you to offer, Cousin. But leave that to me."
His reply was not what she had expected. What he did next was even more so- from the depth of his satchels, he plucked out needle and threads and set about sewing the garment by the faint light of sunrise. He threaded the needle with expert ease and completed the modifications in record timing.
"You sew very well."
She was in awe. One would be hard-pressed to find such skills even among the talented seamstresses within the tribe. A man who could sew and do it well- who had ever heard of such a strange thing?
Tracing her finger along the neat seamlines, her voice was soft but sincere when she told him, "Your mother must be glad to know that you will never wander about unclothed in the desert."
He blinked owlishly at her and for a moment, she was worried that she had offended him.
She fumbled, hands motioning awkwardly as she apologized.
"I should have worded it differently," she bowed, biting her lips, "I didn't mean to offend you or disrespect your mother."
Kurosaki skin was thick and their wits sharp; hers felt like a paper-thin imitation of both. In her eagerness to help, she had merely embarrassed herself further. Her clumsy tongue and inept social graces had gotten her into plenty of trouble in the past with Rurichiyo. Now they served as a reminder of her awkwardness.
She was a Kurosaki now- full-blooded and afforded the same respect as her sisters as far as anyone was concerned but the feel of her new skin was wrong- stretched a little too tight across her chest, brittle to the touch and easily poked through. Stare at it hard enough and she was afraid that people would see right through her and know.
A gazelle has no business to stand among eagles.
Her new family name and all the promises of being forged anew rang hollow. Deep down underneath she still felt the same, the same Orihime with her cast-off rags and hand-me-downs, still left behind, still the same unwanted daughter.
Her gaze as she glanced at him underneath tawny eyelashes was one of trepidation and caution, afraid that he would lash out at her.
But then, Uryuu's eyes softened; the corners of his mouth twitched, and his lips curled. His word of thanks was light and barely audible but it made her turn pink all the same. He was smiling and there was something beautiful in the shape of his eyes, genuine and bright as they looked at her.
His gaze was so intense.
She gulped, touching her nose and the corners of her mouth; wondering if there was something left over from breakfast that was making him stare at her so.
"Is there something on my face?"
His response to that was a low throaty chuckle that only served to confuse her more. The glow of the rising sun had a startling effect of making him younger, softer in the set of his eyes even as they fixed themselves on her. They made it impossible for her to look away.
"I-I-I have to go and see what Aunt Yoruichi wants done before you leave."
She stuttered out her excuse like an idiot, stumbling out of his tent with her face on fire.
See- he was a strange man and at this point, Orihime was left to wonder if strangeness was a contagious disease. And if it were, were sweaty palms and dry mouth its accompanying symptoms?
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Rukia's eyes narrowed at the sight of the Intended seated under the shade of the bayt.
He had summoned the tribesmen before him to make a grand announcement of sorts. Around him stood members of the Council, Grimmjow and Yoruichi included, but no signs of the Ishida scion. Strange, she thought; seeing as to how the man had been akin to an almost permanent fixture by the Sheikh's side for the past two days. She wondered if the announcement had anything to do with the man's absence and more importantly, what the nature of said announcement was.
She grimaced. The way her clothes were sticking to her back was disgusting. The heat was stifling and her temper made short by it.
She had been busy, pestle and mortar set before her, right in the middle of grounding herbs when he made the summons. The idea of baking under the sun with her task half-done while he sat there prettily twiddling his thumbs irked her.
What sort of invitation was he waiting for?
"You're staring, again."
She frowned at Nanao.
"I wasn't. And what do you mean by 'again'?"
The older woman's amusement was faint in the lines of her eyes and her tone light.
"Just something that I've noticed lately. Has no one told you that you're always staring at the Sheikh, Rukia?"
Nanao was stoic, expressionless even, but time had proven that her coldness belied an amusingly dry sense of humour. Rukia rolled her eyes- more so when she heard Nemu giggling. What Nanao was insinuating couldn't have been further from the truth.
Besides, it was hard not to stare.
His red cloak was so bright it was glaring and the awful bands of gold and heavy amulets must have weighed at least a ton on him, combined with the way the light reflected off his impressive rows of fineries, she snorted; he couldn't have painted a bigger target on his back.
She was saved from the indignity of explaining herself by the sudden emergence of the Sheikh. Nanao's attention shifted, seemingly forgetting the conversation they were having.
Rukia's gaze followed suit.
It was odd to see him this way. Quietness and stillness didn't suit him, especially without a sword by his side.
She had only seen him in full regalia once- his ceremonial wear that blended scarlet, gold and azure into an attire that denoted his rank and status. The effect of it was intimidating and impressive- just as it had been intended on the day of Orihime's adoption ceremony. His blade was replaced by a strange-looking staff; curved at the tip with a golden hand rest melded onto wood. The globe that hung from the curved end housed a jewel no bigger than a pigeon's egg.
There was a certain gleam to it- traces of something ancient that even she could not name. And when the light of the sun hit it, the glow emitted was as red as fresh blood.
The sight of it unsettled her.
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"We are going to war!"
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Rukia's fists clenched. Next to her Nanao's lips were drawn to a tight line; the hold she had on Nemu's hand was tight enough to make the younger girl wince.
The weight of his announcement floored her. A quick glance around her surroundings showed that the shocked sentiments were shared by all the tribesmen. Her mind raced- panicking at the news; she thought she would have more time.
"The Council has not agreed to this," Grimmjow's disapproval was loud as he marched out of the tent. Even the combined strengths of three elders and their glares were not enough to hold him back.
Rukia was inclined to agree with the hateful man for once.
What was the meaning of this?
This tribe was more than sufficient. There was no reason to seek conflict. Why would Ichigo risk what he already has- the stability of his people, the prosperity from the spice trade? What could he possibly seek to gain from war?
Ichigo waved them off, unaffected by the menacing presence of his cousin -"The Council will have no reason to disagree with my decision."
He turned to his tribesmen, "You know me. You watched me become the man I am today, watched me grow from the pain of losing my parents, my grandfather and you share my loss. The day the Espadas attacked was the day our lives changed forever. Be it a parent, a spouse, a sibling or a friend- everyone here has had someone who meant something taken away. Not a day goes by that we are not reminded of their absence in our lives, haunted by our inability to protect them."
He slammed the blunt end of the staff against the shifting sands. His voice echoed through the ranks.
"I won't bore you with words when it is time to act. I beseech you to rise to the occasion. Rise to avenge their deaths!" he roared.
"The Espadas have been sighted and word has been sent to our allies. The desert people pay back the due that is owed a hundred times over! I ask you now to lend me your blade! Show them our fury and redeem our honour!"
The rallying cry of enthusiasm and support from the crowd surprised her. She turned to see the fire ignited within them, their resolve sharpening into focus as they answered his call to arms.
He had a way with words. His speech stirred his people, reminded them of their loss and roused them into action. Their wills came together as one and their hunger for revenge palpable.
Rukia's heart skipped a beat, hands clammy. She felt only despair.
She gulped- meeting his gaze. The gleam in his eyes was eerie. The images of him she had seen in her visions- imperious on his war horse, soulless as he cut down men and beasts alike- overlapped with the man she saw before her.
Darkness- something less than human shifted under his skin, biding its time to make his appearance.
War was coming.
The events of her sweven were unfolding before her eyes and she was wholly unprepared for it. She thought she would have more time- more time to gauge the Intended's character for herself, more time to come to a decision.
She needed more time.
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"Are you with me?"
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Author's note:
*whispers* International Ichiruki Hentai Weekend (IIHWE). Are you ready?