Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach. Tite Kubo does. I do, however, own this story, its OCs, etc.
Mini A/N: A heartfelt Thank You goes out to everyone who regularly reviews this story, or has reviewed it in the past; I'm over the 80-review mark right now, which is amazing. I'm shooting for 100 by the time this fic is over… please help the cause and give me some feedback!
Love Conquers All
Chapter 17: Separation Anxiety
The two of them couldn't have been more opposite; one was taciturn, serious and took everything he did with the gravity of someone performing their last deed on Earth. The other was a blood-hungry force of nature, like a wolf that had been chained up and muzzled for years only to be set free, at last, on a flock of completely unsuspecting sheep. Always seeking out stronger and stronger opponents, he would fight until he could fight no longer, and then get back up and fight some more for the hell of it.
But for all of the differences between Byakuya Kuchiki and Zaraki Kenpachi, right now they had one very important thing in common:
They both wanted nothing more than to carve each other up into little pieces.
Zaraki stared down his opponent's passive face and laughed.
"I can tell you aren't even tapping into your new power, Kuchiki," he growled. "Do you honestly expect to stand a chance against me without unleashing your Hollow?"
Byakuya's facial expression did not change in the slightest, but the fire in his eyes deepened from simmering hatred to smoldering rage.
"Your arrogance is peerless, Zaraki," he said evenly, "if you think even for a moment that I would have to use that power to put down a rabid dog."
Kenpachi's growl turned into a deep, bone-rumbling laugh.
"I haven't heard that kind of talk from you in ages, Kuchiki," he shot back. "Seems like your little friend has more control than you think."
The Sixth Division Captain's eyes narrowed murderously, and he readied Senbonsakura.
"That's more like it," Zaraki said, his one visible eye glowing with bloodlust. Lifting his own zanpakuto, the Eleventh Division Captain charged and brought down his blade. The resulting explosion of reiatsu was probably felt all the way back in what had used to be the Seireitei, and the duel had officially begun. The two fighting styles were like night and day; while Kenpachi attacked like a lumberjack trying to cut down a redwood with a dull axe, Byakuya might as well have been a river, given the effortlessly natural ebb and flow of his movements. He was grace personified, but the question was whether or not finesse stood a chance in the face of raw, unadulterated power.
Seeing that his strikes weren't even making a dent in Zaraki's guard, Kuchiki decided to throw honor to the wind and began to use his flash-steps, hoping that his enemy's lack of the ability would tip the scales in his favor. Every time he tried to strike, however, Senbonsakura always met the Kenpachi's zanpakuto with a metallic clang.
"Stop pussyfooting around and fight me, damn it!" Zaraki shouted, spinning and blocking an attempted senka head-on before carving a gash across Byakuya's chest. The Vizard jumped backwards, his blood dripping onto the ground.
"You bastard…" he hissed. "How did you block my senka?"
The Eleventh Division Captain just smirked at the question.
"You'd be surprised how much being synchronized with your zanpakuto increases your awareness," he replied. "Even if I can't use that flash-step crap, I can still see you move like you were walking. If you don't release your full power soon, Kuchiki, I might just kill you and be done with it. I have no interest in fighting boring opponents."
Byakuya said nothing, still gasping in breath and trying to see through the slight fog that had seeped into his vision. Fury dominated his soul, but the sliver of fear that sat in the corner was becoming bigger and bigger by the second. Not only had Kenpachi Zaraki become much, much more powerful since the invasion of Seireitei, the spiky-haired Captain hadn't even taken off his eyepatch and he was still thrashing him like it was nothing. Gritting his teeth, Byakuya was about to release Senbonsakura when a scathing, steely voice spoke out in his head.
That will not suffice, and you know it. Release me, or you will die here.
As much as he hated agreeing with his Inner Hollow, the beast had a point. Byakuya had put his pride on the line, and he would be damned if someone like Zaraki was going to strip him of it. Closing his eyes, Kuchiki felt the warped strength flow through his veins and a twisted, very un-Byakuya-like smirk formed on his face as the white wreath began to form on his head.
Kenpachi saw the change in his opponent and smiled; finally, they were going to start having some real fun. His zanpakuto screamed for complete release, but Zaraki willed it into silence. He had promised himself that Muramasa's full power would only be brought to bear on those who deserved it, and he planned on sticking by that promise. After all, where was the fun in torching an ant with a flamethrower? When Byakuya opened his eyes, now a darkly burnished gold, and the full force of his twisted reiatsu slammed into Kenpachi like a concrete wall, the Captain let out a maniacal burst of laughter.
"Now we're talking, Kuchiki!" he shouted. "Come on, I'm falling asleep over here!"
Byakuya let out a dark chuckle and vanished from sight. The next thing Zaraki felt was a searing pain lancing across his chest, and he looked up to find his enemy right in front of him.
"We're even," Kuchiki growled, before thrusting forward with his zanpakuto. Kenpachi threw himself backwards at the last possible moment, narrowly avoiding being turned into a Shish Kabob. Before he even had a chance to ready his stance, Zaraki was assaulted by a flurry of mercilessly rapid slashes.
"Are you beginning to regret your foolishness?" Byakuya hissed in that unearthly voice bestowed upon all Vizards, and Kenpachi felt a genuine smile split his face. This fight was going to be even more fun than his brawl with Nnoitra way back when. Pulling himself together, the warrior blocked Byakuya's next strike and pushed back with every ounce of power he hadn't sealed away.
"Regret?" he asked incredulously. "Are you serious? Life's too short for that crap. I'm just starting to have fun!"
Zaraki shoved his opponent away, using the few precious seconds to catch his breath. To everyone's shock, Byakuya began to laugh.
"Tiring already, Kenpachi?" he asked, and Yoruichi couldn't help but me reminded of the brash youngster she had played tag with all of those decades ago. It was like his Hollow dragged all of his repressed aggression to the forefront, and the result was frightening.
"Such disgraceful fatigue is unbecoming. If you want to rest that badly, why don't we just put you to sleep permanently?"
Zaraki was expecting his enemy to charge, so he arched a curious eyebrow when all Byakuya did was raise his palm up and point it towards his foe. As an orb of dark energy began to form in front of the hand, though, Kenpachi's curiosity was quickly replaced by a sharp spike of shock.
"Shit!"
The cero ripped through the air like a bullet train and completely engulfed the berserker Captain, and even the three former Arrancar were surprised by the raw, almost animalistic power of the newborn Vizard's attack. For his Hollow energies to already be so powerful was almost unheard of, the first true hint into how much raw strength Byakuya Kuchiki kept locked behind his impassive gray eyes. As the burst of negative energy dissipated, Byakuya let out a light chuckle.
"You still managed to maintain a human shape," he mused. "Impressive."
Zaraki heaved in a breath that felt like flame rushing into his lungs and spat up black blood.
"Don't fuck with me, Kuchiki," he growled, reaching a burned hand up to his tattered eyepatch and tearing it off completely. The surge of reiatsu was titanic, to say the least, and the helix-shaped aura that so few had seen without dying shortly afterwards once again rose into the sky.
"If you honestly believed for a second that one cero was going to bring me down, you're dumber than I thought."
The Vizard just laughed.
"Why would I want to bring you down so soon?" Byakuya hissed. "I'm just starting to enjoy this!" Running towards his foe with Senbonsakura ready to strike, the Vizard's dark golden eyes flashed like lightning.
"Prepare yourself, Kenpachi!"
The two zanpakuto clashed once again, and the observing Soul Reapers couldn't help but wonder why a whole horde of Menos Grande hadn't been drawn to all of this reiatsu like moths to a flame. As the fight wore on, Zaraki noticed that his opponent's breathing was becoming labored and he smirked.
"It's a shame you're at your limit, Kuchiki," he taunted, bringing a down a powerful strike that Byakuya barely blocked. "This was just starting to get really good!"
The Vizard growled and jumped away from the deadlock, gasping for air as the injuries he was accumulating began to make their presence felt. Damn it, if only he had more control, he wouldn't be feeling any pain...
"Now who's fatigued, you bastard?" the Eleventh Division Captain asked with a murderous grin. "You might talk a big game, but underneath those freakish eyes of yours you're softer than Hanataro!"
The Fourth Division Soul Reaper bristled on the sidelines at that comment, but said nothing.
Kuchiki glared at his enemy with a look that could slice through diamond, infuriated by this fresh assault on his pride. Soft, was he? How dare that dog even presume to belittle his power so casually. If he wanted to die so badly, the Vizard thought, he would be more than happy to erase him from existence. Holding his zanpakuto in front of him horizontally, Byakuya put his hand at the base of the blade and dragged it across all the way to the tip. Kuukaku winced involuntarily as she saw the blood run down the blade, wondering why he would cripple himself like that in the middle of a fight. She would get her answer soon enough.
"They say a Vizard's soul is more evolved than that of a normal Soul Reaper," Byakuya spoke, "and that a zanpakuto is the incarnation of the soul itself. If that is so, then it would only make sense that a Vizard's shikai and bankai would evolve as well."
Ichigo nodded in agreement, remembering just how much more powerful his Getsuga Tensho had become in his Vizard state. The orange-haired Soul Reaper's introspection was cut off, however, when the elder Kuchiki began to speak again.
"Let me show you how my bankai has evolved, Zaraki. If you are strong enough, perhaps you will be able to withstand a scintilla of its power before you are annihilated."
With that, Byakuya turned Senbonsakura downwards and let go of the hilt, the blood on its blade transforming into an aura of the same dark energy that had composed his cero earlier.
"Bankai: Nibai Senbonsakura Kageyoshi."
Saika's eye went wide in shock.
"Did he just say what I thought he said?" he asked the golden-eyed princess standing next to him, and Yoruichi nodded slowly.
"Yes, he did. This, I can't wait to see."
As the blade disappeared into the ground, rows of blades began to rise in its place. Instead of the normal two, however, a full four rows of blades stood tall and deadly in the open field. The strength of Byakuya Kuchiki's bankai had effectively doubled.
"Scatter."
The columns of blades shattered like so many panes of glass, and for a moment Byakuya was almost completely surrounded by a huge cloud of fluttering pink shards. When he extended his hands and spoke, however, the true form of his evolved bankai was revealed.
"Surge."
The nebula of blades condensed into three tornadoes that rushed the stunned Eleventh Division Captain, breaking away at the last moment to take up position around him in a triangle formation. Smirking, Byakuya spoke again.
"Storm."
The tornadoes began to spit out the katana that were the signature of Byakuya's Senkei form, and Zaraki found himself fending off attacks from every direction as the rain of blades threatened to overwhelm him completely. As a sword pierced Kenpachi's leg and lodged itself in the ground, immobilizing him, Kuchiki saw his chance and smirked. Closing his open hand into a fist, the Vizard triggered the final stage of his bankai.
"Slaughter."
The rain of swords ceased, and the tornadoes closed the gap between themselves and their hapless prey. When they were close enough, the three cyclones collapsed in unison on top of Zaraki in a dome of blades that pressed further and further in with each passing moment. On the sidelines, Gin Ichimaru got over his shock at this display of power long enough to speak.
"Well, I'm certainly glad that I'm not the one marrying his sister," he said, and Ichigo swallowed fearfully.
The orange-haired had no doubts about his own power, but there was no denying that even if Byakuya's fearsome bankai wouldn't kill him, it would still hurt like hell. Making a mental note to never piss Rukia's older brother off again, Ichigo was about to give the victory to Byakuya when the dome of blades was unexpectedly broken apart by an unbelievably powerful blast of yellow reiatsu. When the smoke cleared, Kenpachi Zaraki stood there with his hair slicked back and his bells nowhere to be seen, his lacerated body at odds with the huge grin on his face.
"Holy shit, that was intense!" he shouted, laughing. "You almost had me for a moment there, Kuchiki! I'll give you this much: that is one ridiculous bankai!"
Byakuya was as stunned by this turn as the rest of the Soul Reapers, and rasped out a single word.
"How?"
To the surprise of the Vizard, it was not Zaraki that answered him. Rather, a second man stepped out from behind the Captain, dressed in a flowing black cloak and holding the sharpest katana Byakuya had ever seen. His eyes were pure black orbs, and his mouth widened in a vicious smile. When he spoke, the man's voice was like the footsteps of a marauder that trails behind you in the night, waiting to pounce and jam a knife into your heart.
"Come, Captain," he said with mocking condescension, "surely you didn't think you were the only one here who possessed a bankai."
Kuchiki was incredulous, much like had been when faced for he first time with Ichigo Kurosaki's Tensa Zangetsu. Surely, this forced Spiritual Materialization was not a bankai.
"So, you managed to pull your zanpakuto's spirit into the tangible realm," he said, with mocking respect. "Congratulations. But that is by no means a bankai, Zaraki."
The warrior's eyes just gleamed yellow with the intensity of his reiatsu, his grin still firmly in place.
"Do you think that's what he is, Kuchiki?" he asked. "The physical incarnation of my zanpakuto? Close, but not quite. This guy here," he continued, jabbing a thumb at the form standing next to him, "is the full extent of my killing intent given form. Essentially, this crazy bastard is my evil twin."
Byakuya gave a snort of derision, his golden eyes condescending.
"So you've split your power in two? That's just moronic."
Kenpachi chuckled.
"Why would I do something like that?"
The Eleventh Division Captain promptly demonstrated that his monstrous reiatsu hadn't diminished in the slightest, and while his doppelganger didn't possess as much raw reiatsu as its master, it was much more refined, and much more deadly.
Essentially, Byakuya Kuchiki now found himself facing two Captains rather than one, and the balance of power in the duel had taken another unexpected shift. Determined not to let it stay that way for long, the beleaguered Vizard pulled his final, most desperate ace out of its hole.
"Nibai Shukei: Hakuteiken."
The pink petals that had been strewn about like wilted blossoms by Zaraki's bankai release rushed back to their master, changing form into thin, almost airy tendrils of spiritual energy before exploding in a blinding pillar of white light. When it cleared, Byakuya was holding not one, but two pure white swords, the pair of wings on his back flexing powerfully. As he readied both swords to attack, the Vizard noble silently thanked his grandfather for pushing him to learn how to fight with two blades at once. It was a skill he never thought he would have to use; the inelegance of the style rankled with him, but as the old man had said, sometimes you just never knew what could, or would, happen.
Zaraki and his doppelganger readied themselves for a fight that was going to be anything but easy, and charged.
The Soul Reapers on the sidelines watched in awed and slightly fearful silence as the three combatants clashed at the peak of their powers. Byakuya fought like a man possessed, wielding the pair of blades like extensions of his arms and moving so fast that at times he was a blur, even without using flash-step energy to augment his strikes. Zaraki and his bankai gave as good as they got, though, and it was clear to the entire crowd that none of these fighters were going to stop until they could no longer move their bodies to attack.
When an exchange of blows ended with one of Byakuya's blades at each of his enemy's throats at the same time their swords were insistently pressing against his own neck, all three warriors knew that the end had arrived. Giving his rival a surprisingly jovial smile considering that they'd been trying to kill each other most of the morning, Zaraki shrugged.
"Draw?" he said, and Byakuya gave the slightest of nods as his wreath melted back into the air.
"For now," the Vizard answered, and the doppelganger laughed.
"Sounds good," he hissed before rejoining Muramasa, Kenpachi's zanpakuto, which was then sheathed. As the two Soul Reapers walked almost companionably back towards the ranks of their comrades, Ukitake broke the exhausted silence.
"Well, now that all of that is done with, we need to start thinking about what our next move is going to be."
The casual air that had settled in while the Soul Reapers had watched their Captains brawl was dispelled instantly, and the crowd of exiles trudged wearily inside. On her way in, Yoruichi glanced around and noticed one prominent absence.
"Where's Kisuke?"
Nanao shrugged.
"He said he was going for a walk earlier. Not much of a spectator, that one."
The Shihoin princess nodded slowly, a part of her wondering what there was to see in a blasted wasteland. Then again, maybe he'd gone to revisit his old laboratory, feeling a need to connect with something familiar after having everything taken away so suddenly.
As the group of Soul Reapers congregated and began to delegate duties amongst each other, Yoruichi was blissfully ignorant of the fact that she couldn't have been more wrong about her best friend's destination, or his state of mind.
At times like these, Kisuke Urahara despised those pesky things called emotions. One of the major benefits of being a scientist was that the volatile pests had never played that much of a role in his day-to-day life, and he had almost never had to deal with the conflict they could so capriciously stir up within his soul. But then that orphaned half-demon had dropped out of the middle of nowhere and Urahara's emotional restraint on its head. Suddenly it was like he barely even knew his best friend anymore, and that upset his analytical, calculating mind almost as much as it messed with his heart. To be honest, he had never been exactly sure how he felt about Yoruichi. If he knew one thing, though, it was that going from her confidant to a glorified third wheel in a matter of weeks had stung him deeply.
Oh, sure, she still came to talk with him on occasion, but that was the thing: it was only on occasion. Her new Lieutenant seemed to have an almost unnerving amount of resonance with Yoruichi, and while Kisuke was glad that the princess had apparently found her prince, it had still cost him a few nights of sleep. He didn't how much he'd invented in that interval, but it had been quite a lot. His manic state of mind had pushed him incredibly hard to forget the smoldering hole in the back of his heart, to the point when nights became days and days became nights. Even Hiyori had been concerned for him at one point, which had never happened before or since. In fact, the Hougyoku, his greatest triumph and greatest failure, had been forged during this period of uncertain emotional turmoil.
Urahara's most tumultuous moment came months later, when a tear-stricken Yoruichi had launched herself into his arms and bawled like she wanted her life to ebb away with her tears. That was the day Saika had left her, and she had come to him seeking sympathy; as much as it broke what was left of his heart, though, Kisuke couldn't muster a shred of it. So he had played the strong, silent game, hoping fervently that the emotion he had locked deep within himself didn't emerge:
Relief. More than that, he had felt pure, old-fashioned schadenfreude. He knew it was selfish, and he felt horrible, but he was also an emotional being as much as he tried to deny it, and with emotions came the darker sides of feeling as well as the lighter aspects. Now, just maybe, he could attempt to sort out just where he stood with his long-time friend.
And then Aizen had to come along and fuck the whole thing up. Right when he was about to lay all of his cards on the table, that sociopath of a Soul Reaper had gotten Kisuke exiled. Having to see Yoruichi every day was bad, but being faced with the prospect of never seeing her again was even worse. What would he do without her? That was a question not even the smartest man in the Thirteen Divisions could answer. But his salvation had flown into the courtroom that day on ebony wings, and while Urahara still faced exile, at least she had allowed him to retain his powers. Yoruichi had done so much for him without ever asking anything in return, and it never ceased to amaze the soon-to-be-former Captain. In that moment, standing between her and the Senkaimon that would change everything, he finally felt brave enough to blurt out how he felt like a total idiot…
Until he looked deep into her golden eyes and saw the pain from losing Saika still lingering within them, the scar tissue across her heart that would never heal. His words stuck in his throat, and for a fleeting moment Kisuke seriously considered marching back into Central 46's chambers, completing the trial and asking them to just throw him deep into the Maggot's Nest for good measure, because he had no reason to be free. But then he thought of what that would do to the already damaged princess and shoved those thoughts aside, soldiering through the Gate with a single word of goodbye that was too short to shove in all of the emotions he wanted, needed it to contain.
The Human World hadn't been too bad, though, and Kisuke had even seen Yoruichi healing right before his eyes from the scars Aron had left in his passing. The shine had come back into her eyes, and the vibrant glow that had been so sorely missed returned slowly but surely over time. After Aizen's fall Urahara had even been welcomed back into Soul Society, and it seemed like, against all odds, he would finally have a chance to spill his guts to her after god-only-knew how many years.
And then, of course, fate had decided to bury him under six feet of shit and dance on his impromptu grave. Saika came swooping back into her life, and it was like he had never left to begin with. Now, it wasn't that the demon prince wasn't a nice guy, but there were times when Kisuke wanted nothing more than to rip the blood from his veins. Still, the Twelfth Division Captain had selfishly held onto the thinnest thread of hope that maybe, someday, Aron would ascend to the throne in Hell, leave the Shihoin princess behind and Urahara could finally get all of his pent-up emotion off of his chest. But then even that shred of optimism had been stomped out this morning with Yoruichi's surprise announcement, and Kisuke felt exactly like Sisyphus: always rolling the boulder up the hill, only to have it come rolling down back to the bottom every time just shy of the peak.
In that moment, behind his happy smile and words of congratulations, Kisuke Urahara had wanted to kill something more than he ever had in his life. Which had led him here, to the Human World, where a trio of the unluckiest Menos ever had just been completely obliterated from existence by an excessively wrathful Benihime. Kisuke wasn't even sure if there had been enough of them left to make it to Soul Society, but he didn't give a shit at this point. Figuring he had earned his keep for the day, Urahara had gone to the nearest bar and was now pounding back what had to have been his fourth shot in ten minutes, wanting everything to just go away. He was so focused on not focusing on anything that Kisuke didn't feel the powerful presence sit down next to him, and he had no idea who it even was until someone said his name and he looked over, only to find himself face-to-face with Soul Society's resident sake drinking champion.
"What brings you here, Captain Kyoraku?" he asked wearily. "Don't you have a battle plan to be formulating?"
Shunsui gave his depressed friend a sad smile, ordering a bottle of sake.
"I'm on Hollow patrol in these parts for the moment, Urahara-san," he explained. "We're taking shifts, and I volunteered for this one. Figured your misery would love a little company."
Kisuke mirrored his comrade's smile.
"Was I that obvious?"
The Captain chuckled.
"That smile back there was even faker than Ichimaru's old grin, Kisuke."
Urahara snorted and slammed back another shot, putting his elbows on the bar as he ran his hands through his messy hair.
"I must seem pretty pathetic right now, huh?"
"Not at all," Shunsui's warm baritone answered. "Just heartsick. It happens."
Kisuke laughed at that, but it was a bitter one.
"Even to you?"
Kyoraku's eyes darkened as flashes of his former Lieutenant, Lisa Yadomaru, raced through his mind and recalled the better days, before she had been turned into a Vizard by Aizen and cast out from Soul Society.
"Yeah," he said, "even to me."
Urahara sighed and slid the glass down the bar, waiting for it to return full of amber liquid.
"I'm sorry, my friend," he mumbled. Kisuke still felt responsible in a way for the whole Vizard fiasco, and all of the consequences that had spun out of it.
Kyoraku shook his head and put his arm amicably around the Twelfth Division Captain's shoulders.
"Don't apologize," he said gently. "Even though times may seem dark at moments, there's no telling what may come from them."
The forlorn Captain was about to reply when a phone began to vibrate from somewhere within Captain Kyoraku's jacket. Finishing his bottle of sake like a true master of his craft, the Eighth Division Captain nodded goodbye to his friend and was halfway to the door when he reconsidered, grabbed Urahara by his collar and dragged him outside, chucking the inebriated Captain through an improvised Senkaimon before rushing off to deal with the Hollows.
"I still don't understand why we're on patrol duty," Grimmjow groused, but Soi Fon didn't say anything in response. When she did speak, it was on a completely different topic that did nothing to raise her Lieutenant's spirits.
"Have you made any progress on finding out your Zanpakuto's name yet?"
Jagerjaques barked out a bitter laugh.
"This thing might as well be made of wood. Right before that old man went nuclear it was yammering at me nonstop like some shrew, and now it won't say a word."
Soi Fon grunted as she leapt up onto a particularly high piece of debris among the many that littered the ruins of the Seireitei, and her Lieutenant followed suit.
"Maybe it realized it was just wasting its breath," the Captain opined. "You have to be willing to listen to it, Grimmjow, like I said earlier. A zanpakuto isn't just a blunt instrument, not like the sword you carried when you were an Arrancar."
"I don't have time for that shit," he said, scanning the horizon for stray Soul Reaper reiatsu that could belong to any Special Forces survivors. He was so wrapped up in his task that Grimmjow didn't notice Soi Fon clenching her fist tightly, or that it started to glow with a faint aura of blue energy. And when that fist raced forward and slammed into the side of his head, Jaegerjaques had been knocked out cold before he could even realize he'd been sucker-punched. Soi Fon caught his limp form and laid it down gently on the stone, sitting down beside him.
"You'll thank me later," she told the prone form of her subordinate, before sitting down beside him and turning her attention back to the search for survivors.
Saika couldn't remember the last time he felt so exhausted, as the weight of the past few days finally came crashing down on him. The orange-eyed prince had been given a pair of shifts off, and he was planning on taking full advantage of them. Falling down into the soft embrace of the bed, Aron was asleep seconds before his head hit the pillow.
Saika opened his eyes with a start, and found himself in a place that resembled Hell far too strongly for his liking. He sighed wearily; a nightmare was not what he needed right now.
"Who says this is a nightmare, Prince?"
Aron turned around and looked for the person who had spoken, his eyes widening it shock as it saw who it was.
"Aizen?" The brown-eyed man gave a sadistic smile in answer, and the orange-eyed prince very nearly shivered.
"What's going on?"
Sosuke's smile widened, and one of his hands absently flipped through a book that sat in his lap.
"I just uncovered some rather fascinating information about your particular species of demon, Prince Aron, and I thought you might like to know about it."
The orange-eyed demon's expression tightened, and he reached for a sword that he soon found wasn't at his hip.
"What the hell is this?" he growled, looking more and more like a cornered animal with each passing second.
"You'd be surprised how much more open to manipulation souls are when the bodies they reside in are sleeping," Aizen answered evasively. "All I had to do was reach out and yank your spiritual form down here, and back in Soul Society nobody is any the wiser. It was fairly tiring sorting through so much reiatsu to find you specifically, though; I doubt I'll be doing it again any time soon."
"That doesn't answer my question."
Sosuke got up and took a few steps toward the tense Prince, still flipping through the pages of the book he held in his hands.
"Quite right. As I was saying, I've uncovered some information on your particular species of demon that I think you'd be very interested in knowing, given your current situation with that Shihion woman."
Aron single orange eye narrowed murderously.
"What does this have to do with Yoruichi?"
Aizen smirked slyly.
"I'll get to that. Let's start at the beginning, though. Your father, Mortos, came from a stock of demons known as the Mantodea, or the Mantises. Now, do you know what the mantis is most famous for, Prince?"
"The female cannibalizes the male after they… produce offspring…" the demon finished slowly, his eye widening in fear. "Are you telling me that—"
The former Captain cut him off with a laugh.
"No, Yoruichi isn't going to eat you after she gives birth to whatever hybrid bastard happens to be growing in her belly, although I have to admit that would be rather entertaining to watch. No," he finished, "it's much better than that. You see, in your particular line of demons, that uniquely grisly trait is conferred upon the males rather than the females."
Saika's eye widened even further, this time in abject horror. Aizen smiled.
"I see you've figured it out, Prince. Don't tell me you never wondered why your father had so many offspring and yet never kept a Queen?"
Grasping at any straw he could to refute what the man in front of him was saying, Aron spoke slowly through the haze of terror that threatened to swallow him whole.
"But… I only had one brother…"
"You only had one living brother, Saika, because Callos had killed every single other obstacle between him and the throne long before you showed up. Honestly, did you look into the history of your family even once during all of the time you were down here?"
The hatred spiking up inside the prince's veins melted away the fear, and his voice gained a defiant edge.
"But I'm only half demon. That means the trait won't be strong enough to overwhelm me, you prick."
Aizen didn't say anything at first, instead turning his attention to the book and beginning to read from it.
"It appears as if the trait for spousal cannibalism, in addition to being passed from father to son, is also a hard-wired evolutionary adaptation designed to remove the sympathetic element of the female from the child-rearing process and create the strongest warriors possible. It has been classified as an involuntary reaction, as second nature to males of the Mantodea line as drawing breath. So you see, Prince," the Baron of the Eighth Circle finished ominously, "you can fight the impulse in you as long as you like, but eventually, and inevitably, it will overcome you. And when that slip comes, that tiniest loss of control, you are going to kill her and there is nothing you will able to do to stop it."
"Shut up!" Aron shouted, charging forward with his fist pulled back and ready to cave Sosuke's skull in. Right before he reached his target, though, there was a flash of light and everything went black.
The demon prince awoke with a start, short of breath and sweating. He didn't want to believe a single word of what he had just heard, but at the same time Aizen's words had carried the ring of truth. Then again, how could he be sure that what he had seen had actually been the traitorous Soul Reaper? Lost in turbulent thought for several moments, Saika finally relaxed when an idea so obvious popped into his head he almost smacked himself across the face for not thinking of it earlier. If there were one person that could truly verify what Aizen had told him, it would be Oujiscuro. After all, his zanapkuto's spirit was the manifestation of his demonic side, and if he didn't know about his own… instincts… then no one would.
Slipping easily into his Spirit World, Saika wasted no time in calling out to his zanpakuto's spirit. The fanged, dark-eyed demon appeared second later, sporting an eyepatch almost identical to his master's.
"Yo, Saika. What's up?" he asked with a slight smile on his face, which vanished instantly as he saw the look on the Prince's face.
"Is it true?" he growled, assuming Oujiscuro knew exactly what he was talking about. The uneasy look that crossed his face told Saika that he was right, and his scowl deepened when the spirit didn't respond.
"Is it true?" he repeated, with more of an edge to his voice that spoke of grievous harm if he didn't an answer. Oujiscuro swallowed his trepidation and spoke, his voice still uncertain.
"Well, there's good news, and there's bad news. Which do you want first?"
The prince sighed, and it seemed like his soul was leaving his body with his breath.
"Hit me with the bad news first."
"It's true."
Aron had no idea that two words could hurt so much, but in that moment he would have preferred taking a direct hit from a full-powered Getsuga Tensho rather than feel the way he did now.
"Before you throw yourself off of this roof, though, brother, there is some good news."
"It better be the best news I've ever heard, or I'm still going to consider throwing myself off of this roof," Saika answered, but there was a slight current of black humor in his voice that told Oujiscuro he was joking, if only barely. More than a little relieved, the spirit continued.
"Given the fact that any child Yoruichi has will only be one-quarter demon and three-quarters Soul Reaper, even if the child is a male, he shouldn't inherit the hunger."
"Why not?"
"You mastered me," the spirit replied matter-of-factly. "The fact that you were able to blend your two halves together so seamlessly is somewhat of a double-edged sword: because you've contained your demonic side, you won't pass the instinct onto your son, but because both sides of you are so intertwined you're even more susceptible to falling victim to it."
Saika sighed again as the full picture became grimly apparent to him.
"So I end the cycle, but still get screwed."
Oujiscuro nodded ruefully, feeling his master's pain as acutely as if it had been his own.
"Pretty much."
Aron got up and left his Spirit World. Too depressed to fall back asleep, the demon prince rose and walked to the window, staring mutely out at the horizon.
Back in Hell, Aizen relaxed on his throne and laughed. With just a few simple words, he had cut Saika's legs completely out from under him. And as long as one of their aces wasn't fighting at full power, it would make what was to come that much easier. Ripping open a garganta, the evil Vizard sent a squad of 20 Praetorian Demons through it and smiled: Soi Fon deserved to be massacred for doing something as stupid as knocking her only backup out cold, and that traitor Grimmjow's head would be an added bonus.
The Second Division Lieutenant and former Arrancar Grimmjow Jaegerjaques opened his eyes blearily, coughing shortly afterwards, as his first intake of breath had also swallowed some sand.
Wait… sand?
Grimmjow's eyes snapped open completely and he shot to his feet, instinctively ready to fight anything he saw move. He didn't know how he'd wound up back in Hueco Mundo, but any Hollow that wanted to tangle with him was going to become nothing more than a splatter on the sand. But then a sharp pain in his temple brought back Jaegerjaques' memories of the moments before he had woken up here, and he realized he wasn't in Hueco Mundo after all.
He was in his Spirit World.
"Took you long enough, Grimmjow."
The deep, rumbling voice sent rattles through his bones, and Jeagerjaques turned to face the speaker with a slight amount of fear. Which, as it turned out, was completely warranted.
The figure that had spoken was twice as tall as Grimmjow, which wouldn't have been all that bad if it had been human, but it wasn't. It was a panther, twice as tall as Grimmjow at its shoulder blades. The row of fangs that now glinted hungrily in the moonlight looked like they could tear through diamond as if it were silk, and its eyes glowed an unearthly, brilliant blue. Its fur was a light, sky blue separated with black stripes, but despite the seemingly-delicate color it bristled with enough animalistic fury to make a lioness cower.
Not one to remain at a disadvantage for very long, Grimmjow readopted his air of confidence and spoke.
"So you're my zanpakuto's spirit?"
The panther scoffed, and the sound almost froze the former Arrancar's blood.
"Unfortunately. I've been roaring myself hoarse in here and you've never so much as bent your ear to listen. Why you insist on being such a loner, even at your weakest, I'll never understand."
Grimmjow bristled that the insinuation, growling from deep in his throat.
"Who says I'm weak?"
The former Arrancar was sprawled out on the ground before he could blink, pain radiating from his right cheek as a trio of bleeding gashes now adorned it. The panther loomed over him, one paw raised and damp with blood.
"I do, Grimmjow. You are weak without your Hollow powers to rely on like you always have, and if you do not accept me as a part of you and harness my strength, you will die. Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow, but eventually and inevitably you will fall, and I am not about to be dragged down by the chains of your misguided pride. Get up and fight me, Grimmjow! Face the true power of your soul, and do not run from it; embrace it!"
The spirit's other front paw came down, and would have crushed Jaegerjaques' head like a grapefruit had he not rolled to the side in the last moment. Jaegerjaques quickly leapt to his feet and kicked out behind him, smirking in satisfaction as his strike collided with something fleshy and the panther gave out a frustrated growl. It wasn't quite the sound of defeat that Grimmjow had been hoping for, however.
"Pathetic."
A forepaw quickly slammed into his leg, and it was only by virtue of his speed and near-feline balance that Jaegerjaques was able to stay on his feet. His left leg felt fractured, but there was no way in hell he was going down. Snarling, the former Arrancar bared his fangs and threw himself headlong at his zanpakuto's spirit, aiming for the jugular.
Soi Fon was on her feet moments after sensing the approaching demonic reiatsu, and immediately dropped down to lower ground in order to draw the fiends away from Grimmjow's unconscious form. Cursing, she readied herself for a drawn-out fight and was about to call out her shikai when twenty demons at least three times her size appeared out of nowhere. They were wielding axes with blades as long as her body, their bloodthirsty glares shining out at the Captain like embers from the pits of Hell's furnaces. The attacks of the Praetorian Demons gave Soi Fon no time to breathe, let alone call out her zanpakuto, and even when half of them suddenly stopped cold and flashed off towards another location her odds were still looking decidedly bleak.
The Second Division Captain soon found herself sincerely wishing that she hadn't knocked out her backup, but there was no use dwelling on wishes when she had to either focus on what was happening in front of her right now or die. As she felt herself getting more and more defensive and the huge demons did not tire in the slightest, Soi Fon could only frantically hope for either backup, the opportunity to release her zanpakuto, or both.
Urahara's feet had propelled him through the corridor of the senkaimon on pure instinct alone. When he re-entered Soul Society several feet above the ground and fell to the Earth like a rock, however, the resounding thud of Kisuke's impact shattered his sizeable buzz faster than a sneeze wrecking a sand sculpture. Now all that was left in his head was a searing pain that felt akin to a steel spike being pounded into his skull with a sledgehammer.
Staggering back onto his feet, the Twelfth Division Captain shut both of his eyes and clutched his forehead, trying to will his mind back to normal. When this approach failed pitifully, Kisuke decided to just cut out the middleman and dive right into the source. As soon as he entered his Spirit World, however, a fist connected sharply with his jaw and sent Urahara tumbling through the grass. When a rock finally stopped him, the bruised Captain blinked and found himself opposite a very proud, and very pissed Benihime. He gave a weak smirk as he got up, popping his jaw back into place.
"Nice to see your left hook hasn't gotten any weaker, sweetcheeks," Kisuke said, knowing how angry the princess got when she was given nicknames. Rather than spit back a reply, though, Benihime just glared at him and flipped an errant bunch of red hair back over her shoulder.
"Disgusting," she said at last, with a voice as noble as her appearance. Kisuke chuckled ruefully.
"If it's anyone's fault that I'm covered in dirt right now it's yours, Benihime."
The princess gave a very unladylike growl before flashing away and appearing again right in front of her master, grabbing the front of his haori and pulling him towards her until they were no more than a few inches apart.
"I'm not talking about your looks, Kisuke," she said, with a voice that might as well have been liquid fire. "I'm talking about your soul. Look at what you've done to yourself, all for the sake of that who—"
The zanpakuto spirit was cut off by a glare from Urahara's eyes that would have made even her shiver if not for her pride.
"Finish that word, princess," he hissed acidly, "and I promise you I will make you regret it."
Benihime held her master's gaze for a few tense moments before looking down at her feet and sighing, relaxing her grip until the Captain stood at arm's length.
"This is exactly what I'm talking about, Kisuke," she said mournfully. "That Shihoin woman is tearing us apart. She's ruining your soul, and you're letting her!"
Rather than produce some kind of shame on his face, Benihime noticed with a small amount of fear that her master was smirking. That was something that never, ever ended well.
"Are you jealous?"
The princess' carefully-maintained expression vanished in a heartbeat as she gaped openly at Kisuke for a moment, before realizing what she was doing and closing her jaw faster than a bear trap.
"Don't be absurd, Urahara," she said stonily, using his last name to show him just how perturbed she was. But Kisuke knew he'd gotten under her skin, and he wasn't going to stop prodding her until he'd made the proud spirit pay for almost breaking his jaw.
Little did he know how easy it would be for him to fall on his own sword. Figuratively speaking, of course.
"If there's one thing you've always been, princess, it's a horrible liar," he growled huskily, closing the distance between them and placing his mouth right next to her ear.
"I didn't know your blood could boil too, Benihime."
The zanpakuto spirit couldn't stop the light shiver this time at the edge in the Captain's voice, but she was determined not to lose this battle. Smiling wickedly to herself, the Red Princess mirrored her master's gesture and replied, her voice smoother than silk.
"Care to see if it's warmer than Yoruichi's?"
Urahara recoiled from her like he'd just been stared in the face by a Gorgon, and his zanpakuto smirked.
"I knew it," the princess said haughtily. "Even when she's nowhere near you, she has you wrapped around her little finger. It's pathetic, Kisuke. For God's sake, she doesn't even love you!"
Those five words struck the Captain like a dagger in the heart, and it took all of his willpower not to physically reel backwards.
"You don't know that," he said, aware that his voice was as hollow as a rotting tree trunk and not caring in the slightest.
"Don't give me that bullshit," Benihime seethed, her royal veneer completely cast aside at this point to reveal the tempestuous nature at her core. Like her master, she tried to cover up what she was truly feeling at all times, but in moments like this there was no holding her back.
"The more you delude yourself, the more painful it's going to be when you can't run from it anymore! I mean come on, she's already pregnant with someone else's son, Kisuke; what else does she have to do before you can see the truth? Carve your heart out with a knife?"
It was only thanks to her quick reflexes that the sword blow struck her arm and not her forehead, but the blade still stung worse than anything the princess could remember.
"For your information," Urahara growled, "she already has."
Ignoring the thin trickle of burgundy blood that ran from her wound, Benihime narrowed her dark eyes and replied.
"Then why didn't you just tell her that? Why didn't you say something, before that half-demon brat showed up?"
"Because I was afraid!" Kisuke shouted, feeling his reiatsu surging forward with wild abandon as the admission broke from his lips. After a few seconds, the raging Captain calmed down and slumped forward, as if all strength had fled from his limbs following his heartbroken confession. Benihime caught him in her arms and embraced him like a mother would her son, saying nothing and everything as she ran her fingers gently through her master's messy blond hair.
"I couldn't lose her," he said, sounding once more like the scared teenager who had awoken his zanpakuto before he was ready all of those years ago, in an attempt to impress the golden-eyed noble that had captured his heart with a glance and a word.
"I was afraid that she wouldn't feel the same way, and that our friendship would be broken forever. I just couldn't bring myself to say it, and I lost her."
"You haven't lost her yet, Kisuke," the princess whispered. "The half-demon's days are numbered, I've seen it in his blood…"
Urahara pulled away from his zanpakuto spirit in surprise, his gray eyes wide.
"What? What do you mean?" he asked, the calm voice unusually frantic. Benihime arched a slender eyebrow.
"That's not quite the reaction I was expecting, to be honest," she said evenly, her regal persona back in place. "I assumed you would be overjoyed."
"Why would you assume that?" He replied, incredulous. "Just because I might hold a grudge against Aron doesn't mean I don't care about how Yoruichi would react to someone she loves—not to mention the father of her child—up and dying. Losing him once almost ruined her, and I don't want to find out what'll happen if she goes through that a second time."
"She won't," Benihime said reassuringly, but with a cutthroat undercurrent. "She'll have you there to help her pick up the pieces."
The Captain all but growled at the emotions her words were stirring up within him.
"Stop making this seem like a good thing," he said harshly, "and tell me exactly what you're talking about and how to stop it."
The princess tried to stonewall him for a few moments, but she eventually cracked under the weight of her master's gaze. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, though, a quake ripped through the Spirit World around them.
"Looks like you've got some company," Benihime said, glad to have been given a way out. From the way Kisuke glared at her before leaving, though, the zanpakuto knew she hadn't gotten away from the topic completely. Sighing, she turned her uncommonly sad eyes to the sky.
"If you're still alive the next time we meet, Yoruichi Shihoin," the Red Princess declared, "I'm going to make you suffer for breaking his heart."
It had been a long time since he'd been beaten up this badly, and Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was the antithesis of pleased. As he flexed his arm and discovered that it had been fractured in multiple places by his zanpakuto spirit's latest claw-swipe, the fire in his eyes only burned brighter. As it did so, the former Arrancar felt something else flare up within him as well, something that began in the pit of his soul and rose all the way up to his throat before fading away on the tip of his tongue. The panther in front of him stopped pacing for a moment and grinned.
"You're finally beginning to feel it, aren't you? My name is almost within your grasp, Grimmjow: now come, and claim it from me!"
As the fight was rejoined, Jaegerjaques felt a newfound and strange power flowing through him. His Hollow powers had been like an endless hunger, feeding on carnage and destruction and fueled by his sense of hatred and the isolation that came from being soulless. This strength, however, seemed to grow from within him like a tree, its roots anchoring themselves deep within his soul and its branches flowing up and outwards. It spread its power to every corner of Grimmjow's being, and his wounds ceased to pain him altogether as they healed.
This was the might granted to the Soul Reapers by their souls, and the raw strength behind it was intoxicating. Feeling an inexplicable desire to know its source and discover its true nature, the former Arrancar-turned fledgling Soul Reaper closed his eyes, dove down to the root of the power and beheld the seed from which it had grown, the core of his soul. Gazing upon the pulsing light and finally accepting it as a natural part of who and what he had become, Jaegerjaques was surprised its name came to him as naturally as his own. A triumphant, predatory smile came over his face as the power seemed to bow to him in submission, and the former Arrancar soared up and out of his Spirit World. It was time to kick some ass.
Opening his eyes, Grimmjow saw that he had been fighting without even realizing it, and that the panther, which had seemed so indomitable before, now bowed before him.
"You have finally learned to trust in the power of your soul, and its ability to protect you from harm while you searched it for the truth," the spirit spoke at last. "You have been granted my name," it continued, raising its head as its blue eyes hardened again,
"But do not think for one second that our fight has finished. You have not fought for anywhere near long enough to master my power completely, nor have you placed enough faith in me to call forth the power of bankai."
Grimmjow smiled toothily, his cocky grin back on his face.
"Just give it time," he said.
Before the Soul Reaper and his spirit could say anything else, a sound like a peel of thunder ripped through the sky and Jaegerjaques felt a tendril of terror slither up his spine.
"It seems as though your mate is in danger," the spirit opined, and Grimmjow vanished as soon as those words had been spoken. Whoever had the guts to even think about attacking his Captain was going to pay a steep price for their arrogance.
Soi Fon was almost at her limit; even though she had managed to call out Suzumebachi, the Captain had only managed to eliminate three of her ten enemies before the fatigue that had been building up throughout the skirmish swallowed her whole. The burning ache within her muscles made her arms feel like lead, and the demons only seemed to get faster as she slowed down, like sharks smelling blood. Right when she was about to despair, however, Soi Fon felt a reiatsu surge nearby that was at once foreign and intimately familiar.
Her Lieutenant was by her side an instant later, blocking an axe-blow that would have otherwise cut Soi Fon in two. His zanpakuto was a blade that looked like a scimitar, with a viciously serrated edge that spoke of Grimmjow's ever-present, primal need not only to defeat his opponent, but to utterly tear them apart. These fangs would have no mercy on their prey, and even Soi Fon was apprehensive about the destructive power such a blade carried with it.
Grimmjow glanced over at his Captain, and his blue eyes softened for the briefest of moments.
"You all right?"
The Captain felt her lips threatening to smile at the concern in his voice, but she beat it back; this was no time for sappiness.
"Of course. Who do you think you're talking to, Lieutenant?"
Jaegerjaques' eyes regained their edge and he smirked, before returning his attention to the battle at hand. There would be plenty of time to rile up his superior officer after these bastards had been taken care of. His zanpakuto would have been growling if it had vocal chords in this form, and the light glinting from the jagged edge made each point stand out like a fang dripping with malice. Screw restraint: he was going all-out on these fuckers. With a snarl, the Soul Reaper activated his zanpakuto's special ability.
"Svanisca."
Soi Fon's expression became one of unabashed shock when Grimmjow completely vanished from sight, reiatsu and all. For a heartbeat she was worried, but any anxiety in her heart was calmed when the axe that her Lieutenant had been holding back was suddenly cleaved in half. When the upper torso of the unfortunate demon was carved up more thoroughly than a Christmas goose in about ten seconds flat, it was very clear to the Captain what had just happened.
Her Lieutenant had become completely undetectable, and if there was one thing more terrifying than a bloodthirsty Grimmjow, it was a bloodthirsty Grimmjow you couldn't see coming. He was in full-bore feral mode at this point, carving a bloody swath of destruction through the demons that had been stupid enough to raise their weapons against him. Soi Fon could only watch in morbid fascination as the invisible berserker eviscerated the demons that had almost killed her with an effortlessness that proved he was a true predator, born and bred.
After the last demon had fallen following a particularly gruesome decapitation, the Captain heard the soft sound of a graceful, feline landing shortly before Jaegerjaques reappeared, his zanpakuto resealed but still dripping with fresh blood. Pausing to wipe the blade clean first, the former Arrancar walked over to his superior and lover with a cocky arrogance that made the fire burning in Soi Fon's exhausted muscles shift into something else entirely and she almost shivered. Grinning widely, the Lieutenant looked down at his Captain and chuckled.
"I can't believe you needed my help with that, Sir."
The Second Division Captain growled and lashed out at Grimmjow with a kick, forgetting in her anger that the leg she was using was currently broken in more than one place. She winced and hissed sharply despite the light hold Jaegerjaques had used to stop her attack, and his face shifted from cocky to concerned. He scanned the rest of her leg for any other breaks beyond the two he could feel, sighing in relief when he didn't find any. Still, there was no way he was letting Soi Fon flash-step in this condition.
Grimmjow let her leg go, but only so that he could sweep Soi Fon into a bridal hold. Ignoring her indignant snarls and curses of protest, the Second Division Lieutenant held on just tightly enough to immobilize her and vanished, hurrying back to the Shiba household and the skills of Retsu Unohana. His zanpakuto growled contentedly in victory, and Grimmjow mirrored the gesture: he had learned the name of his sword, rescued his Captain from danger and racked up a pretty impressive headcount; not a bad day's work.
It is said that a Soul Reaper's zanpakuto is an uncorrupted reflection of their owner, their basest essence laid bare, free of any meddling emotions or societal inflections. This is the truth, and in few cases did it ring truer than the case of Kisuke Urahara. He and Benihime both possessed incredibly calm, calculated exteriors, barely restraining the storm of emotions roiling underneath. Perhaps that balance was what led the Captain to draw his powers from blood, the mercurial nature of it; one moment blood could be warm and comforting, the next raging and destructive.
All of this aside, however, the most important thing to know about a person who spends so much time keeping themselves controlled is this:
Do not, under any circumstances, ever make them lose that control.
The demons currently circling Kisuke Urahara did not know this, and their ignorance would soon prove to be their last, and greatest mistake. Urahara had been yearning for a way to release his pent-up aggression since his zanpakuto's spirit had first punched him in the jaw, and these poor bastards had just given it to him on a silver platter. As a borderline-psychotic grin split his face, the Twelfth Division Captain released Benihime without uttering a sound and looked up at the ten demons circling him, drawn like wolves to his reiatsu. But when the warrior beheld his enemies, all he saw were vessels carrying blood.
Slicing the air with his zanpakuto, Kisuke's grin widened as he saw his first target's blood wrenched free from its body. Moving like a puppeteer controlling a marionette, Urahara danced to and fro like a sandstorm as he slashed Benihime around him in a frenzy, tearing the blood from his enemies without even cutting them. This was the true, untamed nature of the Captain, the power that had driven him to his pinnacle and constantly threatened to tip him over the other side, sending him spiraling down into madness.
But right now, the last thing on Kisuke's mind was control. This was about causing enough pain to drown out his own. This was about shoving his emotions to the furthest corner of his mind so that they would stop causing him so much agony, and reclaiming them only when the carnage was over.
If he reclaimed them at all, that is.
Rukia Kuchiki had never liked the woods; they always made her claustrophobic, and the wind whistling harshly through the myriad branches was enough to put her entire body on edge. Damn her stupid pride for making her tell Ichigo she could handle herself just fine, and that they could cover twice the area if they split up. She had wanted to prove to both herself and to him that she had truly earned the right to wear the haori of the Thirteenth Division, and now she had wound up in the woods, alone and becoming more uneasy by the moment.
Rukia knew that such feelings were weakness and should be cast aside on the field of battle; Bykauya had told her that more times than she could count, but there was still something in the air she couldn't shake that just felt… off. Almost like she was being watched by something, or someone.
The sudden cold feeling of a blade being pressed against the back of her neck confirmed the younger Kuchiki's lingering suspicion, but she couldn't turn her neck to see who had held her up for fear of losing her head. So she waited, hoping her assailant had the good manners to ask questions first, and shoot later.
"You have exactly ten seconds to tell me what you are doing here, child," the serious yet velvety voice said, "or I will end you where you stand."
Rukia's heart skipped the next few beats; she might not be able to see the face of her enemy, but she would know that voice anywhere.
There was only one like it, after all, and it belonged to the Second Espada. The Captain of the Thirteenth Division had Halibel's zanpakuto at her throat, and if she didn't think of something fast Rukia would be in serious trouble.
A/N: Sorry that took so long to update, but this past week has been torturous as far as academic life is concerned and the writer's block harpy was pestering me throughout the composition of this installment. I hope this chapter wasn't slow or anything, and I'm sorry that the tail-end of the Byakuya/Zaraki fight didn't turn out as detailed as I would have liked; I just didn't have the space for it and I didn't want the momentum to drag. I hope the dialogue and character development came across as believable enough to make up for the slower-than-normal pacing, and please review; it really helps keep my productivity and interest up. Lastly, I feel evil for dropping the cliffhanger, but I need something to keep all you guys coming back, am I right?
Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and see you next time!