Well here we are with another chapter. I don't know about youg guys, but that recent trailer for the final season for the Fairy Tail anime has my hyped. I'm a much bigger fan of the brighter colors than what we got in the 2014 sequel to mention it looks like it'll have uch better animation this time around. Not much else to say this time around, but I just want to thank everyone who bothered to leave a review for the last chapter, it really meant a lot to us.
Thanks once again to Greatkingrat88 (for writing) and jcampbellohten (for being our Beta)
Bleach is owned by Tite Kubo and Shounen jump. Fairy tail is owned by Hiro Mashima and weekly shounen magazine. I own NOTHING. This is all just for fun.
In all the emotional tumult she had been going through, Erza was glad to have some points of stability to hang on to; for example, making breakfast early in the morning and eating it with her daughter, before she headed out to school. It was a reassuring thing, a routine stable as a rock. She looked at Orihime, happily wolfing down her tuna-and-cinnamon porridge as if it were a true delicacy, and smiled to herself.
Unfortunately, she had more to do than just admire Orihime's appetite.
"You know," said Erza quite casually, in between two bites of toast, "I heard something… strange from Soifon the other day."
"Strange how?" said Orihime cheerily. "Like, 'liking death metal but also mainstream pop' strange, or like, 'I saw a demon from Hell and it offered to sell me flowers' strange?"
Whatever went on in that head? Erza wondered to herself.
"Nothing as odd as… that," Erza said cautiously, and decided to stop tip-toeing around the subject. "Orihime, is it true you've been going to see Grimmjow after school?"
"Sometimes," Orihime admitted with a shrug.
"…He is a monstrous killer, you know."
"Yeah," she said, appearing completely untroubled by the fact.
"And very, very dangerous."
"Not right now, right? What with the spell and all?"
"Well… true," Erza admitted grudgingly.
"Is there a problem? Do you want me to stop talking to him?"
"Well…" said Erza, realizing she actually had no idea where she was going with this. Something about Orihime was deceptively disarming. She acted like she had done nothing wrong or even worthy of concern, which was, to be fair, mostly true.
"I was actually wondering… why?" said Erza, resignedly.
"He's interesting," said Orihime, as if that explained everything.
"A homicidal monster is… interesting?"
"Uh-huh," Orihime said with a cheery nod, and turned her attention back to her porridge.
"I mean…" said Erza, not wanting to let it go so easily, "I mean, um, can you… elaborate on that, please? I know he can't hurt anyone right now, but… I just don't get it."
"Erza, if you don't want me to talk to him, I won't," Orihime said matter-of-factly. "That's up to you. And, if Soifon gives you a hard time about it, I'll leave it alone. Okay?"
"It's, um, fine. None of those things. You have… clearance enough, I guess."
"Then, it's fine, isn't it?"
"Orihime," Erza said severely, "when your daughter starts hanging around people who are trouble, most parents tend to react. And 'trouble' for most people means boys who are into drugs or petty crime, and such. This… is about somebody who's killed more people than you would probably want to count."
"He hasn't killed humans for a long while, actually," said Orihime. "He said he can't feed on them. Too weak."
"Well, that makes it better, doesn't it?" Erza said, unable to hold the sarcasm back.
"Doesn't it? Not killing people is better than killing people, right?"
"I… I mean-" Erza said, aghast that she had no refutation readily available.
"He's lonely," said Orihime simply, "and even though he doesn't want to admit it, he misses his friends. If all your friends died and you lost your arm and all your strength, I don't think you'd be very happy about that."
"Well, I'm not a misanthropic, sadistic psychopath!" Erza snapped.
"Maybe he is," Orihime said with a shrug, "but he's also alone. And he cares about things you haven't noticed. It's just… deep inside."
Erza paused. She, more than anyone, knew that hollows were more capable of humanity than almost any shinigami would believe. The more evolved they were, the less monstrous they became. But Grimmjow, although powerful, had showed no signs of humanity. He had seemed cruel, selfish, and vile. Was it possible that… that he was, although cruel and selfish, somewhat more human than she had thought?
"Well," Erza responded tamely, "you just… you just be careful around him, okay?"
"Can do!" Orihime said brightly, finishing her breakfast. Erza sighed to herself as she watched her daughter walk out. She barely had her own life in order, and she still had to worry about her daughter's antics…
No matter one's personal problems, it was a fact of life that the world kept on turning, uncaring. As much emotional turmoil as Erza had been through, she still had duties to attend. She held to them firmly, and after the morning routines were done, after the quick briefings from the intelligence team- nothing of note just yet, thankfully- and after she had reviewed their current status and decided on patrol routes, Erza had gone down to Urahara's basement. The unease she had felt at visiting the shopkeeper's place had, funnily enough, been diminished by the enormity of the previous night.
It still felt quite surreal, and Erza still wasn't sure what to make of it. But, thankfully, the worst of it was done; she and Momo could now at least function in their work, get along.
Thinking of the very idea of them being something more than just co-workers and friends was equal parts disturbing and exhilarating, but more than anything it filled her with a nervous nausea.
She tore her mind off the subject. Duty called, after all. She was going to check in on Grimmjow, and after that, Soifon had wished to see her. At the back of her mind were Orihime's words, the suggestion that the arrancar was, all told, maybe more than monstrous.
"You, er, you doing alright over there?" she said to Grimmjow, who lay stretched out on a rock with his back to her a good few paces away, apparently sunbathing. He looked rather like a cat, Erza thought to herself; he certainly had the smug self-assurance down.
In response, the arrancar raised a hand and gave her a middle-finger salute, not bothering to answer vocally. Erza considered disciplining him for his disrespectful manners, but held back. He had helped her the other day, if only for his own benefit. He seemed to be in a good mood, all things considered. No wonder; he had been free to wreak absolute havoc and he'd gorged himself on hollow flesh doing it.
"Commander Scarlet."
It was Soifon, who, with the impeccable subtlety of a stealth operative, had appeared behind Erza without making a single sound or even raising her reiatsu high enough to be noticed.
"Oh!" Erza said, not startled, but surprised. "I, um, didn't sense you there."
"Obviously," Soifon said dryly.
"You wished to see me?"
"Yes," said Soifon, and her voice lowered, probably to avoid Grimmjow hearing. "There was an… irregularity the night before last that I would like to have clarified."
"An… irregularity?" Erza said, feeling a pang of worry.
"Yes. Two nights ago, the arrancar prisoner's reiatsu went off the grid."
"Off the grid?"
"We keep a constant measurement of his whereabouts, naturally," said Soifon, and Erza's pang of worry grew into a lump of fear, "yet for four hours and twenty-three minutes, he disappeared from our sensors."
"Um…" said Erza, "I mean… it couldn't be, er, a mal…function?"
Damn! She hadn't thought of it, had been too caught up with herself to think that somebody might have been watching.
"Possible," Soifon admitted with a nod, "but we noticed your presence there at around the same time. Curiously, it vanished along with his. This, I would like to clarify."
She was quite calm, and nothing in Soifon's voice betrayed emotion, but Erza knew it could go poorly if she handled this wrong. What was worse, she didn't know what to say, how to justify this. How could she? She had done it for selfish reasons, reasons she was sure Yamamoto would not be sympathetic to.
"I, um," she started. Think! You figured things out with Momo, and that was much harder! "We, er… we sorta… well, we went to… Hueco Mundo…"
The truth. Great. Yes, the truth, that would work, wouldn't it? But she couldn't think of any other way. She hated the idea of lying, especially to cover for herself.
"Oh, that."
The cocky voice came from a lazily yawning Grimmjow, having gotten to his feet and walked up to them.
"This doesn't concern you, prisoner," Soifon said firmly. "Back off, or you will be subdued."
"Sure, it concerns me," said Grimmjow with a shrug. "Yeah, that was me. Red, here," he said, gesturing with his thumb to Erza, "came to me the other night. Couldn't sleep, or whatever. Decided to have another crack at me. Me, I sold her some bullshit story about some place with tac-ti-cal importance, and got her permission to open a portal."
He grinned maliciously, and chuckled, the jaw segment on his cheek moving with the chortle.
"Put us right in a hollow den. Come on, what'd ya expect? I'm dyin' of boredom down here. Needed a good rumble-tumble. Took a while to clear out, but when we did, she took me by the ear and made me get us back. Got a real lashing for it too, what with that power word and all. Still worth it."
Erza marvelled at the ease with which he lied. Every word seemed totally convincing, entirely like he meant it. How some people could be so plainly dishonest, she would never understand. She wasn't sure she wanted to.
"Hollow scum," Soifon sneered, and jabbed Grimmjow hard in the solar plexus, pushing the air out of his lungs. He doubled over with a grunt, but between gasping for air, he still chuckled.
"Commander, I suggest you conduct your interviews officially from here on," she said icily, turning to Erza. "This style of gut-feeling approach may work for you, but you are part of a team. You could have been injured or worse. This is highly unprofessional."
"Y-yes," Erza said weakly. "I've been very… unprofessional. My apologies, captain. Will you be filing a complaint?"
"I am sorely tempted to," said Soifon, "but for now…. there is too much work to do, and too much at stake. Do I have your word you will not act so recklessly again?"
"I swear it," Erza said hastily, glad to be getting off so easily.
Soifon nodded, seeming content. "Very well. If you'll excuse me, commander?"
"Please," said Erza.
With no further adieus, Soifon went her own way to continue her duties at the intelligence unit. Erza gaped, and stared at Grimmjow, who had gotten upright again. When she was sure Soifon was out of earshot, she said, "You- you, I mean…"
"What?" said Grimmjow, a shit-eating grin on his face.
"You could just have screwed me," Erza said flatly. "You could have embarrassed or even demoted me if you told the truth."
"Yeah, I could have," he said, and Erza disliked how much he seemed to enjoy the fact.
"So, why didn't you?"
"Come on, Red," Grimmjow said with a shrug. "You think I'd rather deal with that short-tempered midget bitch than you? Besides, this way… you owe me. Now you know I can play ball. Hollows ain't altruistic, but we do know how to scratch each other's backs."
"That… makes sense, sure," Erza mumbled. "I just didn't see that coming."
"I'm just full of surprises," Grimmjow said, smugly pleased.
"Well… well, don't think that means I suddenly trust you," Erza said defensively.
Grimmjow chuckled again. "Would lose all respect for ya if ya did."
Soifon exited the basement, her mind abuzz behind her mask of dispassion. The commander was notoriously bad at lying, and it was obvious she had not been telling the whole truth. The arrancar was much better at it, but she was sure it was truth by modification- in fact, she had made sure to stand close enough that he might be able to hear, and maybe give something away.
The commander was hiding something, maybe of no consequence, maybe of greater consequence, and it was up to Soifon to find out what. Report to the captain-commander? No. Baseless accusations would amount to nothing, and if there was indeed nothing major going on, she would have undermined the war effort for no good reason. But still… she was going to keep an eye out. Erza Scarlet had a history of cavorting with hollows, after all.
Nozomi had originally found Kisuke's dank, disorderly room a strange and somewhat disagreeable place; it had been so messy and starkly in contrast with the pristine order she was used to in Twelfth. But, strangely enough, it had grown on her. Despite things like takeout cartons with small food leftovers in an increasing state of decay, there was a method to the exiled scientist's madness. He seemed to know where every document he needed was, exactly. Only very rarely did he have to make an effort to find anything he was looking for. Most of the time, he'd distractedly reach into a messy pile of papers, pull out a couple sheets, absorb whatever information was on them and move on, each time with flawless precision. There was something awe-inspiring about the casual ease with which he carried out his work, and she had found that, serving as his assistant, she, herself, had improved just by keeping up with him.
Most of their work was analyzing data relevant to the war effort, processing the reiatsu readings of the previous day. It was a thankless effort that had so far been pointless, but it was nevertheless important. If Aizen's forces struck, they would want to know where and how, and getting a complete layout of the Karakura area's spiritual currents was vital to that.
When they weren't working on that, they would analyze the arrancar, trying to understand the atomic makeup of the creatures. That was fascinating work, and Nozomi had been baffled to compare the structures of older, natural arrancar to the new ones created by Aizen. Aizen's creations were flawlessly efficient by comparison, as superior to the older generation as a gun was to a bow and arrow.
For now, however, they were taking a break. Nozomi, artificial as her body was in its origin, could keep going for quite some time, but there was such a thing as absorbing too much information at one time, and it was a simple fact that one needed to rest and recharge to function at an optimum, artificial or not. Urahara had not been keen on the idea; he seemed to keep unhealthy hours as a matter of course, and she had only gotten him to agree on it on the condition that it involved reflection and theory-crafting. When in the zone, he didn't like to let his mind rest.
"You know," said Nozomi, leaned back in her chair, "there was one thing I was wondering…"
"Reishi particle theory? Arrancar adaptive skin-plating? Garganta basics? That last one I can't wait to sink my teeth into."
"All interesting," said Nozomi with a nod, "but it was a less… scientific question."
"Oh," said Kisuke with a shrug.
"I… I was wondering a bit. About… the past."
"The past?"
"Twelfth."
"Oh."
"If you don't mind me asking, that is," Nozomi said hurriedly. The issue had sat at the back of her head for quite some time. Within Twelfth, there was a quiet admiration for Urahara Kisuke's scientific accomplishments, despite their captain's general contempt for the man. His papers were still often cited, and many of his discoveries were still taught in their science academy. What had happened, then, to transform Twelfth from the beacon of scientific progress to the nightmarishly cruel institution Kurotsuchi Mayuri had made? It had been her home for quite some time, and she could not help but wonder.
"You're about to ask me about my exile," said Kisuke neutrally.
"Not about the way it happened, as such," said Nozomi. "That's… not too interesting to me, and not relevant to what I'm wondering."
"Well, that's a change of pace," Kisuke muttered. He leaned forward, took off his characteristic hat, and peered out at her from under his yellow mane of hair, his fingers locked together, obscuring the lower half of his face.
"What is it, then?"
"You were quite a scientist once. Well, you still are, but… you were respected."
"For what it was worth."
"So… why did you pick a psychopath like Mayuri to be your second-in-command?"
"That… is a good question, yes," Kisuke said inscrutably, "one I would not answer if asked by most people."
"Am I 'most people'?"
"I'm tempted not to file you under that category. Alright… very well, I will not. So, what compelled me to choose so incredibly poorly, you wonder?"
"I didn't say-"
"You said it clearly enough, and it's true," Kisuke said bluntly. "I chose poorly. I am not without considerable responsibility for the havoc Kurotsuchi has wreaked.
"The answer, I suppose, is arrogance. I was much younger, and I had this… illusion that things were going so very well in life, and would do so indefinitely. I was a privileged ward of the Shihoin house at the peak of their power, and best friends with the heir apparent- and later leader- of the clan from childhood. This association alone would have given me everything I needed to succeed in life, but my mind and my skills made me exceptional. After serving in the stealth force, I was appointed head of the science division. I had everything I needed: Practical experience, martial skills, and confidence on the one hand, and an aptitude for invention and understanding of the Universe on the other. When I recruited Kurotsuchi Mayuri, I did so knowing exactly what he was- a snake with no moral scruples and a mind nearly as brilliant as my own. I did so under the assumption that I would be in charge forever, able to keep him in check. Use his abilities for good. It was… conceited. But, it made complete sense for a man who had everything: wealth, success, strength, power, and a future so bright it would hurt to look at."
"I… see," said Nozomi. His face betrayed no particular emotion, and he had spoken the words quickly, clearly, and eloquently. Despite the personal nature of the confession, it felt oddly impersonal to hear it spoken.
"You're confused about my lack of emotional investment," said Kisuke, as if reading her mind. "Or, rather, your perception of it. I try not to dwell on it. The person I was back then would not have made a different choice knowing what he did, and I had no way of knowing. I share some responsibility for the considerable cruelty Kurotsuchi has amounted. So does the Gotei for employing a known criminal. Not least of all, Kurotsuchi himself. Do I feel guilty? It would be an exercise in pointlessness. My guilt would make nothing better for the people he's hurt, and would make life harder for me. What use is it, then?"
"That's a very pragmatic way of looking at it," Nozomi said cautiously.
"A polite way of saying 'callous'."
"No, I mean it," Nozomi said hastily. "I'm not here to judge. I am just… curious."
"Well, curiosity satisfied, I should hope."
"Mostly."
"Mostly, huh? Well, what else is there to say…"
He paused, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.
"You know, there are times when I miss it. Not the Gotei as such, but… being at the top. Doing hard science. With assistants to hammer out the data for me. Funding, that's probably what I miss the most."
"No love for the Gotei itself, eh?"
"Nope," Kisuke said with a small smile. "I'm all about the material stuff. Equipment, money, manpower, resources. And, of course, uncovering the secrets of the world."
"So much for a romantic side of you."
"Who's to say I'm not romantic?" said Kisuke cheekily.
"In secret?" Nozomi suggested, grinning. "Very, very deep down?"
"Deep down," Kisuke agreed, "Mariana Trench deep. There, just a little bit…"
They both laughed.
"I want to fix it one day, you know," said Nozomi, as the laughter died down.
"Fix what? My funding?"
"The division. It was a good place once. It could be again."
"Maybe if the bastard dies in the war," said Kisuke with a shrug, "but I wouldn't get my hopes up. He's like a cockroach."
"Wouldn't it be a worthy goal, though? Restoring it back to greatness? Think about it. The science division, back to an ethical pursuit of knowledge. No cruelty or suffering, just… data, and how to get it."
Kisuke snorted. "Now, that is romantic, I think."
"Maybe. But isn't it worth striving for?"
The sudden seriousness of her voice seemed to catch him off guard.
"…Yes, I suppose so," he said after a while. He nodded. "Go for it if you can."
"Would you come back if you could?"
He paused for longer now, staring out into space.
"There's no love lost between me and the Gotei," he said slowly, "but who knows? If they made a really good offer… and I mean a really good one…"
"Then maybe?"
"Maybe," he said with a nod.
"It's a deal, then," Nozomi said with a smile. "One day, I'll be head of the science division, and you can be my sexy assistant."
"I don't remember agreeing to that," said Kisuke, and the two of them laughed again.
But he thought, it was a worthy goal…
From disturbing grains of sand to turning over pebbles, Isshin's power had gradually begun to come back. Old form had made itself reminded, things so basic to a shinigami's control of himself suddenly alien, but Isshin had only been spurred on. He had put every free hour he had into training- which, with a full time job and a family, hadn't been many- and with surprising speed, his power had grown. It was as if there was some vast font of spiritual force, alive but severed from his connection, waiting to be tapped into.
Isshin didn't know the particulars. He had never been good at spiritual theory or the exact workings thereof, any more than a normal person would understand exactly how cells and blood vessels worked. What he did know was that it was returning, and swiftly. He had gone from projecting the slightest piece of force to flaring with energy worthy of a shinigami, worthy of an officer. Every session brought him closer to… something.
He didn't dare think of what that something was. In the corners of his mind, he imagined being a shinigami again, a captain, a respected man and a great warrior, but he would dismiss the thought each time. He didn't want to set himself up for disappointment. Masaki had been right in that, right to remind him each time he would report his progress to her. He had taken things one step at a time, never shirking his duties as a father and provider. Well, no more than he usually did, at any rate.
But, that had all changed one night, when in a dream he had heard a voice call to him, a voice so long silenced that it had terrified him at first. When he recognized it for what it was at last, he had sat bolt upright in his bed, immediately awake.
Engetsu.
He had heard the call of his zanpakutou. An old friend long thought lost, calling to him like a brother trapped behind a wall, eager to find his way back home. Isshin had felt exhilarated, shocked, afraid, and excited at once, and had immediately tried to reach back, tried to speak to it, tried to hear its voice.
When it had failed, he had momentarily been distraught, disappointed and frustrated. But, then he had taken a shower, thought, and calmed down, and when he was calm he had taken heart. Engetsu had reached out. Isshin had regained so much power as to hear his voice again. His powers were coming back; there had been no doubt about that. If he had done so once, he would do it again.
It had been a week since then, and he had heard its voice every night since then, more clearly each time. Now, by himself, in a desolate place in the park, Isshin sat, meditating. He had closed down the clinic for the day. This was more important.
Quiet meditation had never been his forte. Isshin had always been a man of action, a follower of intuition more than careful reflection. But, for this, for the prize of regaining his power, he would do anything. As he closed his eyes and looked inward, letting his newly regained power rise, he took a deep breath.
He was so close. It was all there. He could almost touch it; he could feel it as surely as he could feel the beating of his own heart and the heaving of his body as he breathed. It was all coming back, but the connection was… weak. Flickering. If only he could reach it once, if he could push through, he felt as if he could grab hold of it and become the man he once had been.
He'd not led a bad life after losing his power, he had to admit. Being a father and a provider, living a quiet but happy life, it was… it was nothing to scoff at. What would he do with this power if he got it back? Return to the Gotei? Never. His place was here, and no sense of past duty could drive him away from the duty he had to his family. But, there was something here that he wanted so badly it ached, something he had wanted all along, something he had buried under simple acceptance.
He wanted to be what he once had been. He wanted to have the strength to protect his family, come what may. He wanted to be Masaki's equal in this, wanted to not have to depend on her against the future and its dangers. To stand with her, shoulder to shoulder, instead of cowering while she did the hard work… he would almost kill for that.
He realized his breathing had sped up while his thoughts had wandered into excitement, and forced himself to calm. It was a frustrating thing to do, but passion couldn't help him here. Only focus could. Once again he thought of Masaki, of Ichigo, of Karin and of Yuzu, and forced himself to be as calm as he could. His body perfectly still, he mentally reached out for the source of power, and it was like trying to grab mist. It was an exercise just as irritating now as when he had been a child, still learning to control his power. But, now he was older, more experienced, and he had been through it once. He would do it again.
Little beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he looked deep inside, the liquid trailing down his face making for another distraction. But, Isshin was nothing if not stubbornly determined, more so even than his son, and he sat still for an hour, then two hours, reaching inside, refusing to give up.
Others might have despaired. Isshin refused to do so. Slowly, very slowly, he felt as if he could see it now- a small string of blue light before his eyes, not in a literal sense but rather as an abstract, imaginary picture, representing his grasp- or lack thereof- on his power.
Growing warmer still as his power radiated around him, wild and poorly controlled, making his muscles twitch involuntarily, Isshin persisted. In his mind's eye, he could see a hand reach out for that string of light, that crack in the wall, that source of power. Behind the wall there was power, everything that belonged to him…
He saw the hand falter, and redoubled his efforts, ignoring the twitches, the sweat and the heat, the frustration, and forced himself fully calm despite it all, his singular force of will pushing through. It was force of a kind he had not had reason to use for over twenty years now, a singular force of will, mental discipline of a kind nobody in a civilian life needed. The mind of a warrior, a leader. Remembering who he had been, he forced the hand forward, and slowly, with desperate hope, he saw it grasp at the string of light.
The string was actually a crack, he realized, and as the hand pierced through it, suddenly the wall shattered. Isshin had expected it to be a difficult, frustrating exercise where he would have to draw out every ounce of power by will alone, but as he grasped his power once more, it welled into him with the force of a broken dam, as if thousands of tons of water rushed over him at once.
The surge of power overwhelmed him, and Isshin lost consciousness for a second. He came to again, knocked onto his back, his back arching, his arms splayed out, cramping. He twitched and twisted under the force of the power surging through his body, cramping desperately, and he fought to even breathe. Panic threatened to overwhelm him, but Isshin focused, trying to harness it. It was like riding out a storm, but Isshin was quite the sailor.
Then suddenly, with something like a 'pop', Isshin found himself ejected from his body. He tumbled over and, confused at suddenly regaining control of himself, propped himself up on his elbows. On the ground before him lay himself- that is to say, his gigai, the thing he had called his body for so long. It was deathly still, and Isshin would never have guessed it had cramped and twisted so badly if he hadn't just been through it only seconds ago.
Shocked and exhilarated, he tried standing up. It went well. He looked down on his hands. His sleeves, he realized, were black. Looking further, he saw that he was wearing the black shihakushou. His power had come back. He felt a great well of raw force tumbling about inside him, the energies still settling, like rubble after a landslide. He held his breath as his hand slid down to his hip. There, on his left side, he felt the weight of a blade. His zanpakutou. Reverently, he drew the blade, marveling at the sight of it. He gaped with awe. In his mind, he could hear the pleased hum of Engetsu.
Welcome back, master.
"You're… you're back," Isshin whispered under his breath. "I'm back. I'm back!"
A sense of joy surged through his body, a natural high of the kind he hadn't felt for years. Drunk with cheer, he shouted jubilantly, incoherently, hollering with glee as he took a leap, punching the air. His power surged through his body, flaring with increasing amounts of control.
"Well," said a voice, quietly impressed, "I'll be damned."
Isshin spun around quickly, focusing once more, and saw that it was Rangiku, walking calmly through the trees toward him.
"Rangiku!" he cheered. "Rangiku, it's all- it's all coming back!"
"I noticed," said Rangiku with a nod. "It was hard not to. I reported a disturbance to make sure it was me who got here first. You really weren't that subtle about this."
"Well, what can I say?" Isshin said with a wide grin, too happy to be taken aback. "The tiger doesn't change his stripes."
Slowly, Rangiku walked closer. Her face was oddly solemn, calm and serene.
"What?" said Isshin, a little mystified. "You in awe of all this?" He flexed his muscles quickly. "I know I've been slacking off for a bit, but I still got it!"
"No, you idiot," Rangiku said, her mask of calm broken by irritation. "It's just that for a second… for a second I felt like I'd traveled back in time. Like I was back in a time… well, you know what I mean."
Isshin nodded. "You missed me, didn't you?"
"I wouldn't say that. I don't miss having to chase you down all the time. But… well, in a way, yes. Sort of." Her voice trembled just slightly.
"Rangiku-"
"I'm fine," she said quickly, her voice stabilizing. "There's no time to get… sentimental."
"I've got nothing against that, you know."
"I know you don't," Rangiku said, rolling her eyes. "You're as big a sap as you are a goofball."
"True," Isshin agreed happily.
"Can you stop looking so happy?" Rangiku said, annoyed.
"Nope."
"You know, something else is coming back to me."
"What's that?"
"Wondering how you ever made captain."
Isshin laughed. "See, it's like old times already! You scolding me and telling me to take things more seriously, and me being… well, my old glorious self."
Rangiku scoffed. "Glorious, huh?"
"All around excellent."
She sighed. "Well… those times aren't going to come back, are they?"
Isshin looked her in the eye, his wave of cheer finally given pause.
"…No, they won't," he admitted with a slow nod. "I have a life here. People who depend on me. I can't leave any of it behind. It's too late."
"I thought so," Rangiku said with a sigh. "I knew it, actually. It's just that part of me…"
"Part of you wanted things to go back to the way they were. Back when life was easier, and we all had each other, back at the division. I know," Isshin said with a nod. "Believe it or not, I miss it too, sometimes. Wouldn't trade what I have away for the world, but I haven't forgotten where I came from."
"That's good, then," said Rangiku. "Yeah. Good. So, um… you got your powers back. Good. We'll need all the help we can get soon enough."
"You can count on it."
"And, um… I'll have to report this."
"I understand," said Isshin. "We're well past keeping secrets, anyway. Come what may, I'll face it head on, whether it's Aizen or the stealth force."
"I'm sure it won't come to that," said Rangiku. "The stealth force, I mean. There's been changes in that department. The old man issued a lot of pardons."
"Good," said Isshin, looking relieved. "So…"
"So…"
"I should probably get back-"
"I should probably get back-"
They both closed their mouths, and then Isshin broke into a chuckle. Reluctantly, Rangiku joined him.
"It's been too long," she said.
"Too long," he agreed, "but I'm just glad to be back."
She nodded.
"I'll see you around, Isshin. And, don't slack off. You've been inactive for over twenty years. Make sure you get some training in before you start rampaging around with those powers."
"Yes, ma'am!" said Isshin enthusiastically, shooting her a salute.
As he watched her leave, the grin never left his face. He couldn't wait to tell Masaki. Hell, he might even be able to teach his boy a thing or two, now.
The duties of the day had been wrapped up and Erza had left command to Soifon for the night. Quite forcefully, she had marched toward Urahara Kisuke's shop. Forcefully, because she had to will herself to go that way. The emotional commotion with Momo had made her forget for a while, but it was still the case that her last interaction with the renegade scientist had been less than brilliant. She had made a fool of herself and mistreated what was, upon reflection, a loyal ally. It had left shame in her, shame that would not leave until she confronted it. Sure, she had apologized, but it had been in the heat of the moment and felt altogether insufficient. She couldn't keep avoiding the place, couldn't keep avoiding her problems. Besides, she had more than one errand to run there. It was too reliable a command central to be held up by her own personal issues.
So it was that she walked through the door of the shop, only to find Urahara leaned back behind the counter of the store, tilting back a chair, his legs lazily resting on the counter itself. He looked quite at ease, as if he had sat resting there all day, but Erza would be surprised if he had- not only was he occupied with his research almost every minute of his time, but he had no doubt anticipated her arrival and made sure to appear as carefree as possible. It was an attitude she had never liked, and no doubt he knew that and had done it to annoy her.
"Welcome to my humble abode, commander," he said, his voice too believably polite to be believable. "What brings you here at this hour?"
She could see his eyes peering out from under the brim of his hat, just barely, staring at her intently.
"I am glad to find you here," she said neutrally.
"Oh? Now, that I did not expect."
"I…" Erza said, and paused. What could she say that she already hadn't? Best say it again at least, make sure it was well executed.
"In my capacity as commander, I wish to formally apologize for my recent behaviour," she said stiffly, in her most official tone. "If you wish to press charges for assault, please consult Captain Soifon. I am sure you would be entitled to some form of indemnity for the injuries suffered to your person, which, although temporary, were considerable-"
The sound of his laughter interrupted her. He slid his feet off the counter and the chair stabilized with a small 'thud', and he clapped his hands.
"Oh, I'll be damned if they won't make a good officer of you yet, Scarlet!" he said, stuttering his words over his chortling.
"I… if you are mocking me, I am sure I deserve it," Erza said, even more stiffly now. She was not sure what to make of this.
"Mockery? Well, yes, I suppose it is. But formal apologies? Pressing charges? Indemnity? I didn't even realize that was part of your vocabulary!"
"Mr. Urahara…"
"Don't be ridiculous," he said, waving his hand dismissively. "For pity's sake, settle it face-to-face like you normally would. I don't think either of us have any love lost for red tape."
"I… well, yes, that is true," Erza said, allowing herself to relax a little. "I… I suppose I am trying to be responsible. More leader-like. I do not have the luxury of recklessness anymore. It… seemed the right way."
"Know your contacts," Urahara said with a chuckle. "You want to apologize? Get on with it, as Erza Scarlet, not commander."
"I, er, well…" Erza said, cursing inwardly over the mumbled words. "I am sorry. What I did was wrong- indefensible- and I am deeply sorry. More to the point, I've consistently and unfairly mischaracterized you as untrustworthy and self-serving."
She paused, and gave his grinning face a look.
"That is to say, more untrustworthy and self-serving than was reasonable."
"'Atta girl," said Urahara with a nod. "I'm no angel and I've never pretended to be one. You admitting you were wrong was enough for me."
"But the attack-"
"Tessai fixed it within an hour," Urahara said dismissively.
"And the… maligning of your reputation?"
"I had a reputation?" Urahara snorted. "Besides as a shady, self-serving crook?"
"But-"
"It's settled and done. You think I care what people think of me? Come on. I'm a big boy, and I can handle myself. I've been through a lot in my life, and you giving me some mean looks and entertaining some personal prejudices- which, by the way, are rather understandable given your circumstances- is well far down the list of bad things I've had to endure."
"Well…" Erza said, now a mixture of annoyed and confused, "this was… not quite what I expected?"
"I'm sorry, but you'll just have to do without all that self-flagellation you're so fond of," Urahara beamed. "Not everything is all that terrible, and while responsibility is great, not everything is your fault. Misunderstandings happen. You had a bias, but now, you do not. That's enough for me."
"So, you… just understand? Just like that?"
"Erza," said Urahara, suddenly a bit more serious, "you were directly under the thumb of one of the vilest men I've ever known. That you emerged without considerable mental trauma is a testament to your strength. A bit of paranoia is to be expected. Would I rather you hadn't broken some ribs? Yes, but it happens. From here, we can move forwards as partners with less friction. That is what, as a businessman, I consider a net benefit."
"…Right, then," said Erza. "Well, that was…"
"Anticlimactically easy and rather dissatisfying?"
"Yes."
"Consider that your punishment, then. The mild sense of unease that you got off too lightly is hereby the sentence you have to carry for your crimes."
He chuckled, and Erza chuckled with him.
"That was, uh…" she said, but he held up a hand.
"We're good now. No need to elaborate. If I were you, though, I might have a word with Nozomi. She doesn't let it show, but your low opinion of me has bothered her a little."
"Oh, right," Erza murmured to herself. "Crap, I almost forgot…"
"She's in through there," Urahara said, gesturing to the back of the shop with a thumb, "in the lab. I'm sure it'll just take a few minutes of your time."
"I-I'll get on it," Erza said quickly.
Urahara grinned, quite genuinely, as the great commander made her way to the back of his shop. He hadn't taken it all quite as lightly as he pretended, but not only did he sympathize with the girl, but he saw the value in a well-oiled partnership. Erza now on his side, and Nozomi soon to be given a boost in morale, as well? That, he thought, was a net benefit worth a little exaggeration.
Momo had come back from her scheduled patrol and sat down to go over the business of Fifth with a sense of elation. She had set about her duties with a sense of enthusiasm that was quite atypical; it was as if she was on some amazing cocktail of caffeine and dopamine mixed into the most joyous of beverages, leaving a warmth in her chest.
She had tried to curb her cheer a little. Erza had made it clear she could promise nothing. It could all still fall through. But, what was the sense of worrying? Why worry now, when she could feel happy? If it happened, it happened, and she would deal with that accordingly. She had made no promises, sure… but she had also kissed her. Again. And it was wonderful. There was good reason to be hopeful, Momo had decided, and as such she had pushed the possibility of rejection- real and dreadful as it was- to the back of her mind.
Her pen dancing across the papers, a form for some request or another, she realized that she had emptied her stack of paperwork all by herself, and that the clock was well past the end of her shift. It made her happy, in fact, to think that she had taken a load off of Erza's back. She just had to work hard and be as sweet as possible, and then… then it would all work out. She had to believe that.
She had to be careful, of course. Erza was, in this one area, rather a delicate flower. She could not be overbearing. She could not pressure her. Pushing too far and too quickly would dash her hopes quite quickly.
So, the solution, simply put, was to live for Erza. Like up until now, everything she did would have to be for Erza's sake, and only hers- only now with renewed fervour. She was going to dedicate herself to this, fully and totally. There was no other reason for being, no better course in life that she could imagine.
Momo belonged to Erza, body and soul. She just had to show Erza a reason to feel the same way. Gently, she would nudge Erza the right way. And then, in time- with proper patience, of course- they would be together. She smiled to herself at the thought. The best of futures was within her grasp, and all she had to do was be careful.
Grimmjow was shirtless, running through another one of his innumerable workout routines, limited though he was by his restricted power, weakness, and one arm. He was dedicated, Erza thought to herself as she approached; that if nothing else was an admirable quality.
Orihime had been right in at least one sense. He was an interesting individual, at least more so than Erza had expected. He was of course a monster, psychopathic and seemingly entirely devoid of empathy or restraint; that part had not changed. In very slightly different circumstances, she had no doubt he would not hesitate to rip her heart out and watch the life drain from her eyes.
But, he was not as totally amoral as she had first expected. She remembered Orihime's words to her this morning.
He's lonely, she had said, and he misses his friends.
It was almost inconceivable, and Erza was far from convinced. Although Orihime was intelligent, she was still young and naïve to the realities of a hollow's nature. In fact, any shinigami except Erza would have refused to believe it.
But, Erza had seen first-hand that hollows were quite capable of humanity, that the stronger and more evolved they were, the less monstrous they became. It was… possible. Just this morning, he had covered for her, although she hardly believed that was anything but self-serving.
But, could a tiger change his stripes? Could an old dog be taught new tricks? Could a monstrous hollow, under the right circumstances, become less than evil?
Erza was at heart an optimist, and she did not believe that people were locked into one state of being forever. Anyone could change. But, to change, one had to be given a reason to do so…
It had occurred to her that here and now, she had a unique opportunity to conduct an experiment of sorts. Not quite like the kind Urahara Kisuke would run, but rather an experiment in empathy. If she reached out a hand… what would happen?
Probably not a lot, but nevertheless she felt compelled to try. That, and the fact that he had done her a favour, although self-serving, had left her feeling indebted to him. Patiently, she sat down on a nearby rock, waiting for the arrancar to wear himself out training. A nearby piece of rock was slowly being reduced to rubble, and Grimmjow was going at it like it owed him money. Eventually, though, he quit. His one hand covered in rock dust and scrapes, his upper body glistening with sweat, he walked up to Erza and eyeballed her. It was a good eyeballing, the kind that only an expertise in machismo could buy.
"You're just like your fuckin' kid, ain't ya?" he said bluntly. "Starin' at me like a lost puppy just 'cause I did the smallest thing for ya."
"Well-"
"Where is she, anyway?" Grimmjow said with a shrug, the kind of shrug that made it clear how little he cared- extremely clear, in fact. "I mean, it's all the same to me. She's kind of a bother."
"She's been busy with school lately," said Erza neutrally, relieved that he hadn't insulted Orihime. She lacked her daughter's sweet disposition, and she would not have taken kindly to verbal abuse.
"Well, whatever," said Grimmjow, briefly looking toward the exit of the cellar as if to check. "Good. She ain't going to come interrupt me, then."
"Quite."
"So, anyway, the fuck brings you here?" said Grimmjow, irritably. "You think we're friends now that I helped you out a teensy bit, or what?"
"No. You're a homicidal monster."
"And don't you forget it," Grimmjow said with a hint of pride. "So, um, then what's your fuckin' business?"
Erza reached into the folds of her shihakusho and produced a brown paper bag, gently putting it down on the ground. Grimmjow gave her a suspicious look.
"What's this?" he demanded.
"Consider it a 'thank you' for this morning. A gesture of appreciation, maybe."
Tentatively, Grimmjow sat down opposite of her, cross-legged, glancing back and forth between her and the bag. He was truly like an animal, Erza thought, constantly keeping an eye on her as if she'd pounce any second. She wasn't sure he was even conscious of it.
He sniffed the air, and opened the bag.
"Fuck's this?" he muttered. "Smells weird."
"They're called dough-nuts," Erza explained. "It's a sugary treat with no real nutritional value. Humans like eating them for fun."
Grimmjow shot her a loathing glance. "If you think that shit is gonna make up for this morning, you're sadly mistaken. You owe me a real favour, not this-"
"I still owe you," Erza reassured him. "These are just… a thank you, as I said."
"Right," he said skeptically, staring at her ominously.
A thought occurred to Erza. The quick sideways glances, the hostility, the anger… Grimmjow was afraid. To some extent, at least. He didn't show it at all, but he acted it. And, why wouldn't he be? He was powerless where he had been strong, dependent where he had been independent, facing uncertainty where he had faced certainty. He was a stranger in a strange land. Hollows could be quite human too, and although he hid it well, fear was not beyond him.
"Try one," she said reassuringly. "I mean, I'm not sure if the hollow digestive system even works-"
"What, you think I can't?" he said stubbornly.
"I didn't say that-"
Greedily, Grimmjow grabbed a doughnut, and wolfed it down in a matter of seconds.
"Tastes like shit," he said, licking his lips, "all… sweet and such. Nothing like a good bit of meat."
"If you don't like it, I can take it back-" Erza said, but as she reached out a hand to grab the bag, he snatched it away.
"I didn't say anything like that," he said aggressively. "You gave it to me. Means it's mine. Get your hands off what's mine, shinigami."
"…Of course," Erza said, a little perplexed. It was like dealing with a child, almost. Out of his element, out of his savagery and brutality where violence was the only language, he was rather a lost figure. Sad, even, although Erza was sure he would have hated to hear her state her pity.
"Anyway," said Grimmjow, wolfing another of the treats down, "yeah, these work. A bit shit, but I'm hungry. Whatever. And you remember this ain't us being even, you understand?"
"I am a woman of my word," said Erza stiffly. "As long as I will it, you will be treated well. And, indeed, I will owe you a favour. A small one."
"Bigger than small," Grimmjow objected.
"Not a large one," Erza countered. "A… medium-sized favour."
"What, that's it?"
"May I remind you that I could just make you kneel and say there's no favour?" Erza said sharply. "Don't push your luck, arrancar."
"Alright, alright," Grimmjow said with a nod, "sure. And, when I know what to ask for…"
"I'll do my best to accommodate you," Erza promised.
He nodded. "See, this I understand. Something for something. Haggling for what that something is. That part of bein' a shinigami, I get. But the rest? All your fancy rules and beliefs? Your weird fuckin' structures of command? Don't make no sense to me."
"It is a bit absurd, isn't it?" said Erza.
"Don't try and butter me up," said Grimmjow, hesitantly going for another doughnut. He had eaten almost half of them already.
"I'm not lying," said Erza. "I'm quite new to being a captain myself. A lot of these rules… they have always seemed weird to me. Arbitrary. Silly. Inconsistent. I was never raised into thinking they were this… natural part of life. I've always struggled to fully understand them."
He cocked his head. "See, you're an awful liar. I knows, because I saw you this morning. So, funnily enough, I believe you when you say it. But, don't think I don't see what it's about. 'We're not so different, us two,' and then I nod my head, start to think there's something to it, and before you know it, I'm a shinigami's lapdog. Ain't gonna happen."
"An interesting theory," said Erza neutrally. "I don't expect that to happen anymore than you do. But, do know this: your life will be a whole lot easier the more you play by these rules. Your life is in a shitty place right now, but you have the ability to make it better."
"By playing by your weird, stupid-ass rules."
"Yes," Erza said with a nod, "and if life gets better for you, I swear to you that's in your hands right now. Continue to be an asshole to everyone and everything? It won't get better."
"And what, act all nice?" Grimmjow snorted. "That ain't me. I'd never mean it."
"It doesn't matter if you mean it," Erza said with a shrug. "I'd like it if you did, but if you play nice because it benefits you, then you're still playing nice. The outcome is the same."
His eyes narrowed. "You're just fulla surprises, ain't you? I wouldn't have expected a shinigami to say something like that."
"Well, maybe you don't know everything about shinigami."
He made a face, and was probably about to shoot back with a reply that was likely not what they would count as progress, but they were interrupted. A voice boomed across the air, and Erza recognized the enhanced, reverberating style of kido-carried messaging.
"Attention, all Gotei operatives! Red alert! Repeat, red alert!"
Erza stood up instantly, hand on her blade. It was Nozomi's voice, cast not only to her, but to everyone in the team.
"Arrancar presence in the northern part of the inner city! The raw power confirms it as an espada! Red alert! I repeat, red alert! We are under attack! Respond immediately, all team members!"
"Fuck," Grimmjow spat, balling a fist as he stared up toward the roof. "Guess Aizen's making a move."
"You stay here," Erza barked, the tone of her voice leaving no room for disagreement. "Do not attempt to leave under any circumstances. I have to go, right now!"
Hand still on her blade, she charged toward the exit, up toward the command central. Things could get ugly, and quickly. Aizen had acted at last, and she had to act in response. She only hoped nobody would die just yet.
There we go, finally, onto something I'm sure you've all been waiting for. ACTION! I can promise all of you enjoyable battles to come. As for what went on here, it sure looks like Grimmjow is getting a bit better how to do things here. Hopefully he can move forward even more. Same goes for Nozomi and Kisuke. The two of them really do work well together, and I'm sure Nozomi can now breath a sigh of relief. I'm sure Isshin shares the same setiment now that has powers have returned, and yes, I do plan to cover the ramifications of this down the line.
. I know some of you still arnt sold on the pairing of Erza and Momo yet, but all I ask is to please give it time. Momo's obsessive nature is something we do plan on dealing with down the line, but it has to be in the right time and place.
Not much else to say at the moment, but I'm very eager to hear what you all thought about this chapter. So please leave us a review so we can get some proper feedback, it means a lot.