Chapter 12: Harbingers of Strife

*Hello HH-BlueDynamite, I'm glad you liked the omake and my expanding on the Quincies. I'd be interested in hearing of some of your own techniques.

Please review. Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, just the OCs.*


The words didn't make any sense, though Naoko supposed that was because she wasn't really paying attention. She sighed and dropped her novel on the bed. Reading was often a great distraction and way for her to unwind, but not this time. Sitting up, she carded her fingers through her hair and pointedly ignoring the unfamiliar blank space above her right ear. Putting on her hairclip felt so wrong ever since…

Stop it, she's gone. What does it matter how it's said when it all means the same thing?

So why can't you say it? A voice that sounded like a darker version of her brother's hissed.

A sudden flash and bang coming from outside sent Naoko to her feet. Glancing outside, she thought she glimpsed people but ran out of the room regardless if they were real to find her friends. Everyone else had clearly heard the commotion as she found them outside already, weapons drawn.

Five people cloaked in black military-style uniforms stood in the courtyard, one woman and four men. Their identities were exposed, and Naoko figured they either didn't care who knew them now or it wouldn't matter. Captain Sante had given them a list of their names and swords, but with no pictures, the teens hadn't been able to put names to faces.

Ichigo gripped his sword, "Who the hell are you, and what do you want?"

"Such a demanding pup," the largest male of the group grumbled. He had an aged square face with a head of short slicked back forest green hair. "We are the Soul Reapers once forced to serve and protect the pitiful Quincy royal family. I am Emanuel Haugen, and we command you to step aside and hand over those Quincies behind you."

The teen captain scoffed, "Yeah, I'm not doing that. I'm Captain Ichigo Kurosaki, and I am not going to let any of bastards touch my friends."

Haugen let out a growling sigh, "If you must act like an insolent child, then I will punish you like one. Move out. Chop, Ulvøks."

The plain sword in his hand shifted into a massive single-headed ax with a spike sticking out the other side. White fur trimmed the base of the blade, and small fangs dangled off the hilt.

"Everyone spread out. Uryu, Naoko, get as far as you can from here," Ichigo ordered. "I don't want you guys getting caught in the crossfire."

"There are five of them and only four of us if we go, Kurosaki," Uryu argued. "We are not leaving you to fight them all."

"Don't be so damn stubborn! It's you guys they want, and you staying here is only going to make it easier for them." Ichigo grunted the last part when Haugen slammed his ax against Zangetsu.

Naoko didn't care for the idea of running away, but Ichigo had a point. If they stayed, they would get hurt in the crossfire or picked up by one of their enemies. However, separating from the group might facilitate their capture. One look at Uryu told her he thought the same and was as fond of the idea as her.

"Damn it," he huffed. "Come on."


Ichigo relaxed slightly at seeing them actually listen and hightail it away from the danger. His attention was snapped back to the fight at hand when the spike of Haugen's weapon nearly impaled his head. Ichigo leaped back and charged, swinging his sword down before twisting it and slicing Haugen's side. The man grunted and swung the flat side of his ax, striking Ichigo's head. His ears rang and vision swam, but he could vaguely make out Haugen lifting his blade to behead him.

Until a flash of red and black intervened.

"You alright, Ichigo?" Renji asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Ichigo groaned, getting back on his feet. "You didn't have to step in."

The tattooed red-head scoffed, "As if I'm going to stand by and watch my friend lose his head to this chump."

"You are an unwanted intrusion, but no matter. I was a captain before being recruited. I can certainly handle a meager lieutenant and up jumped child captain," Haugen scowled.

He grabbed one of the fangs hanging off his weapon and crushed it between his thick fingers. The two men gasped at the sudden, crushing spike in the sudden spike in reiatsu. It eased up after a few seconds, but Haugen was on them again in a blink. He barreled into Renji and nearly cut Ichigo in half at the same time. Renji tumbled hard across the ground, and Ichigo had to pour all his strength into his arms to keep Haugen's ax from cleaving him in two. He shoved the man away and shunpoed over to Renji, who struggled to rise.

"What the hell was that?"

"A bit of a power boost," Haugen answered mildly. He lifted the hilt of his ax where only two fangs now hung. "Each fang, when crushed, gives me an increase in strength and speed. However, I can only do this three times, and if I use my Final Release after that it will be fairly weakened." He shrugged, "But since I do not intend to go that far, I think it will make no difference."

"Great," Ichigo sighed, but then he smirked, "That's a neat trick, but you're not the only one with neat tricks."

He raised one hand and brought it down across his face, black and red energy coalescing as he did, forming the red-streaked Hollow mask.


Nemu tried to focus on her opponent and not the urge to accompany Uryu and Naoko. They would be fine; as competent fighters, they could hold their own. That was what logic dictated, but her heart believed otherwise.

"It's a shame I get to fight you, women just aren't my type."

The man before her looked young with violet hair in a short spiked mohawk. A pair of scars curved alongside his jaw, and his black eyes held little warmth. She said nothing to his comment and studied him instead. His appearance and reiatsu appeared unremarkable, but Nemu knew better than to underestimate an enemy.

She pulled out her sword and said, "Encase, Kurai Chō."

The katana shifted into a pointed white rapier with a delicately woven basket guard. Her opponent looked unimpressed and even a tad disappointed, but Nemu didn't care. It was better for him to underestimate her; the element of surprise was always valuable.

"Releasing your sword already?" He languidly brought his own weapon. "I like a woman who gets to the point, though we haven't' even introduced ourselves."

She had no desire for banter or a prolonging of this fight, but it was etiquette to know the name of one's enemy, and they yours. "Nemu Kurotsuchi, lieutenant of the Twelfth Division."

"Now, that's more like it. People call me Marc Hughes; course won't matter what you call me since you'll be dead soon along with those fucking filthy Quincies."

Nemu narrowed her eyes and stabbed his shoulder before he could blink. A white crystalline sprouted from the wound and began to grow outward. Hughes shoved her away with a harsh kick and gripped his injured joint. The crystal stopped spreading, but what was already there remained and impaired his shoulder's movement.

"The hell is this rock shit?"

Beads of blood rolled off the rapier's white blade, and Nemu fixed him with a hard glare. Did he expect her to answer that question? But that would deprive him of the chance to puzzle out her shiaki's ability, Shiroi Sanagi.

"Not gonna tell me, eh? Fine," Hughes spat. "If you're going to use your First Release, then it's only fair I do too. Impale, Oíche Fabhcún."

The simple dark hilted sword morphed into an ebony Celtic falcata. A single-edged sword with the sharp edge concave at the hilt and swelling to a convex at the point. Nemu estimated its length to be about sixty centimeters. The hilt was hooked and shaped like a falcon's head.

"A black sword versus a white sword, have to say this brings back memories."

You seem to have a lot of things to say, she thought. Darting in, she managed to stab the outside of his leg. He snarled and swung his black blade leaving a gash down her arm. Despite the pain, her injured limb could still move and hoped there was no secret insidious ability to his own shikai.

"My sword doesn't spew fancy rocks like yours," Hughes grinned savagely and rested the sword against his shoulder. "Oíche Fabhcún runs on brute strength and the emotions of battle. The more intense my enemy's feelings, the stronger I get. Anger, hate, fear, grief, and depression all of that fuels my sword."

Nemu glanced at the steadily bleeding wound on her arm. I wonder if he needs to cut someone to make such an ability work. Or if he merely needs to touch my blade. She had once read how opponents, when their zanpakutous clash, can feel the other's emotions, even their soul.

This… this may actually work in my favor. She allowed a faint smile to briefly ghost her lips. Decades of suppressing and ignoring her emotions would finally become useful.


The man Rukia faced embodied the strong and silent type, or at least the silent part. Wheat blond hair framed his angular face and flowed down his back in a long ponytail. Crystal blue eyes stared impassively at her, waiting and watching. He gripped the murky teal hilt of his sword while Rukia held hers out and ready.

"It is common manners for people to introduce themselves," he canted his head slightly. "Or do you servile Easterners have no such custom?"

She scowled, "I am Rukia Kuchiki, lieutenant of the Thirteenth Division, and you are?"

"Damir Mikhailovich Vergunov. Shall we begin?" He pulled his sword out and said, "Envelop, Vodyanoi."

The unassuming blade lengthened and developed a slight curve. The guard disappeared, and the hilt turned from cloth to teal fish scales. The blade shimmered faintly as if reflecting water off its surface. He came in swinging, Rukia jumped out of the way.

Landing lightly on her feet, she said, "Dance, Sode no Shirayuki!"

Vergunov narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips into a tight line, likely wondering what her sword could do. Her white blade shined in the moonlight, and the long white ribbon trailed out from the hilt. A familiar and welcomed chill seeped into her limbs and cold air rushing outward from her.

"Hmph, pretty," He said impassively. "But in my experience, pretty does not translate to strong or practical."

"Then allow me to change your translation, Second Dance, Hakuren."

Rukia stabbed the ground with her sword four times in a semi-circle. Glowing white particles of ice flowed up to her blade, and she shifted her legs into a battle-ready stance. An avalanche of snow exploded from the tip and rocketed towards Vergunov, who stood unfazed before the cascade of sleet. The snow crashed down upon him and then melted into harmless water, splashing onto the ground.

"As I said, not strong or practical, but yours is a little interesting." His face and voice were placid like a still pond. He swung his sword in an upward arc, "Okean Sfera."

The water that once soaked the ground rose up in a wave and wrapped around Rukia. The water coalesced into a large sphere with the lieutenant floating inside the swirling liquid orb, which hovered a meter above the ground. Rukia tumbled and twisted, trying to swim to an edge to escape, but the water seemed to know her intentions and push her back to the center.

"A bit cumbersome for my liking, but it is useful. There is no escaping, and you will drown unless I choose to release you."

Rukia narrowed her eyes at him and tried to think, which was becoming alarmingly difficult. Her lungs began to ache and burn fiercely while blackness encroached on her vision. Think, think… could I freeze the water? Or use kidō to hit him? Or maybe

With determination and adrenaline powering her, Rukia swam to the bottom of the sphere. She stabbed her sword out of the water and into the ground. JUHAKU! She screamed in her head, hoping the mental command would work.

It did, and a trail of ice crawled out like a shot and began to encase Vergunov. Shock snapped across his face, and with his focus broken, the water sphere collapsed. Rukia fell to the ground coughing up water and greedily sucking in air.

Vergunov glared at her, "Clever girl."

Rukia, panting and soaking wet, staggered to her feet with her sword clutched in chilled hands.

"But, are you clever enough?" He shunpoed at her, swords clashing—water and ice in the form of metal colliding in a shower of sparks.


From this distance, Naoko's ears could pick up the sounds of fighting, not to mention the spikes in reiatsu of both friend and foe. She and Uryu paused in their retreat to take stock of what was happening. The close-set thick, tall trees offered cover, but Naoko's claustrophobia was beginning to prickle.

"You think… they'll be okay?"

Uryu straightened up, "Of course. We fought together and survived against Aizen and his army. Our friends can hold their own, and so can we if we must."

Naoko still looked in the direction of the battles, "We shouldn't have run. We should go back and help them."

"You should focus on helping yourselves!"

Naoko and Uryu jumped back when two figures landed where they had just been. The lone woman of their group of attackers and another man. The woman had an attractive face with long rosy hair partially held back. The man beside her was of a thicker build with wavy brown hair that fell around hooded topaz eyes.

Damn it, this is what we were afraid of, Naoko cursed. "Should we even ask who you are or what you want?"

The woman spread her hands, "Why, it's only good manners for people to introduce themselves. I'm Larissa Seydel, and this semi-attractive lug is Alviero Rosati."

"And what do you want with us?" Uryu asked, bow already in hand. "To kill us?"

Seydel laughed, "No… or at least not yet. Our captain actually needs you alive for now. So no, we won't be killing you; however, that won't stop us from roughing you up a bit if you refuse to come quietly."

Uryu and Naoko shared a glance, one that conveyed a mutual understanding between them. He lifted his bow while nocking an arrow, and she pulled out a silver tube that extended out into a twin spear.

Seydel smiled as though she had been hoping for this. "Suit yourselves, Your Majesties."


*We're finally getting some action, yay! I'll admit I had fun coming up with the Royal Knight's weapons and such. I don't know if I'll reveal their Bankais in the story or not, but if not, I'll mention them in the author's notes in case anyone's interested. I tried to base the weapons off their nationalities like I did with Flynn and Harumi.

(Haugen) Ulvøks: Norwegian for wolf ax.

(Hughes) Oíche Fabhcún: Celtic for night falcon. The sword he uses is a Celtic falcata.

(Vergunov) Vodyanoi: Russian for "he who lives in water", based on a creature of Russian folklore of the same name. It's similar to the Japanese kappa. Vergunov uses a Russian shashka.

Seydel and Rosati's zanpakutuo will be revealed next chapter which will be posted July 17th.*