A/N: A polite thank you to those who have stuck around even this far! We're fast approaching a year since I first posted this fic, which blows my mind. "The Heiress" was what let me re-enter the Bleach fandom and take up fanfiction again, so it definitely holds a special place in my heart—not to mention it makes my 12-year-old self very happy that I haven't forgotten about this idea. (Thank god I gave it a glow-up first jfc the original fic was a mess DX)
I anticipate having five more chapters after this one, but that number can easily go up or down. For now, off we go!
Even in the dead of winter, there was always a hustle and bustle in Rukongai. No one could afford to rest in the quiet snowfall, not when there was wood to work, soup to sell, and roofs to repair. Of course, not many needed the food, but there was still a short line leading up to the stall; even if they had lost their hunger in coming to the Soul Society, no soul forgot the comforting warmth of a hot bowl of soup.
As much as Tsukiko yearned for that bit of warmth, too, her stomach clenched at the thought of eating. She'd had half a mackerel the night before for dinner, but even that was a struggle to down, and that morning, she'd had but two spoonfuls of okayu before the rice porridge made her gag. The days before that hadn't seen her down much more. With each mouthful, her stomach roiled, which only served to remind her why she felt that way in the first place.
Get out of my sight.
You mean I'm not good enough, she told herself, which only made her stomach clench even more, no matter how much it ached for nourishment.
And so the cycle went as she made her same rounds through the streets of upper South Rukongai. Pause long enough to remember why she had a headache, smell the savory glory of a food stall, gasp as her stomach heaved her into memory, repeat ad nauseum.
Turning the corner past the latest stall, Tsukiko breathed in the frigid winter air for stability. This couldn't be for the rest of her life, but for now, there was no escape from the last words her father had spoken to her. His cruelty just as well as his blood pumped through her veins, sustaining her. What led him to turn her away so easily? What gave him so little compassion for the life he himself had decided for her?
Why, if all of this was true, hadn't she sent in the transfer request form yet?
Lost in the cycle of revery, it took a few seconds for Tsukiko to hear a ringing in the air, one that slowly morphed into reality, the soul pager in her pocket.
Someone's calling you, Ki said.
His words snapped her back to the present. Someone wanted to talk to her, and that meant she should answer. Without checking the screen, Tsukiko fumbled her pager from her shihakusho—
"Hokutan Tsukiko," she said in one breath.
"Finally," Emi said.
More than just her stomach clenched, and she contemplated dropping the call. "…Hi," Tsukiko said in the end, moving to the side of the street just in time for an ox-drawn cart full of chopped wood and twigs to pass by.
"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear your voice," Emi said. A door snapped shut on her end as she moved between rooms. "I must've called you like thirty times this week."
Tsukiko pursed her lips; thirty times was putting it mildly. "Well, I'm here now," she said.
Emi grunted at something on her end. "Look, I won't ask for specifics," she said, sounding mildly out of breath, as if she'd just laid on her stomach, "but what happened at New Year's?"
The memory of someone's strong hands on her hips and her clawing at his tattooed chest came to mind, but Tsukiko forced it down with a blush as she remembered what had driven her away from Emi's. "I told you what happened," she said, "though I am sorry for how I did it." Not a total lie, that.
"Apology accepted. But if you're really You-Know-Who's kid, why didn't you tell me?" Emi said. "Ch, of course now the resemblance is clear to me, I could kick myself for not figuring it out on my own."
"Why thank you for the reminder," Tsukiko said, managing to keep most of her bitterness down. "Look, I didn't know either. I'm still coming to terms with it myself. But I'd rather not do this over the phone—"
"Does this have anything to do with Lieutenant Blueballs, by the way?"
Tsukiko cringed hard. "Please, Em…."
"Ooh, methinks yes. But I'm free for the next hour if you really must tell me in person," Emi said.
"I'm in the middle of a patrol right now." Tsukiko glanced out at a group of youths as they rounded the corner of the street, kicking a rock ahead of them. Two were holding steaming cups of soup.
"How much longer is it?""
"I'm not off for another three hours," Tsukiko said, and both relief and disappointment bloomed in her chest.
"Hell, I'm not off of mine until nine tonight. Think you can still do something that late?"
"Not like I have anything better to do."
"I mean, I can always ditch my shift—"
"Don't," Tsukiko said quickly. Because that was exactly what she needed, getting on the other Captain Kuchiki's bad side. Not that she expected Kuchiki Rukia to involve herself in this matter. It wasn't like they'd ever met. Her Captain Kuchiki had made sure of that.
"Okay, fine," Emi said with a certain airiness to her voice. "Where should we meet?"
Tsukiko glanced at the youths still across from her. One of them sipped from the cup in his hands before laughing at something one of his friends said.
"Food Alley," Tsukiko said before she could stop herself. "I haven't been there in a while."
It was a quarter to ten, dark, and freezing when Emi arrived, looking thoroughly exhausted but excited nevertheless. Tsukiko offered a small smile, though it was easier than she'd anticipated as she stepped into Emi's forever cheerful aura.
"This is a lot of people," Emi said as they moved toward Food Alley itself. Tiny snow flurries fell from the sky, but that seemed to only push more people into the perpetually crowded street. Yellow lights and lanterns burned overhead, and the stalls and tightly packed bodies provided plenty of heat. "Must be every person in all four regions with high reiatsu here…"
"What you in the mood for?" Tsukiko said as her stomach growled. She tried not to think about how it wasn't clenching lest she jinx it.
"I don't want to tell you what I'd do for some ikayaki," Emi said, already pushing into the crowd. "Just tell me where to go."
Tsukiko sighed as she plunged in after Emi, holding tightly to her hand so they didn't get separated. Regrettably, the action only reminded her of the last time she'd taken the dive into Food Alley and whose hand she'd been holding then. She could still taste the karaage she'd begged him to get that night, how he complained with each bite that it wasn't KFC until she held up a piece to gently slip into his mouth—
No, that's over, she told herself firmly. Her stomach churned, though whether in agreement or disagreement she didn't know.
Ki sighed in the back of her mind, but Tsukiko didn't bite on the bait.
Besides, even a mental conversation was impossible as she and Emi delved further into the crowd, and it was a miracle that they found an ikayaki stand instead of getting turned around. Freshly made sticks bearing grilled squid were arranged over the counter for all to see, but they didn't last long as the stall workers handed them over to waiting customers. They pushed their way to the end of the line, which as always moved faster than expected. Unfortunately, Tsukiko's stomach was back to alternately begging for and rejecting the very thought of food, but she didn't stop Emi from ordering two sticks and some green tea for them.
Moments later, they were sitting in the neighboring street. Glowing heaters hung over and between the sea of tables, effectively fighting back the cold snapping at them. Emi had already devoured half her squid. Tsukiko took a tentative bite of hers, but delicious as the ikayaki was, it took all the will she had to chew and then swallow. She regretfully set the squid back on its tray and picked up her cup of steaming green tea, which thankfully went down without issue.
Emi swallowed her latest bite and, belching unceremoniously, pointed at Tsukiko with the ikayaki in her hand. "So tell me, how are you doing?" she asked.
Tsukiko shrugged, looking at her tea. "Not great," she said. "You probably already knew that, but that's…how it is."
Emi kept her eyes on her as she took a large bite. "How did it all go down? Did he just tell you out of the blue?"
"No, it was…." She sighed. "You were right to ask about Lieutenant Abarai earlier today. The truth is, I stopped talking to him because he found out about the captain and told me, and that's when the shit hit the fan."
"What do you mean? Was he upset or something?"
"He thought I knew and figured I was just a heartless noble toying with him." A heavily abbreviated version of the story, but the story nevertheless. "He doesn't exactly have a good history with the Kuchiki clan either—"
"But why the hell did he think that? It's not like you'd ever dropped hints about it—"
"Em, I don't know, it just happened," Tsukiko said. She exhaled deeply. "Anyway, the captain found out and decided to confirm it himself, which I do appreciate, but, well, too little too late."
Emi watched her carefully, her brow furrowed in confusion. "So if you're Captain Kuchiki's daughter, and he confirmed it, why aren't you balls deep in family affairs already?"
Get out of my sight, his words echoed again.
Tsukiko shivered despite the heaters and looked away from Emi. Her eyes began to prickle, and she forced down a sip of tea. There was plenty she could say in response, but there was only one important thing she'd gotten out of her latest interactions with her captain. "It all comes down to the fact that he doesn't want me and probably never did," she said at last. "Fatherhood isn't for him, I guess."
Emi set her ikayaki down. "Hell."
Tsukiko grunted, hoping in vain that it would clear the lump in her throat. "It…gets worse. I requested a transfer last week, but we wound up fighting and he..." She stared intently at the table as her eyes prickled even more. "He threw the transfer form at me and kicked me out of his office."
Emi reached across the table and placed her hand on top of Tsukiko's. "Tsukiko…I mean, I know a lot about the man, but that's harsh even for him."
She took a deep, shaky breath. "Y-y'know the worst part?" she said, a humorless smile forming on her lips. "I haven't even sent the thing in yet. It's sitting in my footlocker at the barracks."
"That's okay. Let yourself think over it—"
"There's nothing left to think over!" Tsukiko shouted, but she winced at the sound of her voice and the heads that turned in her direction. "Sorry. I'm just…we very clearly want nothing more to do with each other, but there's something keeping me from sending the damn thing in. It makes no sense."
Emi slowly tilted her head left and right. "Well, I can think of a couple reasons I wouldn't send it in—but you're not me and I'm not you!" she added quickly when Tsukiko shot her a look.
Tsukiko sighed as Emi withdrew her hand, returning to her ikayaki. "Which squad would I even go to?"
Emi swallowed a bite of squid. "Come to mine. Captain Kuchiki's super chill, and Kurosaki-sensei's a lot of fun to train with, especially when he gets mad."
"Emi," Tsukiko said with a frown.
"What? I'm not being funny, Kurosaki-sensei's really like that—"
"Emi."
Emi opened her mouth as if to reply, but she closed it upon finally realizing that swapping one Captain Kuchiki for another was not a solution.
"Well," Emi said, looking over the last of her ikayaki, "they'll randomly assign you if you don't have a preference, not that they listen to our requests—believe me, I know." She scoffed.
Tsukiko somehow didn't throw her teacup at Emi. "Would it kill you to be a little more sensitive, Em?"
"I am being sensitive," she said. "I'm drawing parallels, is all."
"So then why do all those parallels come back to how much you love the man I'm trying to get away from? Explain that one to me."
Emi offered her a placating look. "Tsukiko, it's instinctual at this point. Please don't take it personally—"
"This is why I've been avoiding you," Tsukiko said, scooting back her chair and standing. "You can't shut up long enough about your stupid obsession to realize I feel like I'm dying over here."
Emi frowned. "Or maybe I'm trying to make the situation lighter for you. I'm not stupid."
"Then you and I have very different definitions of 'light.'" Tsukiko grabbed Ki from where she'd set him on the table and set off at a brisk walk from the warmth of the tables.
"Tsukiko—"
"Don't bother contacting me anymore," she fired over her shoulder.
Emi didn't call out again, and even if she did, Tsukiko had already vanished from sight.
It was only once she was back in the Seireitei that Tsukiko slowed her Shunpo, though before long she began to walk instead. The light snowfall had stopped, but the air was still nippy, and she shuddered at a sharp but short wind. Still, anything was better than hastening her return to headquarters, even though she wanted nothing more than the blank hold of sleep.
Ki cleared his throat.
Tsukiko huffed but did not stop walking. What? she said.
She felt a pang of his guilt that didn't quite feel guilty. I just want to say that I agree about Emi, he said. I really don't know how you've put up with her until now.
That supposed to make me feel better?
Well, at least you're not thinking about your stomach for once.
My stomach has nothing— Tsukiko cut off as her stomach roiled right on cue. You really had to bring it up?
That wasn't my intention, Ki said earnestly. For that I do apologize.
Tsukiko sighed and turned a corner. Anything else?
I have a suggestion. It won't correct the situation between you and your father, but it might make things a little easier for you.
Tsukiko rolled her eyes in lieu of a response.
Ki sighed quietly. Tsukiko, give in to me. No one can do for you what I can. You keep asking for help past this mess, but you're going to the wrong people. Let me guide you this time.
Tsukiko frowned, entirely skeptical. You sound rather sure that "giving in" to you will work, she said. What does that even look like?
To start, I'd like to start meditating with you again. I know why you stopped, but we'll need all it gives us.
Tsukiko came to a stop. Another wind blew through the street, and she shivered against it. I've been distracted, is all, she said, unsure why she felt the need to say it so quietly.
You also don't like who it reminds you of. You have no choice but honesty with me.
…Again, I've been distracted. She resumed a slow pace. What do you think meditating will do?
Tsukiko, do you think you have control right now? Ki asked.
I mean, I'm not drinking myself to death, but—
Just answer the question. Yes or no?
I don't really feel like I'm in control, no. A lot of people deciding things for me lately and all that.
But what's one thing they can't control?
My stomach refusing every bite of food I eat?
Deeper, Tsukiko.
She sighed. I don't know, Ki. You're gonna have to spell it out for me.
A pulse of conviction hit her veins. They can't control you, Tsukiko. They can control things around you and maybe even how you're perceived, but they cannot control your person. Only you can do that.
Tsukiko sniffed at this. If you're just telling me that I need to pull myself up by the bootstraps—
I'm telling you to remember that you're more than whatever your father has done to you. And that means becoming reacquainted with who you are.
Whoever that is.
You're Tsukiko. That's someone.
Tsukiko huffed, her breath turning to steam in the night. I'm without a family name. I'm still no one—
Oh no, I wouldn't say that, Ki said, his tone curiously sly.
She rolled her eyes. I'm not really a Hokutan, nor am I really a Kuchiki, she said.
Then why call yourself a Kuchiki?
At that she stopped again. What?
You said it yourself. "I'm a Kuchiki. I'm goddamn untouchable."
When did I say that? I never did that.
Ah, I shouldn't be so surprised you don't remember, Ki said, his voice light and even playful. You were having the daylights pounded out of you—
"Excuse me?" Tsukiko said out loud as well as internally, a vivid blush coloring her face more than the wintry air could ever hope to. Quickly she looked around to make sure a patrol or passing Shinigami didn't hear her, which was thankfully the case.
I-I'm sure that never happened and you're just lying, Tsukiko said, setting off again a bit faster than before.
No, it did. If it helps you remember, it was shortly after you said "let me feel it" and dear Lieutenant Abarai obliged—
Okay, okay, just stop! Tsukiko's face hurt she was blushing so hard, and it didn't help that while she didn't remember speaking with Ki, she certainly remembered grinding her hips as Renji thrusted beneath her.
Ki chuckled gently. I'll prove it to you one way or another, he said, but for that, we need to meditate.
Just so I can constantly relive the shame of knowing I slept with Renji, or something?
Because it means that deep down, you've already accepted who you are, he said, all humor suddenly gone from his tone. It won't be easy, Tsukiko, but you must find control again. I implore you.
You're acting like I'm going off the deep end.
You might not be self-destructive, but you're not doing yourself any favors either.
I don't want to, Ki, so just deal with it!
A wave of icy anger hit her like an ocean. Shut up and let me in! Ki hissed, his voice suddenly dangerous and seething, and something like an invisible hand slammed her into the wall of a building.
Tsukiko gasped as she hit the bricks, but as soon as she did, Ki's anger vanished from her body. That didn't stop her from staring wide-eyed down the wall's length, her chest heaving as shock and fear fought for control over her.
Within her, Ki took several deep breaths. I'm sorry, he said after a moment. That wasn't…got away from myself….
D-don't, Tsukiko said, slowly peeling herself away from the cold bricks. But…w-what was that?
We…won't worry about meditating tonight, Ki said, ignoring her. Go to sleep, and we'll return to this tomorrow after drills.
That's fine, Tsukiko said, something telling her not to object. Her heart was beating hard against her chest, no matter the nonchalance of her voice. Of course, there was no hiding any of this from Ki, but he did not comment further.
She flash-stepped the rest of the way back to headquarters.