Chapter 15: Mercenary (I)
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Nanao and Nemu had pulled her into a tight hug as soon as she was far away enough from the sheikh's presence.
Rukia returned the gesture fiercely and warmly. The two of them were the sisters she never had and their care for her wellbeing humbled her. As she understood from what little she had managed to glean from the tribesmen, she owed her life to Nanao. If the woman hadn't alerted the Sheikh to her disappearance, Rukia's life would have been as good as forfeited in the sandstorm.
The knife in her gut plunged a little bit deeper with every shred of affection the pair showered on her but her mask stayed on despite her inner turmoil. For the moment, she was just happy to be alive. There was much to be thankful for and she was happy to have found people who cared about her and happy to know that things were far from over for her and the mission.
The sandstorm was a turning point.
She side-eyed the argument brewing between the cousins, where Grimmjow's jeer was taunting and gleeful, in comparison to Ichigo's tight voice. She knew her sheikh's ire well enough to know that it burnt deceptively cool when truly irate. If his tone and clenched fists were any indication at all, this was another storm just waiting to happen but this storm, Rukia welcomed it.
Shirayuki's sacrifices were not in vain and she would see to it. Melancholia was a dream of yesterday as Rukia came to the realization of what she could now accomplish with the Intended's offer of friendship.
Becoming his friend was the first step in extending her influence; moving towards her end goal to be Guardian and preventing her sweven from happening.
Yoruichi was right. She wasn't a saint.
She was a ruthless, honourless woman who would do anything for the sake of her mission. A desperate woman like her didn't have the luxury of pretending.
This was honouring Lady Shirayuki's memories and sacrifices. This was the end justifying the means. It was for the greater good- the bigger picture. She was using him and she didn't hesitate- didn't think twice, didn't feel bad about twisting his offer of friendship to suit her purposes.
Rukia's fists clenched. She didn't feel bad about it.
She refused to!
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Ichigo hid his anger well enough in front of a crowd.
He was first and foremost, still a Sheikh and held to a high regard. Anything less than dignified conduct in the face of Grimmjow's taunts would have helped to prove Grimmjow's case and painted him as an unsuitable candidate.
So he dug his nails hard enough into his palms to make them bleed, tasted copper from the way he bit his tongue to keep the angry choice words within.
In the confines of his bayt though, he smashed all the pottery and porcelains in sight; a deep and dull clatter and crash as all the heavy ornaments toppled, their contents spilling over when he knocked over the table in rage.
Yoruichi eyed the destruction with mild annoyance. He was such a child in that aspect.
"Feeling better now?" she drawled sarcastically.
He growled. His hands were bleeding but he hadn't even noticed.
Interference from Grimmjow had caught him off guard. Of all the things that Ichigo had thought that he would have to come up against, he hadn't expected this. The Council was a gullible lot, he thought bitterly; to think that they would be swayed by Grimmjow's forked tongue- cowed by mere weather and brought to believe in what the bastard proclaimed as supposed verdicts of the spirits and ancestors.
A sheikh was only mortal and all his means and schemes earth-bound, and as such powerless against supernatural forces. His eyes met Yoruichi whose calm eyes betrayed nothing.
Breathe, he reminded himself to keep breathing.
"How bad is it?"
His aunt's silence was telling. Things did not look good for them and he knew what needed to be done.
"Bribe whoever that can be bought over to our side," he told her. Some loyalties can still be bought. They would spare no expenses and with enough numbers on their side, they may still hold majority- or so he hoped; but that still wasn't good enough, they needed an ally powerful enough to secure their future.
Gold and fear can only hold sway over so many things until the binds frayed. They had talked about this. Their contingency plan in the worst case scenario; he would offer himself up. The position of head wife- the future clan and tribe matriarch was kept empty for this very purpose.
His jaw clenched, "Bring me a list, Aunt."
Better him than the twins.
They would find another clan- strong enough to back them up and bind the two together with ties of mutual interest; sanctify it and declare it blessed by the ancestors and spirits. They have less than a week to narrow down the list of his potential in-laws. Any daughter of the main family would do; he wasn't picky.
Yoruichi's nod was approving and she inclined her head with more deference than usual. She understood what sacrifice was and a sheikh was a position that demanded many of such.
"It will be done, my sheikh."
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Suddenly, a voice called out from outside the bayt. The voice was unmistakably Rukia's as the healer requested permission to seek audience with him.
The Kurosakis stilled. Ichigo's expression turned thoughtful, curious to know the reason behind her visit. Ignoring the glare from his aunt, he granted her permission.
Rukia's hands were shaking as she entered his bayt, eyes widening when she noticed that he wasn't alone. Yoruichi was with him and the shrewdness of the older woman made her nervous.
She licked her dry lips, half-dreading rejection when she voiced her demand.
"I requested a private audience, my sheikh."
Yoruichi's scoff was loud but Rukia resolutely refused to back down. Her stare was open, wide and her eyes- Ichigo thought to himself that a sheikh shouldn't be brought to make compromises simply because of bewitching eyes that belong to healers who were more trouble than they're worth.
He sighed.
"As we have discussed earlier, Yoruichi. The list."
His aunt's glare spoke of her displeasure but a wise woman like her knew better than to undermine his authority in front of a tribe member. With a bow, the woman left wordlessly and there was only the two of them left.
"You are injured."
He snorted. As astute as that observation was, if all that the woman sought from this private audience was an offer to heal him in part to ease her guilty conscience then the meeting was simply time wasted on his end. He had more pressing matters to attend to and he told her as much. Kurosakis never minced their words, no matter how callous it may seem.
"You needn't be concerned over such shallow wounds. Orihime or Yuzu can dress the wounds later. Is there something else I can help you with, Rukia?"
"No, my sheikh," she raised her eyes to meet his and he saw the fire there, the conviction and it burnt him, "the question is if there is anything that I can help you with."
"I don't follow."
Rukia's eyes were on his and her gaze unwavering when she offered, "I can help to make your problems go away."
"Such bold claims," he tapped his chin, "you must excuse me if I admit that I find it a little hard to believe."
"Humour me, my sheikh. Are we not friends?"
Ah, he walked right into that one.
The smirk she shot him bordered on insolence, but he couldn't help but feel amused. The minx was crafty. Already she was using his words against him and he was right in his assumptions. A lifetime of dealing with strong women who secretly rule the roost had taught him well.
They are not so different, him and Rukia: rules only exist up to the point until they start getting in the way of things they wanted.
"Ok, I'll bite. How?"
"I can make your claim to Sheikh irrefutable."
"Irrefutable how?"
Her eyes met his, "No one will ever find reason to doubt the legitimacy of your rule ever again."
Ichigo paused, suddenly wary. He was an unconventional choice for a successor to say the least. And the dying wish of his grandfather can only hold so much weight against the public outcries and disapproval that the old sheikh was denouncing centuries-worth of tradition, turning his back on his own heritage for that matter in his decision to have Ichigo succeed him.
Patrilineal primogeniture was the backbone of lineage organization in their society. The eldest son- the firstborn male heir was favoured if nothing else to ensure the survival of the main branch. Grimmjow as the eldest male in their generation, the firstborn son of Ichigo's uncle who was coincidentally the old sheikh's firstborn son had a far better claim by comparison and challenged him for the position almost immediately after their grandfather was laid to rest. Yoruichi's decision to hail Ichigo as the true leader of the clan and tribe was a deciding factor in the succession crisis and partly the reason as to why the latter was still sheikh.
But even then the threat of usurpation was a constant thorn at his side. For the sake of presenting a united front before the tribe, Ichigo couldn't risk a complete fallout with his cousin and risk dividing the Kurosaki clan up further. And Grimmjow exploited that weakness to his full advantage.
As evidenced in the recent of turn of events, the Council was full of opportunists and cowards. All it took was a gust of hot wind and dry sand- a few whispered words of divine intervention from the spirits and they were back at square one, undoing all his hard work for the past three years; calling into question his legitimacy as sheikh.
What Rukia was proposing sounded too good to be true and in his experience, tended to lure in fools who are desperate and greedy enough to throw caution to the wind.
He was not going to be made a fool of.
"How do you plan on doing it? And why?" he asked, "You told my aunt that you refuse to be a pawn and here you are- showing your clear support for me, saying that you will help me. What are you playing at?"
Rukia saw his narrowed eyes and willed her anxiety to keep itself at bay. She had too much on the line and much of her future hinged on her performance in delivering the next few lines. She needed to appear calm and confident.
"I'm not playing at anything. All I ask for my services is due compensation."
Now his interest was piqued. What would she propose to be a worthwhile favour, an equivalent exchange for such a powerful gesture of silencing all doubts on his position as sheikh?
"Name it!"
"You will make me a Council member."
His response to this was an incredulous bark of laughter.
This woman had a gift.
Underneath her soft skin and apple cheeks, she was every bit a trader as the tribesmen were- shrewd, mercenary and ruthless in her negotiations and this bargain that she was driving at— he shook his head. She couldn't possibly have known how hard it would be for him to have her installed as a Council member.
The disapproval from the elders, he could feel a headache coming just from the mere thought.
"Why should I?"
"The Kasumoiji seat is empty. Kon is still too young but that seat can't remain unoccupied until the boy is of age to come into his birth right-" her insight was piercing and she knew she had him right where she wanted- "you don't need a pawn. You need an ally and you need one on the Council now."
"And you'll be that ally? Out of the goodness of your own heart?" he snorted.
She shrugged.
"You can believe what you want to. But know that it was you who first approached me with a proposal of friendship, rather hypocritical of you to now suspect me of ulterior motives, don't you think?"
Her smile was sardonic.
She was right of course and the way their negotiation was playing out, he was the one who stood to gain the most if her plan succeeded. What had he got to lose given that Yoruichi was already busy working on a contingency plan anyway?
"Do we have a deal?"
Ichigo eyed her extended hand with suspicion. It irked him to know that she had him figured out, knew his desperation and came up with a solution that was so tailored to his needs that she made his approach seem almost juvenile by comparison.
He knew nothing of her motives and this ignorance didn't sit well with him. There had to something in it for her as well for her to be pushing so hard on this.
"Come to think of it, you never did answer the 'how' to my question. What exactly are you planning to do, Rukia?"
She smiled, showing dimples. Faking smiles came easily with enough practice.
"I can't tell you that. You'll just have to trust me for now. That's what friends do after all- they trust each other?"
The look he gave in response was calculating at best and for a moment, her breath caught- afraid that he had seen through her false bravado and was going to slap her hand away.
Then, a hand much larger than her own gripped hers and the shake was firm, solid.
"Don't make me regret this, Rukia."
She gulped. The amber flecks in his eyes were uncannily wild as they stared into her own. She was reminded that he was every inch a heathen and a warlord- powerful, unreasonable and unforgiving in all his undertaking.
Her deceits- she prayed that he never saw through them or the blowback might cost her everything.
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Author's note:
Rukia's playing the confidence game.