The Mask We Wear: Cracked

by Ashesofthefirststar

While on the run from Central, Byakuya and Ichigo are trying to adjust to life in a new country and as new dads. These adjustments are only made harder when Ichigo tries to hide his depression from his lover and him and Zangetsu start having vision like night terrors. Meanwhile, a war is in the works in the Seireitei and the risks are high. Will they be able to protect their world?

4. Chapter 4

A/N: Holy crap guys. I didn't realize it had been almost two months since my last update for this story. I really thought it had only been about a month. Is it me or is time going by way quicker than before? Anyway, I feel bad that I kept people waiting so long on this update. I'lll try not to do that again.

Remember this story switches off from chapter to chapter.(From Ichigo and Byakuya and back to the on goings of the SS) So this picks back up where chapter 2 left off. I know that's been forever ago. lol I usually always respond to comments at the bottom, but for the sake off moving quickly, Im going to skip that for this update and just continue it with the next chapter.

Good Vibes ~ Ashes.

xXx

Sycophants on velvet sofas.

Lavish mansions, vintage wine.

I am so much more than royal.

Snatch your chain and mace your eyes.

If it feels good, tastes good,

it must be mine

-P!ATD

xXx

To The Victor Goes The Spoils

Ikkaku hadn't worked out the fine print of his plan, but despite never being especially detail-orientated when it came to battle strategy, he knew his efforts would need to be viewed from a new perspective, for the entail yielded was much too imperative for him to go about this in his usual audacious and injudicious fashion. It didn't help that Ikkaku knew such a scanty amount about this apparently mysterious and merciless maniac. Still, gossip around the Seireitei was easier to pick up than the common cold; you just had to know the right place to put your ears. Considering Naomi frequented the pubs of the Seireitei and Ikkaku was also a hardened habitué, he knew some of his drinking buddies had to have seen the woman in action.

There were only three bars within the confines of the Seireitei. One which Ikkaku rarely found himself at laid right outside the sixth division's barracks and seemed the most logical choice to find the woman, but first, he had a little reconnaissance to do.

With only two hours left before the clock struck midnight and the curfew was enacted, Ikkaku didn't have a moment to waste. The man flashed through the umbrage given off by the foliage until he found himself in his barracks. Expeditiously, Ikkaku shut his door and prepared quickly. Removing the cloak, he folded it as best as he could, compacting the fabric into a bunched-up square. Briefly, he thought at how much better Yumichika would be a something like this, but quickly removed the thought from his head. There was no time for sentiments, nor was there time to be hung up on stage one of his plan. If he couldn't get past something as trivial as folding, how could he deal with the likes of Kuchiki Naomi?

After he placed the folded cloak within his haori, the garment secretly appressed between his chest and a fold in his fabric, Ikkaku delicately set down the poison-varnished needle and moved to his drawer. Removing an obi, he placed the needle on the cloth and coiled it gently. Honestly, he was more nervous about fucking up right off the bat by mistakenly pricking himself. He wasn't exactly known for his graceful and wary hands. Once the needle was safely relocated into the now pouch-like sash, Ikkaku placed it alongside the cloak, only to smooth out the tighter fabric that slung around his chest, trying to veil that he was in fact veiling something.

Almost instinctually, he moved to stage two without missing a beat, all the while building his's self-assurance along the way. Surely this was a new territory, but so what? A plucky Ikkaku truly believed that, as long as he said he could do it, it would be a triumphant mission, for, to Ikkaku, there was no failing. He went into every altercation with the chutzpah of a seasoned warrior, donning a brass backbone that smugly carried him through battle, never with the slightest hindrance of incertitude. However, unlike the war-torn days of his antecedent, more than his own fortitude as a warrior was in jeopardy. Before, if he'd failed, there would be an honor and an acceptance, because he truly felt as if this came as a result of his own shortcomings, but with this quest, such a great deal could ride on the information netted. The knowledge within Naomi's kooky brain could be their biggest, most savage missile within their arsenal. It was difficult to not let the pressure erode away that tough vertebrae, so he pushed the implications of what failing meant to the back of his brain as he strutted confidently through his barracks.

Luck seemed to be on his side tonight, as he didn't even need to go looking for the comrade he was in search of. In a common area sat their sixth seat. Yes, if intelligence and strategy wouldn't carry him through this, he was always toting double aces in his back pocket. He was the luckiest bastard in the world.

The thought made his fingers brush over a talisman that ornamented his protruding collar bones: a feather, one of Yumichika's feathers that his lover had riveted to a chain and given to him, that rested within the dip of his chest. When Yumichika had presented him with the necklace, he'd said it was a good luck charm, causing Ikkaku to roll his eyes hard, but nevertheless accept the gift. As Yumichika had fastened the chain around his brawny neck, his soft honeyed voice resonated in Ikkaku's ear when he'd said 'perhaps all of that good luck comes from us being together, you were a bumbling fool before we met. This way, I'll always bring you luck, since I can't be by your side all the time now.' Though he'd veiled it well, the idea reverberated within his thoracic cavity, for it was true, the closer he and Yumichika became, the more his mere existence seemed like an actual life worth living, the more he thrived, and the luckier he became. Such a small gesture spoke volumes, for even while in different divisions, they were never really apart.

"Yo, Haruki-san," Ikkaku greeted, his usual maniacal grin in place. Being the ornery combination of pugnacious and blunt, some may assume Ikkaku to be ostracized and detested. Within certain circles of the Gotei, he was sure that this held true, not that he cared one way or the other, but within his division, it was quite the opposite. The third seat was mister popular throughout the squad and held a large amount of reverence, not to mention fear, which he rather enjoyed, for within their division, his attributes, which were considered an acquired taste by many within the Gotei, were the preferred taste. Yes. One could call the eleventh division thugs, thugs amongst men, but these thugs were loyal and with heart above all.

With an air of jocundity, the sixth seat raised his head and greeted, "Oi, Ikkaku-san, I figured you'd be halfway through depleting the sake supply at the Ō kappu by now."

"Yeah, and I'd figured you'd be right behind me handling the other half." He grinned, splaying himself out on an adjacent seat. Of course, Ikkaku knew that wasn't true. Haruki-san was usually the victim of all the paperwork Kenpachi refused. After it piled up to a point where neglect was no longer an option, the captain would usually find Haruki and drop a pile big enough to canvas every wall of the division in the poor kid's lap, only to add a 'have fun' before bulldozing away. Ikkaku wasn't sure why Kenpachi always picked Haruki. He knew the captain liked him well enough, for he had made him the sixth seat. It was either one of Kenpachi's twisted hobbies or possibly because Haruki was one of the brainier guys in the division, and he trusted him to get it right.

With a harmless roll of the eyes, the man gestured to the sky scraper's worth of paperwork situated on the table and said, "Not tonight. Tonight, I'm on fodder duty."

"Ahh," Ikkaku said with a flippant wave of the hand, "you're not of little significance." He looked closer to the pile as if it was the first time he'd seen it, narrowing his eyes and flipping through the stack carelessly. "If it weren't for you, I'd probably have to do this shit." It was obvious that Captain hadn't done paperwork in months, if not longer. Poor kid, Zaraki could at least stick the guy with his workload more often, so when he did, it wouldn't take the sixth seat days to complete.

Haruki swatted the man's hand away, saying something about how everything was organized and how he'd beat Ikkaku to a bloody pulp if he fucked it up, or die trying more likely.

He slinked his arms against the back of the couch he was perched upon. "I'm about to head to Horoyoi Tsubaki, and I'd figure I'd ask if ya' wanted to join, but, uh," he smirked slightly, giving a cursory glance at the papers plastering the entirety of the work table, "I guess you have funnier plans for tonight, huh?"

Letting his eye vacillate between Ikkaku and his papers, he spoke while writing. With a throaty chuckle, he queried, "Since when do you drink at Horoyoi Tsubaki? I thought most of the sixth division pissed you off." Ikkaku knew Haruki to not be a fan of most sixth division members, however, ironically so, he dated a girl that was in that squad. He would often frequent the pub with her, begrudgingly so.

"Renji wants to swing by and see some of his old comrades," he fibbed smoothly and without a snitch. "Ya' know how sentimental that dope is, so I figured why not. A drinks a drink anyway."

"Yeah, but bad company's still bad company," the other man countered with a grin. It wasn't as if the sixth and eleventh divisions abhorred each other, more so, the two groups were from different worlds. To the eleventh division, most of the members were high and mighty wet blankets with unwarranted superiority complexes.

"That's where the alcohol helps," Ikkaku quipped. "But I also heard some pretty crazy rumors about the new sixth division captain, and I didn't want to miss the opportunity to validate em' for myself."

Haruki netted his brows at the man, making Ikkaku wonder if he should have transitioned into the topic so quickly. He didn't have a lot of time, but he didn't want his intentions to be questioned either. Perhaps it did seem slightly odd for Ikkaku to give a rat's ass about the new sixth division captain. As if his brain automatically knew this was the right thing to say, he blurted out, "I heard she's more powerful than Kuchiki-san."

The bemused look on Haruki's face turned into a sly grin as he cocked an eyebrow. "Ikkaku-san, are you looking to fight with Kuchiki Naomi-taichou?"

Grinning, he confirmed in so many words, "I'll see how the night goes, but could you blame me? That's a challenge too good to give up."

"I'd usually say fighting a captain is crazy, even for you," he smirked, "but in this case, you might actually get what you want."

"Whatch'a mean?" Ikkaku egged on.

"That lunatic's always challenging someone to a fight. Always a seated officer, male or female, and always in Zanjutsu, because that's the only thing most officers could hope to beat a captain at. It is possible to be less powerful than a captain, but more proficient at sword fighting techniques." He yawned, never stopping the swift movements of his pen. "Ya' might get a little bit more than you bargained for though." Ikkaku's silence prompted him to fill it with an explanation. "You're fighting for more than bragging rights. Everyone she challenges, there's always something on the line." The man's face twisted slightly as his demeanor became tensed, uncomfortable even. That was not a common thing for a division eleven man to be.

"What is it?" Ikkaku asked.

Swallowing down any of his bashfulness, he looked Ikkaku dead on and replied, "Your body, for a night that is. If you lose, you have to let her bed you."

"People fucking agree to this?!" Ikkaku boomed incredulously.

"Most, not that everyone likes the stakes. I think us seated officers are predisposed to being extremely prideful. It's hard to turn down a chance to beat a captain, especially the way she goads you into it." The man erected an eye brow at him, stopping his writing all together. "I've seen a lot of people fight her, and never have I seen anyone win. Honestly, I think she does it because she's sick in the head. Something about her, it's like she wants to add insult to injury, like it's more about humiliating you than the sex part." The man noticeably shuddered. "I have Kenpachi-san as a captain, but he's the fucking picture of complete mental health next to that maniac."

And if that didn't say something, nothing else would, because Kenpachi was a lot of things, but sane was not an adjective usually attached to him.

"I still can't believe that some people actually try to lose to her," the man grimaced.

Ikkaku couldn't help but grimace in suit. Who would want to sacrifice their pride to sleep with this broad? "Really?"

Shaking his head and gaping his eyes slightly, he said, "Oh yeah. I guess I get it to a certain extent, she's a really beautiful woman. If I was a different type of guy and wasn't afraid she'd bite my fucking manhood off, I might be inclined to myself." Smirking at the man, he said, "I'm sure you've heard the saying, Ikkaku, crazy in the head, crazy in bed. Still it's not worth it."

After a brief moment, Ikkaku asked, "She's never lost to anyone, huh?"

Smirking playfully, the sixth said, "Well, not until tonight."

'This is exactly what I need. Luck really is on my side.' Boastful, Ikkaku jumped up, slapped Haruki on the shoulder, and exclaimed, "Yeah, her luck's definitely running out tonight. Thanks for the information, Haruki-san."

xXx

When Ikkaku decided to try and infiltrate the Kuchiki mansion for information, he knew there were only so many available options. First and foremost, even with his cloak, it'd be near to impossible to get into the kido-sealed gate without someone who resided within the estate, namely Kuchiki Naomi. There were only so many ways a man could get an invitation back to a woman's place, and none of them were favorable for Ikkaku. Not only were his acting skills pretty inept and the idea of having to come on to Naomi, or anyone who wasn't Yumichika for that matter, made his skin crawl, but he was a complete greenhorn of a pick-up artist. He did spend his time around a group of burly men every day, and the only girl he had experience talking to was three feet tall and liked to hoard candy.

However, with the newly obtained entail, Ikkaku's path into that manor was clearly marked, almost suspiciously so. It was almost as if the world had thrown him a freebie on this one. The only thing he'd have to do was fight Naomi, fight Naomi and lose, that is. The losing itself would probably be the most challenging step in this espionage, for a prideful warrior like Ikkaku losing purposefully was like the disfigurement of his honor. Nevertheless, Ikkaku hadn't gotten this far to let something as feckless as his own pompous pride get in the way. What would such pride mean if all of his comrades were executed, if Yumichika was hurt, or if he just allowed the hierarchy of the Gotei to walk atop of them like they were infinitesimal bugs beneath their feet? That's where his true pride and honor lived, in the rebel yell of his compatriots, all refusing to be the collateral damage of Central's heinous totalitarianism. He could sacrifice some of his arrogance for such an unparalleled sense of vindication.

In the barracks' environs lay Horoyoi Tsubaki, a pub founded and maintained by the sixth division long before Byakuya was head of the clan. It was created under the stipulation that it would be all-inclusive, on the grounds that other squads might become embittered, feeling as if the sixth obtained favoritism because of their noble standing. Still, for non-division members, the welcoming comity often gave out dirty stares and venomous words. Ikkaku didn't care though. He had no fucks to give when it came to the opinions of self-righteous nobodies.

So when he entered the establishment, there were eyes all on him, but he was none the wiser. As soon as he entered the threshold, he saw Naomi seated at the bar, sipping her sake tentatively. She seemed somber and elegant, her gloved hands wrapped around her drinking cup in such a dainty fashion. Like Byakuya, she held, what appeared to be, a reserved attraction. Her feminine yet piercing features weren't exaggerated by makeup and were intense in their utter rawness. Her long dark strands were as luxurious yet firm as the web of a black widow, falling all the way down her back, freed of a hair piece. She had the same face as Byakuya, the same heavy coal orbs set beneath pristinely arched eyebrows, the same straight pointed nose of aristocracy, and naturally pouty lips that held themselves in a serious manner, only with a much softer edge to it all. Kuchikis seemed to hold this stony, forlorn beauty.

Ikkaku thought it best to approach the woman in a bellicose fashion, puffed up and full of cavalier air. Kuchikis' compositional makeup was based off pride, making it easy to goad them into a fight if you knew exactly which buttons to push. With little heed, Ikkaku grandstanded over to the captain and stopped right behind her.

"Captain Kuchiki," Ikkaku said, all of his fight-ready energy behind his tonality.

Her unimpressed eyes gave a cursory glance over her shoulder. "The only thing I hate more than men who interrupt my personal time are arrogant men who don't know their place. You seem to be drawing the short stick on both peeves."

"I'm looking for a fight and I won't be denied." He smirked wryly, "I'd be apprehensive too. Beating me is a snowball's shot in hell, but who knows, you may get lucky."

Within a blink of an eye, maybe less, Ikkaku found his chin met by the cold point of steel and his knees bracing against the floor board. All of that reserved instability flipped to a latent maniacal grin in an instant, and Ikkaku returned the delirious gesture graciously. Only a raving man would be smiling so confidently while at the sharp end of a blade, but that is why they'd picked Ikkaku, because he was his own special brand of crazy.

"And do you know of the award I'm to collect if you lose?" The woman's jack-o-lantern grin deepened the chasm of her ivory face as she pressed the steel deeper into the ruddy skin of Ikkaku's upturned chin.

"Yeah, I heard of your trophy. What of it? That's got nothin' to do with me."

Naomi snickered with great aplomb, shaking her head as if she was belittling a child. "Whether you're so imbecilic that you believe you could beat me or you're just a glutton for pain." Leaning in closer, her blade breaking the skin and staining itself with the crimson iron of Ikkaku's blood, she whispered, "Are you sexually aroused by humiliation, Madarame-san?"

His breath caught slightly at the sound of his name hitting his eardrum, only more blood curdling by the chilling sharpness of the woman's words and the tepidness of her breath so close to his neck. Recovering quickly, he smirked and spoke with an equal amount of brassiness. "You forgot one more option," Ikkaku declared, gripping his zanpakutou tightly. With swift and nimble movements, he was able to knock the woman's sword from his neck and stand back up. "I'm just stronger than you."

Naomi stood back impassively, appraising the man with a more muted amusement. Her eyes ran up and down his physique as if she was deciding if he was a worthy opponent. Sheathing her sword, the woman gave a flippant throw of the hand. "I'll pass. I'm not much in the mood to degrade one as yourself tonight. I did come out for the sole purpose of relaxing, after all."

With all the affronted irascibility he could manage, Ikkaku went to speak, but was cut off by the barkeep. A tiny mousey man, one of the many fodder that made of the sixth division, spoke up with all the bravado he could muster.

"Captain Kuchiki-san," the man addressed, pushing up his glasses. "Could you please not spar in here tonight? It'll cause a lot of damage that the division will have to fix with our personal resources."

"Oh Saito-san, sweet, foolish Saito," the woman patronized, putting on what passed as a sympathetic grin. "Of course I'll idle my hands, and just for you, since you're obviously the owner of this bar."

The man shied away slightly, his knees quivering. "No, I mean, of course I didn't mean tha-"

"No, no, you're right, Saito. While you're at it, perhaps I should idle my hands of the division also, and let you run the show, since you seem to know what's best."

The man just shook his head no, his mouth pitifully contouring as he tried to think of something to say.

Ikkaku couldn't help but feel bad for the guy. With spiritual pressure like his, even with all the practice in the world, he'd be lucky to achieve shikai. Still, even Ikkaku knew without fodder like the barkeep, the Gotei wouldn't have a leg to stand on. They're called foot soldiers for a reason and they certainly shouldn't be treated insignificantly. Just having the gall to stand up to Naomi showed he was worthy of his position. Still, Ikkaku didn't really have time to worry about the mistreatment, and more so, was trying to figure out a way to use this all to his advantage.

Of course, he didn't want to let the spar go, but if he pushed Naomi too far, who knew how she'd react. There was always plan A: rubbing elbows, comparing their crazy with each other in hopes she'd find some kind of kinship with him. Yet, if he was going to take that course of action, he'd need to do something drastic.

In almost one swift movement, Naomi stood and grabbed at the man's uniform, hoisting him over the bar. "Do you see this, Saito-san?" she asked humorously, staring into the frantic brown orbs of the frightened barkeep. "Do you see how I have you so helplessly in my grasp, how I hold your life in my hand, and there's nothing you can do about it? That's power. That's what separates the bugs from the humans, the humans from the gods. Even a god of death yourself is still controlled by the more powerful." Pursing her lips, she snickered dangerously. "That's why I control this bar and our division, and you do not, and I do whatever I want with my property."

Naomi was about the drop the poor man and let him scatter when, to her surprise, his neck was grasped and his face was sent flying towards the bar. The man's head practically bounced like a basketball, and in all the times Ikkaku had fought a man without cause, for the first time, he felt guilty.

But guilt had no place here right now.

Ikkaku had jumped over the bar and added injury to the man's insult, smashing his head into the bar. He was still conscious when he fell back onto the floor and looked up hazily at the brazen mound of muscles looking down at him. He used the sleeve of his uniform to cover a giant gash while pushing himself back with his feet, grappling for his sword in fear.

Ikkaku smiled maniacally. "Ya' heard the lady, ya' weakling. Why don't you run along and let the grown-ups talk." Picking up a dish rag that lied across the bar, he threw it in the man's face. "Go clean yourself up, and don't talk back to superiors until your strong enough to back up ya' words."

The man was ashen from a mix of blood loss and shock, yet he somehow found it in him to nod and scurry away in his paralyzed state. At this point, Naomi was actually howling with laughter. Obviously, she enjoyed Ikkaku's show.

Picking up a sake bottle, Ikkaku refilled her cup. "And a drink for ya', m'lady." He smirked deviously.

The raven-haired maniac was smiling pleasantly, but her eyes held a tinge of skepticism. Perching her chin on her overlapping hands, she leaned her elbows on the bar only to ask, "You were just trying to fight me. Now you want to be my drinking partner?"

"Oh, I still want to fight ya'." Leaning in slightly, Ikkaku tried to mimic the woman's body language. "I'm just in no hurry. Besides," he cocked an eyebrow, "some of the funniest people I know are the best sparring partners I've had."

"Yes." She sipped her sake and gave a refreshed sigh. "But why are you still hanging around me?"

Forgoing a cup and drinking straight from the sake bottle, Ikkaku shrugged his shoulders. "Ya' seem fun, powerful." Tapping the bar with his knuckles, he added, "My type of crazy. Everyone around here is so concerned about being civil and rule bound, but," leaning in closer, and with a tone Ikkaku believed to be heady, he said, "lone wolves like us, we know things like that aren't important."

Wryly pursing her lips against the glass brim of her cup, she asserted, "Shows how much you know about me, Lieutenant. A lone wolf is a pack animal that's been left or exiled from its group, then wonders alone for the rest of its days. I, however, am a snake. I was born of a group, but a group that chooses to exist in solitude. Snakes, they hunt, travel, and live very isolated lives from birth. Snakes have never know the attachment of others."

"If ya' ask me, that means we're the same, we just got there from different paths."

Naomi grinned and crinkled her nose slightly. "Well I didn't ask you, but," she eyed the man cursorily, "you are an interesting man."

Ikkaku was finding this acting thing less of a challenge than he'd imagined. Once he justified the means, it was easy to slip into the role and sprinkle his words with seemingly flirtatious intent. The manipulating, the pretending to be someone else, it was actually sort of fun in a weird way. He'd never had to beat an opponent without physical means, and was now realizing that it could be just as satisfying.

"Not really." He studied the woman's body language, taking note of how she arched her shoulders in closer, closing the distance between them. He followed her lead, closing the distance even more. "I think I'm just a straight forward normal guy." He smirked, his lips particularly close to the pronouncedly curved cheekbones of the woman. "All of those whiny do-gooders, the ones who take their power for granted, they're the weird ones."

Bowing her head slightly, the captain batted her lashes and snickered towards her drink in a knowing manner. "Am I to assume you're trying to pick me up, Madarame-san? That is certainly tactless of you."

"Something tells me you don't care all too much about tact. I know I sure as hell don't," Ikkaku assured.

To his bewilderment, the woman pushed her nose in between the crook of his neck and inhaled deeply, making him straighten up slightly. "Uh, whatcha' doing?" He tried not to sound as put-off as he was, resulting in an out of place chuckle.

She sniffed at the man a couple of more times before exiting the personal space just enough to throw him an impish glare, only intensified by the mischievous smirk that accompanied it. "I was smelling your fear."

Huffing humorously, Ikkaku challenged, "You may need to come closer if you're trying to find any of that."

Luckily, she didn't take the proposition up. Sitting back in her chair, she picked up her glass and tapped it thoughtfully. "A man who tries to take me back to the Kuchiki manor must be a brave man indeed."

"I wasn't really thinking the manor. I'm ballsy, but I ain't stupid. Those elders would have me arrested if they caught me with you."

Naomi rolled her eyes before downing the rest of her sake in one gulp. Resting a cheek against her tightened fist, she explained, "The elders reside in the western wing and know better than to bother me."

'Bingo.' Ikkaku thought. That would make things a lot easier for him once he got into the manor. "How about you and I clear out the bar until this damn curfew comes around?" he offered.

Picking up the sake bottle and refilling her glass, Naomi gave a snooty flip of her hair before pressing her lips to her cup. "I don't mind such frivolous rules. You're drinking with royalty, Madarame-san. Be humbled."

Once again drinking from the bottle, he let the sake flow from the neck and quench his thirst while also cementing his nerves. "I can see it has its perks."

xXx

Once inside the grandiose living area of the Kuchiki estate, it took no time at all to spike the woman's drink. Ikkaku prepared her cup of sake and stirred it with the needle before handing it off to her. Within a couple of minutes, the woman had passed out on a leather couch. Hopefully, she'd assume she'd fallen to sleep in a drunken stupor and credit the painful effects of Salim's poisons to a gnarly hangover.

With little time to waste, Ikkaku removed his cloak and draped it around himself before moving briskly through the labyrinth of an estate. He veiled his pressure along with his appearance, trying to move silently yet swiftly. It had occurred to him that the rest of his plan truly was up to luck, for once he got to the west wing, he had to locate something that would give him some intel on the Kuchiki's motives. He'd been curiously lucky as it was, so perhaps he'd keep that winning streak rolling. Certainly, finding the west wing in itself was a triumph, but five minutes later, he stood somewhat hesitantly at the cavity of the elder's wing of residence.

A lengthy hallway was lined by massive wooden pillars and paper sliding doors, each depicting a panoramic design. The high ceilings were divided into geometrical squares, each also illustrating a scenic view. From the ceiling hung sumptuous chandeliers, each singular crystal reflecting a prismatic shine across the golden rectangle tiles. Alone, these lofty living quarters were much larger than the modest barracks of the eleventh division. Ikkaku was at a loss of where to start searching.

He had little time for deliberation. Therefore, his body started moving in hopes his brain would catch up at some point. Walking up the hallway, Ikkaku heard one of the sliding doors open and he instinctively moved behind a pillar, despite his invisibility.

The two men who exited were recognized immediately as Yoshida, the clan elder, and his right hand, Aktyama. They both stood outside of the doorway momentarily, each garbed in flashy noble attire, seemingly in the middle of a conversation started inside of the room.

"I don't see why you're complaining, Aktyama-san. You're the one who suggested her in the first place," Yoshida reminded with a flippant wave of the hand.

"Well what other options did we have at that point, especially since only full-blooded Kuchikis are allowed to head the house? This is because of the decisions you've made, Yoshida-san," the elder blamed, throwing the man a disappointed glare.

"It's of no matter," the held elder deflected, beginning to walk forward. "If the prophecy is correct, she won't be a problem for long."

'Prophecy?' Ikkaku introspective, following the men silently, switching from pillar to pillar while keeping a distance.

"You've gone complete senile, Yoshida-san. Your whole purpose is to stop this prophecy, yet you believe in it so earnestly. You're even banking on it to handle the Naomi situation."

Sighing irately at the insubordination that he'd became habituated to from his fellow elder, Yoshida recanted, "No. I'm merely suggesting that if you know the future, you can change it. I never wanted Byakuya out of power, he's much more manageable than Naomi, or for the faith of the prophecy to befall him." Now stopping in front of a sliding door, he continued to explain, "However, if such a fate fell on the head of our clan, Byakuya wouldn't reap the consequences, and if it doesn't happen, even better." Tickling his beard with his wrinkled digits, Yoshida said, "We'll stronghold him back into this position and under our thumb, then we'll deal with Naomi appropriately." Grimacing in revulsion, "Put that woman back in a cage where she belongs."

"If such a fate did befall our head, we'd have much bigger problems than who will lead the clan. For instance, the rest of the prophesy becoming reality. You say you can change the future if you know it, but Yoshida-san," Aktyama mused, "you can also inadvertently cause it. Besides, after all this, do you really believe Kuchiki-san would come back to a household run by the same elders that drove him off?"

Yoshida's translucent sagging skin creaked into a menacing grin, sending chills down his counterpart. "You'd be surprised how the lives of one's loved ones acts as a great impetus." Giving an aslant glare towards the sliding door, Yoshida suggested, "It's well enough time to retire for the evening, wouldn't you agree?"

Looking on in disgusting disbelief, Aktyama shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose as he moved to walk across the hall. "Yeah, I don't want to sit and listen to this anymore."

At the sound of two shutting doors, Ikkaku sat thoughtfully for a transitory moment, ruminating over the information he'd just attained and what exactly it meant.

It was the patter of footsteps that gained his attention, making him look up from behind the pillar where he was situated. Naomi Kuchiki was practically slithering down the hall like a snake, quickly yet with a carnivorous grace. Just as she had in the bar, she was sniffing heavily. With an upturned nose, she stopped in the middle of the hall, a mere two yards away from Ikkaku. She sniffed again, each time turning her head in a different direction, her neck seemingly elastic from the way it would twist and turn sharply and with little issue.

Ikkaku wanted to flash step away, but he was certain any movement would give him away instantly. Settling in deeper to his spot, he seized his breaths. The only noises were Naomi's deep inhales and the coursing of blood pumping through his veins.

She took a few more steps until she stood parallel with Ikkaku. A forbidding grin smeared her face. That was the grin of victory. Ikkaku knew, he was fucked.

Withdrawing her sword, Naomi slung her blade into the wooden pillar. A swift wind overcame Ikkaku's scalp as the blade nearly grazed his head where he was crouched. Standing in front of the pillar, Naomi removed her sword and said, "Would you please stand for me, dear?"

For a moment, Ikkaku considered flashing past her in a last ditch attempt to make a break for it, but the possibility of that working out in his favor didn't seem like odds he liked. However, he couldn't exactly talk his way out of this one, so flashing seemed to be his best odds.

His decision was made for him when the steel tip on Naomi's blade slipped under the hood of the cloak and removed it in one nimble flick of the wrist. "I asked so politely. Please don't make repeat myself." She grinned down at the intense orbs.

In that moment, Ikkaku realized he had been a fool, utterly senseless. The whole night everything had been so simple, almost suspiciously so, but he had just chalked it up to his good luck. He should have known better, but now here he was, frantically filing through his head for a way out of this that didn't involve murdering Naomi Kuchiki and signing his death warrant as a result. Certainly, Ikkaku wasn't dumb, but under this type of pressure, he was like a child with their hand caught in a cookie jar. What kind of excuse could he give? What could he do to get out of this? There had to be something, something he could do or say, something that Naomi wanted. Everyone had a price.

He stood to his feet, squaring his shoulders and jaw in a prideful manner. If he was going down, he'd go down with dignity, standing on his own two legs. The serpentine grin that split her face was so comically sadistic in its nature, showing the instability of the person who donned it.

Having no words of evasion, Ikkaku clenched his teeth in preparation. "Well?" he asked, his tone filled with defiance. Naomi just kept that twisted turn of the lips.

"You're probably wondering why I'm not passed out right now?" Naomi finally spoke up, standing dangerously close to Ikkaku's personal space.

"Not really." That was the least of Ikkaku's concerns right now.

"I'll give you this, you did well at first. You almost had me fooled, but you made one big mistake." At the twitch of Ikkaku's eye brow, she explained, "You weren't patient, my dear. Every predator knows the importance of stalking their prey, taking their time." A pointed fingernail met the tender and pulsating skin under Ikkaku's jaw, running it softly down the flesh. Ikkaku practically growled at the contact, but made no attempt to move. "Urgency is the downfall to all overconfident men." Scratching the tip past his adam's apple and flicking it off the tip of Ikkaku's pronounced chin, she withdrew her hand only to brush the talisman settled within the dip of the man's chest. "I know about your lover," she said coyly, brushing the tip of her nail across the silky material. "Hm, what's his name? That feather boy. Yumichika, is it?"

Just as she intended, that got the man's attention. It was obvious by the way his eyes filled with a perplexed frustration and his lip twitched in chagrin, his whole demeanor seething, stifled by his want to not make any rash decisions. Before he could say anything, she began again, "I make it my business to know things, if you're wondering how I knew. You know, if you had've just walked away after I turned down your fight and came back to retry latter, I might have bought it. You're known for being very fight-ready, so that makes sense. However," she cocked an eyebrow that taunted Ikkaku with its amusement. "Trying to bed me? Pfh- that couldn't have been more suspicious. You, my dear, moved your pieces before you could even see the whole battlefield."

Ikkaku was not in the mood for her explanation or mind games. He knew she wanted something, or else he'd already be in the custody of Central and half way to his death. It was time for her to stop dancing around the issue and just come out with it. "So what? What do you want?"

A jovial look flooded the woman's coal orbs, a look that would only enhance her beauty if not overshadowed by a mask of lunacy. "Ah, so you're not that stupid. What I want is simple, dear, and if you give it to me, you can walk out of here as if this never happened. All I want to know is what information you yielded in your little spy mission. The elders have been keeping things from me and I've been trying to figure out just what that is." Bopping the man on the nose, she gleamed. "What a good pet you are, coming around and doing all the work for me."

Pushing past his vexation and the thumping of his nerves screaming for impulsive action, Ikkaku sincerely thought of her proposition in the most logical manner he could. On one hand, Naomi wasn't their enemy, not really. Would passing the information on to her really be so daft or dangerous? Did the idiom 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend' hold ground here? Yet, just as likely, she could simply be playing him, readying her sword to pierce him the moment the confession penetrated his mouth. More so, who knew what she'd do with the information, because he certainly couldn't trust this snake of a woman. He flipped the possibilities over and over in his head, trying to think about what someone more experience would do in this position, though those thoughts would do him no good. It was him standing in front of Naomi's blade and bloodthirsty sneer. It was his choice to make, and that meant prioritizing exactly what was important to him. He needed to get that information to Juushiro and the others, and if he was imprisoned, there was still a good possibility of him doing such. However, if he told her what she wanted, there was no telling if he'd end up a lifeless sack of flesh and bones on the Kuchiki manor floor.

He made his decision. "Do what you're going to do. I ain't tellin' you shit."

That wild and almost feral grin mellowed into an equally as perilous smirk as a soft chuckle filled the tense silence between the two. "Of course you won't. I am glad, that makes this much, much more entertaining."

Almost missing it, Ikkaku saw her fingers pat her hilt in the same way a person would caress a pet. Not missing a beat, he grabbed for his own sword, but merely milliseconds too late.

"Dakō ninfu, charm." Before his reflexes could ignite, with merely the blink of an eye, her sword turned into a staff that took the shape of a jet black snake, eyes a stabbing yellow, tail coiling at the end. More troubling, her pupils became tiny slits of pure blackness, breaking her now vibrant gold orbs, and pulling him in. Much like a ripple in time, they sucked everything into the void of their trance-inducing twilight. Ikkaku started to go numb, the entirety of his consciousness feeling as if it was being suctioned from his very limbs. Thoughts, awareness, all functions, they dulled to the point of nonexistence, till the point he could merely stand in complete dumbstruck paralysis. All memory of why he was there or where there was exactly fled him, leaving him dangling in between matter. He knew he was standing. He could even see and hear, but nothing computed and looked mostly like splotches of watercolor all running together. It all made about as much sense as it would to a newborn infant. Limbs inert and mind vulnerable, he existed only beside himself.

Gripping her staff in the firm yet graceful way one held a child, she ran her nails across the head of the serpent. Shaking her head in a show of comical disappointment, she said, "If you knew anything about snakes, you'd know they hunt with their sense of smell." Tapping her nose a couple of times, she shrugged her shoulders. "Though, I suppose you don't know much of anything right now." Confused eyes met hers, as if asking her to explain what world he had entered into, but she knew her words would never meet his train of thought unless she wanted them to, for her charm acted as a filter for all perceptions. "Earlier, I wasn't trying to sense your fear per se. No. I was trying to sense the strength of your willpower."

Surely a show of her insanity, she continued to speak to the man who could not understand her, deriving pleasure from the weakness of his current dissipation. "While with many drugs, your tolerance goes up the more you come in contact with it, mine does quite the opposite. The first time I charm someone, it's a rather weak trance depending on the resolution of my prey. You, dear, have such a strength of will that my powers will probably only last for another," she tilted her head side to side, as if calculating, "I'd say ten minutes. For many, I could simply manipulate their memories. " She ran a flat palm over the man's shining scalp in an almost affectionate manner, fluttering her fingers like moth wings. "Though the memories may not stick depending on the said person's constitution, and you are quite the strong man." Licking her lips predatorily, she continued, "You're probably fighting it right now and you don't even know it." Naomi ran her thumb pass the slightly parted coarse lips of Ikkaku. "How inciting. The more powerful they are, the funnier it is when they fall. Luckily for me, I have ways of making this trance last much longer and becoming much deeper. You see, Ikkaku, a cobra doesn't simply bite its prey, it then constricts it."

Stepping back, the ripples of black stretched across the spherical expanse of potent yellow, grasping him within their depths. "Dakō ninfu, shed." In that brief moment, Ikkaku caught a glimmer of realization within his cycle of discombobulation. His whereabouts were still unknown, a blank space filling the crevices of his mind, but the fog of obscurity dwindled only marginally. All he could take in was the blurred outline of a familiar face. It was like looking at a person through a window during a rain storm. That wry twist of the lips, those heavy eyelids sitting low over the most enchanting orbs, purple like lilacs, that pointed chin and trenchant jaw, he knew exactly who they belonged to. He just didn't remember how he knew. Oh, and when his voice finally rang out, that voice so mesmerizing and always on the edge of biting, sounding as sweet and heavy as syrup, it filled him with familiarity.

Like a scared confused child grappling for their mother, he grabbed the man's hips and pulled him closer, trying to anchor himself to the only reality he had ever known. The tangibility of it all was comforting him while also exciting him. Finally, a name fell from his lips, though he was unsure of where it came from. It wasn't a memory, he just knew, like how an amnesia patient knows how to ride a bike, but nothing of the moments they'd learned, he knew he loved this man eminently.

"Yumichika?" he managed the words, finding the sound of his own voice strange and out of place. Though the bright smile and embracing arms he received put to bed any troublesome thoughts and the scent that exuded from this man and lingered in his nostrils, though he never remembered smelling it before nor meeting this man, it was a smell he knew well. It was one he knew belonged to this stranger and that he'd indulged in many times before.

"Ikkaku," the sweet voice rasped in his ear. Ikkaku was his name, he believed. That sounded right. It sounded as if it belonged to him. Soft finger pads pressed one at time down his bare head, each lulling him into a safety he'd never believed possible, each touch so alleviating. That palliative voice spoke once more, this time with eyes looking directly into his. Those whirlpools of comfort held his whole world, the only truth he'd ever known. "Dear, I need you to remember something for me." He smoothly glided his hand in comfort. "Can you tell me exactly what the elders said?"

His eyes scrunched in confusion down at his new protector, frustrated in disappointing him, frustrated in not understand, not remembering. "I-" He shook his back and forth, "... I don't…"

Thumbs pressed into his throbbing temples, the man kneading them softly. "Yes you do. It's in there, you just have to try. Please, for me."

And try he did, because this man was his whole world. They both spun on an axis of just their own, nothing else coming in or out of this vacuum. Just like that, a single memory flickered into his mind from what appeared to be the ceaseless cavity that was his existence, a memory he was allowed to remember, a sense he was allowed to perceive. Again he spoke, telling the man about the conversation he'd heard. Why would he not? This man was the earth and the cosmos to him, his savior in this tempest of white noise.

"Very interesting," the man said. Deep-seated eyes glared into his, sultry and inviting. "Will you please lay with me, Ikkaku? I am very drained, but I still would like to help you remember."

He knew he was right to trust this man. He was going to make everything clear again. He would put an end to the static. Simply nodding, he interlaced their fingers and let himself be led away.

It took no more than the blinding sun to wash over him for Ikkaku to understand something was very wrong. As soon as awareness found him, he sprung up in a state of alertness, sitting straight up in a bed he recognized to not be his own. This bed was much bigger than his own and leaps above it in comfort. His fist clutched into the silky sheets, a forgetful frustration running through him. He shut his eyelids hard, trying to sort through his disarrayed memories until he pieced them into a comprehendible explanation of the events that took place the night prior. What he remembered made every inch of his skin crawl, made his stomach twist and turn with refutal. His whole body rejected the impossible memories. The cloth that sat against him was cool, making him realize that he was completely bare. Beside him, situated on a night stand of sorts, was his cloak and shihakusho.

This sight made the memories all the more real and the knots in his stomach all that tighter. Still there was no part of him that could believe what he was recalling, even as the images burnt themselves into his skull. Quickly, he dressed before he was off, leaving the Kuchiki manner in search for the truth, a truth he'd be willing to accept.

xXx

Yumichika stood among the resistance group that had grown into some of his closest comrades. He wore a sad smile, tuning out most of the murmurs that filled the snow white shadow domain. His thoughts were elsewhere, riddled by a subtle anxiety that grew more and more with each day of silence between himself and Ikkaku.

After the last meeting, where Ikkaku decided to extract information, a week had passed, and Ikkaku had been blatantly avoiding him, even going as far to cancel the lunch they were supposed to share the day after via hell butterfly. At least he'd sent something at all. If it had been anyone else, Yumichika was sure he just wouldn't have shown up. However, the all too often pigheaded man knew better. If he withheld all contact, Yumichika would take it upon himself to barge into the eleventh division, not caring what kind of repellent glares his old squad threw his way. Knowing each other for as long as they had, Yumichika realized that if Ikkaku wasn't speaking to him, he needed his space. Ikkaku also realized that Yumichika would not only recognizing this, but respect it, as long as he could confirm the man's safety.

Still, this waiting game was beginning to push the limits of Yumichika's ever so graceful patience, which said a lot, because the man always prided himself in such virtues. However, the men were lovers, and though he respected Ikkaku's need for space, did Ikkaku not respect the anxiety such separation would bring him? It wasn't that they hadn't seen each other for a week, that had happened a few times after Yumichika was all but forced to transfer squads. It was the not knowing, knowing nothing other than the fact that Ikkaku was avoiding him. After all these years, did he not deserve some explanation to this hiatus in their usual dynamic?

Either way, Ikkaku was supposed to show up to the meeting and explain what had happened during his reconnaissance mission. Not showing up would be the last straw for the man, for although he was as composed as he was beautiful, even his long-suffering had a ceiling.

It was for that reason that Yumichika stood, moments before the meeting was to begin officially, with one hand anchored to his opposing forearm, tapping his fingers thoughtfully against his unusually ashen skin, only highlighting his introspection. Days of worrying had curbed his eating and sleeping abilities profusely, leaving him feeling rather ill.

Uryu and Orihime had been chatting the man up, and while he tried to be active in the conversation, it was painfully obvious that his thoughts were elsewhere. After they walked away to talk to some other members, a nerve-irking voice sounded off behind the man.

"How is Madarame-san doing?" asked Salim.

"Why would you care?" Yumichika huffed in annoyance.

"I simply wanted to see if he made good use of my poison, that's all."

Showing every ounce of his confusion on his face, Yumichika repeated, "Poison?"

Jessie, who had walked up with Ulter at his side, added, "I know she has a weird way of showing it, but she does care."

Simpering slightly and negating her eyes in a show of regret, Salim said, "Yeah, I kind of feel bad that I didn't tell him about the fifteen minute time limit…now that I think about it."

Before Yumichika could respond, Ikkaku appeared. As he pushed past the group, he practically growled. "She didn't even take it, so don't concern yourself."

Yumichika followed the trajectory of his movements, feeling equally as steamed as he was confused. Running up beside the man, Jessie, Salim, and Ulter shared a look before wordlessly deciding to follow.

"Ikkaku." Yumichika held a tight grip on the man's forearm, ceasing his movements. "What is everyone talking about? What's going on?"

Immediately he noticed that Ikkaku could barely look him in the eyes, and when their looks did lock, his glare was mixed with such anger and deep-seated opprobrium. Such a look of shame was atypical for the man and it just looked amiss, causing Yumichika to loosen his grip slightly. It took no time for his lover to brush him off in an irritated fashion. "We'll talk later," was all he said before walking off, yet that didn't keep Yumichika from following him.

His advance came to a halt right in front of Juushiro and Ryunosuke, who were talking to Toshiro and a select few other members. "What are Naomi Kuchiki's powers?" the man demanded to know, not prefacing his question one bit.

The gritty voice and abrupt question caught everyone's attention, making Juushiro and Ryunosuke turn to notice the man for the first time. "Well hello to you too, Madarame- san," Rynosuke grinned.

Juushiro shared a troubled look between his companion and Ikkaku. "Powers?"

"Yeah," the man said, obviously having little patience. "Her shikai and bankai, what do they do?"

Ryunosuke and Juushiro shared a thoughtful look. "I'm not sure about her bankai," Ryunosuke said.

"Does she even have one?"

"Well she must, she is a captain," Toshiro added.

"Yes, but the sixth division captain seat belongs solely to the Kuchikis, so to some extent, it doesn't really matter."

"Still, I doubt they'd let her be a captain without one," reasoned Toshiro.

"You're right, but I don't think anyone's actually ever seen it. Whereas most captains have the take a test, Central appointed her directly with no assessments of her powers," explained Ryunosuke. "Of course, there was no doubting her strength."

Ikkaku was equally irritated as he was addled about how easily the conversation had gotten away from him. "Whatever. Her shikai then, what does it do?"

"Did something happen, Madarame-san?" Juushiro asked, looking quite uneasy.

"Yeah, why didn't you use my poison?" Salim interrupted, "My spirt is real sassy, so that stuff isn't easy to get her to hand over, ya' know?"

Now even more confused, Juushiro asked, "Poison? You didn't mention anything about this to us."

"Or me," Yumichika scoffed more to himself than anyone else.

Knots formed in the usually unfazed man's chest. He'd known he would have to come clean about the ambiguous events that had happened that night, but he had hoped it wouldn't have to be in front of one third of the resistance group. Toshiro, Shinji, Hisagi, Uryu, Orihime, Aiko's ex love-dolls, Urahara, Yoruichi, Renji, and worst of all, Yumichika, were surrounding him. Their urgency and confusion was practically tangible, making the man feel extra anxious, as if their earnest curiosity was stifling his breaths. Still he had little choice but to fess up, and it may have been partially his fault for drawing such attention to himself with his usual hotheaded movements. Though, he had nothing to be ashamed of, right? The reality that he remembered, there was no way it could be true. She did something to him, she must've, because the moments from that night that kept playing over and over in his head just didn't fit the person he knew himself to be. However, there was still no easy way to say it aloud.

"I did use it," he cleared his throat. "She just outsmarted me, never even took it."

Toshiro scoffed and said something like 'surprise-surprise,' to which Juushiro put up a silencing hand. "Tell us exactly what happened."

"I was able to convince her to take me back to the manor with her," he spat uneasily, rubbing his neck in a show of discomfort. "I wanted to sneak in and see if I could find any information in the elders' quarters." Everyone's eyes gaped at that, except for Jessie's gang, who had been aware of his plans from the get-go. After Juushiro made a considering noise, Ikkaku continued. "I mixed some sleeping poison in her drink and she acted like she took it, but she didn't. She was just playin' me, ended up catching me in the elders' wing herself."

Ryunosuke rose a dubious eyebrow at the explanation. "But you haven't been arrested and you're also not dead, so what exactly happened to make her let you go?"

Yumichika could feel the tension in Ikkaku's pressure. He'd never seen the man this visibly uncomfortable in all their years of knowing each other. The feeling put him on edge, knowing something could yield such a reaction from the usually blunt and unapologetic Ikkaku.

"That's the thing. What I remember happening, I know there's no way it happened like that. I can see it clear as day, but it's just not right. Also…" his eyes flickered to Yumichika only marginally before he continued, "I remember seeing someone there who shouldn't have been there. It was just a glimpse, but it's like a memory that doesn't belong, that makes no sense. I thought maybe her powers let her fuck with someone's head or somethin'."

Ryunosuke and Juushiro exchanged knowing looks before the nobleman cocked an eyebrow, almost seeming amused. "My, my, Madarame-san, did she shed for you?" His voice was sly and cocky, only boiling Ikkaku's skin more. "Of course, only after she charmed you, yes?"

Everyone's breath seemed to hitch at the implications and the staunch edge Ikkaku's pressure took on. "What the hell does that mean? Just tell me what her powers are."

The noble's grin mellowed slightly, but never completely vacated his face. "Many soul reapers don't know her powers unless they were around when she used to be an active soul reaper under Kuchiki-san. She was the fourth seat of the sixth division well before you were around, well before Kuchiki-san married Hisana-san. Certain things unfolded to where Kuchiki-san had her locked away, influenced by the elders' insistence, of course."

Uryu pushed up his glasses pensively while he hummed in contemplation. "Why would he have had her locked away?"

The nobleman sighed deeply and squared his shoulders. "That, I'd rather not divulge, if only for the sake of Kuchiki Byakuya's reputation. Not that I disagree with his decision, but by some it could be considered rather cruel."

Yoruichi, who was fully aware of the Noami Kuchiki situation, spoke up. "He was a different person after Hisana-san died. He would have done anything his clan asked of him."

"Yes, but nevertheless, her powers went well beyond that of a fourth seat. You see, her zanpakutou's name is Dakō ninfu, and it takes on the form of a serpent-shaped staff. Much like Shinji-san, or more accurately, Aizen, her power is the ability to change one's perception of reality to fit her whims, along with manipulating the victim's memory. So it's very possible that what you remember isn't exactly how things played out."

Ikkaku glance at the ground in consideration, feeling something akin to relief, yet also feeling violated at the same time.

Ryunosuke continued with his explanation. "Her power is particularly cruel though, more so than Aizen's, at least in my humble opinion. You see, charm works by putting the receiver in a sort of trance state. They begin to understand their surroundings as much as a newborn does, and have little, if any, memory at all. They can, on some level, see and hear what's going on around them, but their perception is so skewed that everything becomes almost unreal. Through this power, all she has to do to insert memories into the receiver is speak them. Vice versa also, she can draw memories out by simply asking about them. It's almost like a hypnosis of sort."

The nobleman pursed his lips in a manner that looked oddly serious for the usually blissful man. "However, her powers work in such a way that they're stronger the more a person is effected by them. Much like the way a person becomes more poisoned each time a snake bites them. Because of your high spiritual pressure, it's unlikely that any of the implanted memories would have stuck with just that power alone. This is where the cruelty comes in. Like many, her shikai has stages. Hers has four in all, but the first two work best in tandem. While charm reduces her victims to the mindset of a freshly-born infant, shed is able to change the way you perceive her. Unlike Jessie-san, she does not shape shift, but makes it so you perceive her as the person of her choice, usually a person you care for deeply. It's actually much more effective because it not only mimics the way that the person looks, but how the receiver perceives the person she chooses to take shape as. It mimics their smell, looks, voice, even the feelings you have for said person. Through charm, she accesses the victim's memories on how exactly that person is perceived. With the receiver in such a state of dependency and confusion, they latch onto her the way a confused child would latch onto their mother, seeing her as someone they genuinely care for and trust. Not only does this enhance the success rate of her implanted memories sticking, but it also deepens and elongates the trance while yielding the receiver's complete loyalty. So if you remember seeing someone that doesn't fit into the rest of your memories, it's very possible that she used this method on you."

A thunderstorm of conflicting emotions coalesced inside of the man. On one hand, he was rather pleased to know that his memories from that night could very much be fake, implanted by Naomi. However, he felt contaminated in ways he couldn't explain. His pride felt like a raw scab, being poked and prodded, knowing that the woman had used his lover as a means to invade his mind and will. This had been the second time Yumichika had been used against him in such a manner, and that made him nauseated. Perhaps love really was a weakness.

Juushiro, always the calm among the chaos, smiled gently. "What exactly do you remember happening? Maybe if you tell us, we can hope to make some sense of what really happened that night."

Ikkaku nodded and crossed his arms across his brawny chest. "I spiked her drink. I thought she took it, but she was on to me the whole time. Just playin' dead, I guess. I went to the elders' wing and that's when I overheard these two guys talkin'. It sounded like they were arguing about Naomi. They kept on talkin' about a prophesy, makin' it sound like the reason they were doing all of this in the first place. I don't know exactly what it's all about, but apparently it says that something bad is going to happen to whoever the head of the Kuchiki household is."

"And that would be Kuchiki Naomi," the nobleman reasoned.

"Yeah. They sounded like they wanted to stop it from happening, but at the same time, the older one, he seemed happy about the idea that it would get rid of Naomi if it did end up happening that way."

"But she's the only full-blooded Kuchiki left, so why would they be so eager of her disposal?" Shinji spoke up.

"That's the most fucked up part. The old guy was sayin' somethin' about how he planned on forcing Kuchiki-san back into his position by threatening his family."

"Is that some kind of sick joke?" Renji asked, irritation obvious in his tone.

"The head elder isn't known for his sense of humor," the nobleman scoffed.

"Perhaps not a joke, but certainly sickening," Uryu scowled, placing a comforting arm around Orihime who looked rather concerned by the information.

"Their daughter's a human and just a child," Jessie growled. "Does he have no morals?"

"That part, I think is true, but it's what happened after that that doesn't make sense to me," Ikkaku huffed, shifting awkwardly in his spot. "She caught me before I could leave. Told me that she only let me go through with my plans because she knew the elders were hiding something from her and she thought she could use me to find that out. She told me that the only way she'd let me go was if I gave her the information and kept on digging on her behalf, and…" Ikkaku averted his eyes downwards, the words feeling like regurgitated shards of glass. "And if I acted as her lover."

Though fugacious, the dead silence that took over the group was unnerving. It seemed to be piercing to everyone, yet no one wanted to break the silence. Ikkaku finally did. "I'd have let her kill me before I would agree to something like that."

"But the way you remember it, you did agree. Do you actually recall sleeping with Kuchiki Naomi?" the nobleman asked.

Ikkaku gave an extremely awkwardly painful nod of the head. "But I guess it didn't really happen."

"Of course not," Yumichika spoke up for the first time. "Anyone who knows you knows you would never do something like that. You're much too prideful."

Tilting his head side to side, the nobleman hummed to the contrary. "Well, actually, there's no saying that for sure." At the sharp looks given to him, he explained, "Kuchiki Naomi has a reputation for being absolutely hedonic. She takes no issue in indulging in the finer pleasures of life and doesn't care who knows about it. More so, one could say she's quite sadistic with her kinks. To her, being able to bed someone as strong as you without your consent, all because she is more powerful, would be the ultimate form of humiliation. Perhaps her biggest turn on. If she could, she'd keep the powerful as pets. Other than that, what makes me believe that this might be a real memory is the fact that it's an unnecessary one. Asking you to act as her lover wasn't at all needed, not if her aim was solely to gain information. Letting you believe that she let you go because you swore to keep digging on her behalf would have been plenty. What is more likely is she used her powers to confuse you and manipulate you into bed, making you believe you were sleeping with the person you perceived her to be. You may be asking you self, why would she do this, but a person like Kuchiki Naomi needs no reason to be cruel. To her, it's simply fun."

There it was again, a looming silence that seemed to stretch on forever. One no one wanted to breach. Glances were all given to Ikkaku, pitying yet strained in their manner. For Ikkaku, he stood almost dumbfounded, filled with a clinging hatred churning in his core that was only fueled by the humiliation that came from knowing he had been been overpowered, manipulated, violated, taken in ways he only allowed with one other. He felt disgusted and disgusting, shame towards himself and animosity towards her. More so, everyone knew. Everyone could fell his raging emotions flooding the room with a perilous rigidity, making everyone naturally recoil a couple of steps.

Juushiro threw the nobleman a look that screamed how inappropriate that was, telling him he should have waited to divulge something so personal in private. Ryunosuke merely shrugged his shoulders, too out of touch to see the flaws in his actions.

The crescent-haired captain could feel the perplexity in Ikkaku's pressure and knew the only thing repressing an emotional outburst was his inability to grasp onto the more dominant of sensations. Was it anger? Was it humiliation? Or was it loyalty to his comrades, knowing he was needed and couldn't merely storm off in a fit of hasty outrage? This mission was more important than his own gut reaction. As much as he wanted to leave and cut Naomi down with his own hands, as much as he wanted to be anywhere else but there, it would only show just how far she had gotten to him and would, in the end, help nothing. Perhaps if he acted as if it wasn't such an ordeal, he could salvage some of his wounded pride. He refused to let this woman make him feel like a victim of something. Victim. Just the word made his skin crawl with self-reproach and acrimony. No. This was like any other lost battle. He'd been too weak and could only hope to grow stronger so such a thing didn't happen again.

"She said something about a library housed in the elders' wing," Ikkaku finally broke the silence, making everyone release the unanimous breath that had been caught up in their chest. "It's got a lot of old documents and stuff going way back, maybe a written form of this prophecy. Apparently it's protected by a really strong Kido. Anyway, she said Central would be meeting up in two weeks, and it'd be the best time to infiltrate it."

"No way, Ikkaku," bellowed Renji. "You're not even thinking about helping this lunatic."

"I didn't ask for your fuckin' permission, Renji!" he bellowed in suit. "It ain't for her, anyway. It's for us."

"You've absolutely lost it if you think we're going to just let you waltz in there alone," Yumichika chided. "Now that we know of the library and when the elders will be out, we don't need her assistance. An infiltration team can be sent in."

"You can't enter the estate without the spiritual pressure of someone who lives or works in the mansion. She's my only way in. Plus, I don't know shit about kido, she knows that. I'm going to have to have someone with me to break the spell, a kido master. So I'm not alone," Ikkaku reasoned, rather mildly for his usual self.

"Also," Juushiro added, "It's not as if she will just accept such a betrayal. If we don't give her what she wants, she'll simply turn Madarame-san into Central or infect him with her zanpakutou again."

"She cannot be trusted," asserted Yumichika.

"He's right," Hisagi agreed. "We know nothing of this woman's motives or what the prophesy will say. Without that, who's to say what she'll do after she gets the information. What if she convinces Madarame-san into giving the names of our inner circle? What then? Like you said, she doesn't need a reason to be cruel. What's to stop her from unraveling us after she gets what she wants?"

"What if she keeps pulling that sick kido on ya' and plays with your head some more, huh?" Renji asked, full of disapproval.

"Enough, I can handle it myself. She ain't pulling shit on me anymore, I'll make sure of it. Besides," his fist tightened at his words, "she's already had her fun."

"Pride is not a superpower," Uryu offered wisely. "It won't keep you from her powers."

"Listen! If I say I got it, then I got it. I'm not fucking dumb and I got my own ways." Seeing his affronted determination, Renji backed down and Yumichika recoiled slightly.

"If things go sideways, we could always just kill her," Salim offered offhandedly. At the harsh glares thrown her way, she defended, "Oh, come on! The chick's a sicko, and that's coming from me. It's not like she doesn't deserve it."

"I'd be completely comfortable with that," Yumichika said, an edge of bitterness slathering his words.

"I could off her real quick and leave no trace," Yoruichi added so flippantly that it wasn't so clear if she was joking or not. Urahara just smiled in approval.

"There will be no killing," Juushiro ordered, eyes gaped at the group. Leaning closer to the nobleman, he expressed, "Dear Soul King, I can't even believe I have to say that."

The nobleman grinned impishly in response. "Well it's not as if almost everyone in this room hasn't killed someone before. Of course, the idea doesn't make them all that uncomfortable."

"You can't be seriously encouraging this?"

"If there's no other means to our survival, certain actions have to be done." The man shrugged his shoulders. "Surviving the Quincy war, you must know that."

"We are standing on the precipice of a shift in government. We cannot begin by solving all of our problems with killing, even if the person deserves it." Juushiro sighed deeply and concluded, "We don't have many choices here, so it looks as if Ikkaku will be going in two weeks time with another member of our inner circle, the utmost authority on breaking Kido spells."

"Oh, you flatter me, Juushiro-san," Urahara fawned.

"Actually, I was speaking of the former lieutenant of the Kido Corps, Ushōda Hachigen- san." Juushiro smiled and nodded towards the man, who had made his way over to the growing group some time ago. By now, every member of the resistance was circled around, listening to what was going on.

The gentle giant of a man stepped forward and nodded respectfully. "It would be my honor, Captain Ukitake-san."

Looking up to the nobleman deliberately, Ikkaku asked, "So about her powers, does it have any weaknesses or anything else I should know about?"

"The two other stages of her shikai are more so made for combat. Though I suppose they could be used as a form of torture off the battlefield, I don't believe you'll have to worry about that. It's also to be noted that when she is in her shikai, she is able to trance you by just having you look into her or her staff's eyes. If you could consider that a weakness, that would probably be it. Her first two stages don't work if you're not looking her in the eye, though it would be an even bigger handicap to have one's eyes shut. I don't know all too much about her sword, in all honesty. However, I do know that her sword's powers give her not only more biological attributes of a snake, but also the mythical attributes. While she has a great sense of smell, it's rumored that she might also have weak eyesight in that regard, like a snake. Many have rumored her to be the reincarnation of Kiyohime herself, a serpent in folk lore who shed into a woman and charmed a priest into affections, only to kill him when he later rejected her. Overall, her powers lend themselves to being very sneaky and precise, much like a snake, though much of what I know are rumors. Someone like Kuchiki-san would be more likely to know some helpful details, what's rumor and what's not."

"It's about time I give Byakuya-boy a call anyway," Urahara said.

Without another word, Ikkaku turned and walked through the crowd, which parted for him smoothly. He took no time in leaving.

When he returned to his barracks, he grunted at the realization that Yumichika was sitting on his bed, waiting for him. He hadn't even noticed that he'd followed him out, but the man must have been moving rather quickly to beat him back.

"If you're here to tell me not to go through with the mission, you can save it." Ikkaku put away his cloak, turning away from the man.

Legs crossed and hands rested on knees, Yumichika sat with poise, his temperament rather calm. He was neither aggressive nor bashful about his words. "I understand that there's no changing your mind. I even understand why you felt the need to be alone for the last week. You felt guilty." He saw Ikkaku's shoulders tense at his words, but still, he continued. "You felt ashamed of your actions, and knowing you, you probably still do."

Ikkaku turned, knuckles white and scowl deep. "I slept with someone else, of course I feel fucking guilty."

"No. You feel weak and ashamed of it. This wasn't something you did of your own volition and you know there's no reason to feel something as baseless as guilt. You know I hold nothing against you."

Ikkaku open and closed his hand a few times, suppressing the urge to punch something. "Yeah, and how do you know? I remember it happenin', so how do I know I didn't really do it?"

The usually beautiful face creased at every cranny, displaying his disbelief at Ikkaku's statement. "You would actually rather believe you could do something like that, rather than admit that she violated you. Oh Ikkaku…"

Despite their calm delivery, those words were enough to send his fist swinging at the nearest wall. At the violent fit of rage finally rearing its head, Yumichika did not waver in his confidence. He did not recoil, for such anger from Ikkaku wasn't new territory for him. "That's exactly why I wanted you to leave me alone, because I knew you'd look at me like that. So damn pitifully, like I'm a victim."

The accusations prompted the man to stand to attention, but he didn't move forward. Insult was apparent on his face. "How dare you make such claims about me. I know you better than anyone, and I could never see you or treat you that way." He moved a little closer, heat frothing from his chest. "You're not a victim, but you're also not at fault. It's certainly not because she's stronger than you or that you deserved it for being weaker."

"It's like any other battle, Yumichika." Ikkaku stood, gritting, feeling the stinging of his bloodied fist and the adrenaline coursing through him. "I did do you wrong by being weaker."

The lithe man crossed his arms and shook his head in disapproval. "You're speaking nonsense. What makes a soul reaper strong isn't the power they wield, but how they wield it. Honorably. That wasn't battle. That was nothing more than her own sick whims. Anyone, no matter what power level, could have been affected. What she did was dirty and underhanded, and nothing about that makes her stronger than you." Now invading the man's space even more, his voice quaked slightly, tears threatening to penetrate his eyes. "Anyone who feels the need to defile someone to boost their own ego is weak." His voice cracked as he stood in front of his lover, laying his head on his chest. "She is the weak one, Ikkaku, not you."

Ikkaku's own breaths were shuttered, deep and jagged against Yumichika's damp cheek. Tremors shook his whole body, like a dam holding back an ocean of hostility. Yumichika interlaced his hand with one of Ikkaku's quivering ones, hoping to offer some peace of mind. He couldn't decide if he was shocked or expectant when Ikkaku pushed him away. "I don't see it that way. She used her powers and she beat me. She used you," he spat, his voice smothered with resentfulness.

"Yes," Yumichika nodded and simpered, "I figured as much. Are you angry with me?"

"I'm angry with myself," he yelled without hesitation. "Maybe I was wrong. I used to think you made me stronger, but now-" At his lover's eyes wide and brimming with tears, he caught himself. "I just- I- just… Go. Just go before I say something neither of us are going to like."

Yumichika's face sat somewhere between disappointed and dejected as he walked towards the door. He stopped before he left, saying his last piece. "I truly did understand that you needed your space. I understand that now, also, because I respect and trust you, but I'm starting to wonder if you can say the same for me. Did you even consider how worried I've been about you, did you even think of how your actions may have made me feel? You don't trust me to let me be there for you, but instead, you push me away like everyone else." Looking up at the man with all of the dysphoric curiosity painful pungent in his dewy purple eyes, he asked, "Why am I only your partner when everything is going okay?"

At the astringent silence, so deliberate in its severity, Yumichika resigned his hand to the door knob. "Right, I didn't actually believe you would ever tell me. That would take trust."

xXx