Shunsui sighed deeply standing outside the 1st Division's main audience chamber. He could hear the shouting as he approached, and it wasn't letting up. The remaining Captains were eating each other alive. The last thing they needed right now was infighting.
He knew this would happen. With Old Yama gone, there was nobody around who could keep the volatile tempers and egos of the Gotei Captains in check. Eventually, he would have to stop stalling, join his peers, and put in his two cents. Frankly, though, he'd rather gouge out his other eye. He fussed with the patch over his empty socket, ignoring both the shouting on the other side of the wall and the air of uncertainty that permeated everything on this side.
Fingering a folded piece of paper, Shunsui sighed again. He knew for certain he'd be doing that more and more from now on. No doubt Nanao-chan would give him grief about it too. That wasn't so bad, actually. The thought of his adorable Lieutenant worrying over him brought a smile to his face, but one look at the paper in his hand sent the edges of his mouth crashing down.
The seal of the Central 46 was the only mark on the page. It was a summons, of course. His promotion was a sure thing-they hadn't exactly been coy about their intentions-and it made him grind his teeth, regardless of whether or not they were abiding by Old Yama's wishes. All that remained was hashing out the details.
How long could he get away with putting the summons off? It wasn't like they were going to get out of their chairs and drag him back themselves. With luck, this whole Quincy business could be resolved before he had to go anywhere near the Central 46's compound. That said, it wasn't like Nanao-chan would just sit back and let Shunsui have his way like that. If she pressed him, he wouldn't be able to resist.
The shouting coming from the audience chamber had been so persistent that when it finally stopped, it grabbed Shunsui's attention like a loud bang. He hesitated, despite being given the chance to enter unaccosted. Experience told him that even though the noise had died down, the atmosphere would still be smoldering. He'd need to tread lightly. Quickly tucking the summons into the folds of his kimono, he let out one last sigh and entered the chamber.
The air was thick with biting words and curses left unsaid, making for one of the most uncomfortable entrances Shunsui had ever made. Seven Captains other than himself stood motionless in the center of the room. Seven of the ten remaining Captains. There was a somber thought. The hurt was evident on each of their faces, though some more than others.
Soi Fon in particular looked utterly drained despite her voice being one of the loudest and most persistent Shunsui had heard. Komamura and Muguruma were flustered as well. They had been just as vocal as Soi Fon and their frustration was clearly apparent. And the guilt they felt from being so frustrated showed just as clearly.
Hitsugaya was the worst off physically. Every Captain had taken a beating whether they won or lost their respective fights, but Hitsugaya was hit harder than most. His Lieutenant was still unconscious, from what Shunsui heard.
Emotionally speaking, it was hard to imagine anyone more haggard than Ōtoribashi. The man's eyes were sunken and he somehow looked even more gaunt than usual. No other Captain had lost as much of their Division as he did, poor guy. Still, his Reiatsu raged, so he wasn't down for the count just yet.
In stark contrast, Captain Hirako looked bored, though that was likely just his face. He had never been easy to read, but his lips drew a thin line and there were dark bags under his eyes. Had he not slept yet? That would certainly explain why his voice wasn't mixed in with all of the outrage before.
That left Jūshirō. Shunsui's oldest friend was guilt personified. Not all that shocking considering his absence during the fighting, but still perplexing. The 13th Division had the fewest casualties behind the 4th and 12th, so perhaps it was a sort of survivor's guilt.
Nobody looked up when he entered, or even acknowledged his presence. That was no good. "Alright, alright! Everybody calm down!" Shunsui clapped his hands and said in a loud voice. He needed to fill all of this dead air. Making a point to fix each of them with a scolding glance he said, "If Old Yama were here, you can bet he'd be giving all of you a real tongue lashing. Honestly, losing your cool like this."
All but Jūshirō raised their faces then, and each one gave him a deriding glare that would send anyone but a fellow Captain running for the hills. Shunsui shrugged it off, of course. He was hoping for that reaction exactly. A little teasing certainly went a long way.
Soi Fon snarled and took a threatening step forward, "Kyōraku! You-"
"Is this what we should be doing right now?" Shunsui cut her off, the seriousness of his tone a razor sharp blade. Expressions all around softened, mostly out of surprise. "What good does biting each other's heads off do? It almost seems like you've forgotten that the enemy is still out there. As Shinigami of the Gotei 13, what is our duty? What should be our first response to such a threat?"
Nobody tried to answer his questions. That was good. It would have ruined the effect if they had. They stayed quiet and listened, like scolded children. Was this how Old Yama felt when he lectured the Captains?
"That's right," Shunsui continued, "We should not be pitying ourselves, nor should we be champing at the bit, eager to make our enemies pay for their transgressions. Our responsibility as Shinigami, first and foremost, is to protect the Soul Society." Shunsui paused, folding his hands in front of him. He wanted to let others absorb his words and understand. "Fatalistic as it might be, what's done is done. The dead are dead. Keep your eyes forward and walk with your head raised. You are Captains of the Gotei 13, aren't you?"
The question floated in the air for a moment before quiet fell over the room again. Nobody moved or spoke. They just stood there, wide eyed, if not outright shocked. Shunsui smothered the urge to shift in place. Their eyes were like curious wasps trying to determine whether to sting or not.
Much to Shunsui's relief, someone finally opened their mouth. "This is pretty out of character for you, Kyōraku." Captain Hirako said, tilting his head. "You almost sounded like you're in charge here. What gives?"
"Did I?" Shunsui laughed, the tension melting away. "That's good to hear, seeing as I'm the next Captain-Commander."
Not a jaw was left undropped. Even Jūshirō stared in disbelief, which hurt a little. But that initial shock didn't last long. Once more irritation and frustration filled the voices of the Captains as they all started demanding answers from him at once. Shunsui raised his hands to defend against the onslaught. There wasn't much else he could do to keep from being smothered.
"Now hold on a second. I can barely breathe here." Once they realized he was just one guy, and as such could only answer one question at a time, they calmed down. Just a little.
Hirako stepped forward, seemingly taking on the role of representative for the group. "Alright, Kyōraku, care to explain what you just said? We're still reeling from Captain-Commander Yamamoto's passing, so now is not the time for tasteless jokes."
"It's no joke, I assure you. This decision comes from the top." He flashed the summons with the Central 46 insignia, "'In times like these, it's important for Soul Society to have proper leadership,' or something to that effect."
Hirako clicked his tongue, "So they're afraid we'll lose our nerve if we don't have someone giving us directions? That lot never changes, no matter who sits in those seats."
"Can't say I disagree, but it wasn't their decision alone." Shunsui tucked the summons back into his kimono and fiddled with his eye patch. He wasn't exactly thrilled to bring this up, but if he didn't solidify his claim to the position, the other Captains would subvert his authority at every turn. "Turns out, Old Yama left a will of sorts. He left a recommendation . . . well, it reads as more of an order if you ask me, but that's beside the point. Either way, they heeded the intent of those final words, so I'm your new boss. Does that answer your questions well enough?"
Not one of them looked satisfied, but no objections were raised. Hirako spoke for all of them, "Whatever. Just don't drop the ball, Captain-Commander." Saying so, he stalked out of the room. The rest followed in their own time, fixing Shunsui with all matter of concerned and frustrated glances as they left. Before long, only Jūshirō remained.
His eyes were fixed to the floor again. The silence stretched on, but Shunsui wasn't going to be the one to break it. Something was eating at his best friend, and pressing him about it would only aggravate him. That being said, if he didn't bring it up, Shunsui wouldn't have a choice.
Finally, Jūshirō looked up and noticed, seemingly for the first time, that it was just the two of them in the room. He hesitated a bit before trying to smooth his features, but the distinct mask of guilt was still visible. "Ah . . . I suppose I should be saying congratulations. The promotion is well deserved." He flashed a smile, but he looked as sick as he'd ever been.
"You're not trying to butter me up, I hope. I plan on treating everyone equally."
"Of course." The more Jūshirō tried to feign pep, the more he betrayed his actual feelings. Something was very wrong. He was hiding something. "Well then . . . I suppose I shouldn't be standing around chatting when everyone else is working hard. I'd better get going." He tilted his head in a shallow bow and tried to slip through the door. Shunsui braced himself. This job was already giving him a headache.
"What's going on, Jūshirō? There's something you're not telling me, and I get the feeling I need to know what it is."
Jūshirō stopped and stiffened. His hands shook. His shoulders shook. The man's whole body trembled at the accusatory question. "I don't know what you're talking about. Everything is fine. I'm fine."
"Where were you during the invasion, Jūshirō?" It felt like he was twisting a knife as he plunged it into his friend's side, but the Seireitei needed those answers no matter the cost. "I don't know what orders Old Yama gave you, but the fact stands that you were the only Captain who was absent."
"Are you saying that I ran and hid away while everyone was fighting?!" He raised his voice and turned to shoot an angry glare Shunsui's way, but no matter how many layers he built into his facade, the weight of his guilt brought it all down. Jūshirō wasn't a coward, that much was certain, but he was harboring some intense regret, and Shunsui knew it could sway the direction of this conflict.
Shunsui tried to keep the pity out of his voice, but it was hard, "You know I wouldn't be digging like this if I didn't think it was important, Jūshirō. I'm not ordering you to answer as Captain-Commander, I'm asking you for an explanation as your friend. Please, help me so I can protect everything the old man left for us."
Jūshirō met his pleading stare. He took a step forward, opening his mouth to speak, but instead of words, he let out a hacking cough. In an instant he was doubled over, clutching his chest and desperately covering his mouth. Shunsui moved to support him, but he raised a hand, stopping him from offering any assistance. After a few painful moments, the coughing subsided, and Jūshirō straightened himself, "I understand where you're coming from, but there are some things that simply can't be said. I can only offer you this: I'm not withholding information because I fear it may come back to cause me grief should I speak. I made an oath to hold this secret from anyone who might get close. I am sorry, Shunsui, but this oath supersedes even our friendship. I hope you can understand."
He turned and left with every ounce of dignity he could salvage, but his violent coughing echoed down the hall and back into the audience chamber, bouncing off the walls.
So that was it then. There wasn't much Shunsui could do against that sort of determination. Oh, he could hammer at that wall until it caved in, but it would cost him his oldest friend and, in all likelihood, the respect of the rest of the Gotei 13. That wasn't an option, much to his relief. If he wanted to know Jūshirō's secret, he'd need to wait for a desperate time where the fate of Soul Society as a whole was in imminent peril. That, or find a way to press the issue where a falling out wouldn't impact his reputation or authority.
Responsibility was a messy business, he decided, sighing.
He'd have to get used to that.
+ Break +
Ichigo grunted when he hit the floor. For a moment he laid there, tangled in sweat-drenched sheets and breathing heavily. He didn't recognize the ceiling looming over him, and it definitely wasn't his bed that he fell out of. He pulled himself up, using the squeaky old bed frame for support, and kicked the sheets away. That was one hell of a nightmare.
He was walking. The river was calm, reflecting the orange glow of the setting sun. He wasn't alone. His mother was there, walking alongside him. She held his hand. They were returning home from . . . somewhere. That was odd. He had the feeling that he should be leaving someplace if he was returning, but it didn't matter, really. They may as well have been walking along the riverbank forever.
She said something, and he laughed. He hadn't heard her, but it tickled him anyway. He couldn't hear himself laugh either. He smiled up at her, and she smiled back, filling him with a warmth that felt just like the light shining off the water's surface below. When they finally made it home, she'd cook dinner while he played with Karin and Yuzu.
His friends were there, standing in the path ahead. Inoue and Chad, Rukia and Renji, and even Ishida. They waved, calling him over. He tugged at his mother's hand, hurrying her along, and she smiled patiently and let him lead her. He was so excited. He was going to introduce her to his friends. He was sure they'd get along great.
But as they got close, his friends stopped waving. Rukia and Renji drew their swords and bared their teeth. Chad joined them, raising his fists. Ishida turned and walked away without a word. Inoue stepped in front of all of them, her face a mask of worry. She was shouting, but her voice never made it to his ears. She reached out to him, pleading silently.
His grip tightened on his mother's hand. He looked up at her for reassurance, and sure enough, she smiled down at him, albeit with a tinge of worry. It should have been a relief to see that expression, but it wasn't. If anything, he felt even more concerned. He was breathing heavily, and the loud pounding of his heart was the only sound he could hear. He started to panic.
He looked back at his friends to find eerie blue/white arrows sticking out of them. They were bloodied, dark red spots staining their clothes and spreading quickly. Chad, Rukia, and Renji were on their knees, their wounds severe. Ishida was nowhere to be seen. Inoue stood, arrows sticking out of her chest and legs, her hand still outstretched. Her silent shouts seemed even more desperate. Panic became cold fear. Quick, shallow breaths made his chest burn. He slowly turned back to his mother. She could make things right, but for some reason, he hesitated. What was he going to see when he looked at her.
The world started spinning when he saw the man next to him, holding his hand. With greasy hair and a thin lipped smile, he looked like a snake. Where was his mother? What had he done to her? Slitted eyes shone from beneath dark glasses. When they moved, fixating on Ichigo, he screamed, pulling his hand away. The undulating ground reached up to swallow his legs, and he hit the ground.
That wasn't the first time he'd had that dream, Ichigo realized. How many times had he woken up in this room, drenched in sweat? And this room . . . how long had he been here exactly? The closer he looked, the more familiar it became. The impression of a sterile hospital room faded as he noticed a whirring air conditioning unit, a futon and tatami mats stacked in the corner, and dilapidated wooden shelves lining one wall. It looked more like a storage room was peeled back to make space for the rickety bed on which he sat.
"Umm," a meek voice suddenly said from behind him. Ichigo's shoulders jumped despite himself and he jerked around to find a familiar face peeking at him from an open door. "I brought you some food, but since you're awake, you can come eat in the sitting room." Ururu spun around and left as abruptly as she appeared. A savory scent trailing behind her made Ichigo's stomach growl.
"This must be Urahara Shop, then." He wasn't sure if that was comforting or not. On one hand, Urahara Kisuke was shady as hell on a good day. Waking up in his vicinity when the details were fuzzy set off so many alarms. Then again, he was exactly who Ichigo wanted to see about the weird number of Hollow appearances before that Quincy bastard showed up. He practically leapt to his feet, then. How could he have forgotten about that? "Inoue, and Chad . . . are they alright?!" Ignoring the shakiness in his legs, Ichigo rushed out of the room after Ururu. Wherever she was heading might also be where he could find Kisuke.
The tight hallway immediately gave way to the Urahara Shop he was familiar with, dated decor and all. He didn't even have to follow the smell of the food to find his way. Slamming open the sliding door, he stepped into a family room straight out of the Showa era. Ururu already knelt comfortably on a pillow, peeling mikan over a short, round table in the middle of the room. Jinta sat across from her, scribbling frustratedly at what looked like a sheet of math problems. Tessai stood in the kitchen off to the side, hands blurring, producing something that smelled amazing.
Kisuke was sprawled out on the floor absently munching on the food Ururu had before, and watching a television that looked extremely out of place. He rolled over lazily when Ichigo entered. "Oh, you're awake. Good, good. A few more days and I would have started to worry," he said, peering up from under the brim of his hat. He was always like that. Making light of things to get a rise out of people. "Come, come. Sit and eat. You've been tossing and turning for days, so you must be starving."
That was true, at least. Ichigo's stomach rumbled softly and he eyed Tessai's back. He could eat anything at this point, especially if . . . Wait.
"What do you mean days?!" Ichigo's hands started to shake. He wanted to run over and haul Kisuke to his feet, but his legs wouldn't move. "What happened, Kisuke? How can I have slept for days? Where are Inoue and Chad? Are they alright?!" He should have taken a deep breath and thought through things, approached the situation with a level head, but the last thing he remembered was his friends being threatened by some white-clad psycho. How could he be calm? " Answer me, Kisuke!"
"Whoa, now. Take it easy, Ichigo. You won't do anyone any good blowing a gasket here." Kisuke stood on his own. He gestured to the table as if to say, "Sit down and I'll explain." Ichigo wanted to strangle him. It was obvious he was hiding something. Why couldn't he just come out and say whatever he had to say? "Chad and Orihime are fine, so please," he sauntered over and placed a hand on Ichigo's shoulder," sit."
Ichigo's knees buckled. He was suddenly aware of much more than a tinge of hunger. His entire body ached; joints creaked and a splitting pain throbbed in the back of his head. It took a great deal of effort not to collapse on the spot. Surprisingly, Kisuke lent him a shoulder and guided him to a pillow at the table.
In moments he was hunched over a steaming bowl with a blanket draped over his shoulders. "There we go. Doesn't that feel better?" Kisuke said, taking the remaining seat across from him, "Now then, if you are settled, I think we have some things to discuss."
The aches all over his body subsiding, Ichigo took a deep breath. The smell of the food warmed him and the cushion he was sitting on was really comfortable. "Settled" was a mild way to put it. He was downright relaxed. At least, as much as he could be.
Now wasn't the time to kick back and take a breather though. "You said that Inoue and Chad were alright. Where are they right now?" Ichigo fixed Kisuke with a discerning glare. He'd known the mysterious shopkeeper for a while now, so he figured he could spot a lie or half-truth if he looked carefully.
To Kisuke's credit, he took his hat off, giving Ichigo a clear view of his face for once. "Your friends are recovering. Chad got the least of it, I'd say, though his leg was pretty badly hurt. He should be back on his feet fairly soon. It's too bad we can't have Orihime fix his leg up, but it is what it is."
That was good to hear. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief, and immediately wished he hadn't. "What do you mean you can't have Inoue heal him?"
The shopkeeper's face was grim, "She hasn't regained consciousness yet."
"She hasn't-Then why are you all just sitting here?! Shouldn't you be keeping an eye on her, or treating her, or something?" Ichigo slammed his palms on the table. He tried to push himself up, but strength hadn't quite returned to his limbs.
"You know, you're going to have to get over this whole 'hot-headed hero' thing eventually, right? You can't solve every problem by throwing yourself at it blindly." Ichigo blinked. Urahara Kisuke, of all people, was lecturing him. Scolding him, even. It defied reason. "We weren't there, but I'm sure you can imagine that we've had our hands full taking care of the three of you. Chad wasn't so bad, but you and Orihime stretched us thin. With so much of our attention focused on making sure your spirit didn't collapse under its own weight, we weren't able to spare much time for her."
"You bastard," Ichigo growled, "Are you saying you've been ignoring her to make sure I was okay? What is wrong with you?!"
Rolling his eyes, Kisuke sighed, "Jeez, let me finish, will you? We couldn't spare any time, so we called in some help. I'm sure you're familiar with one Dr. Kurosaki Isshin."
"You brought my dad here to treat her?" He wanted to be upset. He was upset! How dare Kisuke get his family involved!
But then, if he hadn't, Inoue would have been neglected. Isshin might be a goof sometimes, but he was, in fact, a doctor. In the absence of some mystical soul healing techniques, maybe he was the next best thing.
"So my dad is taking care of Inoue . . . I still can't say that I'm happy about this whole thing, but thank you for at least thinking about her well being." Ichigo bowed his head. He was still upset, but he wasn't about to skip out on showing gratitude where it was deserved. "And thank you for the food. I'm going to go see how she's doing, and Chad too, if you don't mind." He pushed himself up, feeling much more stable after calming down, but Kisuke raised a hand to stop him.
"I'd love to let you check in on your friends, but you have some more pressing business to attend to."
"Whatever it is, it can wait. My friends got dragged into a dangerous fight because I couldn't handle it on my own. I want to at least confirm that they're alright with my own eyes."
"There you go again," said Kisuke, shaking his head, "taking responsibility for other people's decisions like some kind of paragon. Sorry but this can't wait. I already agreed to send you over once you woke up."
Ichigo met Kisuke's stare with one of his own, suppressing a shiver. That look was the same with or without the hat. He was hiding something important, and it was already too late to do anything about it. "Send me where?" He asked, not wanting to hear the answer.
There was a suffocating pause. For once, Kisuke looked unsure, as if he said more than he intended. Placing his hat back on his head, he spoke in a low voice, "The person you fought by the river . . . he was a Quincy, right?" There were so many implications in that question it made the air in the room feel heavy. Ichigo held his breath. "As it turns out, he wasn't alone. The Seireitei has been invaded. The folks over in research and development want to talk to you about it."
An invasion? What did that mean exactly? Why was he being so damn vague?! "I don't see how that has anything to do with me." It hurt to say so, but with such little information being concealed by bare-bones explanations, he needed to tease something out. Something he could use to get a clearer picture of what was going on. Anything.
"People have died, Ichigo. Important people. And do you know what happens when a Quincy kills someone? They're gone for good. Body and soul. I don't think I can properly express how serious this is," so he said, but he was doing an adequate job of adding weight to his words. "As for what any of this has to do with you . . . I don't know." That was a lie. Urahara Kisuke was not a man to let information of any sort elude him. He was dangling answers like bait on a hook, and even though Ichigo knew all too well what the shopkeeper was up to, he was ready to bite.
"Alright," he said, giving in to Kisuke's flow, "I'll go. But there's something I need you to tell me before I do. You said important people died. Who?"
The silence that followed was agonizing. Sweat dampened Ichigo's collar while Kisuke weighed his options. The shopkeeper raised his hand, "There are two casualties of note for you. First, Captain-Commander Yamamoto was defeated." Right off the bat, a huge shock. Ichigo wasn't too familiar with the old man, but he knew the Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13 was immensely powerful. He shivered, as much from a sudden sense of fear as from the surprise. "The second is Captain Kuchiki Byakuya."
Heat vanished from Ichigo's body in a dreadful wave. Byakuya was dead? How? It didn't seem possible. They hardly ever saw eye to eye, but he had a begrudging respect for the guy. Numbness crept up his arms from his fingertips. "What about Renji and Rukia?" His voice came out a croak. Those two cared more for Byakuya than anyone else. If something happened to them too . . .
"They could be completely unharmed or at death's door, but for the time being at least, they're alive."
He couldn't feel relieved, as good as that news was. Ichigo wanted to laugh at himself. His friends may or may not be dying and he called that good news? What was happening?
Things had really settled down. No new enemies had appeared and nobody was being put in harm's way. Life was normal for what felt like the first time since he met Rukia. And now everything was falling apart all at once. Good news? What a terrible joke.
"Well? Having second thoughts?" Kisuke asked, watching him from under the brim of his hat.
There was really only one answer to give. "No. I'm going." Ichigo clenched his fists till his palms hurt. He knew that Inoue and Chad were in good hands, but it still felt like he was abandoning them. He was needed elsewhere. That was a fact. If he hesitated, somebody else might die. "They wanted me as soon as possible, right? Lead the way."
"Oh, we won't need to go anywhere special." Kisuke clapped his hands and the room became a blur of motion. Jinta flipped the table with a cathartic grin while Ururu pushed the television into a hidden compartment in the wall. Tessai pushed down on the counter separating the kitchen from the rest of the room and it disappeared into the floor. A lamp dangling overhead retracted into the ceiling on its own. In the blink of an eye the room was empty, making it look much larger. "I've made some improvements to my Senkaimon. Feel free to praise me!" Tessai, Ururu, and Jinta raised their hands in the center of the room and the space behind Kisuke began to warp and ripple.
The gate that appeared resembled the Senkaimon that the Shinigami used at first, but it quickly shifted to a shape that looked very much like the Arrancar's Garganta. "This baby'll take you straight to the 12th Division's doorstep. It's cool right? Few restrictions and negligible power draw; I'm very proud of it." Kisuke laughed, patting his own back.
Ichigo rolled his eyes and ignored the self-satisfied shopkeeper. As long as the gate functioned as advertised, he couldn't care less about how much power it took or whatever. "Thanks for your help, Kisuke. Take care of my friends." He said, stepping walking towards the glowing circle.
As he passed through, Kisuke's voice reached his ears, "Tread lightly, Ichigo."
Ichigo had only a moment to consider what that was supposed to mean before the light enveloped him, ferrying him from the world of the living.