Disclaimer: Bleach is the work of the maestro Kubo Tite.
Mirror Mask
Chapter Three –Pavilion of Mist and Rain
If the reality of your world becomes unsound, it is only because your perception has been clouded by your hesitation to see the truth.
As her room plunged into sudden darkness, Rukia tried to break her fall. The palm of her hand slammed down on the floorboards and the shards of broken glass. Shattered mirror and glass sliced into her skin.
There was no time to think, no time to call out. One harsh gasp of breath as arms in the shadows enfolded her into an unexpected embrace. The whirlwind in the night made a break out from the Kuchiki mansion, stealing Rukia away for a hell ride through the darkness.
The wind roared in her ears as the Seireitei grounds rushed past below her at a tremendous speed. She shut her eyes. He was going at such an extreme speed of Shun-po that Rukia thought; this is how it feels like to be caught in a tempest. This flight was out of her control.
When had they come to a standstill? It took a moment for Rukia to realize that he had released his hold of her, and she was the only one left clutching a fistful of Shinigami robes in each hand.
"Rukia," he said.
She froze. Eyes like a candle flame. But, this voice –she knew it well. Yes, this familiar voice. Somehow, it offered the girl enough assurance to extract herself from the black robes.
"Are you going to back away from me?" he asked, as if reading her next move.
"Ichigo…" Rukia said, her voice so soft, it nearly went unheard as a breath of wind ruffled his spiky orange hair.
"Why do you sound so unsure when you say my name?" He grabbed her hand, bringing her fingers up to the bone-white mask that half-concealed his face. "Is it because of this?" he taunted, lips splitting into an ugly smile.
Rukia tried to snatch her fingers back in horror. His hand closed painfully around her wrist once before he released his hold; a reminder that he was letting her go only because he willed it so.
The girl took a few shaky steps back and slumped against one of the many great pillars supporting the pavilion's roof. From the landmarks, she could discern that he had taken her to the Pavilion of Mist and Rain –the watchtower standing guard at the edge of the Seireitei Lake.
The soaring tower had been part of her Academy training. Recruits honed their surveillance skills, keeping vigilant for senior students who executed mock-raids when the suggestion of 'teasing those dull novices' became appealing. One sleepless night shivering at its damp and windy peak was worth it for the breath-taking scenery at dawn. Clouds of fog would roll across the grounds, transforming the land into a sea of mist. Then, the recruits would end their dusk to dawn stakeout by rappelling down the side of the tower into the gold-tinged waves.
Ichigo stared at his hands resting on the rails that wrapped around the pavilion's perimeter. "You're so frail. I could sense the bones through your skin when I carried you."
Rukia glared at him furiously. She didn't like the idea of him touching her and feeling anything at all –especially if he was going to come to the conclusion that she was a feeble female.
He looked up, slightly tilting his head to study her, as if there was something about her he found peculiar. A fleeting shadow of a smile on his lips, he said, "Even if I'm so…changed, you would still call me by that name."
He opened his arms, to serve as both a mockery and a challenge to her. "Ah, I didn't think he would tell you about me; because each of us has one of those," he said, drawing out his last words, savoring them, "–shameful secrets. And, I am his."
Rukia's eyes widened imperceptibly. A knowing grin tugged at his lips.
A memory of the man who had died by her hand, on her sword… His blood on her hands –his life. His blood on her sword –his death.
"A Hollow," Rukia choked out. Her throat had gone dry. Her eyes silently pleaded with him to deny it, to refute her words. She didn't want to accept the truth she had suspected ever since this waking nightmare had begun. "How?" she demanded, how had this happened?
"You were in danger. He fought for you. Got stronger for you," he said, not intending to accuse her, but merely to state the facts dispassionately. "To become a Shinigami again, to save you from Soul Society's execution," he paused, laughing huskily, "that mad man Urahara had a hellish method for it –either gain the form of a Shinigami, or become a Hollow. And for one moment before he wrested control in his hands again, he had a hole in his chest, a mask on his face –he was a Hollow. "
She understood what this meant. If she had a sword in hand, and a Hollow before her, she would have been duty-bound as a Shinigami to cut him down. Rukia closed her eyes, sorrow heavy in her heart. She said bitterly, "So, once more, it comes to this."
His eyes were brighter than before, as if delighting in her pain.
"It comes down to power. The power that he gains, even if it's for your sake –I don't give a damn, but that power will be mine one day," he said, closing his fingers into the palm of his hand, the illusory potential already in his grasp. "Now, the interesting question is –what would he do if the danger, the very thing that posed as a threat to you –is none other than himself?"
"So, is that your intention? That makes you nothing but a troublemaker," Rukia said angrily.
He leapt up, and crouched on the wooden balustrade, as agile as a cat. His perch overlooked a hundred foot fall to the ground below, but a veil of mist was already falling into place around the tower.
Rukia clenched her teeth. "Get down from there, bakamono!"
He looked over his shoulder at her, and straightened up with an arrogant grin on his face. The boy made a show of stretching his arms out like a trapeze on a tightrope. Then, he confidently walked down a length of the rail, displaying perfect balance and a smug expression.
Rukia wondered if Ichigo thought he could learn to fly before he hit the ground.
He stopped when he reached a pillar, and swung himself around it to come face to face with her. The bragging air about him pushed Rukia from annoyance to resentment.
"Worried about me, Rukia?"
"I really shouldn't. If you slip, it will be a very convenient end to all my troubles," she replied coldly.
He made tsk-ing sounds at her. "Be nice, Rukia," he sang, mockery in his voice. He swung himself around once more before hopping off lightly next to her.
"Isn't manners wasted on you? Or, do you mean if I said 'please' you'd actually stop all this?" she said cuttingly.
He laughed. It wasn't a very nice laugh. "Ask for something else. You might be surprised. I may do it –with the right incentive, of course," he said, blatantly assessing her from head to toe.
He reached out and caught her wrist, bringing her hand between them. For a second, Rukia thought he had read her yearning to slap him across the face for his rude tone earlier.
She hissed as his hands closed on the palm of her hand. The lesions from the broken glass and mirror reopened under pressure. Angry crimson lines bled, a slow rivulet trickling between their hands.
"I could heal this for you."
She returned his stare evenly, "No, thank you. I think I know Ichigo's aptitude for controlling reiatsu. I don't particularly wish to regenerate extra fingers or a thumb."
He released her hand and gently ran his fingers down her cheeks, mystifying Rukia with the sudden tender gesture. Before she could gather her thoughts, he lightly pulled her closer.
"Time for the Kuchiki Princess to return to her castle; perhaps your honorable brother already has the household up in arms," he taunted.
He propelled them into a windstorm of Shun-po for the second time that night.
oooOooo
Kuchiki Byakuya waved the anxious servant away from his side. If he could sit up in bed, then he could damn well sit up on the veranda without killing himself from the exertion. The Nightingale floorboards creaked as the servant excused himself –probably to bring another lamp on his return. All the lanterns on hand in the mansion were alight in this wing. Rukia's windows blazed with light, throwing shadows across the courtyard.
Earlier, the chambermaid had heard a crash in Rukia's room. Upon discovering the splintered mirror and glass on the tatami, as well as her mistress vanished without a trace –the maid had raised the alarm in the household.
The young lord was still recovering from the wounds he had sustained in battle with the ryoka from the mortal world and the lethal blow he had taken from Ichimaru Gin's sword in place of his younger sister. Unohana taichou had ordered him to rest well at home, but she had instructed him to check in at the 4th Division Recuperation Wards every so often.
The 4th Division lady captain had mentioned that the medic ward beds were all taken up –a tribute to the ryoka's prowess. But, the wise woman had probably foreseen the mayhem sure to occur if the lordly 6th Division Captain were to be cooped up under the same roof as the raucous 11th Division members. Hospital beds and Senbonzakura petals would fly.
The sharp fragments had been cleared away, and now, Byakuya waited for Rukia to return. Perhaps the lanterns in the night served as a beacon to guide her home.
It was barely audible –the rasp he identified as the scraping of the yellow shingles that tiled the roofs of most Seireitei dwellings. If Byakuya had not been keeping watch, he could have missed the silhouette of two figures in the garden.
He watched as the longer-limbed shadow bowed over the smaller, feminine frame. Even in the semi-darkness, there was no mistaking the bright hair from this distance. The boy brought his lips close to her ear –whispered words that he could not catch. Then, he left.
"Rukia," Byakuya said. He had not meant for the tone of his voice to be so sharp.
"Nii-sama!" she said, turning around towards the figure of her brother clearly outlined by the lantern light on the veranda.
As she stepped forth from the shadows, her brother's frown deepened. Her hand was bleeding, stains seeping onto her kimono. There was a dazed expression in her eyes.
"You're hurt," he said curtly. His gaze shifted to the blood smeared down one cheek. "Your face. Did you…?"
Rukia's hands flew to her left cheek, the cheek Ichigo had so lightly caressed earlier.
Byakuya's lips thinned considerably. Yes, they were finger marks, but too large to match his sister's. He questioned, "Rukia, what has happened here?"
"I don't know… I really don't," she replied softly.
oooOooo
A blood curdling scream echoed across the garden, bringing an end to the early morning tranquility in the Kuchiki mansion. The proverbial early birds took flight in a flurry of feathers as the senior gardener expressed his anguish.
It took hundreds of years, generation after generation of venerable gardeners to form the aesthetic bonsai tree. Watering the bonsai was said to be an art by itself. It took artistry, care, and repotting every spring. Such devoted men were said to have infinite patience similar to that possessed by the Lord Buddha. But, there was a limit to their tolerance. And once crossed…
"…and I shall make him eat caterpillars, Kuchiki-dono!" the little man raged before the sleepy-eyed Byakuya.
The plant, the shaping –in the semi-cascade style, the surface of the soil, the selected container (Square, or round? Such details denoted the expertise of the gardener.) –my lord, all painstakingly come together to express Heaven and Earth in one container!
A brainlessly blind idiot's foot was definitely not included in the meticulous plan.
You see what happens when zen is disrupted. Demons in the garden, that's what you get! Demons –with ghastly pallid faces and bright, multi-coloured orange hair running about the courtyards causing havoc on his precious plants. It was inauspicious!
Byakuya stared at the unfortunate bonsai that had gotten in the path of Ichigo's Shun-po. It was now doing an outstanding mimicry of a naturally toppled tree.
The nobleman was dimly aware that tray gardening required a myriad of tools –shears of all different proportions, concave cutters and wire pliers. Tools of the trade that could easily become dangerous in the hands of a wrathful gardener out for revenge. And he hadn't even taken imagination and creativity into account yet.
It appeared that it was time to send the gardening zealot for a zen retreat. Rukia wouldn't be very pleased if he was suspected of siccing the distressed man on her tangerine-haired ryoka friend.
oooOooo
Rukia stood on her veranda, looking out over the courtyard as morning dawned. The sun marked the beginning of a new day. And inside herself, she felt the meeting yesterday mark the beginning of something else.
Before he had left her in the courtyard, he had leaned down close to her, his breath lightly brushing her skin, and he had whispered into her ear, "This isn't goodbye."
She had a feeling that the boy last night would herald the coming of another revelation in the future. The encounter with him had cemented her decision. When Ichigo, Ishida, Sado and Inoue returned to the mortal world, she would not follow them. She would remain here in Soul Society and train.
Rukia would fight to get stronger -the same way he had for her. Because he was in danger, she would fight for him. Get stronger for him. And, she would save him. She couldn't be weak and risk bringing danger to Ichigo by being his Achilles' heel.
He had said the words himself. It comes down to power.
This isn't goodbye.
Yes, when we next meet again, I will be ready.
Author's Note: Again, nearly double of the original plan. The draft is deceptively shorter. This is a different venture from the last fics., where I took sanity, bound and gagged in the rear boot for a joyride. ;) Any help in advising me of my shortcomings would be much appreciated!
Kotay –I hear and obey your call to update. Hope you enjoy this chapter.
Inky-Wool –Thank you for the encouragement! I'll try my best to pull off the plans I have in mind.
roxy-san –Updating as soon as possible (while still keeping my mind intact.)
rukiaprincess –Wow… that's too high a compliment! You are at risk of inflating my ego to earth-devastating proportions. ;) I'll try my best to keep it up!
chibi milktea –Yes, the "quite serious" plot called for a different tone. I'm still trying to tweak it to include silly stuff. Are my attempts by force causing a horrific clash?
Classiccomeback –Thank you for looking forward to this chapter! Ishida and his Kyudo had me wading through step-by-step archery online –glad you liked it!