"After that, I grew a sick reliance for her; I considered her my everything, and crumbled like the broken child I was every time she held me. All I could think about to ease myself during all the other atrocities was her embrace at the end of all of it; curling up and just letting her soothe me with her kind words and warmth. I was so selfish back then; she was the one requested the most, and she was the one who worked later than the rest of us almost everyday. If anything, I should have been the one consoling her, but it was the other way around."
I took a moment to breathe from the several minutes of story-telling, and while I took the breaths, Toushirou asked the question I knew would be sure to follow. I didn't want to answer it, but I knew deep down that if I wanted to get over it, now was the time to do it.
"May I ask how she passed?"
The tone of the question was so soft; I was so appreciative of the tactful way he asked. It wasn't too blunt, and the tone of voice he used was very cautious; he knew I was sensitive about the situation—clearly—and so the baby step he made on the subject didn't cross too far over the line.
"She tried to escape one day. I had no idea that she was going to do it, and I had no idea who she planned on leaving with, but it most certainly wasn't me." I shook my head; the hurt from her betrayal fresh once again.
"She was caught though, and they brought her back to the facility almost instantly. They wanted to make an example out of her to all of us by beating her to death, and I reacted out of complete devotion even through her apparent betrayal. A few weeks prior to this, she told me about a small knife she kept behind the baseboard, so I took it and tried to save her—only to end up paying the ultimate price. They shot her directly in front of me like an animal, and I got to watch all the life drain from her eyes." I squeezed his hand at the memory of those hazel hues losing their lovely glow. I bit my lip and took a stuttered breath to steel myself.
"Although I failed in saving her, I took out the eye of the man mercilessly beating her during the struggle. That in turn earned me some time on a craftsman's table shortly after my first beating,"
I put my shaky hand over my stomach before continuing. "Amongst all the other atrocities that followed from Day One, there's only one that sticks out above the rest. This one that I can't bury away no matter how hard I try; no matter how many layers of fabric I wear, or how many mental layers I put on myself—the reminder will never cease to exist." I placed my hand over my stomach; ghost pain radiating off my scars with my words.
"The man I brutally mutilated in the World of the Living was the one who gave me these scars, and with his death by my hand—and now with Miyuki's appearance—I feel like these ghosts are just tearing at my defenses rather than standing idly by in sight; trying to just pull me into a void of mental detachment again."
His hand went over mine; that warmth from his palm on the back of my hand sending me those emotions of ease like it always did—the feeling definitely needed after reliving those events twice in one day. I took a deep breath to help myself ease; I felt terrible about bringing it up to him. I knew he said that he was here to hold my hand, but was it really okay to tell him things like this?
"I'm glad you trust me enough to confide a part of yourself that's been difficult for you to handle by yourself all these years. In regard to Nankai; the relationship the two of you had wasn't necessarily a bad thing. You only had each other—it makes sense to cling to someone in the type of situation you've been through. You saw her as necessary to survive, and let yourself take comfort in her as she did in you. It's only natural; whether it's a mother, a father, a sibling, a significant other, or even an animal, we are creatures bound by emotional necessity to an extent. It's not wrong to trust in someone and care for them." He explained.
"Her reasoning behind her abandonment is a question that I—nor she—can answer, but because the question remains unanswered, you have to take what happened with a grain of salt; perhaps she didn't have a choice, perhaps she had an ulterior motive behind it. I wouldn't let that diminish and taint the memories you have with her. It will be difficult now to let your memories stay memories with her presence, but knowing she's alive and well should provide at least a miniscule amount of solace—no?" he paused, and I soaked in his question.
He was right—somewhere deep down, I was happy she was alive and well—it was just the dangling that Kami decided to do that completely wrecked me. I nodded before he continued.
"And above all else, this could now be a chance for a new beginning; one that doesn't develop due to horrendous circumstances. However, that cannot happen if you have these remaining emotions toward her. While she is still Nankai Miyuki, it would be unfair to her to demand the same type of relationship. Time will be your ally; take the time to let yourself heal so you can avoid salting your wounds."
The way he phrased it—he was definitely right. I'd have to let myself simmer down, and let time pass to get over her. Hell, it was only last night that I'd officially decided that I was going to let these feelings fade, and I acted like it would be just a quick second to make it happen.
"Now, this will be harder to talk about, but it has to be discussed."
I gulped. I knew this was coming, but I somehow just wanted to be let off easy by just reciting the memory.
"I fully believe that what happened to you on the day you met Nankai has to do with why you were abducted. I know that you've told me all that you remember about it, but I must ask if the topic was ever brought up again—they didn't try to detain you again? It was only the one time that it happened?" he questioned.
"Yes. After that, the only thing that happened to me was drug inducement and rapes aside from these," I set my palm over my stomach again. "But I got these because of what happened with Miyuki; it was nowhere near as serious as it had been before; this was merely him extracting his revenge for the loss of his eye." I explained.
He paused to assess my words; the momentary delay causing me to stiffen for some reason—maybe it was just the topic in general?
"How did it end?" he asked.
The whirring of the electric handsaw sounded through my mind; shivers wracking down my spine at the harsh vibrating slices reverberating through my memory. It was honestly a miracle I didn't die that day.
"To be honest; I don't know how it ended. The last thing I remember before passing out was him slicing under my navel by hand. I remember explicitly how it felt when he did it; the strength behind his hand, the rough-eyed precision as he began gutting me like a pig…h-h-he said it was his f-favorite part,"
My hands went to my mouth, and my legs curled up toward me under the blanket. Thinking I was strong enough to talk about it aloud was a mistake. I was on the verge of tears, nauseous, and highly sensitive to the aching my words caused my wounds.
As I defaulted to forming the fetal position, Toushirou took hold of me, and cradled me in his arms. He didn't have to say anything, but I knew he felt terrible about bringing it up at all; his slightly shallower breathing told me that much already.
"He's gone now; it's okay, Akinoyo,"
"I'm so sorry, Toushirou," I sniffled.
"For?"
"For wasting your time like this." I pushed myself out of his grasp. "You've been here watching me since I've been out cold; I'm sure that you have a lot of things that I'm keeping you from doing already, and now I'm just throwing more of my insecurities on your plate? Sorry, I lack thought process before selfishly throwing myself at you."
He set his hand over mine, and leaned closer to me. "Nothing that you do could ever be a waste of my time—I'm yours, Akinoyo. Anything you need, and anything you want to talk about—I'm here." That same hand crept up to my shoulder, and his fingertips pressed gently into my neck as he drew near to rest his forehead against mine.
"You are mine; I want to take care of you just as you want to take care of me. You always seem to think that telling me things and opening up is a problem; you say it out of concern for me because you care. From that same place your concern stems—mine does as well. Every time you're scared, every time I see you shiver or cry; I want make things right. I want to see that smile—even if it's sarcastic—and I'd do anything to make that happen."
The blush on my cheeks was fierce; the uncomfortable heat making me cringe in fear that he could feel it radiating off my face. Kami I was lucky…
"Y-You've got to stop that, Romeo; you're encouraging tendencies too feminine for me to handle in my current state. I'm still having trouble recuperating from the swoon you left me in earlier."
"I can't apologize with sincerity for that; I enjoy seeing you experience emotions—even the feminine ones," he teased.
I held back a scoff. "You're terrible,"
"Am I really?"
I mustered up enough courage to close the distance between us in a quick peck against his lips; lingering at the spot a hair's breadth away.
"Yes."
His short exhale of a chuckle at my remark had my blush only amplify, and the fingers that pressed against my neck traveled upward so his palm could cradle my head—expectant shivers coursing through me.
He didn't say another word, but took my lips gently; the smooth, warm feel of his causing a hollowed, fluttered feeling to erupt from my chest. His kiss continued like this—gentle and at a slower pace. I felt a lot of emotion behind the movements; as if he were getting a message across by this new language transferring into me. His concern for me was true; his care, and every word he'd said proven by the sweet way he expressed compassion.
I returned the movements; taking all my energy not to just break down and cry tears of which I never thought I'd shed—joy. For someone to care about me this much was baffling; the fact that to him it wasn't a forced necessity, but an actual want to make me feel 'okay' was too much for me to grasp.
This male must be an alien—I can't come up with any other explanation. Regardless of the explanation though, it didn't change a thing—I couldn't get enough of him.
I deepened the kiss as a form of expressing my pent up emotions; twisting my body slightly to easily raise my hand to his jawline. I traced it until I met the angular end of it, and slid the rest of my hand up toward his ear; my fingers venturing into his hairline while my palm rested against his neck, and thumb against his cheek. I pulled him gently into me; taking his other hand with my free one and letting him squeeze me with more of that concern he displayed.
As the moments passed, the more in sync I became with him; the feeling of someone else unifying with me in such a simple movement making my insides quiver with a yearning I'd never had in my life. It promised so much for so little, and it wasn't a scam from a creepy trench-coated salesman; it was legitimate, and an offer too good for me to refuse no matter how much I'd convinced myself I wasn't good enough. The fact that a simple person could cause such a heavy emotion to penetrate so deeply in such a short amount of time was difficult to grasp, but I wasn't complaining in the least; I was loving every second of this—of him—that I never wanted it to end.
Much to my dismay however, he broke the kiss. While his lips lingered at the spot, his fingers traced down my neck in a feather-like graze, curving down my shoulder to halt at my arm.
"You should take your medicine; they haven't administered any to you today,"
I took hold of his collar; tugging the fabric closer to me as I whispered my needy response. "This medicine will work better than anything they could possibly give me,"
I took his lips again; smirking when I felt his own smirk form from my comeback. He reciprocated it; his fingers tickling my skin as he skimmed across my collarbone and deepened the kiss. That subtle, yet dominant intensity of his kiss had my mind clear of anything but the movement; the traces of lust accompanying it making me wish I didn't have a wound.
His hand took my cheek, and after a few more seconds of the gratuitous dance we both reveled in, he slowed down the pace to an eventual stop. He planted a quick, soft peck on my lips before pulling back to look at me. I held the eye contact for a few seconds before shying away; those damn feminine tendencies back at it again.
"If something like that could heal physical wounds, trust me—I wouldn't rest," he told me as his thumb grazed over my blush tinted cheek.
"I wish it could," I huffed, crossing my arms comfortably over myself.
He leaned forward to kiss my forehead. "You would've already been healed long ago," he smirked.
-x-x-
The rest of the day passed, and I slept comfortably in Toushirou's embrace through the night. I'd woken up startled a few times, but with Toushirou holding me and placing sweet kisses along my neck and up to my cheeks, I calmed down enough to fall back asleep in his arms.
I didn't like asking anything of the religious, non-existent figure in the sky, but—if he did exist—if he could just let me have this one I'd be eternally grateful. If the universe could just let me have Toushirou and not do something that would rip him from me in a horrendous fashion, that'd be great. The thought of losing this attachment scared me to my core—I knew it hadn't been very long, bug I couldn't go through it again; I don't think my heart could take it.
I woke up and curled into him when the morning sun peeked through the curtains of the room. He'd greeted me in the ritualistic morning fashion our language demanded, and I responded by pulling the blanket over us and reciting the complete opposite—I didn't want to get up; I wanted more sleep. He held me until I fell back asleep, and sneaked away to start his day while I refused to attempt beginning mine for at least another hour.
After waking me with breakfast, he went into his own home office to begin his daily work routine while I sat up against the wall my bed propped against; completely hating the fact that I was confined to this mattress. The only thing that was good about it, was the fact that it gave me a chance to sort out all my thoughts that raced through my head whenever I wasn't distracted by the gratifying physical attention Toushirou gave me. Although I preferred the later, it was for the best that I took a moment to figure things out and to think my way through this situation rather than reacting instinctually the moment shit hits the fan.
After about an hour went by of my brain repeatedly trying to figure out the situation in regard to the benefit of my capture to the enemy, my mind strayed to the sheathed blade resting atop the dresser. Toushirou didn't want me to get up without him there to help me, but since it was a short trek from the bed to the dresser, I rebelled to take the blade.
I tucked myself back into the bed; setting her on my lap and inspecting her as if it'd been the first time I'd ever laid eyes on her. Now with everything that's gone on between her and I, it felt strange contacting her. I don't know if it was cowardice, or the grudge I held against her for threatening Toushirou and Rangiku, but conversation just didn't seem promising. Putting aside my frailties about the situation, I unsheathed her and set her across my lap with her hilt on the right side. I half-expected to become possessed again as soon as I unsheathed her, but only a subtle headache resulted instead.
I thought about the last time we spoke, and wondered if I had to request her aloud or if telepathy would work. I tried the later lest Toushirou heard me from the other room.
Unnecessarily clearing my throat aloud for my mental conversation, I crossed my arms and closed my eyes.
"Oi," I began softly; making sure the casual attention-grabber didn't come off too derisive. "Are you able to hear me?"
I waited for a moment; the silence in itself making me shift anxiously against the wall. As the moments passed without answer, I decided to try out my vocal chords.
"Oi," I repeated in the same fashion. "Are you able to hear me?"
Still nothing.
I sighed. There had to be an easier way of going about this—maybe I was doing it wrong?
I stared down into the slick silver blade; taking hold of it for a better view at my own reflection. Although I stared into my own reflection, her metal form itself was so pristine; the smooth surface that reflected my image clearly was impressive. I was used to my switchblade that only reflected my face in a blurred outline of color. Seeing her smooth surface reminded me of her flawlessly smooth way of speaking along with her majestic voice; the entrancement she set me in the first time she spoke made me jealous—I wish I had that affect in people without putting in a farce.
The reminder of the way she first spoke to me also brought back the reminder of her snide commentary that still is completely unappreciated. She had quite the gall—that's for sure. Her snide, and rude remarks reminded me of some pompous, snooty noble that was way out of everyone's league. Putting that feeling into words took away some of the affinity for her—Hell, maybe she was just ignoring me right now out of that bitter hate she had for me. Wait a minute—what if she was more of a bitch than I was?
"You contact me, then insult me? This is the penitence you choose to regain my favor?"
Well. There went any shred of tactfully starting a civil conversation. I set her down and closed my eyes to concentrate.
"Can you really blame me, though? Our first introduction wasn't quite the best," I responded in my mind.
"Incorrect. Our first introduction was one of a kind; these ones of late have been what you've deserved." She corrected.
The effort it took to resist the urge to scoff required every fiber of my being.
"Okay—lets try this again. Hello; it's a pleasure to be able to speak with you once again. I've contacted you in hopes to amend the situation I have zero recollection of, and to hopefully gain your acquaintance and companionship in due time. Slightly above my foremost need of communication and acceptance, I'd also like to address the situation we're currently in. On the off chance that your recent possession over me hadn't made it clear; we're a wanted party by an unknown, and surely evil entity. I'd like to discuss tactics to evade a second capture, and to hopefully come up with a way to end the situation entirely. If you'd be so kind as to give me the pleasure of working with you, I promise I'll make it as bearable as possible."
There was silence between us, and I took a breath during the pause to ease the mental stress.
"Your lack of sincerity is repulsing."
Are you…fucking serious?
"Okay then—fine. You wanna play hard ball? We're in danger right now, and if I get captured—you get captured. Guess what happens when that happens? Physical and mental torture along with beatings, rape, and oh yeah, assisting a fucking psychopath in some way shape or form to annihilate everyone! Does any of that sound good to you? Does It sound like cold beer on a hot summer day? Well it isn't! So stop your fucking games and get with the Kami-damned program before we end up getting killed!"
I'd had it with her. She needed to stop her childish ego before we ended up getting fucking annihilated by the unknown. Her cooperation was so fucking pertinent it hurt; if she refused to help me, then I'd be completely shit out of luck—Toushirou can't guard me forever; I'd be a sitting duck.
"So be it then. If this new persona of yours continues to run amuck, then I will have no part in it. You can have your impeccably lazy guardian take care of you—I refuse to help this repulsive, uncaring, and selfish konpaku you've become. Perhaps if you hadn't betrayed me, I would be more inclined to assist you."
"Okay—that's it!" I grunted aloud as my eyes shot open and I held her up in front of me.
"I am sick, and fucking tired of you repeatedly accusing me, and condemning me to Hell for something I don't even remember doing! Why don't you grow a pair and tell me just what in the fuck I did—and how I did it—so that at the very least I can combat the fucking vendetta you have against me! Or are you too much of a stubborn, arrogant, pontifical, single-minded butter knife incapable of grasping the intensity of the fucking situation you're refusing to assist in?"
Oh that got her.
An aura of visible juniper radiated around her blade; the anger that seethed from it slithering around my throat. I heard hurried footsteps heading in my direction, and right before they reached the entryway she spoke.
"So that is what you think of me? That I am holding a grudge against you to satisfy my own egotistical nature? Fine. You wished to know what you've done to me—to us?"
The shouji doors slammed open; Toushirou assessing the reiatsu radiating from me and why.
"What's happening, Akinoyo?" he asked.
Before I could answer, she interjected.
"Consider your wish granted."
-x-x-
My eyes opened to darkness; the sound of dripping water present, and the soft ripple of water against my leg reviving my senses. I blinked and rubbed my eyes in hopes that my pupils would adapt to the darkness; the graceful voice of my inner entity invading my eardrums as I tried to collect myself.
"Stand, Akinoyo." She commanded.
I opened my eyes to the murky seaweed green water beneath me; amazed once again by the fact that I didn't sink down into the thick darkness below. Perhaps it was my zanpakutou's doing that kept me above the water? I pushed myself to my feet; no trace of the wound I'd received on the outside plaguing me in here. Once I got to my feet and stood properly; my blinking eyes took in the familiar flooded scenery. As I turned to get a full view of this world within worlds, my eyes stopped at the majestic being before me.
She was beautiful. Too beautiful for me to accurately comprehend.
Her stature was similar to mine as far as build is concerned—albeit she was somewhat taller than I was—however, it was her skin and toned muscles that made her different. Her skin was almond pale and smooth, yet her aura and light muscular complex implied unspoken strength. Her skin was clean, yet her body implied a tolerance that didn't make sense in this flooded world around us. The light muscle tones and tough skin made me feel as if she were used to the rugged natural world, and could handle living in a savage wilderness with grace and dignity, but it completely didn't suit what this world was. Overall however, her fit physique suited the prior eloquence in her words; the characteristics of a seasoned, yet regal monarch.
Her clothing matched the same characteristics; the fabrics snug on her skin and weaved in the patterns of her guard by slender vines in a loose lace fashion. The fabric began under her naked shoulders; a deep, earth colored garment that draped over her well-endowed cleavage just beneath her chiseled collarbone before hugging her torso and down her hips. The fabric of her seductively tasteful gown ended along her upper thighs with torn and tattered edges, yet it made the garment match the impression the rest of her body gave me. Over the gown and draped over her bare shoulders was a moss-colored cloak that connected by a gold broach over her chest. The broach was her insignia; mirroring in exact precision the shape and design of her darkened gold guard.
Her hair was a burnt cedar color; mid-back length with light waves throughout the strands that rested down either side of her neck. Although the deep wooden color of her hair was the darkest feature about her, it radiated off her in a matte glow; the healthy strands thick, strong, and honestly far more astonishing than any hair I'd ever seen. Atop her head was a crown composed of dried roots and garnished with decayed lavender thistles. It stayed firmly in place by the layers of hair that weaved through it, and disappeared completely into her high-volume hair so only the front displayed. Although the crown was a huge-eye catcher; what caught me was the intensive gaze from her radiant orbs.
Her eyes reminded me of a cool Autumn's eve; umber with an undertone of mahogany, and a subtle taupe color beginning from her pupils and painted outward in soft, lifted brush strokes. Her eyes combined with a slender facial frame and naturally pale pink primrose tinted lips, had me entranced almost as much as her voice did—this Woodland Queen leaving my mouth agape.
She stared into me, and at my returned gaze of awe, she put together that I could finally see her. She approached me in a confident stride; her hooded cloak lightly fluttering behind her and the connecting broach reflecting the faint moonlight in a matted glisten.
"This place used to be beautiful; a lush forest cradled within the granite crescent mountains. The sun would rise and illuminate the land with rays of topaz and citrine; the water that once gave life cooled and refreshed the land rather than aiding in its destruction,"
She stopped directly in front of me, and I almost cowered from her fierce gaze.
"This land was precious; the perfect haven you once took solace in, the land you relied on more than all else, the place we found comfort—my home. Yet even with your admiration for this land, you still decided to destroy everything; you chose to throw everything away—throwing no caution to the wind and letting everything here wither and die,"
"How?" I interjected. "I don't understand how I could do a thing like this; you keep saying I destroyed everything as if it was a choice—"
"It was a choice; you chose to do this to my home—to me." She began with heavy disgust. "You lacked faith in me, and sealed me away like a worthless ornament! To add insult to injury; you chose to abstain from any remote thought of me until the point of complete amnesia of my very existence! Does my resentment toward you still seem unaccompanied by reason?"
Her words had such an angry façade to them; while it composed the majority if her words, and layered on thick guilt for my prior-self's actions, that guilt didn't compare to how I felt about the true emotion laced deeply in her words—hurt.
I broke her intense visual contact and clenched my fists as I looked down into the water. While my argument was justified; it could never trump over hers. She had such strong emotional ties to the situation that it made sense for her to treat me with disgust and hate; I had only surface anger at the situation to go off of. But in my realization of this, I had only one trump-card that gave me a sliver of a chance at a rebound—the hurt in her heart. It's one thing to loathe someone you don't know for disagreeable actions, but it's another when the oppressed has prior emotional ties to the oppressor.
She awaited my response; to which I couldn't string enough words together in the moment. While I knew what I had to do, it seemed like trying to excuse myself, or even apologizing was useless—it would only make her hate me more. She knew that I forgot about her, which means that she more than likely knows the situation—how was I supposed to construct my rebuttal?
"Now do you understand, Akinoyo?" She broke the silence. "You deserve every last drop of cruelty for what you've done; you deserve every ounce of punishment from me that I can bestow. Yet now you expect my assistance? Allow me to make this perfectly transparent to you, Akinoyo; the only reason I have assisted you thus far has been to deal my hand of anger and resentment toward you. I broke through the last entrapment you've set to express my irreconcilable loathing of you. Now that I've risen, and satisfied the need simmering for the past five years—I want nothing to do with you."
My eyes widened at her closing sentence. I looked up at her with a horrible hurt that I couldn't suppress. The sliver of chance I had just shrunk down to a quarter of what it was; now my pessimism darkened the candle I held to the optimistic—
"However," she interrupted my manic thoughts. She rested her hand on her hip, and shifted her weight to her right side in a miniscule increment; her body-language tainted by heavy distaste in what she was going to say.
"Although we are one, I am not like you. I don't break my promises; I take pride in fulfilling them, and that pride never lets me go back on my word. For silencing your irritating, unintelligent banter from the past time; I fulfilled interrogation of the assailant as much as possible before his disappearance as the first part of our agreement entailed. Now, I will fulfill the seconding part by allowing you to try to make amends with me,"
Yes! She was going to give me a—
"However," she interrupted my premature celebration. "Your chances are lower than an injured insect's escape from a finch. While I heavily devote myself into the defense of the prey, for you specifically, I will be the fiercest of predators."
I audibly gulped.
"Come now, Akinoyo," she took a step forward; looking down upon me with a glint in her eye that rattled my insides.
"Show me that bright hope your eyes hold—I want to revel in the pleasure of watching it fade to black."