Lifted Up Chapter 34: War Approaches: Poetic Justice part 2, a bleach fanfic

"Where am I now?"

Hiruko idly pushed a chair near a desk and watched it roll away, only for the legs to sprout feet and walk right back to where it was before.

"Gross," she informed the chair as it settled comfortably into position once more.

From there she examined her surroundings. She was indoors, for one. The room itself looked enormous, with a ceiling so high it became lost in shadow. But light shone from the walls themselves, which appeared to be transparent, filled with a shifting amorphous sludge that glowed in numerous colors, limning her body in hues of neon yellow, hot pink and lime green. Despite this there were shadows everywhere. Strange objects lurked about the room whose purpose she couldn't begin to guess at. It felt like being inside someone's body for some reason. The place just seemed organic.

"Kuchiki?" she murmured hopefully. But her dream playmate made no response. This was nothing new. Kuchiki didn't always come when she callled. He was funny like that.

There was nothing to do but start walking. So Hiruko did. At the very least she appeared to be indoors, which was an improvement on the times she came to in a desert or other weird landscape. Things she couldn't begin to describe swam or floated listlessly in round vats or aquariums in the walls. She stopped to make faces at them before pressing on.

The carpeted floor under her bare feet felt surprisingly nice. The largest thing in the room resembled a telescope, basically the same size and configuration of one she saw when the family took a trip to the local observatory. Except the large end that normally pointed up at the sky was instead aimed down at a great glass bowl several yards across. Huge lenses shifted in and out in the manner of a microscope, as though it were trying to get a better look at the contents of the bowl.

Hiruko's curiosity got the better of her, but when she drew closer to get a better look, the only thing she could make out in the container was more green slime.

"Gross squared."

Heaving a frustrated sigh, she trotted off on an aimless route. Some clothes were neatly hung on a rack nearby, like someone had gone to take a shower. Whoever they were, she hoped they came back soon so she could ask to be let out. There were no doors that she could see. An comfortable impression like she was being watched had been growing by the second.

"Why does Shoto have all the fun, useful dreams?" she muttered to herself, flipping idly through some folders left on a couch. They were filled with diagrams and written formulae that made little sense.

Right then a noise came from behind her. The girl turned, and immediately wished she hadn't.

The slime was moving.

It spiraled up from the center, like a long twisting eel, only to arc down and touch the floor until the whole thing had emerged. The mass of gunk shivered before contracting in on itself. A hissing sound was accompanied by steam. And between one breath and the next, a naked man stood there.

His back was to her. Perhaps realizing this, the man strode over and snagged a pair of red silk hakama trousers off the rack. Slipping them on, he snagged a colorful purple robe and slid it over his shoulders, knotting the sash securely before stalking off. He never looked at Hiruko or acknowledged her in the slightest, for which she felt very glad. For her part, the girl held herself very still.

The man's hair gleamed in the light as though wet, but he made no move to dry himself off. Instead he stalked assuredly over to the desk and touched its surface. Holographic screens appeared over the tabletop filled with even more mind-boggling arcana. A long-stemmed pipe came out of his pocket which he lit and puffed on while observing information scroll by faster than she could read.

When it ended, the man reached down, grasped the edge of the desk with both hands and flipped it across the room to smash against a wall.

"DAMMIT!"

After this he stood there with hands on his hips fuming. The whole time Hiruko hardly dared to breathe. She darted quick nervous glances around in hopes of spying an exit, but nothing presented itself. Just when she was wondering where might be a good place to hide, the man turned his head and looked at her.

Their eyes met. For a while they just stared at one another. Then he stated in bored tones, "Isolate unauthorized element and catalogue for future study," before picking up a memo pad that had fallen off the desk and scrolling through it.

As he did, the floor beneath Hiruko swallowed her.

Encased in darkness, the girl let out a scream and began pounding on the walls. Red lights flashed before her eyes, but before panic could set in, they all went white, and quick as a flash she found herself standing in the same room as before.

To say Hiruko was shocked would be an understatement. And her host appeared to share the same sentiment. He regarded her still standing there with a measure of surprise, eyebrows lifting as he sucked on his teeth.

"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded in a scratchy lilt.

Breathing hard, Hiruko clenched and unclenched her fists to try and rid herself of the impression that she had just been eaten. Fight or flight instinct made her heart pound, but nausea at the experience prevented her from moving for fear that she might vomit.

As such, she made no attempt to escape when the man crossed the room to stand before her. He produced a gold-rimmed monocle from his pocket and bent down to examine the girl through it. What he saw made his eyebrows contract together. "'Authorized?' Since when? Let me see, let me see…"

He reached up a hand as though to touch her face. And without even thinking about it Hiruko punched him right in the jaw.

At least, that was the idea. Instead red lines of energy shot out of the floor to wrap around her wrist, leaving that trembling fist hovering an inch before his face. When she tried a kick, the same thing happened to both legs, leaving her immobile.

"LET ME GO!" the frightened teen screamed, almost in tears.

Her captor's head tilted at an almost painful angle, and he was just drawing breath to speak when a flashing message appeared on his monocle. At this, his shining eyes widened.

"Ah!" he breathed. A slow smile spread up his face. "Well, well, well! That explains everything…"

The man emitted a bark of laughter, spun about and did a little jump, pumping his fist in midair. He came back down and stood regarding her with a triumphant expression that made Hiruko feel horrible. Like she was naked in front of him; it was not a good feeling.

Rather than hurting her, the strange fellow took off his monocle and gave a click of his teeth. Immediately the restraining bands disappeared. Hiruko almost fell over from the lack of resistance, but the man caught her by the shoulder. His grip was firm but surprisingly gentle.

"Let's have a talk, shall we?"

Two egg-shaped chairs rose silently out of the ground to float before them. Leaving her by one, the man seated himself opposite, crossing his leg at the knee and flashing a smile full of teeth that in no way seemed friendly.

"Won't you sit down?" he spoke in an admonishing tone while still looking quite pleased. "I find myself eager to hear what you have to tell me!"

There seemed no other alternative. Until she woke up or the dream ended, Hiruko knew she was stuck here. As uncomfortable as this situation made her, though, she got the impression this person meant no harm… for now. And so, with a measure of reluctance, she settled into the cushioned seat. It felt rather nice; almost like floating on air. With that they faced off, the preteen in pajamas and the bare-chested psycho in a bathrobe.

"So, you are the Ojou-sama's child, eh?" the man asked suddenly. "Which one are you?"

She frowned at his rudeness. "Hiruko Kurosaki."

"Hmmm…" Still puffing on his pipe, he again titled his head at that odd angle, half-lidded eyes growing thoughtful. "Kurosaki? Did your father insist on that name? An aesthetic choice, or perhaps an attempt to throw off any investigation?" He flashed her a look, and giggled in delight. "Names are important, you know. Perhaps yours is just close enough to the truth that your family can be happy with it. What's in a name, after all?" And he laughed once more.

Hiruko had no idea what he meant by that, but it sounded insulting. "What's your name?" she snapped with an accusing glare.

He removed the pipe, smoke drifting lazily from between his bared teeth. "Kurotsuchi Mayuri. But you may think of me as your magic uncle! So call me… Ojii-san!" And he shot her a wink, chuckling and fuming good-naturedly.

This was undoubtedly one of the weirdest dreams she had ever had, rivaling those of her brother. That being said, it opened up potential new avenues of information. This man must be a spirit in Soul Society, and one who knew her mother. She remembered hearing members of Uncle Byakuya's entourage refer to her mother as 'Ojousama' before. Could he be one of them?

"How do you know my mother…?" When he gave her a testy look, she added, "… O… jii-san."

At this Mayuri brightened, all smiles and warmth again. "Why, hasn't anyone ever told you? What a lapse on your parents' part!" He waved an expansive hand about the room. "She is my Patroness! I owe a great deal of the success in my scientific endeavors over the past few years to her limitless largesse, as it were. Yes, yes," he chortled, eyes twinkling in the dim light. "I owe your mother… very much."

He seemed to be drinking in the sight of her. It made Hiruko's flesh crawl. Before she could continue, however, the 'Ojii-san' was off again.

"I can only assume that once again Providence has sought to succor me in my moment of self-doubt," he rambled on without a care for her discomfort. "Events have proceeded to the point where nothing more can be done, it irks me to admit. I already made all the necessary preparations. They have been a long time coming, for as much as my skills have enabled untold triumphs throughout my lifetime, it seems a final solution is in order. Which is why it gives me such joy that we have this opportunity to converse, little Hiruko. For you see…" And here he gave a helpless shrug. "I'm dying."

"Is it cancer?" she asked.

Mayuri drew up short, frowning at her. "No. Not cancer. Ghosts don't get cancer, you little id–"

A strange thing happened then. It was as though Kurotsuchi was suddenly flung back in his seat. White-knuckled hands clutched the armguards while his lips pressed tightly together. "Little… lady!" he finally gasped before sagging as though spent.

The sight of this made her actually feel concern for him. "Are you alright?" she asked, rising up and reaching out a hand.

Mopping his brow with a handkerchief from his robe, the sullen scientist regarded her in puzzlement. He sniffed, blew his nose and tossed the fabric off to one side. "No, in fact. What you just witnessed was a manifestation of my illness. You see, Hiruko-chan," and he scrunched into the cushions as though getting more comfy, "some time ago your Ojii-san came back from a deathly encounter with an old research specimen. In ways that I cannot fathom, the experience left me altered on a fundamental level. For years now I have sought to undo this shameless debasement of my privacy. Yet try as I might, the illness persists. To be perfectly frank, it has only gotten stronger! So with every passing day there is less of what I recognize as… me."

His gaze drifted off to one side, voice descending to a low, dangerous pitch. "And I will not tolerate such a violation."

He then seemed to recollect himself and turned an oversized grin back on her. "But it matters not! Just as before, when my son achieved victory for me over that braggart Kisuke, the universe has presented the surprising solution without my intervention. For now, I have a grandchild!"

Against her wishes, Hiruko's face scrunched up in a very ugly moue of distaste. Fortunately Mayuri either misinterpreted the expression or didn't care to begin with, for he beamed in a terrible way.

"Not something that needs to be trumpeted from the rooftops like those pompous nobles do, but yes, my lineage is secure. I have safeguarded all necessary research and will initiate the execution codes for anything too dangerous to be studied by, shall we say, inferior intellects. Once the details are complete, my death will proceed at a time and place of my choosing. A worthy sendoff for one of my accomplishments to Soul Society will do."

His foot tapped restlessly against the floor, in anxiety or eagerness, she couldn't say. "I haven't ironed out the details. Perhaps the forthcoming operation will present me with an opportunity? I am prepared for multiple eventualities should that prove to be the case, rest assured!"

It felt like he was talking to himself by this point. Hiruko decided there was no sense sticking around any longer. "That's great. Can I go now?" She began to rise.

"Hiruko-chan…"

A change in his voice made her hesitate. When she looked at him, Mayuri Kurotsuchi did not seem quite so frightening or disturbing as before. In some strange way she couldn't possibly understand, he resembled her grandfather Isshin. Almost… kindly. It took her by such total surprise all she said was, "Yes, Ojii-san?"

"By now you must have been told that you are in terrible danger," he spoke in regretful tones. "Unohana will never stop haunting your family. If you are to have a future, I'm sorry to say that woman must be done away with. And you just might be the person to do it."

Slowly Hiruko sank back into her seat. "What do I have to do?"

She didn't feel scared now. More like excited. Here for once was a person talking to her like she, Hiruko Kurosaki, had a chance to fight back against the monsters circling her family on Earth and beyond.

He smiled faintly, perhaps approving of her eagerness. "There is a prophecy, you see, one that came courtesy of your great-grandfather Ginrei Kuchiki. In it he foretold how a child of that house will prove to be Unohana's bane."

Mayuri uttered a cough and fidgeted then as though there were an itch in his shoulder blades. "Bear in mind, as a man of science I put no truck in soothsayers and fortunetellers, but from analyzing events of the recent past, it is my strictly logical conclusion that Unohana herself is operating from the position that this foretelling is accurate. Call it a self-fulfilling prophecy if you must, but if she believes it, then her actions will proceed in due course. She perceives your generation to be her mortal enemy. One that holds the power to destroy all her works and blunt any plans she may conceive."

"I want to help!" Hiruko stated in a rush. "I'll do whatever I can to save everyone!"

A twist of his lips brought the old Mayuri back for a moment. "Just like your father." He then regained that avuncular persona from before. "Be that as it may, you are facing some of the most powerful and dangerous entities in existence. The remaining vasto lorde represent a continued threat to all life. And with their help, Aizen Sosuke seeks to rule over both the living and the dead. But there are others who will deal with that crew. Which leaves the Witch. Right now Unohana is damaged, but if anything, I suspect she is all the more lethal for it. So you must take measures to meet her from a position of strength."

By now she was so keyed up she could scream. "I can fight! Do you have a weapon? Something that'll defeat her?"

"My greatest weapon has always been knowledge. Don't give me that look, young lady!" he pronounced in offense when she wrinkled her nose. " I'm not simply spouting allegory here. Whom do you think you're dealing with? Of course I have a solution!"

Mayuri rose to his feet. He passed one blue-nailed hand through the air, and between them there rose a small plinth from the floor. Tracing his longest nail over its surface in intricate patterns, a hole opened up in the side. He then reached in and retrieved a small red marble, which he held out to her.

"What is it?" Hiruko asked even as she accepted the offering.

"Knowledge, my dear. Everything I can offer to prepare you should you ever find yourself facing that woman across the battlefield. When the time comes, it will activate."

It looked like a crystallized drop of blood nestled in the palm of her hand. Uncertainly Hiruko peered at it, but other than a sparkling glint in its surface, the thing appeared wholly unremarkable. Nonetheless she slipped the orb into her pocket. "Thanks, Ojii-san."

"There's more," he spoke urgently. Drops of perspiration were forming on Mayuri's temple, and he appeared to be speaking with an effort. A tic had developed in his right eye. "No matter what your parents or any of those buffoonish captains might say, the surest weapon against Retsu is her own sword, Minazuki. Contained within it is her power as a shinigami, a force nearly unsurpassed in all the annals of history! Your parents stole that weapon and hid it years past, but if you are to stand the greatest chance against her, you must bring Minazuki into the light!"

While having such a weapon certainly seemed an appealing prospect, this tactic left her with doubts. "Wouldn't giving her back her soul cutter just make Unohana more powerful?"

"It depends who's holding the handle," Mayuri sneered. "A shinigami's zanpakutō can be their strongest ally or their most deadly weakness. And it is my belief you will find a friend in Minazuki. She loves her mistress still, of that I have no doubt. Use it to your advantage!"

This made sense the more Hiruko thought about it. This reminded her of the way Tatsuki-sensei described a fight, where you took advantage of any opening an opponent gave you. "Okay," she decided. "Thanks, Ojii-san."

"My… pleasure." One hand rose up shaking toward her, only for Mayuri to violently clamp it back to his side with a snarl. "You should go now," he growled. "I am… not feeling myself, and would be alone."

"Uhhh…" The girl glanced around, twisting her feet in embarrassment. "That usually happens on its own. I don't know how to make the dream end."

"No?" Mayuri looked her up and down with a sniff. "How unreliable. Perhaps I'll do research on the topic to fix that? No matter," he waved an idle hand. "You can stay with Nemu."

So saying, the floor ate her again.

"Take care, little one," his voice rang in that confined space. "I'm pleased we had this chance to talk."

The protuberance sank out of sight, taking the girl with it. Once assured of this, Mayuri crossed his hands behind his back before heading off to continue with his other projects. He had many avenues of investigation still open to him. It would be a shame to leave certain of them unfinished.

"Thank you," he said to no one in particular, and was surprised to find he liked the sound of it.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi could not say if the feeling of pride he felt at this moment fully derived from himself or not. But in this instance it seemed utterly appropriate from any angle. And with that he was more than content.

In the midst of Kiyone demonstrating how to properly suck a lime, Nemu Kurotsuchi's head turned sharply to one side. Emerald eyes narrowed ever so slightly in that otherwise dispassionate face.

"Put the lime in the co-co-nut, shake it all up, and… huh? Nemu-chan? Where'dja go?"

Admittedly Kiyone had been hitting the sauce pretty hard tonight. But she could have sworn her guest of honor was sitting right there a moment ago. And now she wasn't.

Huh… well, better go find her!

Isane ran with no clue of where she might be going. The forest grew darker, colder around her. Something terrible waited up ahead, of that she was certain.

Kujaku felt it too.

Something about this dream felt wrong. As though he were seeing everything through tinted glass, warping his perceptions. More and more, he was getting the impression that this was a deadly dream, the kind he had experienced only rarely.

All of a sudden Isane drew up short. "Tadashi?"

She peered around, then reached up a hesitant hand. Without warning a blue spark of electricity snapped around her fingers, briefly illuminating some kind of barrier before them.

Kujaku strove desperately to make out what lay ahead, but all he could see was darkness. The distortion had grown worse. He glanced at Isane in the hopes that she would continue forward despite this blockade. But instead she held back. And by her face, she had no intention of going any further. Frustrated, the youth stretched a hand forth to where the barrier had appeared. If it was only part of the memory, perhaps he might continue ahead without her?

"Don't go in there."

For a moment the dream mage thought it was just Isane talking to herself again. But when he looked over, to his surprise he found the captain looking straight at him.

"If you find out," the frightened woman spoke in a hoarse whisper, "she'll kill you!"

The threat was real. He knew that much. Yet all the same, Kujaku found himself saying, "I have to know."

And with that he slipped through the magic wall. Isane lunged forward to try and stop him, only to be restrained by the barrier. "WAIT! PLEASE!"

It hurt to see how afraid she was; for him, or herself, maybe both. But a conviction had grown within him. There was something important past here. So he resolved to take that risk.

Now the determined teen moved through the night alone. But that drunken haze from before had lifted, allowing him to see everything clearly. The guiding line continued leading him on securely. How much farther did he have to go?

Ahead, a blue light flickered through the trees, like a will-o-the-wisp, and Kujaku found himself slowing without reason. Was this what Isane had done back then?

A shock went through him when Isane suddenly slipped by. But she was transparent, more like a ghost than the real person from before. Was this part of the memory, and not really her?

No chance to ask. The trees ended at a clearing. Both of them approached cautiously, Isane clearly striving not to give any sign of her presence. She held back, unwilling to risk exposing herself. Kujaku had no such qualms. While trembling in a mixture of fear and excitement, he drifted ever closer towards the source of that witch-light.

Moans reached his ears, causing him to freeze involuntarily.

What he had initially thought to be a bonfire turned out to be glowing blue symbols drawn on the ground. But they were moving, twisting and crawling over one another in the manner of insects feeding off a corpse. The sight repelled him for reasons he couldn't explain.

Even worse than this was the woman in a white cloak hunched over at the center of the mystic constellation. Her feet were planted on the ground, hands splayed and fingers digging spastically into the dirt as she let out a painful sound. Her mouth opened wide, smooth black hair astray, face twisted so as to be unrecognizable. At the same time, he felt certain they had met somewhere before.

Other than the cloak she was naked. At first Kujaku felt perverse watching the woman like this. His eyes were drawn against their will to her large breasts gleaming with sweat. Crouched on her haunches like an animal, twisting and baring her teeth, there was still something undeniably beautiful about her. Never in his life had he seen a woman like this. He knew it was awful to think such a thing, and that he should look away. So why didn't he? Was he really so low, so lewd?

"A prince should know better."

The words came unbidden, like a magic spell. Upon remembering them he jerked his head to one side, feeling sick and ashamed of himself. For a time the distraught youth stared with stoic fixation at the symbols forming and clashing beneath him, striving to coax some sense out of their fluid path.

As he did, an almighty scream sounded. At first he thought it was the lady, only to realize an instant later that this was a man. And it was coming from the symbols themselves.

The situation made him feel as though he might be going mad. Abruptly that horrible wail died down, fading to nothing. As it did, however, a new cry split the air. Short and repeated over and over, it took him only a moment to recognize the sound of a newborn.

This time he couldn't help himself. He looked over, to find the lady had collapsed. The eldritch patterns faded, so that he had trouble making anything out clearly. But as he watched the white mass shifted, bringing something out from beneath it.

There in her arms, gleaming wet and red in the faint light, a baby cried with every shuddering breath it took, eyes tightly shut and tiny fists flailing as though to beat back whatever had been done to it.

The new mother wore a tired yet triumphant smile. Though obviously drained, she produced a clean cloth and began wiping her child dry. Then she took a knife and cut the umbilical cord before tying it with swift, surgical precision. Another wrap wound securely around the newborn provided warmth and security.

By now Kujaku had drawn closer, intrigued in spite of himself. He didn't know what any of this meant. Both he and the lady seemed mesmerized by the sight of her child, rocking it in her arms to try and soothe its terror. Why was this happening? What was she doing out here, all alone?

"Oh, my dear…"

Her voice made him more certain than ever that they knew one another. Still Kujaku could only watch as the mother reached up, placing thumb and forefinger together to drow slowly across the baby from head to toe. A thin white line appeared where they passed, and now all the woman's attention was bent upon this. She hardly even seemed aware of the infant in her arms so intently did she gaze on this mystic band.

As she watched, the thread flashed bright crimson, only to fade and become a dull white.

"No!" the woman breathed in horror.

At this the baby opened its eyes to peer up at her in a moment of quiet. She paid no attention to this. But Kujaku did. And what he saw there left him stunned. For there was no mistaking what those eyes held. That lavender shade, so soft and lovely… only one person he knew had eyes like that.

"Kā-san!" Kujaku breathed as he realized the infant before him was his own mother.

This awestruck epiphany ended when the lady snatched up the knife again and raised it on high. Her face, moments before beautiful as an angel, now contorted with wild rage, and his own went slack with horror as he realized she meant to kill her own child.

"DON'T!" he cried in a panic, diving forward in a futile attempt to stop her.

Something struck him sharply across the jaw, and he went tumbling to the ground, terrified at the prospect of hearing the sound, of seeing spilt blood.

Instead when Kujaku looked up, a cold face stared down at him.

"Little rapist…"

Hiruko felt only disorientation as she found her feet again. Then she felt the pain in her hand as it was twisted painfully behind her back.

"Cease struggling," a voice murmured in her ear.

Blinking back tears, she twisted her head around and caught a glimpse of a woman with green eyes and purple hair. A quick glance around showed they were in what looked to be a darkened bedroom. Where am I? Why would Mayuri send me here?

Only then did she spy Shotoku crumpled on the ground with one hand pressed to his cheek. Five petals of glowing yellow energy locked around his midsection apparently kept him from moving so much as an inch. He looked stunned, like he couldn't believe this was happening.

Fury swamped her. "Let me GO!" the girl screamed and began to struggle, heedless of how it made her imprisoned arm hurt. In response her captor clamped a hand like iron over her mouth and began to drag the thrashing teen towards the exit.

"Nemu-chan?"

The purple-haired woman stopped and turned. Doing so allowed Hiruko to see another lady sitting up on the bed. It took her only a moment to recognize Isane Kotetsu. The head of her mother's Company rubbed sleepy eyes in confusion, silver hair tangled while her belly protruded huge against a sheer nightgown.

Thinking to take advantage of this momentary distraction, Hiruko grabbed her attacker's wrist and bit down hard as she could. Nemu didn't so much as twitch much less release her grip. However in doing so, the girl felt the handle of a knife tucked into her enemy's sleeve. A weapon! Gladly Hiruko grasped this unexpected bounty and pulled it loose.

To her dismay, what came out proved to be nothing but a wooden stick with no blade to speak of. In desperation she waved it back and forth hoping something might pop out as a result. Her efforts produced no reaction. What kind of person keeps a baton up their sleeve?!

"Nemu-chan, what is going on?" Isane demanded as she struggled to climb off the mattress. Her legs got tangled in the sheets, and she seemed to be having difficulty getting out of this mess.

"NEE-SAN!" The doors burst open, followed by a small woman with huge eyes who smelled like a distillery. She tripped over the edge of a rug to go stumbling forward with a loud, "WHOOPS!" crashing straight into Nemu and Hiruko.

All three of them went down together in a tangle of flailing limbs. The teen felt the hold on her loosen. With a savage twist of her shoulders that felt like it dislocated something she managed to spin around, kicking savagely at Nemu with both legs as she did. Doing so got her completely free, and she went scrambling backwards across the floor, ignoring any aggravation to her injury.

As she did, Nemu slid upright smooth as water. The baton was in her hand, and from her lips came a chilling chant. "Bloom for Master, Aka-chan."

From out of the handle there emerged a winding red whip that seemed more liquid than solid. Its mistress brought the lash down with an ear-splitting CRACK! Her expression hadn't shifted one bit since this mess began. But clearly Nemu was done playing games. In desperation Hiruko cast about frantically for some means to defend herself.

"Wait!" By now Isane had managed to disengage herself and came rushing over to stand between the dominatrix and her target. "Wait, Nemu-chan! I know these two, they're…!"

'THERE! On the nightstand!'

Kuchiki's urgent voice in her head allowed Hiruko to notice a sword in a black lacquer sheathe by the bed. Before anyone could stop her the girl had dashed across the room and torn the blade from its rest.

"RUN, ITEGUMO!"

In an instant the katana became a straight-bladed saber with two smaller shafts sprouting from the handle. Those who saw this transformation take place didn't know what to make of it. All three shinigami only stared as the human teen leapt to join her brother. She raised the spectral weapon and drove it into one of the Rikujōkōrō petals holding him down. At Itegumo's touch the spell turned to glass and shattered.

Hiruko dropped her sword. It clattered against the floor, reverting to sealed state as she took hold of her brother's shoulders. "Are you hurt? Nii-san, did she hurt you?!"

Free to move, Shotoku stared at his sister in astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Yeah, thash what I wanna know!" Across the way, the drunken imp had grabbed hold of Nemu's skirts to haul herself on both feet. Her continually crossing eyes sought out the children, and she said with an air of drunken indignation, "Who shaid you could use ma shister's zanpakutō, huh?! WHO?!"

The human pair only stared back in perplexity. As if on a signal, though, their bodies began to fade. Soon enough Shotoku and his sister had disappeared completely.

Was it another dream, Isane thought? Did they come here together this time? If so, what did they see?

The very thought left her trembling for reasons she could not name.

Both Kurosaki siblings came awake with a start. They looked at one another, uncertain what had just taken place.

"Were we in Soul Society?" Shotoku wondered aloud.

"I think so." Beside him Hiruko flexed her hand, then grimaced. "Ah, geez! She messed up my shoulder!" She began to roll it to try and pop the joint back into place as Tatsuki-sensei recommended.

Meanwhile her brother's face had taken on a dazed quality at all he had learned. Suddenly his eyes lit up in excitement and he rounded on Hiruko gleefully. "Kuko! I know… I know where Unohana's downfall began. I know what turned her into a Hollow!"

Chewing this over, Hiruko finally got her shoulder back into working order. She rotated it experimentally before turning an even brighter grin on her big brother.

"Oh yeah? Well, I know what we need to beat her!"

They exchanged information on what took place in Isane Kotetsu's dream and Mayuri Kurotsuchi's domain. And from there the Kurosaki children strove to devise a plan.

"Oh, man," Tatsuki Arisawa groaned. "I needed this."

Wrapped in a towel, the Red Ogre of the martial arts world leaned back against the wall of a private sauna. The lights were dim in here, almost completely dark, at her request. Heat haze from steaming rocks caused the air to ripple nonetheless.

With a grandiose sigh Tatsuki stretched out on the wooden boards and closed her eyes. It was nice in here. Peaceful. All alone, with no one to clamor for an interview or demand she head off to a photo shoot. Not even during a match could she count on this level of freedom from anxiety. And that said a lot.

'You are too unconcerned.'

She cracked an eye open. "About what?"

Movement in the shadows across from her coalesced into a horned figure against the wall. 'The situation in Hueco Mundo. Grimmjow will be growing restless. He is running short on time and knows it. Additionally, the new Cernunnos has taken an alarmingly active role of late. Now does not seem an ideal time to waste on mortal frivolities.'

"I won, didn't I?" This was obviously a reference to the karate tournament she just participated in. Or more aptly, triumphed in. Over the past decade, the Aka-Oni of Japan had established a position of dominance in the sport. Having just hit 30, it was satisfying to wear the crown of national hero. Her mother crowed endlessly about her brilliant daughter to everyone in their old neighborhood. The question of when and if Tatsuki intended to get married had been coming up more frequently of late, but it was easy to redirect that conversation with talk of her career.

'The measly accomplishments of this world pale in comparison to what transpires in the other. Nothing will remain of the life you have crafted should those two be permitted to achieve their ends.'

He could be worse than her mother sometimes. "Life isn't just for the living, Ulquiorra. If you still can't understand that, you might as well just die."

Her shadow partner fell silent at that. Rolling over on her back, Tatsuki reached for a spare towel to act as a pillow, then decided not to. She had re-dyed her hair yesterday and worried about staining it red. Instead the victorious martial artist crossed both hands behind her head and rested one leg on an upraised knee before closing her eyes.

When he remained quiet, she asked softly, "Did I make you mad?"

'Ridiculous.'

"Well, you deserved it."

A faint smile quirked her lips. He had first opened up to her in a place like this, after she won the regional championships. Ulquiorra was always more chatty at night or in dimly lit spaces. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually afraid of the dark, but that made no sense. Most likely it was the result of spending a whole year alone in a lightless underground tomb with hardly anyone to talk to.

This reminded her of the conversation they'd had regarding something related…

"Hey, Ulquiorra?"

"What?"

"Remember when I first found you in that tomb of yours?"

"Vividly."

"Yeah, fuck you all over again. I was just wondering… how exactly did you survive?"

"You know how."

"I don't mean the whole vasto lorde essence business. That much I lived through. I mean… well, according to Ichigo, during the war, you got nuked! Like to the point where there was nothing left of you but a thin coating of dust. How exactly did you come back from that?"

"Why would I reveal such a thing?"

"Don't tell me you're worried about me learning too much. We both know I've got you by the balls already. Hearing what brought us together in the first place won't change that."

"Are you actually attempting to use reason?"

"If it's a sore subject, I understand. We can drop it."

"Good."

"… So did you, like, lay an egg or something and it hatched into a new you?"

"What?"

"Old martial arts anime. Or at least, it used to be. Now it's just junk. But seriously, was it anything similar? I know you vasto lorde can break off parts of yourself and give birth to new Hollows. Is there a hatch of Ulquiorra eggs out there somewhere waiting for you to croak and…"

"Stop."

"But now I'm curious! Did you eat a magic fruit that lets you revive from death but only one time? Can you turn into a snake and swallow someone, transferring your soul into their body once every three years? Do you rewind back to childhood and then start over with a slightly decreased lifespan every time? Did you remove your heart and hide it in another smaller Hollow that looked like a baby so it couldn't betray you? Are you a phoenix? Do you rise from the ashes? Are you…"

"It was spit."

"Excuse me?"

"Spit. Saliva."

"Look, if that's the best you can come up with…"

"It is the truth. As you say, my previous body was completely destroyed. No trace of spiritual power remained in it whatsoever. However, while in this vanquished state, Grimmjow spat upon my remains. He had recently been exposed to the influence of the Segunda Espada Barragan Luisenbarn, and some faint lingering trace of this remained in him. As such, that barest amount of vasto lorde power combined with my ashes and served to restore me somewhat. I crafted a form similar to those sendings of mine you encountered, and used it to make my way back to Hueco Mundo."

"Oh, right, the smoke bats. But I don't buy it. You were dead. Spitting on you wouldn't bring you back. Unless, you know, you really are a vampire. Come to think of it, Kunieda once told me about some European legend where if a virgin puts a drop of her blood or tears on the ashes of a vampire, then it'll poof back to life and…"

"Do not try to relate a story. I already made clear you have no talent for it."

"Well?"

"… Your previous supposition was correct."

"About the egg?"

"No. We vasto lorde are capable of splitting the totality which compose us into formations of lesser Hollows. Halibel did this periodically, which I surmised might explain her continuous appetite. Barragan could do so, but only when in Segunda Etapa, as he feared diminishing himself otherwise."

"Oh. Cool."

"You are interrupting again."

"My bad. Continue."

"Hmph. As I was saying, early after my apotheosis, I uncovered this ability. Experimentation allowed me to explore its applications. This led me to the discovery that rather than freeing a conglomeration, I could instead extract the very core of my being, separating it from my main body. Once this was complete, I hid the core in a secure location. Doing so meant that even were I to sustain immense damage, it would not be enough to kill me utterly. So long as some part of me remained, I could return to my core and there begin the process of restoring myself."

"Oh… so you really did hide your heart. Just like a sorcerer in fairy tales."

"My core. I have no heart, if you will recall."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that. So it actually worked, huh?"

"To an extent. I never expected to suffer injuries of the caliber I received during the Autumn War. It left me so reduced that I could not even begin to heal on my own. But Aizen-sama contacted me through dreams and learned of my plight. He then set about establishing a regimen whereby I might be fully rejuvenated."

"Which is where I came into the story."

"Unfortunately."

"You know I'm the only reason you're still alive, right?"

"I am neither alive nor grateful for that fact."

"Don't be so sure. Part of me thinks you enjoy bitching about your miserable lot in life."

"This is not a life."

"You're part of mine, Ulquiorra. That means you're living it right along with me. Every fight, every trip to another country, every time Kon and I–"

"Stop."

"No. I'm being serious now. Y'know, I remember when I first learned that Rukia never really got to live. She died when she was just a baby. It explained a lot about how she was back in high school. Not just sheltered or out of touch; there was so much she had never experienced. Little things, like teen drama, and juice boxes. It left me confused watching her react to that stuff as if it was special. Thinking back now… I sort of appreciated them more as a result. Watching her go through those small events for the first time let me know how much we take for granted day by day."

"What is your point?"

"My point is if you stop dwelling on major events for two seconds and look around, there might be a whole new side of existence that opens up."

"You and I both know a Hollow could never function in a human world."

"Hey, being serious one last time? If you're up for it, I'm willing to help you learn what it means to be alive."

"You are setting yourself an insurmountable task."

"Then buckle up, because you're along for the ride of your life."

A knock came at the door of the sauna. "Arisawa-san? It's been half an hour. Are you alright?"

Tatsuki rolled to a sitting position. "I'm fine. Be out in a minute."

The attendant left, and she turned back to Ulquiorra. "See? Even a total stranger can be worried about someone."

'More like worried you dying in here would affect their business.'

"Hey, you actually picked up on an aspect of capitalism! I'm proud of you!"

'It is common sense.'

"Nope. It's called humanity." Climbing to her feet, she smiled up at the living shadow. "I don't know about you, but I'm starving. Waddaya say we check out the restaurant next door?"

'Can you refrain from taking pictures of your food?'

His voice dripped with disdain, which only made her smile. "It's what the fans like. Little things, don't forget."

'If only I could.'

"That's the spirit." She knew he hated puns, but couldn't resist that one. It suited him so well. One day, Tatsuki felt certain, Ulquiorra would start to appreciate it. If not…

His loss.

Just after midnight, the witching hour, a hole opened in the sky above the Rukongai, and something resembling a great black ball dropped out. Upon touching down in a deserted forest this orb sank out of sight. In its wake emerged an army of Hollows.

They numbered just over a hundred. Both arrancar and purebred rubbed shoulders in this mass. Many glanced around uneasily, their trepidation evident even in those whose faces were covered by bone masks. It was as if they expected to be set upon by shinigami the moment they arrived.

That did not prove to be the case. Relieved, the hungry mob turned their attention to the one responsible for their being here.

Kaname Cernunnos surveyed his troops with ill-concealed disdain. He had not expected to be supplied with the cream of the crop, and that certainly was borne out by these unimpressive soldiers. Most were scavengers, suited only for group tactics requiring no particular power or bravery. Such treatment would normally not be tolerated. He was high priest of the Wolf now, and that damned Espada had best get used to being under his thumb. But to complain might have gotten people asking why he didn't simply use the Wild Hunt for this mission. And that was not a topic Kaname cared to discuss with anyone.

For now, his own power was all that mattered. The skills retained from Suzumushi enabled him to completely suppress any evidence of their arrival. Despite having such a large gathering of Hollows present, their presence would not register on any shinigami's spiritual senses, no matter who they might be. It was necessary to drop the pall of darkness, of course, because otherwise his own men wouldn't be able to see themselves or their surroundings. But the rest would remain in effect, and thus they could move unopposed until reaching their target.

In addition, as the Hunt Master, he could focus on and identify any individual soul he desired. Kaname now drew upon that ability to instantly pinpoint the location of his prey.

Ah, perfect. They were bother together, just as he suspected.

Once this was confirmed, Cernunnos selected a target at random. Normally once the victim had been identified he would then set the Wild Hunt loose in search of their blood. But the Hunt could not travel to Soul Society. Only he was able to enter here unmolested. These measly Hollows would suffice for the task at hand, however.

Standing at the head of that swarming mob, the Hunt Master addressed his followers. "You will kill them all," he declared. "Leave the bodies. They shall serve as a message."

This statement met with no resistance. The death squad set out. Watching them go, Kaname smiled.

'… don't do this…'

These words barely registered, and he had already dismissed any misgivings before moving to join in pursuit. At last, the Hunt was on once more.

"If I find myself using one more adverb," Kyōraku Shunsui stated wearily, "I'm going to scream."

His pen hovered over the page. But try as he might, the old retiree could not decide how to proceed. Dismally he glanced over at the maid seated at a low desk with her back to him. Absorbed in her work, she scribbled away as though possessed. It was honestly frustrating seeing someone so adept at writing. By the looks of it she must have completed another chapter already, whereas he, an accomplished poet for generations, found himself bewildered as to how to pen a simple sonnet.

There was no choice but to admit defeat. Kyōraku laid his writing utensil down and sank back against the wall with a groan. He would get no more done tonight. Hopefully Jūshirō would be finished with his bath soon and they could get down to some serious drinking. Otherwise he might be faced with the embarrassment of nodding off. At this hour, even! Barely past midnight. Oh, the misery of old age.

Eyes closed, he listed to the scraping of the inkstone. It served as a rhythmic backdrop to his tired thoughts. In this situation, that sound served to dredge up unwelcome memories from the past…

Dozens of eager shinigami clustered in a domed arena of the Seireitei. After waiting for hours owing to a 'logistical inaccuracy' (namely, the star of the show was nowhere to be found), they were informed everything had been resolved. Finally, it was time to shine!

A space had been cleared in their midst, and there he stood: Kyōraku Shunsui, Captain of Squad Eight and hero of the Seireitei. The sight of Katen Kyōkutsu sheathed at his hips left several of them glancing around nervously. Safeguards and assurances aside, many were wont to wonder; was this really safe?

The designated official gave his grandiose speech. A signal rang out, and with that, the Lieutenant's Trials began.

Moving with easy grace that men half his age could only envy, the captain withdrew both tachi and wakizashi. While unnecessary for one of his level, he still gave the release command, partly for effect, and mainly to let these kids appreciate things were about to get serious.

"The Flowery Winds Become Disturbed, The God Of Flowers Sings, The Heavenly Winds Become Disturbed, The Devil Of Heaven Sneers: Katen Kyōkutsu."

A flash of light caused all observers to squint. When it cleared, Captain Kyōraku held two identical barbarian war-blades in either hand. The release of spiritual power had caused every single one of the applicants to go sprawling flat. Recognizing this, the captain heaved a sigh and chose to tone it down. That should give them a chance to show just what they were capable of. The purpose of this event wasn't to crush these poor kids. Well, not officially, at any rate.

Several shinigami began struggling to their feet. Kyōraku took up his battle stance with a lazy smile, crossing both swords before him. Once the junior shinigami had managed to rise (those who could, at least), he called out gamely, "Feel free to begin at any time."

In response more shikai released. After some initial uncertainty, the boldest of them uttered war cries and came charging forward, over twenty in total. Most were from the Eleventh, competing to earn the seat next to their beloved Kenpachi, which meant they had direct attack-type releases. Blades, chains, clubs, even war fans now swept out.

To this he simply smiled, as red flower petals fell all around.

"The Flop: King of Swords."

His attackers dove at him from every side. Yet no matter the angle from which they charged, every one of them found their assaults deflected. Those watching could barely believe their eyes. Shunsui himself didn't move. He remained facing ahead, massive swords swinging to easily parry the strikes of those who approached him head-on. But if you looked closely, you might see something else; a shadow, a perfect silhouette of the man himself visible on the fringes of his body only when they both moved.

This dark elf wielded identical dual blades to repel their attackers' weapons. And there was more than one. They clustered together over and around the captain's form, packed into the exact same spot but moving independently of him. This was not usutsemi, the creation of after-images through advanced speed techniques. More like Shunsui had summoned an army of demons eager to protect their master. No blades came near his flesh. He was completely untouchable, a sword-saint surrounded by a protective cordon of warding wights.

Once he had given all and sundry a chance to appreciate their already hopeless situation, the Sword King negligently exerted a bit more strength, enough to send every last one of his opponents hurtling across the arena. By now, of course, the more tactical candidates had completed their preparations. Shouted kidō commands rang through the air, along with ranged zanpakutō releases. An impressive amount of spiritual power converged on the First Seat's position.

"The Turn: Knave of Hearts."

The scent of flowers changed. Swirling petals now took on a violet hue. With all their attention focused on Shunsui, none of the lower ranks even noticed this, so intent were they on not losing sight of him in case he moved. But then a sorcerer from the Ninth received a painful kick in the back that caused him to go sprawling. Scrambling around, he was shocked to find a girl he knew from the same division standing over him, teeth bared ferociousy.

"Hey!" he shouted. "Are you nuts?! This is against the rules!"

That fact apparently held no regard for his attacker, as she commenced to lash him with her cloth-spear zanpakutō. The astonished aspirant was forced to defend himself against this unexpected assault. Even more disturbing, he realized he wasn't the only one in such a situation. All around them, members of different squads who moments ago shared the same enemy had turned upon one another. As though seized in a frenzy, they charged their former allies. None of them appeared to be intent on inflicting serious damage. But while not lethal, neither could their attacks be ignored. Within seconds the previously united warband fell to making war against each other.

Shock held sway. Candidates weren't permitted to attack each other during the Lieutenants' Trials! It meant immediate disqualification. Even if tempted to surreptitiously thin their ranks and weed out any competition, all knew such tactics were ultimately self-defeating. It would take everything they had to challenge their true adversary with even the smallest measure of success.

And yet the overseers up in the stands made no attempt to intervene. If any of them were inclined or able to notice, however, they might have observed how several of the participants' shadows now all looked like Captain Kyōraku.

It was bedlam. And in the confusion, no one overheard Shunsui mouth the words, "Blind Man's Bluff: Pseudonym."

One of Katen Kyōkutsu's less obvious abilities activated at this command. Without anyone being aware, a part of his shadow detached to slip quietly out of the hall.

His Pseudonym doppelganger proved swift as the original, crossing the length of the Seireitei until reaching its destination: Shinō Academy. There Shunsui traversed largely deserted halls before coming to a specific office reserved for faculty. Upon entering, he blended comfortably into the darkness against the walls and sat down to observe his quarry.

Oblivious to this intrusion, Akio Sakezuki crouched behind a desk. It was well past dusk, but the disgraced shinigami had been assigned an aggravating amount of paperwork as per usual. This proved to be the case since he first received his new position. Following the death of his wife and a lower-ranked shinigami, Sakezuki barely managed to escape a death sentence thanks to his connections within the wealthy Omaeda clan. Even so, 'Senior Faculty Advisor' was all they could manage for him; a meaningless position in the Academy.

His movements about the grounds were watched closely. He wasn't even permitted to interact with the student body outside of perfunctory graduation ceremonies, otherwise relegated to minor bureaucratic work that did nothing but take up time. Clearly Sakezuki resented this arrangement. For such a proud man, the situation must have seemed intolerable. That very reasoning was what Shunsui planned to capitalize on.

He had been planning Sakezuki's death for some time now, even before the incident with his wife and child. Thanks to Blind Man's Bluff, he could carry out this execution with no one the wiser. Shunsui's other self was still putting on a show at the Lieutenants' Trials. A new batch of students had just graduated, which meant even more work for Sakezuki. He must be feeling overwhelmed more than ever, and what with today being the anniversary of his ill-fated marriage… well, who could blame the man for snapping? His career as a shinigami was over. Ending it all must have seemed like the only option left for such a poor sad disgrace.

Several minutes passed. During this time, the shadowy executioner examined their surroundings, seeing what was available to work with; a ceremonial dagger in its stand, the cord of a wall scroll… so many ways to die.

The door suddenly opened. Shunsui looked over in surprise to find a man dressed in shinigami robes standing there unmoving. He was young with deep brown skin. Most noticeable, however, were his eyes; milky white and obviously useless. Nonetheless this newcomer strode across the room without trouble until he stood before Sakezuki, who didn't even bother to look up at his approach. He just kept right on grinding an inkstone, ignoring this new visitor.

"Monster," the blind man growled. From the pocket of his uniform he then withdrew a length of rope tied into a noose.

Akio didn't even blink; merely dipped his brush into the pool of ink before going back to work.

As for Captain Kyōraku, he was mystified, or perhaps better to say intrigued. Sakezuki seemed no more cognizant of this new threat than he did Shunsui's shadow on the wall. He watched the blind man move approach his target from behind. Breathing hard, the intruder took only a moment to steady his trembling hands before looping the rope around Sakezuki's neck, drawing it tight as a piano string.

Sakezuki frowned. He grunted as though in slight discomfort, reached up to scratch his chin, and finally bent forward to concentrate on his paperwork. Yet still his face turned red. He began to blink rapidly as though losing his vision. For all the world it looked as though he didn't even realize he was being strangled to death.

"I want him to see me!" the murderer spat. "Let him see me!"

Whom he might be speaking to was not evident. Nonetheless after a few moments Sakezuki jerked up in his seat, hands flying to his throat and eyes going wide in panic. His attacker twisted him around until they were face to face. The former shinigami went stiff in shock as though finally realizing someone else was in the room with him.

Without releasing his hold, the blind man snatched up a pen and held it aloft. "This is the face of justice," he panted, sweat dripping down his forehead into his sightless eyes. "Let it be the last thing you ever see!"

So saying, he stabbed the blunt end of the writing implement into the terrified man's right eye, before ripping it out and doing the same to the left.

Any screams Sakezuki might have uttered at this mutilation were cut off by the noose. Choking, he clawed blindly at his attacker's face, struggling even now to escape. But clearly it was too late. His struggles grew visibly weaker. In just a few seconds these desperate attempts to live were reduced to twitching and gurgling. One shaking hand rose up to touch his assailant's face in a jerky caress.

With that Akio Sakezuki flopped back onto the desk. Foaming spit dribbled down his rigor-clenched jaws to mingle with the blood from his eyes. The body went limp. Moments later he was dead.

His killer bore down on the strangling cord for a few more seconds to make certain. Only when it became obvious that Akio was not faking did he relax. He then worked fast, climbing onto the desk and looping the rope around a support beam which he used to haul Sakezuki's corpse into the air. His strength must have been great, for he held the dead body securely while tying the noose.

In mere moments the gruesome tableau was complete. The captain made no move to interfere as the blind man tipped over a chair to rest beneath his victim's dangling feet. He then wiped off the desk before placing the bloody pen in his victim's grip to complete the illusion of suicide. Akio Sakezuki swayed back and forth, eyes focusing disturbingly close to where Kyōraku remained wrapped in his power, as though begging for help. The murderer did not pause to appreciate his handiwork. Being blind, how could he? Instead he headed for the door.

But upon passing Kyōraku's position, he suddenly went still. Slowly that blind head turned to the side until it seemed they were looking right at one another. A frown creased his smooth brow.

"Is… is someone there?" the killer whispered.

Shunsui did not reply. All the same, he could not shake the sensation that something more than a man was hunting for his presence. It felt like hundreds of eyes raked the room in search of any witnesses to their crime. Yet Blind Man's Bluff did its part. His real body was miles from here, and this Pseudonym could not register on any senses, no matter how powerful they might be.

Nonetheless, at that moment Kyōraku Shunsui felt threatened in a way he never had before.

Eventually the man left off searching. He left furtively, creeping out of the room and closing the door behind him, more visibly perturbed now than when committing murder.

Ensorcelled in shadows, Kyōraku debated. It would seem someone other than him had chosen this anniversary to carry out Sakezuki's death. Was the killer related to his wife, perhaps? And when he spoke before, demanding to be seen… it almost sounded as though he were talking to another person. His zanpakutō, perhaps? Until then Sakezuki barely understood he was being strangled. Did that nameless individual possess the power to confound other people's senses? Was that why his victim never became aware of him unless he expressly wished it?

It would be a simple matter to follow the killer. Learn if he had any accomplices. Whatever power shielded him, it seemed unable to affect Shunsui, at least while operating under the protection of Blind Man's Bluff. He might learn more of what happened this night. It could very well prove useful to Soul Society, perhaps even crucial.

He examined the dead body hanging from the rafters. 'Justice,' that man had called it. And so it was. Justice had been done at long last. What matter that I am not the one who carried out the execution this time? Sakezuki would not have been more grateful to die at my hands.

Time grew short. Elsewhere his true self had firmly established a position of dominance in the Trials. They would be throwing the switch to activate the deathstone and cut off all conflict any minute now. And that could prove disorienting, if not painful.

So he reached a decision. No more need be done tonight. Shunsui resolved to learn about that blind shinigami later on. For now he chose to return to his pseudo-self.

"The River… of No Return."

Inside the arena, the cherry petals turned black, and the scent they carried was that of death. Every would-be lieutenant who hadn't already lost control of their bladder promptly did so.

But the officers in charge of the proceedings got the message and threw the safety measures. Pillars of deathstone served to negate any further conflict. The Trials were over. Some present would gain a wooden badge for their troubles, while the rest had to settle for meritorious service diplomas. And thus the Gotei 13 soldiered on.

Kyōraku later regretted not following up on the night's activities.

By this point he was half-asleep at the memory. At least, until a shiver went down his spine.

Lifting his head, he frowned. What was that?

"Ahh!" Jūshirō Ukitake knotted a robe around him as he strolled out of the bath. "That hit the spot!" True to form, a servant waited at the exit to offer him a towel. He dried his hair off while heading back to the main building.

As he padded along outdoor paths the sight of servants setting up hanging lanterns brought a smile to his face. By now the moon would be at its apex. It was the time of year for tsukimi, the moon-viewing festival, a personal favorite of his for centuries. There had never been an actual harvest season in Soul Society considering so few of its residents needed food. But the beauty of the heavens this time of year simply demanded one appreciate them for whatever reason. Unlike in the human world, such parties in Soul Society included not only dango dumplings and quiet reflection, but celebratory fireworks. He noted boxes of them being stacked near one another and felt a boyish excitement at the thought of firing them off.

The prospect of being a parent left him excited in a different way. Ukitake imagined celebrating tsukimi and obon next year together with Isane and their new child. He only hoped the loud noises didn't scare their baby, whom it was becoming increasingly difficult not to think of by name. By now Shunsui would have some good saké warmed up for them. They could toast the night away under the full moon while discussing baby names.

Skin steaming from the bath, Ukitake luxuriated in the feel of cool night air on his skin. In that moment, he felt blessed.

As he did, a gust of wind blew over him, causing his pale hair to ripple.

Jūshirō stopped, startled. He turned and looked up at the darkened sky. It seemed to be a peaceful fall evening. The moon shone bright and clear. Clouds were approaching from the west.

That smell…

Warrior's instincts took over. Jūshirō sprang over the railing and cut across the yard. He wrenched open a door and went racing along. Two servants left off chatting when they saw him approach. "Your Grace?" one asked uncertainly. "Is all well?"

"We're about to be attacked!" he shouted on his way by. "Spread the word!"

There was no time to explain, and no need. They were already moving faster than him. Ukitake called out to several other people in warning before finally reaching his destination. Tearing open the door, he yelled, "SHUNSUI!"

"EE–!"

A yelp was halfway out of the maid's mouth before she saw who it was and relaxed. Then his serious expression registered, causing her to pale.

"I know." Kyōraku seemed the picture of calm as he withdrew several items from a secret panel in the wall and rose to his feet. He patted the girl on the shoulder before striding over to join his old friend. Distressed, she began hastily gathering up the manuscript they had been collaborating on. At the same time several senior members of the household staff came running up, and their master addressed them with crisp assuredness. "There's an assault approaching. It should be here soon. Ready the defenses. Have those able send word to the Seireitei. All staff assemble in their designated groups. Go."

They did so without question. Turning back around, Shunsui handed another bundle of papers to the maidservant, who accepted them with a trace of confusion. He then reached down and drew back the tatami mats on the floor to reveal a trapdoor. A key unlocked it, and with an effort he raised the hatch. No light came up from below, only a sense of palpable chill.

"Inside," he indicated down the steps. "The chamber is crafted of deathstone. Nothing should be able to break in, and no one will sense your presence." Before she could protest, he added, "I'm trusting you to safeguard our work."

This seemed to reach her. With only a firm nod of understanding she descended the steps. Shunsui then looked over at Ukitake and inclined his head. "You next."

Those normally friendly eyes narrowed. "This is no time for jokes, Shunsui."

"Don't insult me," his age-old friend replied. As Ukitake drew in an angry breath to retort he cut him off. "You're going to be a father. You have a wonderful wife who loves you. And I will not see another family needlessly torn apart. That part of our lives is over."

Halfway down the stairs, the maid looked back, anxiously observing the two old heroes facing off. It was apparent neither intended to back down.

"I won't be manipulated," Ukitake declared forcefully, "by you or anyone else."

Shunsui sighed and rubbed the back of his head. "You'd only be getting in the way. I can deploy my people effectively. Having another senior officer muddles the chain of command. They'd die to defend you, a person who can't even fight anymore. And you'd have to watch. Is that what you want?"

"Fuck your poetry."

Below him the girl gasped. To hear Jūshirō use profanity left Kyōraku taken aback as well. Stunned, he strove to get a grip on himself and reassert control. He must not lose this fight!

"And fuck you, Shunsui." Standing there, drenched in moonlight spilling from a high window, for a moment Jūshirō Ukitake resembled the unbeatable warrior he had once been. His frame swelled with fury as he spat in a dark voice, "Every member of this household would die for us and count themselves lucky for it. We both know that! So I will die for them. And you, if need be. Should I survive, I will live for my family with every breath left to me." Dark eyes then narrowed accusingly. "But no one decides that I am too important to lose anymore. NO ONE!"

The shout made Kyōraku flinch. Tears slipped from his eyes as he faced the previously unthinkable prospect of defeat. "Please, Jūshirō," he whispered, feeling helpless and afraid. All pretty words and arguments had fled. The only thing left was to beg. "Please!"

"Never again, my friend. I will not return to the Old Man's gilded prison."

Grief seeped into his bones. But at the same time, seeing how proud and strong Ukitake looked, Kyōraku Shunsui felt pride too. This man calls me friend. After all we've been through together…

With that he held out his hand. "I'm honored to fight with you, Jūshirō. One last time."

Ukitake smiled and accepted the handshake. "Same here, Shunsui."

They broke apart. Kyōraku knelt to close the trapdoor, offering the girl one last smile as he did. "Come out only when it's safe."

She nodded back, and the door shut. The key turned in the lock. She'd be able to open it from the other side once all this was over. Kyōraku realized he had already discarded the possibility he might live to let her out himself. How very gloomy of me…

And just like that, he knew how to end that last poem. But no time remained. It was so absurd he just had to laugh.

"Nice to see you still have a blithe spirit," Ukitake remarked as they stepped out into the hall.

"Oh, don't mind me." With that he handed over the swords from his belt, one long, the other short. "Here. Take them."

"What about you?" his friend frowned but accepted the weapons all the same.

"I've got something else in mind…"

Servants rushed past shouting as they came to another room. Shunsui strode over to a stand on the wall where two other swords rested. Once mighty blades that felled countless enemies, they had been rendered mere decorations for over a decade now. Yet as he grasped Katen Kyōkutsu and slid her free, the former officer of the Gotei 13 could have sworn he felt a spark of that familiar thrill.

You still with me, old girl? To the bitter end?

Silence.

Fine. I'll tell you all about it when we meet again.

And he went to marshal his people.

No lights burned in the mansion when they approached. The Hollows considered this, hissing among themselves while lingering on the edge of the surrounding forest. It was late in the evening, but surely someone must still be up and about? Kaname Cernunnos' power kept them cloaked. At the same time, they could not sense anything outside its range as a result. To see this business done, they must enter blind, in a way.

The Hunt Master observed them hanging back with distaste. "GO!" he ordered angrily.

Reluctant at first, they obeyed, avoiding the main entrance to slip over the walls. In just a few moments Cernunnos stood alone.

Satisfaction filled him, and he waited for the first screams, absently tracing a claw around the ever-expanding Hollow hole in his chest. At times Kaname almost imagined he could feel the harlot Halibel devouring him from the inside out. His death was certain unless he affected the Wolf's liberation. Then all wrongs would be addressed and he could stand by his Master's side without fear!

'… stop…'

Kaname Cernunnos exulted to himself. For centuries now he had been made to grovel before lesser beings. That would soon change. The Advent of the Wolf was at hand! At long last, he would achieve his due!

'… please, you must… stop…!'

The Hollow's helmeted head continued to watch the assault commence. But inside those empty eyeholes, behind the skull mask adorned with antlers…

Kaname Tosen fought to save his soul.

'… listen to me! There are innocent people in there! We are not murderers! Only kill when it is warranted, remember? Can you hear me? Answer, damn you…!'

His pleas fell on deaf ears. Kaname Cernunnos did not even seem to be aware of him. Trapped in a subservient position just as his Hollow had once been, the remnants of the former shinigami struggled in an effort to assert some measure of control on their shared existence.

'… this is not like us. We never condoned such wanton cruelty! It is barbarous! Those plus souls back in Hueco Mundo… you burned them alive! Like a monster, like Yamamoto…!'

Without even realizing it the line of his finger had drawn a circle of blood around his chest. Irritated, the Hunt Master left off long enough for it to heal. He must concentrate on the goal. Do not lose focus!

'… we were deceived. I realize that now. Surely you must too! Aizen and Unohana sacrificed us to achieve their release. But this, what we've become… it's different…!'

The Wolf had chosen him to liberate all worlds from the cruel yoke of suffering in which they languished. Hollows, humans, shinigami… once Coyote Stark roamed free, all would be united in terrified worship of Him! And I shall serve as His high priest for all eternity!

'… I am not a slave. Even you chafed at having bonds placed upon you. Yet now you wish to suffer under a mad tyrant for your own protection? No, that… that is not who we are…'

Tosen could see through the Hollow eyes on his mask. The ones he had been born with remained sightless. But peering through that distorted lens, a strange sensation began to grow inside. It felt as if… as if they were the mask! Both him and his Hollow! And something was wearing them, peeking out at the world behind the combined helm of Kaname Tosen and Kaname Cernunnos!

'… we are… just a mask. A monster's mask…'

He could feel it there, a vice-like hand clamped around the back of his skull keeping him staring straight ahead. Lurking in the darkness behind their eyes. The Hollow wasn't aware of this. But Tosen was! Sick with despair, he struggled, fought tooth and nail to break free, to turn his head and learn what it was that had taken hold of them.

'… you are there. I know you are there! The darkness holds no secrets from me, monster. You cannot hide in it! I will not allow this…!'

It was like tearing off a fingernail. But still he persevered. And ever so slowly, Tosen felt himself meeting with success. He was resisting, fighting back against the awful force that had corrupted and perverted his sense of justice. Never before had he been afraid to confront his own failings. Now would be no different!

'… show your face, coward! Show me… your FACE…!'

A ripping sound combined with pain like no other as Kaname Tosen tore around to confront his tormenter.

At once he began to scream.

The darkness that had surrounded him his whole life remained. But there, hanging huge before the tiny spirit of Kaname Tosen, was a mask. A gigantic stag's skull the size of a mountain, with antlers vast as the sky. He could see this thing! And it saw him. As he continued to scream in terror, blood started to drip from the stag's eye sockets, running down its skull in thick red streaks.

Tosen strove frantically to flee from that loathsome horror. But there was no escape. The mammoth skull followed. It gained upon him. Like swimming against the tide, his tiny form pulled backward. Shrieking, pleading, he plunged into the endless pit of its empty eyes, swallowed by the void.

Outside, Kaname Cernunnos hesitated. Had something just taken place within him?

All is well…

All is… well. Yes, all is well! There is no need to fear! I, Kaname Cernunnos, shall never die!

Three Hollows crept through the Shunsui estate. It was quiet in here, which disturbed them. They sought one another's company partly for reassurance, and mainly to use as a shield in case of surprise attack.

Upon rounding a corner, they found themselves faced with an elderly plus spirit holding a candle farther down the hall. He staggered back at the sight of them. "No… NO!"

His terror served to stoke their urges. With fearsome roars the trio of heartless monsters went tearing down the passage to rend him limb from limb.

Halfway there, the floor suddenly dropped away beneath them, and they tumbled into a pit. Before any could even realize what had happened, white-hot flames roared from all sides, burning the Hollows to ash without so much as a scream escaping.

The floor snapped back into place, and the old chef prepared himself to put on another performance.

An arrancar slid open a door. His lone revealed eye widened with delight at the sight of two attractive women cowering around an older lady. They cringed against the wall upon spying him, whimpering like lost puppies.

"Well, hello, there!" he chuckled, and took a step towards his first victims.

Immediately large bloodstained swords shot out of the doorframe on all sides, crossing together to create a latticework of razor-sharp death. They skewered the confident Hollow from top to bottom. Being an arrancar, though, he still managed to survive. Grievously injured, the creature shattered the executioner's blades and stumbled forward, bleeding and gasping while struggling to draw his sword. If he could just perform resurrección, all his wounds would be healed!

"Bifurca…!"

Before he could finish, the two younger women leaped up and intoned together, "Hadō #73: Sōren Sōkatsui!"

A quadruple shot of blue flames exploded from their palms. The blast took him in the chest, and the Hollow simply exploded, sending smoking limbs flying about the room. They caught fire easily. Moments later, a colorful butterfly went flying off to find a new home in Soul Society.

One of the girls checked the hall before shutting them in again. They reported to their comrades through spells, then began laying down some sleeping kidō around the doorframe in place of the damaged security apparatus. After that all three resolved to wait for their next victim.

Things were not proceeding according to plan.

Kaname Cernunnos had not missed several hell butterflies winging away. There was no way to stop them from delivering their messages, yet he felt confident by the time help arrived, his men would have already completed their mission and been long gone. Only now, that timeframe seemed less and less likely.

When the first purified soul butterflies emerged as well, he started to grow concerned. Kaname pulled back on his soul-dampening field to get a more precise idea of how things were faring. The result proved even more shocking. Almost a quarter of his army had been wiped out in a handful of minutes. At this rate, the entire attack force would perish before the reinforcements from Soul Society even showed up.

Time was of the essence. Much as he misliked the idea, it seemed his direct intervention was required.

In a deeper part of the manor, Shunsui spoke to one of his former officers before heading over to inform Ukitake. "Seventeen killed so far with no losses on our end."

"They're careless," his partner in crime observed. "Did they seriously think you wouldn't have any former shinigami serving under you?"

To this Shunsui offered a disinterested shrug. "Maybe whoever's in charge never attended any of my parties?"

"Your Highness…"

Both combatants turned as the head of Ukitake's personal escort from the Kotetsu approached. Stony-faced, he looked between the two living legends with a measure of concern before focusing on Jūshirō. "We've secured a route to the ship. If you both come now, we can be airborne and aim to break through the encirclement. My men and I will remain behind to cover your retreat."

"Commander, retreat is not an option," his master replied with no trace of scorn.

"But…!"

"This lot is here for us specifically." Kyōraku rested both hands on the hilts of his soul cutters, as natural as if he never left the battlefield. "If we flee, they'll follow. And while we might be able to draw them away from the house by doing so, there's no guarantee they haven't been holding back for the sake of taking us alive. Meaning our absence might cause them to incinerate everything here in an instant."

"The barge can only hold so many," Jūshirō said. "And it wasn't built for high-speed chases." To cut off further argument he concluded with, "We've already dispatched hell butterflies. Reinforcements will arrive in under half an hour. We simply have to hold out as best we can until then."

Apparently the Kotetsu officer knew better than to press his case any further. Firing off a sharp salute, he went to inform the rest of his detachment of their current situation. Jūshirō watched him go with a sad expression.

As if reading his mind, Shunsui spoke up. "They'd never leave. Not even if we ordered them to."

"I know. I only wish…"

"Take it easy." The big man clapped him on the shoulder. "We're not dead yet."

A Hollow resembling a great snapping turtle reared back as spears shot from the floor to catch it right under the chin. It squealed in pain until a footman leapt down and smashed his zanpakutō war-axe into the back of its skull, caving in the mask with one mighty blow.

The disfigured soul uttered a final wheeze before flopping down. It had already dissolved by the time its killer rose off the corpse. He surveyed the dining chamber he now found himself in. Two more Hollows were pinned by spells. Easy to pick off, but one of the non-shinigami staff had lost an arm. He slumped against a wall grimacing while two maids sought to control the bleeding.

His duty was clear. The footman moved to treat his comrade. But between one step and the next, his world went black.

He froze. Everything around him had disappeared. Like all light just got sucked away. Attempting to call out revealed he had gone mute as well. The smell of spilt blood no longer registered. But he could still feel the axe clenched in his hand, warm and reassuring.

When a sword took his head clean off, he felt that too, but only for a moment.

Cruel talons opened up the one-armed servant's throat. He was left to bleed out while both maids collapsed beside him, chests laid open from a single stroke apiece. Their blood spattered against his skin as Kaname Cernunnos moved deeper into the mansion in search of prey.

The Kotetsu officer hurried over. "Communications are being severed. We can no longer sense anything happening in the western part of the house. One report managed to confirm some kind of moving darkness before it got cut off. Whatever it is, it's coming this way. Shall we regroup on this position?"

His commanders shared a glance. "No," Kyōraku decided. "Tell every group still active to stay far apart. Bunching up will just give them a chance to kill more of us quickly." To a senior member of his staff who had once fought alongside him in the Eighth Division Shunsui then said, "Throw the switch on full countermeasures."

"Yes, sir."

They both departed. Jūshirō and Kyōraku counted about twenty fighters here acting to protect them. 'Til now their war party had acted as a mobile command center, moving through the compound to aid any fights they encountered while keeping the enemy from deploying all their strength on one location. This tactic had met with success. But now the situation had changed.

"What do you think?" Ukitake murmured low enough for no one else to hear. "Tosen?"

"Or what's left of him. That would explain the damper on everyone's senses." As Shunsui spoke, red lights sprang to life in the ceiling. This alarm served to warn his home's inhabitants that all sleeping kidō defenses were now active. Shunsui assessed this new peril before coming to a conclusion. "We need to go further in. Draw him through some of the deadlier traps. That might slow the bastard down."

Once his order was given, the band of fighters moved out. In the lead, Ukitake flexed his shoulders and winced, nose wrinkling distastefully. "It would have been courteous of him to remove our sense of smell as well as spiritual perceptions. That odor is getting worse."

"Perhaps he's gone nose-blind to it?" Shunsui chuckled beside him. "For Tosen, that would be rather poetic justice."

They headed deeper into the complex as a crimson aura overshadowed their every move, being careful to avoid the seals that had been released. The staff had received rigorous safety training on what to do should such a situation arise. Any intruders not so well-informed would find themselves facing a supremely hostile environment. While not having been renewed for over a decade now or able to draw on their primary source of power, these Hadō were still cast by Captain Kyōraku when he was still in his prime. No one could simply dismiss them.

This fact was borne out when they heard several explosions going off in other parts of the house strong enough to rattle surrounding trees and send tiles sliding off the roof. While somewhat comforting, both knew at best it served to delay their most deadly adversary. And even when unable to sense spiritual energy, Shunsui knew for a fact good people were dying for his sake again.

The thought made him unspeakably angry. Still, he knew things were about to get much worse. "Any ideas on how to handle this?"

"We'll work with what we have." They passed boxes piled in the halls with lanterns on them. While no less furious than his friend, the sight made Ukitake smile. "And hit him where it hurts!"

No warning came as a blast of crimson fire roared out of an unremarkable wall sconce. Kaname Cernunnos sought shelter beneath his huge fur cloak, gritting his teeth as the flames licked at his pelt. Shakkahō, by his guess. The level of power left him certain it came courtesy of Captain Kyōraku. Though degraded by time, even he could not simply ignore such an attack.

Once this spell ran its course the Hunt Master rose upright to take stock of his situation. A dull red glow all throughout the complex indicated they had triggered some kind of defense mechanism that went far beyond anything previously deployed. Hollows elsewhere in the facility weren't so lucky as Kaname. Fully two-thirds of his men were dead or purified by this point. And that number was increasing steadily thanks to the spell-traps.

Jūshirō had stopped moving not far up ahead. He and Kyōraku must be intending to make a final stand. How perfect.

Every one of these spells cost him time which he could not afford to waste. There was no choice but to go straight through them. And so he did, disabling or destroying some while enduring the rest. Any human souls that crossed his path died in an inky pall of stillness.

His gambit paid off. The corridor opened up onto what seemed to be a picnic area with a large pond in the center. Paper lanterns had been strung on lines overhead. Several dozen shinigami formed rows to either side of the exit ready to unleash all their power on him the moment he stepped through. At the end of this corridor of fighters stood Ukitake Jūshirō side by side with Shunsui Kyōraku. Both held swords in each hand, like they expected to accomplish anything with them.

The idea of crossing blades with two arrogant old invalids and their ragtag mob of nobodies left Kaname more irritated than amused. Best end this quickly and get on to more important matters.

Kaname Cernunnos raised a leisurely arm. The Cero that formed at his fingertips was ghostly white. In times past he would have at least spoken a few words to them, even if nothing more than to exchange introductions. But shinigami civilities held no meaning for him now. And so he let his attack fly at the former captains.

Jūshirō crossed twin blades to meet the beam head on. It should have incinerated both men. Instead the tremendous energy blast slammed against the swords and simply… vanished.

Stunned, the Hunt Master drew back a step in disbelief. What just happened?!

"Thought you'd try that cowardly Hollow move." Jūshirō lowered his arms and stood there with an insultingly smug smile. "These swords are made of sekkiseki. Certainly expensive, but when it comes to nullifying energy, nothing quite compares to deathstone."

"Don't tell us you're hanging back now." Scratching behind one ear, Kyōraku Shunsui wore a lazy smirk just as mocking as his partner. "Still afraid to die, Tosen? I guess some people never change."

An angry snarl tore down the blood-limned corridor. Moments later pure darkness came pouring out to swallow the assembled company in its stygian depths.

Now Kaname came into the open without fear. While hepless, the bugs to either side of him proved disciplined fighters. Blinded and stripped of all awareness concerning their surroundings, not a single one panicked or discharged their weapons at random. Doing so would have only served to injure their comrades. He could almost respect them for that.

Admirable or not, their bravery held no significance for him. His followers could finish them off after those two were dead. The Lord of the Hunt strode assuredly across the grassy sward until he stood before his true quarry. Neither of them moved at his approach. They could see and hear nothing. A quick death might be sensible under the circumstances. But considering all the crimes this miserable duo were responsible for throughout the centuries, to say nothing of the indignities he had been subjected to tonight, some measure of revenge seemed in order.

He was raising his sword to take out one of Ukitake's eyes when Shunsui said, "Sakezuki…"

Kaname's ears perked up at this name. Warily he turned to regard the other heretic, who was gazing placidly in his general direction. No one else could hear the words spoken then, not even Shunsui himself. But all the same…

"He saw you that night, Tosen. Because you wanted him to. 'Let him see me,' remember?"

The Hunt Master flinched, unnerved. Meanwhile Kyōraku continued in an eerie cadence, almost like he was reading lines of a poem. "You called yourself the face of justice. But when it was over, you feared someone had seen you. Like a criminal caught in the act."

As Kaname received his second shock of that evening, the old captain turned his head. He didn't look directly at him. More like off to the side. Despite this, he couldn't rid himself of the idea that this horrible old monster knew exactly where he was!

"Well, I did see you, Tosen," Shunsui sneered. "I was right there watching the whole time."

No, that's impossible! He's just playing with me, thinks I'm too weak to hurt him! Pretending he can still see and hear and…!

Right then a strange hissing sound reached the Hollow's sensitive ears. Looking up, he realized it was coming from lamps hanging on lines overhead.

The smell of gunpowder registered an instant before fireworks hidden inside those lanterns exploded.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Thunderous detonations followed. Shiba-brand, these fireworks had been designed for maximum volume that would carry for miles. The lights they produced were no less prodigious. All colors of the rainbow erupted in that enclosed space. This outpouring should by all rights have blinded and deafened every person there.

But thanks to Kaname's power, the only one capable of experiencing any of this was himself.

"AAAAHHHH!"

The Hunt Master collapsed. His ears were filled with nothing but pain now, a throbbing swelling agony like drums pounding non-stop inside his skull. Betrayed by the very senses he prided himself on, Kaname Cernunnos could do nothing but huddle in a ball and retch.

At the same time, the black pall he had conjured up dissipated. Jūshirō took a deep breath and registered their enemy crouched before him first. Like a magnet his attention was drawn to the two large stylized eyes on the back of Tosen's mask, almost like a cobra's markings. Acting on instinct, that valiant soul flipped his deathstone swords and brought them plunging down.

"EYYAAAAAHHH!"

If the fireworks were torture, then having sekkiseki blades driven into his eyes could only be described as ruinous. Kaname Cernunnos arched upright shrieking like the damned. He fell back and went scrabbling across the ground on hands and knees, shaking his head like a dog in an effort to dislodge the searing implements digging into his most vulnerable spot.

A chorus of voices rang out then. Immediately the Hunt Master was engulfed in a volley of high-rank kidō spells. Ranging from Black Coffin to Rikujōkōrō, the combination of magic created a whirling tornado of raw energy that reached high to the heavens and hid that wretched figure from sight.

"Sir, get back!" the Kotetsu officer cried as he rushed forward. Shunsui and Jūshirō allowed him to lead them to a safe distance. Glancing back at the bonfire raging around Cernunnos, he looked at the two generals with deadly serious eyes. "Go now! We'll hold hi–!"

He never got to finish that sentence. A rat-shaped Hollow the size of a mountain lion leapt down from the walls and sank its teeth into his throat.

Shouts and screams accompanied a host of masked killers who came pouring into the garden. While many bore injuries from previous battles, these were the strongest remaining in Kaname Cernunnos' attack party. They had killed any who dared to oppose them and survived to reach this spot, mad with pain and drunk on bloodlust, drawn by the tantalizing scent of shinigami souls. Hollows both arrancar and not attacked with fangs, released soul cutters and Hollow sorcery in a crazed rush to slake that endless thirst.

Ukitake never hesitated. He dove to tackle the creature that had attacked his subordinate, forcing it off through sheer fury alone. The Kotetsu officer struggled to stand, one hand pressed to the gushing wound but still clutching his weapon. Kyōraku grabbed an arm to help him upright, looking wildly around as he did. Shrieking bedlam greeted his eyes, the stink of unwashed bodies and blood making his once tranquil home resemble a dog-fighting pit.

Only one choice made sense. "Fall back!" he bellowed loud as possible. "FALL BACK! Retreat to…!"

Twenty feet away, that raging hurricane of energy suddenly dissipated. The sudden lack of light and force seemed to suck in all available air. Shunsui felt his heart grow cold as he realized something horrible. The deathstone swords! We didn't pull them out, they absorbed some of the attack! That means…

As if echoing his fears, Kaname Cernunnos arose.

The sekkiseki blades had fallen to the ground. They glowed as though sated. Standing over them, the Hunt Master panted and bled. His mouth, the only part of his face visible beneath the stag skull, was filled with a protrusion of sharp teeth like daggers. A long tongue snapped out to taste the air, scenting warm flesh and hot blood.

Sucking in its breath, the Lord of the Hunt crouched low, swept taloned hands wide and uttered an unearthly scream. Upon hearing it every soul present, whether Hollow or shinigami, felt fear.

There came a flash of white as Ukitake Jūshirō dove across the battlefield to snatch up one of the smoking deathstone swords. Barefoot, wearing only a light robe and silk trousers, this matchless spirit nonetheless swung his weapon down against the Hunt Master's antlered skull with a furious shout of his own.

It rebounded off without leaving any mark. Kaname Cernunnos turned its head to look at the white-haired warrior moments before launching a taloned hand at his heart.

Perhaps some measure of magic or madness enabled Shunsui to reach them in time, snatching up the fallen soul cutter Suzumushi as he did. He interposed himself before Ukitake and caught that gruesome claw on his stolen blade, grimacing as the force behind it drove him to one knee.

"Yare, yare," the warrior-poet grunted, arms trembling, hair plastered to his forehead with cold sweat. "Do I need a drink."

And he smiled.

After what felt like forever, things had gone quiet.

For agonizing minutes the maid waited in her hideout. She hoped against hope someone would come to tell her it was all right, that they had won.

When no one did, she mustered her courage and came out of hiding.

The maid stole down darkened halls. Coming upon the first corpse made her flinch, recognizing this as one of the senior servants who had been here long before her time. There was nothing she could do for them now, nor any of the other mutilated bodies whose blood she walked through with seemingly every step. Clutching thick sheaves of paper like a shield, the frightened young woman fought down tears and pressed on.

There was no way to tell if the security system might still be active or not. At length the maid decided to take a route through the gardens, where traps were few and far between. Surely someone else must have escaped? But only a fool would use the main gate. She resolved to check in back, the servant entrances. Perhaps she might even come across Captain Kyōraku and Ukitake along the way.

Flames crackled on the rooftops, sending up smoke as she meandered along the bushes and trees. Lovingly maintained for centuries, they had been torn up and trampled on. The night was terribly cold, making her breath visible. Her nose felt numb, but at least out here the stench of blood did not hang quite so heavy.

Passing through a long corridor that connected the main plaza to the gardens, the shivering maid cringed upon spotting more corpses up ahead. Had a large battle taken place here? The answer soon became clear as she exited the tunnel. Battle? A better word would be 'slaughter.' The mutilated remains of men and women she had worked alongside for years lay strewn all about the garden. A moan escaped her throat as she recognized familiar faces. They had been torn to pieces. Almost as disturbing, corpses of Hollows were mixed in with the dead. All these fighters here had been shinigami once, she knew. Their power should have purified any slain Hollows and turned them into soul butterflies. Why were so many still like this? Almost as if they had died at the hands of another Hollow.

Right then the maid spotted something that made her stop. That man over there! He was the head of Captain Ukitake's escort! And the ones around him too! Did that mean…? No, no, please no! Her pace quickened. She hunted frantically among the faces of the dead in dread of what she might see.

Doing so brought her closer to an ornamental pond. The maid drew up short as she spotted a body floating face-down in the middle of the pool. The white robe it had on made her initially believe this to be the moon's reflection. But clouds had covered up the night sky completely by now. That was not the moon.

It was Jūshirō Ukitake.

Upon recognizing this, Momo Hinamori uttered a ragged scream and dropped her books to go dashing into the pond.

The water only came up to her armpits. She struggled to reach the body, weeping without stop. Upon doing so, the small fugitive grabbed his waterlogged robe and hauled him back to shore. Once there it was harder pulling him up onto the bank. Her clothes were soaked and she was freezing. But Momo still managed to turn the captain over onto his back in what even she had to recognize was a vain hope.

Doing so only made his wounds all the more apparent. His left arm had been torn off at the elbow. Ragged gashes laid him open from shoulder to hip. And something had torn his throat out. Despite these horrors, that beautiful face held not a trace of pain. Instead he appeared… sad. Disappointed even, as though regretting he could not have done more than he already had.

How could someone die so horribly, and not appear to care?

Momo crouched beside the legendary hero. All strength had abandoned her. What was the point anymore? With nothing left to do, she reached out fingers numb with cold and gently closed the captain's soft brown eyes that had always seemed so warm and merry. No longer.

"Rest now," she whispered.

"Momo-chan…"

About to break down, Momo half-convinced herself it was Ukitake who just said her name. Only then did she realize whoever had spoken was behind her.

She twisted around, and spotted Kyōraku slumped against a wall.

Her heart leapt. All sense of weariness and cold fled. Hinamori jumped up and dashed over to slide to a halt by the captain's side. His chin rested against his chest, entrails hanging out from the grievous hole where his stomach used to be. Both legs were shattered and twisted. Blood smeared down the wall behind him. He must have been thrown here. Despite this, his hands still clutched the remains of Katen Kyōkutsu, though only the wakizashi remained intact. The longer katana had been snapped in half.

Momo stretched out an arm to touch him, then stopped. He hadn't moved at her approach. Did she imagine that back there?

"Captain Kyōraku?" the girl whispered.

A sigh of breath escaped his lips. Half-closed, his eyes still turned to study her. "No," he breathed when she began to tear strips from her uniform to use as bandages. "Don't bother."

Momo went still. She stared at him with tears running down both cheeks. Her whole body shook uncontrollably. "Kyōraku-taichou, what… what should I do?"

It was heartbreaking hearing her ask that, mainly because it sounded so similar to that time Nanao visited him in the hospital after his incapacitation. She looked so beautiful then, so lost. He had wanted to attend her wedding. Maybe as a father-figure, giving the bride away like they did in various cultures. Shunsui always thought his little Nanao-chan would look dynamite in a wedding dress.

He realized his thoughts were wandering and drew upon whatever determination remained in him to speak. "Leave before… the Gotei 7 arrive." His face contorted in pain for a moment, then lapsed into a sort of detached calm. "Kaname did this… but he's… gone now. Called a negacción and… split."

A single line of blood dripped down his jaw. Momo reached up and tenderly wiped it away. This small act of mercy touched Shunsui's heart. It gave him the courage to say what needed to be said.

"Ones who love you are… still alive. Friends who care… Tōshirō… Renji… Izuru… don't lose sight. Revenge… or forgiveness. Up to you, my girl."

Trembling, his hand that held the wakizashi proffered it to her.

"Go," the handsome soul whispered. "Stay… safe."

Momo took the knife, as powerless as her, but better than nothing. At his urging she also accepted the sheathe for Katen Kyōkutsu. This was a small selfishness on his part. He misliked the thought of his girl being without her best duds, as he always used to think of it. After giving Hinamori a pat on the head, Kyōraku accepted her final goodbye, then watched her collect the manuscripts and arrange Ukitake's body into some measure of decency. That was nice. It showed he had not been wrong to offer the fugitive shinigami his protection when she came knocking at his door several years back.

Snow had begun to fall around them. Heavy, it would soon cover up everything. On her way to the back gate Momo turned with flakes in her hair and arms filled with books. "Thank you, sir!" she called out, voice cracking. Then she dashed swiftly out of the garden. With the snowfall just starting, there was no chance of her tracks being left behind. That was something to be grateful for.

Kyōraku Shunsui sat alone now. With supreme effort he lifted his head to peer upward. They were supposed to have a moon-viewing party this week. Bad weather meant rescheduling for tomorrow, but this snow would have made it all the more beautiful. Why couldn't Death have waited just one more day before coming for them? It hardly seemed fair.

"Just our luck," he murmured. "Eh, Ukitake?"

His treasured companion's body was partly covered by white flakes now. They obscured the bloodstains and most of the damage done to him. Hand resting on his chest, Jūshirō looked asleep. Serene and peaceful.

I'll be joining you soon, old friend.

Lying motionless against the wall, with snow drifting over him, memories of the ages spent together came flooding back. Battles fought. Lives saved. Hopes dashed. Smiles. Laughter. Regret. Despair. A lifetime of visions and emotions.

"Not so bad," he reflected. "Going… like this. But… s'petty of me, I know… still, always wished…. I could die with… a beautiful woman… to hold."

Much to his surprise, a pair of arms stole around him. Even more unexpected when it occurred to him he knew this embrace.

"Thank you," Kyōraku Shunsui breathed, staring straight ahead with tears in his eyes.

You're welcome, Katen Kyōkutsu replied.

It was like all torments, whether of the body or soul, left him then. Shunsui couldn't believe how happy he felt. Or how tired.

Sleep now, my heart. You've earned it. We will take care of the rest.

He did as his dear friend bade. So died a warrior-poet and a noble god.

By the time members of Greyhound, Leopard and Ibis Companies arrived, it was far too late. The bodies were collected, with special reverence paid to Kyōraku and Ukitake. When informed of her husband's death, Lady Isane and her entire House withdrew from all duties in a display of abject grief. The other Great Houses also restricted activities to pay their respects. Not just them, however; virtually the entire Gotei 7 and beyond went into mourning. The loss of those two men sent ripples of shock and grief throughout all levels of Soul Society. Even the ongoing operation in Hueco Mundo was called off. Tiger and Siamese returned to the Seireitei with their leadership. A tragedy had occurred. Their ancient heroes were gone. Even Lord-Commander Kuchiki recognized the necessity of honoring that sentiment no matter how it affected their timetables.

Upon learning this, Grimmjow actually started laughing.

"He fucked it up!"

Enfain Tezima watched her boss throw back his head to send gales of laughter echoing among the rafters. She had not known how he might react to the news, but this certainly seemed uncharacteristic. To say nothing of terrifying.

"He fucked it up?" the Sexta Espada gasped again. Grimmjow threw his follower a manic grin, and when she merely shrugged helplessly as if to say, 'Yeah?' it sent him into further hilarity. "He fucked it up. He fucked it up! How do you fuck that up?! Seriously, you just take their blood and write in big words on a wall, 'I'm Tosen and I just killed your two grandpas! Come and get me in Hueco Mundo'!" Grimmjow let out a whoop of laughter. "He FUCKED it UP!"

After a while when he just kept going on like this, Enfain finally dared to ask, "So what do we do?"

The laughter cut off immediately. With leisurely grace the panther demon turned to regard her. Once more Tezima wondered if she was about to die.

"I want those bastards back here," he spoke in soft tones that sent shivers down her spine. "Every last one of 'em." Grimmjow Jaguerjaques padded across the throne room until he towered over his anxious associate. One finger shot out to point meaningfully at her single remaining eye, and it was all she could do not to flinch. "Except Ichigo Kurosaki. Got that?"

"They're in mourning," she rasped, face lapsing into a scowl at being threatened. "How am I supposed to get the entire Gotei 7 to mobilize on a whim?!"

There was something disturbing about the way he grinned then. "You still got that souvenir from the Idiot Twins?"

Tezima's lip twisted in confusion. "Yeah?"

"Then I know just how to hit 'em so that they'll come sprinting back here to take our heads!"

He looked so happy at the prospect Tezima found herself feeling sorrier for the shinigami than she did herself.

To be continued…