Do I Wanna Know?
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This world has never been kind to lovers, especially those who find themselves on opposing sides in a war. This is something that Masaki thinks she can attest to from personal experience, but it doesn't mean that the knowledge helps to lessen the pain as she looks into the hopeful brown eyes of her son, knowing that once again he will find his expectations unmet and unfulfilled.
"How is she?"
Masaki gives a sad shake of her head, sighing when she notices the dulling of the shine in Ichigo's eyes, his disappointment noted in the grim line that he presses his lips into. She still hasn't shown any signs of waking up. Ichigo's eyebrows furrow as he says nothing more, taking the seat on the other side of Rukia.
It has been three days- three days since Rukia was attacked by the Sternritter Äs Nödt. Ichigo found her slumped against the wall in a destroyed corridor, curled into a ball, barely conscious and heavily injured, fortunately able to intervene before Äs Nödt could finish her off. He brought her to the Infirmary as soon as he could but Rukia couldn't hold on to her consciousness and has since then, fallen into a deep coma.
Reiryouku-exhaustion.
Masaki isn't surprised by the diagnosis. During her battle with Äs Nödt, Rukia didn't have her zanpakutou with her, severely limiting her offensive capabilities. She would have centered her attacks solely on her kidou spells, channelling her reiryouku behind them. Because of it, she has depleted herself of every single ounce of reiryouku she possessed within her
Masaki can imagine the Shinigami's desperation, her gambit to survive as she puts everything that she has on the line. It was a miracle that she lasted long enough for Ichigo to find and rescue her. Even now, her reiatsu fluctuates, spiking at times and then at other times, dropping to an almost inaudible hum- no better than a regular human. The only option left for the Shinigami was to replenish her exhausted core by sleeping it off.
"Rukia," Ichigo whispers. He grips at her much smaller hand, pressing it against his cheek. Her hands are too cold. Her skin looks too pale and his heart— it hurts to see her like this.
The tenderness lacing his tone is unmistakeable. Masaki can do nothing more but sigh as she regards the pair with sad eyes. She has never seen her son like this. He barely ate and sleep offers him no reprieve. There are bags under his eyes and the look in his eyes is haunted.
She knows that look- the look of a man writhing in guilt and his absolution unattainable. He keeps the bedside vigils religiously, excusing himself only when Masaki nagged and chided, offering to take over and keep Rukia company while he washed and fed himself.
But Masaki knows that this isn't enough. She can only do so much. She prays that Rukia wakes up soon. At this rate, it is only a matter of time before Ichigo breaks and his control snaps.
The world at large, is not ready for that yet.
Ichigo purses his lips, breaking his silence. "It was a mistake. I should have been there for her. I should have never left her to begin with. I should have—"
He should never have left Rukia. He should have tried harder to keep her safe. If he had listened to his instincts, heeded his intuition that something wasn't right—
Masaki cuts him off with a glare, admonishing him sharply. "It's too late for that now. Regretting does no one good. You saved her before Äs Nödt can finish her off for good. It's because of you that she is still alive. That is enough for now. There was nothing more that you could have done and you know it."
His fists clenches at the blanket covering Rukia. "If something were to happen to her, Äs Nödt—"
"Hush! Nothing will happen to Rukia. She will wake up soon. What we must do now is wait. You need to be patient and believe in her. Rukia is strong. She will come back to us."
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The world is …tilted.
Rukia blinks, rubbing her eyes in disbelief. She finds herself in a strange new world full of skyscrapers and modern architecture reminiscent of the sprawling Tokyo metropolitan in the Living World. The reflective surfaces gleam in silvery grey and metallic blue, making the world sterile and overtly clean.
The rules of gravity exert themselves in a strange way in this place, even the clouds float at an angle and instead of solid ground, she is standing on the glass panels of a building. Barefooted and clad only in a flimsy white dress, she unwittingly takes a step back and stills. The glass beneath her feet feels fragile and she is wary of resting her full weight on them, afraid of venturing out for fear of the glass cracking and giving way.
"Hello?" she calls out cautiously.
There is no answer- not immediately at least.
The wind howls and bellows, picking up speed, ruffling her hair and the folds of her shift dress. Rukia presses a hand to her wild hair, keeping them pinned to stop them from whipping against her face while the other turns to tug the ends of her dress down.
Violet eyes turn to the overcast sky, grey clouds looming and gathering at an angle in the horizon. A bolt of lightning splits the dark skies and seconds later, thunder rumbles ominously.
Rukia hisses as the first drop of rain lands icy cold on her face. The downpour comes unexpectedly and she is soaked to her bones in a matter of seconds. Her wet clothes cling to her uncomfortably. Water seeps, trickling down from her wet hair and her teeth begin to chatter from the cold. A puddle forms at her feet and she peers into it, only to gasp in surprise when she notices the reflections in it.
She is not alone.
Black sclera and mismatched coloured eyes- one blue and the other golden stare right back at her and she raises her head upwards immediately, almost giving herself whiplash in the process. Her fighter instincts kick in instinctively, causing her to drop into a defensive stance, raising her arms in front of herself.
"You!"
This man standing before her could have been mistaken for Ichigo's twin, were it not for his strange colouring. His skin is uncannily pale, as is his shock of white hair. His lips are twisted into a cruel smirk, a perpetual gleam of otherworldliness shines through his mismatched eyes, making for an eerie sight as lightning streaks through the skies, the strong wind still howling like a beast in her ears.
"Yes, me. Were you expecting someone else here, Queenie?"
The white-haired man gives her a smirk, adjusting a gigantic meat-cleaver blade he has resting on his shoulder. The blade is almost as tall as he is and broad enough that Rukia wonders how anyone would have been able to lift it with such ease. The stranger is likewise drenched in the downpour. Rivulets of water roll off of him steadily but he does not seem bothered by it.
Rukia narrows her eyes. This man's presence feels familiar to her, like the way Ichigo's reiatsu hums and breathes against her own but at the same time, different somehow, more potent perhaps. She takes a step towards that man. There is something about him. Despite his less-than wholesome appearance and the way he had crept up upon her unannounced, she knows that this man means her no harm.
Her hand clutches at her chest as pain flares suddenly. She gasps, dropping to her knees. Jumbled fragments of her memories begin to reassemble themselves. Beads of cold sweat begin to gather, mixing with the beads of water sliding down her face.
It hurts.
She remembers having an altercation with the Sternritter named Äs Nödt, remembers how she was forced into a corner by him and his attack and the bankai that he stole from Nii-sama. Being consumed by fear and without the protection of Shirayuki, she reached out into an all-encompassing abyss, grappling for anything that might help her in her time of need.
That power- Ichigo's power came to her then.
She remembers everything.
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With a shuddering breath, she realizes exactly where she is, though the newfound realization brings her only more questions. This isn't a dream.
"This is Ichigo's inner world. And you're his zanpakutou spirit! But how—" she trails off, pursing her lips. She has never heard of such a thing, would have never even dreamed it to be possible until now. "I don't— W-What happened back there?"
The grin on not-Ichigo's face stretches wider upon her realization. "The name's Zangetsu, in case you're wondering. And you're right. We're in the King's inner world."
Rukia's fists clench tightly at her white dress. "This doesn't make any sense. A Shinigami's inner world is his or her own. I have never heard of anyone being able to cross over and enter another Shinigami's domain. This is—I don't understand how I could have been able to—"
"Anything is possible between two beings who have shared souls," interjects Zangetsu with a tilt of his head. At Rukia's look of shock, he continues, "When that crackpot scientist decided to take a part of the King's reiryouku and insert it inside of you as a 'birth contraceptive', the idiot didn't realize what he was doing was essentially facilitating an exchange of souls. It might have been too weak to manifest in those test subjects of his but you are strong- strong enough to survive and allow the bond to anchor into place. The exchange formed a bridge between the two of you. A part of the King's reiryouku was siphoned into you and nourished within you. When you were in danger and Yuki wasn't there, I stepped in to lend you some of the King's powers."
He smirks. "You're welcome by the way."
The rain is still pouring but Rukia forces herself to stand to her full height, trying not to shiver despite the cold. "Then why did I lose control of my powers later?"
Zangetsu quirks an eyebrow, lips slanting into a grin. "I did say that those powers were lent to you. As much as you two are connected, there are still limitations in place. You are not the original vessel for those powers and the King's reiryouku recognizes that. You are not the King, just as he is not you. But it is possible, in theory and with much practice to make such an exchange- the sharing of power last longer and more powerful."
"More powerful how?"
His strange eyes flit to Rukia's, transfixing her as she stares into gleaming eyes of brilliant blue and molten gold. "You had a taste of it. The raw power of the King being channelled within you. Now imagine it being honed and harnessed, pooled into your own bankai even, wouldn't that be the most glorious thing?"
Rukia feels a chill running up her spine at the mention of bankai. "Shirayuki wouldn't—"
"Then convince her, Queenie. She is your blade and you are her mistress. Prove to her that you are worthy of learning her dances."
Zangestu's lips are twisted into an arrogant smirk. A bolt of lightning suddenly streaks across the dark skies. Under the harsh lighting, Rukia is reminded that he truly is Ichigo's zanpakutou. Both blade and master share an unhealthy disrespect for rules, shunning them when it suits them, breaking them when it seeks to curtail them, but Rukia doesn't begrudge him.
The temptation of learning bankai easily overrules everything. With bankai, she can protect herself and maybe even escape from Silbern, reuniting with her Captain. She clenches her fist, wilfully squashing the voice inside her mind that whispers low and treacherous, what about Ichigo?
And what about him, she chides at the nameless voice. Survival, she reminds herself, ignoring the way her heart twinges painfully, it is what she set out to do originally- to reunite with Ukitake-Taichou, Nii-sama and what little that remains of Gotei 13. She might have lost Kaien-dono's badge but she will do his memory justice by carrying out her role as vice-captain, serving their captain dutifully.
Nothing else matters.
She has allowed herself to fall enough as it is. If it is anything that Äs Nödt's attack has showed her it is that she can't trust anyone in Silbern, not even her own heart. Ichigo can't protect her all the time and she tells herself that it was fine. She doesn't need him to. She is a Shinigami and she has never been one to hide behind the strength of others. She is strong and independent, brave if nothing else.
But love- love changes things. Love makes her weak and stupid.
During the battle with Äs Nödt, there was a part of her that wanted Ichigo to come. A part of her that waited and yearned and prayed to a God that she doesn't even know nor believe in, hoping somehow that he would show up. She didn't need him to save her. She fights her own battles and Äs Nödt deserves death for what he did to Nii-sama, but she wanted him there with her. She wanted Ichigo to be there with her, wanted to feel his presence next to her as she meted the finishing blow. It is stupid but she feels braver, stronger somehow with him nearby. The thought sickens her but she realizes that she has grown to rely on the Sternritter.
But Ichigo—
While she was under Äs Nödt's spell of fear, her worst fears came true like a living nightmare. His mocking laughter, the twisted sneer on his face as he trampled upon the fallen bodies of her comrades, desecrating what used to be the grounds of the Thirteenth—
Her nails dig painfully into the meat of her palm. The pain is a useful reminder that her feelings are unrequited. Ichigo never did tell her what he wanted from her and she can't- she shouldn't delude herself thinking that he feels for her the same way that she does. He said so himself.
How foolish of herself to have allowed these feelings that take hold and sprout, thinking that she is special- that she means something to him? How could she forget how easily it could all be used against her? How could she forget how little she knows about Ichigo and his motives?
Deep within her heart of hearts, she has always known that there is a possibility that the Quincy has only been using her for his own gains and amusement. Even now she cannot completely rule out the possibility that this has all been a ruse, a game on his part to fool her into thinking that he cares for her, that their relationship is one that exceeds that of captor-captive.
Love has made her blind to the dangers. Rather than being the one that will inevitably be hurt in the end, Rukia knows that she needs to be smart about this. She needs to be the one to make the first move, to keep the pain to a minimum.
This infatuation- her feelings for Ichigo are new and should be nipped in the bud. Distance is what she needs. It is what's best for her. She cannot be made to indulge in this, to allow her dependency on him to linger and mark her.
She is now more determined than ever. She wants to learn bankai and she will make Shirayuki teach her. It will be the first move- the beginning of her attempt at distancing herself from the Sternritter and his world in Silbern. Eventually, she will learn how to live without him, to make her escape into the Human World.
Alone.
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Unaware of her inner turmoil, the zanpakutou spirit turns his gaze up to the gloomy sky and the heavy rainclouds, grimacing as the rain pelts at them at full force, growing stronger with no sign of stopping. Below them, puddles have gathered and pooled to form ponds and they only seem to be growing bigger.
"Looks like it's time for you to go. Any longer and we'll both drown."
Zangetsu becomes a blur of movement. In the blink of an eye, the white-haired man is already standing in front of her, grinning broadly. Before she can even react to his sudden proximity, Zangetsu reaches out and carelessly flicks her on the forehead.
Rukia hisses, taking a step back in surprise, her fingers pressing at the spot. It barely hurts but her vision begins to darken at the corners.
"W-Wait! You still—"
Zangetsu merely shakes his head. "Until next time, Queenie! Remember what I said!"
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The smell of rain and the heavy moisture in the air becomes a distant memory as her focus shifts. The air in this place smells different. It smells faintly of alcohol and the aseptic smell makes her throat itch. A heavy weight presses down on her chest, making her nauseous. There are whispers- snippets of conversation that she cannot help but overhear as she lies suspended between the planes of consciousness and dream.
Rukia furrows her brows. She recognizes Masaki's voice in an instant even as the lady tries her best to keep her voice down and low. Ichigo's voice is distinctive and she shudders when she hears the rush of anger colouring his tone.
"Don't be brash. You need to be smart about this, Ichigo! This isn't just about you!"
"Rukia is mine. She has no one but me in Silbern. I can't let this slide!"
The feel of Ichigo's reiatsu suddenly solidifies, pressing down against them all like a heavy blanket. It is a tempestuous thing, a flaring swirl of guilt, fury and anguish that is enough to send a chill down her spine. She hears the sound of furniture rattling, the noisy clatter of things hitting the floor. Masaki grits her teeth. Her voice is tight as she hisses at Ichigo to calm down, to no avail.
Rukia reacts instinctively, letting a wisp of her own reiatsu loose. The barely-there pool of power she has left at her disposal still catches her off guard when she pulls at it. At the back of her mind, she thinks she hears Shirayuki's warning growl, hissing at her not to be a fool and overexert herself just when she regained her consciousness. After coming out from the coma induced by her reiryouku-depletion, she should feel thankful to be alive but Rukia blames it on her bleeding heart.
She cannot stand it to see him like this.
Ichigo's eyes widen as he feels the familiar curl of icy winter chill wrapping itself around him. His heavy reiatsu dissipates as he quickly reins his destructive powers back in, leashing it as tightly as he could. He let his anger get the better of him but Rukia's touch is grounding. Even the tiniest curl of it, the feel of her power sliding and humming against his own, is enough to make him sink to his knees in relief.
"Rukia!"
He turns to her, gripping her hands so tightly in his that he knows bruises will form by the next morning. He loosens his grip at the sharp hiss from Rukia but it doesn't stop him from pulling her tiny body into his embrace. He is never letting go of her.
"I-Ichigo!"
Her voice is raspy and her throat dry. She tries in vain to push him away, conscious of how she must smell like after days of being unwashed. Her hair must be in such a state too- unkempt, tangled and oily, but Ichigo couldn't care less. He wraps his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.
"I'm never letting go. Now that you came back to me— I— Rukia, you're mine. I will never let anything happen to you. Never again. Äs Nödt will pay for his crimes. This, I promise you," he whispers. With her head pressed against his chest, Rukia cannot see the look on his face but the choke of emotions she hears from his voice squeezes at her own heart in turn.
"Don't ever leave me again."
Rukia feels her hands trembling. She chokes, feeling the sudden build-up of emotions lodged at her throat. Tears prick at her eyes. Just when she thought she had made up her mind, steeled her heart and warded it against him—
"Idiot," Rukia mumbles as she wraps her arms around his neck, hugging him back. She misses this, misses being held by him. She misses the sound of his voice and the weight of his body pressing against her. She misses Ichigo. She hears the sound of a door closing, a low and barely audible sigh of resignation from Masaki as the older woman takes her leave.
With Masaki's departure, Rukia crumbles, finally breaking down. She cries for her own weakness. A warrior's heart beats for no one but her own and her blade swings unfettered by fear and emotions. Yet, Rukia has fallen. Her heart is no longer that of her own and it beats so exhilaratingly fast whenever she is in Ichigo's presence. She was scared, terrified even at the thought of never seeing Ichigo again and to have him once again, so near to her, sharing the very air that she breathes—
She does not want to let go of him either.
The front of Ichigo's shirt becomes stained with her tears. Ichigo grips at her, sliding his fingers through her hair as he gingerly lifts her up. He settles onto the cot with her on his lap, kissing her tears away and gently murmurs at her to stop crying.
"I'm here now," he tells her, "You're safe. I will always keep you safe. Stay with me, Rukia."
Ichigo's touch is soothing and Rukia leans into it. There is only him. She is surrounded by his scent- clean and familiar, while his reiatsu curls and wraps itself around her, cocooning her. She is safe. Here with Ichigo, she is always safe yet for her own sake, this thing- the sickening dependency she has— it has to end soon.
For the moment, Rukia banishes her unsavoury thoughts. Just a little longer; she tells herself as she burrows deeper into his embrace. She will let herself indulge in this fantasy for a little while longer, letting her moment of weakness linger.
She greedily takes Ichigo in all his unseen glory- the sound of his heartbeat thrumming so steadily into her ear, the smell of him, the press of his body against hers, the weight of his kisses on her skin. She clenches her fists at his clothes.
The tears won't stop coming and Rukia gives up on keeping them reined in.
She really is an idiot. She is so hopelessly weak and disgustingly needy of him. A Shinigami has never shied away from doing the right thing, no matter how hard it is, but the goodbye is going to break her.
She just knows it will.
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The mechanical rattling of the ancient electric fan in Urahara Shoten is loud and woefully inadequate at chasing away the summer heat. Isshin grimaces as he slumps against the wooden floorboards, too tired and hot to do anything more. He shuts his eyes, pretending to be asleep.
Rose and Love have gone out, mumbling about needing to get some fresh air and ice-cream before they combusted from the blistering heat. He would have joined them if it weren't because the weather is just too hot to go outside. He is dead set on ignoring the chaos around him, even as Hiyori's screeching at Urahara and Shinji's attempts at trying to run interference from the other room, readily enters his ears.
He sighs, turning to his side. Peace and quiet has been hard to come by as of late, what with the influx of Shinigami entering and leaving via the senkaimon under the Shoten.
Since the Quincy attack on Seireitei prompted the mass exodus of surviving Shinigami into the Human World, Urahara Shoten has found itself unwittingly turned into the main headquarter of the Gotei 13 in the Human World. The Vizards watch on disapprovingly with their tight-lipped frowns and furrowed eyebrows from the side-lines. As a tight-knit group, they keep their distance, sticking to themselves, but that doesn't mean they keep their frustrations hidden.
Isshin reads their reluctance and suspicion in their expressions and their body language, the way their fingers seem to stray to the hilt of their weapons when forced to interact. They are very much on the edge. These days even Urahara is getting on their nerves. The symbiotic partnership formed between the shady businessman and the group of ex-Shinigami outlaws was one that was based on mutual respect and necessity. They have been brought together by personal vendettas, called upon to serve the greater good to neutralise the threat posed by Aizen.
But defeating Aizen is the easy part. All bets are off when it comes to dealing with the evil that is Yhwach, forcing the Vizards to join forces with not just Urahara and Isshin, but also with their comrades who once lived within the walls of Seireitei- the Gotei 13 itself.
"The new Soutaichou- Kyoraku is a fair man. We should trust him or at the very least, learn to work with the men under him. Yhwach is a powerful enemy. Neither of us will have any hopes of bringing him down by ourselves."
Ever the voice of reason, Hachi's voice is mellow and grandfatherly as he regards the group. He turns to Lisa, hoping that she would lend him her support.
"He's your captain, Lisa," he begins, "surely you of all people—"
"He was my captain, Hachi," interrupts Lisa with an unimpressed sneer, barely looking up from the book in her hands. "Time changes people and things. A hundred years down the line, can we really still claim to know any of them?"
"Moe, Lisa-chan! That was rude of you. Hachi's only trying to help. You shouldn't interrupt him like that!"
Mashiro pouts at the other girl from her perch not too far away. Her lime green hair frizzes from the heat and she is in a more irritable mood than usual, much to her ex-captain's chagrin. For the moment, she finds herself placated somewhat by the ice lolly that she has managed to steal from Kensei, pointedly ignoring the silver-haired man's grumblings of her being no better than a child.
Lisa folds the corner of the page she is on, setting the manga aside, ignoring the comment. "Let's not forget how we got into this mess in the first place! This is just another example of how utterly useless Soul Society is at containing threats and fighting their own battles. We already helped them to take down Aizen before the bastard could go on and deal out the real damage, without so much as a thank you from them by the way. I am not in favour of cleaning up their shit this time. This is not our war!"
Kensei makes a motion to speak but she shoots him down with a glare. "Don't tell me you've forgotten how quickly they turned their back on us!" she hisses, "This is a fool's errand and mark my words, the minute they so much as see a hintof the battle turning in their favour, those Shinigami are going to turn around and stab us in the back without batting an eye. They are not our friends!"
"They're not all the same, Lisa. Some of them are still our friends."
The bespectacled girl snorts. "You're right, Kensei. That boy who used to worship the very ground you walk on, maybe he is different. Maybe he will vouch for us. But what happens when the Central 46 gives him a direct order demanding our execution? If he goes against the order, he will find himself being made an example of. We both know the ways of the Gotei. He'll just be collateral damage, branded a traitor by all that he knows and loves. Just like the rest of us! Do you really want to put him through what we were put through?"
Kensei averts his gaze, unable to meet Lisa's eyes. A tense silence pervades throughout the room and Hachi gives a weary sigh, settling cross-legged on the tatami mat. It is a losing battle though Isshin applauds him for trying anyway. The memory of a Shinigami can be exceptionally long and the grudges that they nurse, deadly.
Isshin doesn't blame Lisa for saying what she said, for holding onto her grudge. Being cautious will keep her alive. If anything, Kensei and Hachi should follow her example. They might live longer that way. The truce between the two factions is temporary and shaky at best. The Vizards are still very much fugitives of the law. They have not been officially pardoned yet and the Gotei 13 is notorious for stabbing their so-called allies in the back as soon as it suits them to do so.
In the tense silence and the heat, Isshin lets his mind wander. He muses at the inevitability of growing old, at the very nature of time itself.
Time is a funny and strange thing. It runs cyclical with no beginning but many ends. There are days when it flies by and days where it crawls at a snail's pace. These days marked by a sun that doesn't so much as shift in its position and a moon that hides behind its veiled clouds, days that blur into nights and nights that suddenly bleed into light; he shrugs, discretely stifling a yawn with the back of his hand as he turns to lie on his side. It makes no difference to him.
Since the day she went away, everything has been stuck in limbo. He is here, stuck in the shadows, biding his time in waiting, deliberating, regretting.
"Isshin!"
Isshin recognizes Urahara's voice. He frowns, annoyed at being roused from his feigned sleep. He opens his eyes, quirking an eyebrow at the sudden appearance of the blonde. He snorts when he sees the ice pack that Urahara keeps pressed to the side of his face.
"Hiyori really doesn't hold back on her punches, huh? You should learn to dodge the next time. One of these days, Shinji and the others might not be there to rein her in or hold her back. You might find yourself missing an eye or worse."
Urahara waves him off flippantly. "Never mind that." His expression is unexpectedly grave and solemn as he looks into Isshin's eyes.
"It's time."
Isshin feels his heart thrumming. A sudden grip of excitement has him clenching his fists tightly.
Pain-
The pain makes it real. It seems that unbeknownst to him, the hands on the clock have begun to move again. They only have one chance of getting it right.
Masaki is waiting for him.
He gulps and picks himself up, marching towards the doors with a stern set to his shoulders and his back straight, somehow standing taller and straighter, his eyes sharper, as if suddenly given life once again after years of silence and quiet self-neglect. He can feel several pairs of eyes boring into his back. Hachi's gaze is gentle, Kensei's and Mashiro's unabashedly curious, but as always it is Lisa who pipes up.
"Where are you going?" she asks.
"To save my wife and my son."
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Song inspo: Do I Wanna Know? (Artic Monkeys)
DUN-Dun-DUN!
I passed my driving test! Have a new chapter. :3