The surest thing I could say about that day was, it was rest-assuredly World Amnesia Day, if not some World Unawareness Day. I could forgive myself for entirely forgetting about Inoue right at the exact moment when Grimmjow showed up or about Grimmjow's security, but as to why I failed to remark the absence of Ulquiorra's mask was beyond me. But as this was one of those questions which no one, other than God, could have answered, I went back to business.
The long march of the two Arrancar met its end at the foot of the Seretei Penitentiary Unit, the gates of which were slammed at my face the moment I was close enough to pass through them. It turned out that civilians weren't allowed in places like that. And it also turned out I was, in fact, a goddamn civilian, what with all the shinigami accessories I was wearing. So, feeling impelled to clear a few things up, I headed to the Eleventh Division's quarters. Luckily, I found there the person I was looking for.
"You said you'd keep an eye on him." I reminded Yachiru.
"I did, but when he jumped into the hole I couldn't see him anymore."
"Yeah, seems like you did keep an eye on him and, know what, that's all you did; watch him."
"Yes! No need to thank me. But it was bad business, berry-head, bad."
Bad, she said. When something was bad enough for Yachiru, it was probably more than bad. It most likely would be bad in a larger-than-life sort of way. Normally, I wouldn't start taking risks in a direction which involved entrusting to a toddler an enormous responsibility, but I did just that anyway. As it was, I found the conversation extremely vexing and, thankfully, over.
It was a long time before I could look at her without the desire to yell, but I was kind enough to remember I hadn't given her the best instructions needed for a job well done. And she was really still a child in my eyes. It wasn't like scolding would work. So having tried my best to reason with her, which was hopeless even to attempt, to begin with, I accepted defeat with what manliness I had left, and walked away without further complaints.
In the light of later knowledge, I learned that Inoue offered the justice officials her assistance in questioning the two prisoners. Chances were, she didn't know what sort of trouble she dipped her head into, or didn't care if all of it spelled trouble. Either way, she wouldn't give a damn hoot about punishments so long as she got to be in touch with Ulquiorra again. And as I suspected, she meant to do more than the typical interrogation you might wanna perform on criminals. That said, she clearly volunteered her assistance to the authorities with no honest purpose whatsoever.
"I must say, you're really intent on doing this, aren't you?" I asked Inoue when we were finally left alone.
"The cell in which they are confined is practically impenetrable, besides being protected by a number of seals unfamiliar to me."
"Which pretty much says there's no rescuing them as of the moment… Inoue, listen, now is probably not the perfect time to pry on trivial matters, but I'd like to know why and how Ulquiorra suddenly turns out to be Grimmjow's brother."
I looked straight into her eyes as if to say I was in fact possessed by some great urge to be a prying son of a gun. Presently, she was frowning at me, perhaps wanting to expound on her plans to free the two Espada or to seek somebody else's help instead of mine. But because she couldn't do either of these, she spoke in a solemn voice,
"They are indeed brothers, at least with respects to Ulquiorra's accounts, and Grimmjow-san would communicate little to me. My hypothesis is this; when you killed Ulquiora at the time when he was an Espada, all memories of his life as Aizen's underling died with him, in perhaps the same manner as all memories of his life as a normal spirit were destroyed when he transformed into a Hollow. I'm confident enough to say he never remembered any of his past life when he was dwelling in Hueco Mundo. And now, having been resurrected as the same soul that he formerly was, vaguely his memories prior to being an Arrancar were resurrected as well, only that some of them have been blotted out. It seems to me that you never really killed him, that you only killed the Arrancar in him, therefore purifying him."
She said all this without any more constraint than if she had been speaking of headlines. Slowly, I noticed she had been willing to tell me everything in due time, if only I didn't have to be an impatient prick. But this proposal was pointedly one of the most obvious conclusions that could be drawn from the circumstances, if not the only one. Still, a few questions remained, so I inquired,
"If he turned into an Arrancar, or was turned deliberately into one, it entails that he in fact died, or was killed . But who could've killed him, them?"
"That, Kurosaki-kun, remains to be seen. But I suppose what's really worth a mention is the fact that the authorities of Seretei were very particular on the prohibition of certain questions I might heap on the two. I was limited to inquire about matters whose answers may lead them to the culprit, the person who revived Ulquiorra-that means you and me. I was not allowed to hint on subjects which refer to their pasts. Anyhow, I only managed to gather this much because I was sharp enough to employ my Rikka to shield my personal questions from the guards. Now, inexplicably, the judicial body seems to be very anxious about obtaining the identity of the culprit, as if to point out they are suspecting something dark and big is behind all this, when the truth is as plain as that wall behind you. In short, something is being kept from our knowledge, and I doubt if a lot of people are well-versed with that something, whatever it may be. In the end, I have been of very little help to the judicial body."
Inoue had really grown to be a very mature woman without my knowledge. At the back of my mind, I regretted having paid very little attention to her inner merits and her remarkable courage. At any rate, her accounts gave us a lot to think about, most especially because there was no unraveling them entirely at present.
"We'll see to that soon enough. Going back, would you openly suggest that transforming into a hollow can most definitely destroy remnants of one's previous life?"
"Yes, I would venture to assert that much, as far as my knowledge goes. After all, I still remember the time when my own brother's spirit attempted to kill me."
"That, of course, is an actual case on which your hypothesis can be based, among other things. But how do you explain Grimmjow's recollection of Ulquiorra as his brother in their previous lives when he remains an Arrancar and is yet to die as one?"
"You forget that he has been pushed within an inch of death for so many times. You almost killed him on your last face-off. Little by little, it seemed, his former nature was being evoked inside him every time fatal bouts with death were inflicted on him. Look at Nel. She can't even remember she was once Tercera Espada. As for Grimmjow, one lasting blow was perhaps Ulquiorra's 'death'. I'd like to think that calamity awakened him in a way, or caused his remembrance to gather where they should. And I reckon it is now very easy to wrench the mask away from his face. Of course, these are all speculations, and would remain so unless we prove something."
Silence fell on us, so that we could both pursue our separate reflections. Her accounts simply told me we had just bargained for more than we could swallow. If the high and mighty and overly pompous ancients of Seretei were taking this twist of fate as something grave and foreboding of real danger, we were rest-assuredly buried in deep shit.
"One more thing, Inoue; did Ulquiorra mention his family name?"
"I knew you'd ask." She nodded. She, however, didn't utter the answer out loud, rather she produced from her pocket a circular object whose intricate design promptly revealed itself to be an emblem of some sort. Though looking quite sturdy and of strong material, it was very weather-beaten and discolored, its nature perhaps speaking of some prior purpose of existence. Inoue continued, "Keep this. Grimmjow barely spoke a word when I was in their cell but he was desperate enough to hand me this. This is his family's emblem. Should I purpose to discover the injustice life served them, he said, I must only trace the origin, history and meaning of this object. I leave the task to you, Kurosaki-kun."
…
I had found myself in the course of my life in many desperate situations. As of the moment, I was standing outside the Thirteenth Division's headquarters, not knowing what stupid consequences were entailed in this desperate action. Without further impediments, I was announced to Jyuushiro Ukitake.
"How may I help you?" Pleasantly he asked, his face cordial but sickly all the same, as if I shouldn't have come at a worse hour.
"Sir, I need access to certain archives whose contents may or may not be as explosive as I thought, but should you be magnanimous enough to entertain my interests, none of us would have to go through hell." And so I was bluffing, stretching my boldness to lengths I couldn't have reached had the person in front of me been less cordial and gentle in his manners. Way down deep inside, I would very much like to abandon the scene and apologize much later on or pretend I never knocked on their door. But what was done was done.
"And would you happen to possess a permission from the Commander?"
"No, obviously for obvious reasons. For Christ's sake, sir, no one here has to be difficult."
"As much as I want to avoid violence, you can't expect me to just-"
"-sir, listen," I interrupted with the sort of vehemence you'd least exercise on people like the captain of the Thirteenth Division.
In my agitation, instead of resorting to reason or anything less bold, I found my fingers tightly clenched around the mysterious emblem, and no sooner than I realized what I was doing my hand raised, surely on its own accord, to show him the magnificent object.
Jyuushiro Ukitake, so it appeared, was thinking of I knew not what and I was thinking of what the fuck have I brought upon myself and Inoue. For what seemed like three hours, he stared at the emblem like a woman distraught, and to me like a mother displeased. In all assurances, this was what they called deep shit.
But he didn't call in the guards nor smite me with his Zanpakotou. To my surprise, he ordered his two vice-captains to leave the room, seeming as serene as he had been at anytime before now. With caution, he never took his eyes off the object, not even when he reached out to a chair.
"You will tell me where and how you got hold of so valuable an artifact such as that." His majestic voice was saying.
I didn't know what he meant but I sure wanted to know what qualified objects for them to be deemed valuable by Ukitake or any scholar like him. Nevertheless, I gathered myself and asked,
"This? I've never given its value, if it has any, much thought, but if you care to tell me how a small, damaged piece of metal may turn out to be of some importance, perhaps I'd also care to tell you something."
He sighed, duly affronted by my audacity, and after a pensive repose spoke,
"Once it belonged to a very powerful family whose nobility of blood and strength of character might have caused it its ruin, if not exactly extinction."
TBC