Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach, or any of its characters. They belong to Tite Kubo. I do, however, own the idea behind this story in particular, as well as my OC(s). So don't use them without first asking me, if you would be so kind.
A/N (AKA Shout Out): Also, be sure to check out the story "A Rose by Any Other"... it's an IchixRuki crackfic I collaborated on/co-authored with the fantastical MatsuMama, and it's awesome (she brought out her A-plus game). So give it a look, and be sure to leave a review to let us know what you thought!
Love Conquers All
Chapter 19: Requiem
Rangiku shifted sluggishly as she tried to find a good position to sleep in, her eyes closed and breathing subdued. As soon as she felt the empty, cold space next to her, though, the Soul Reaper's eyes snapped open and she sat up, a reflex honed over years of going to sleep next to a certain silver-haired someone and waking up alone. When her eyes found him standing at the window, Matsumoto relaxed somewhat, but the panic didn't drain completely from her face.
"Geez, Gin," she half-whined, blinking her eyes to clear her vision, "you scared me for a sec—"
The Lieutenant's words froze on her tongue as she saw that not only was Ichimaru wearing nothing above his waist, but a grisly tapestry of scars criss-crossed over his back, white lines contrasting sharply with his lightly-tanned skin. Some were bigger than others, and had cut deeper, but each gash sent a slight shiver down Rangiku's spine no matter what size it was. What in the name of all that was holy had he done to earn those wounds?
The former Captain turned around when he heard his oldest friend trailing off, his garnet eyes giving her a searching look.
"What's wrong, Rangiku?"
Matsumoto paused for a moment, trying to force her tongue to work again. When her voice finally emerged, it struck a chord somewhere in between disbelief and horror.
"How did you get so many scars, Gin?" she asked, and her friend stood still for several heartbeats. His brow was furrowed in thought, as if he was debating whether or not to say anything. Matsumoto didn't want to press Ichimaru for information if he didn't want to discuss the baggage it would bring along with it, and she shook her head.
"Never mind," the Lieutenant said, sighing as she sunk back down onto her pillow. She should have expected that someone like Gin would have secrets that no one else would ever know, but after everything they'd been through and shared together it still felt like a punch in the gut that he didn't trust her completely.
Rangiku was about to drift back to sleep when she felt a pair of wiry, but strong arms encircle her and she let herself be pulled into a surprisingly gentle embrace. Usually when they had been children, his touch, when it had been given at all, was cold and aloof, as if he was afraid of becoming truly attached to her.
Maybe, she thought, as a smile graced her face, he had changed after all.
"It's all right," he whispered, the mocking undertone dropped from his voice as the silver-haired man spoke softly, like he had back when they had been a pair of urchins with no one but each other.
"I'm done keeping secrets, Rangiku," Gin continued. "If there's anything you want to know, just ask."
Matsumoto twisted around, her smile widening as she met Ichimaru's red eyes with her own grayish blue pair.
"I'm not going to force you to say anything you don't want to, Gin," she spoke softly, running a hand tenderly along his cheek. "But whenever you're ready to let some of those memories go, I'll be here to listen."
The former Captain smiled at those words, but it wasn't the fake smile he wore sometimes to misdirect or intimidate someone; it was a genuine smile, laced with relief and happiness, and the first one Rangiku had seen him show in ages.
"That's good to know, Ran-chan," he said lightly, closing the negligible distance between them and placing a gentle, loving kiss on her lips. After a moment he made to pull away, but the strawberry-blonde had very different ideas, lacing her fingers together around the back of his neck and holding Gin in place. She smirked mischievously, a twinkle flashing in her eye.
"And just where do you think you're going, mister?" the Lieutenant asked, and Ichimaru smirked in kind.
"I guess I wouldn't mind being held here a little longer, Rangiku," Gin said smoothly as he leaned back in, being sure to close the door with a well-aimed kido before he got too carried away.
Toshiro opened his eyes slowly, groaning as he felt the joints pop in his back as he shifted instinctively. He stopped dead when he felt something tug at his hand, and the Captain's eyes widened considerably when he saw that his right hand was still intertwined with Karin's. The hazy memories of the morning's fight rushed back to him with crystal clarity, and suddenly Hitsugaya ached in places he didn't even know he had muscles. Groaning out of reflex, Toshiro cursed the day he had ever been stupid enough to shatter his own zanpakuto; he never wanted to go through what it had taken to get Hyorinmaru back ever again.
The white-haired Captain froze again as he felt Karin's hand twitch in his grip, and turned his head to look into her coal-dark eyes as they fluttered open lethargically. She seemed much more at ease with the situation, flashing a smile at the petrified Captain.
"Hey," she said lazily, before noticing the look on his face and arching a curious eyebrow.
"What's wrong, Toshiro?" the dark-haired Kurosaki asked. "You look like you saw a ghost or something."
Hitsugaya realized how ridiculous the expression on his face probably looked and he closed his eyes tightly, shaking his head sharply to bring himself back to some semblance of calm.
"Sorry about that," he said a moment later, as evenly as he could. "You caught me off-guard, that's all."
Kurosaki could see the lingering unease in Toshiro's strikingly sharp eyes, but she knew better than to grill someone like him with questions. It didn't escape her notice, however, that the young Captain relaxed as soon as her hand slipped away from his. Filing this away for future reference, Karin tried to kill the tension in the room, which had gotten so thick at this point it might as well have been a concrete wall.
"So, Toshiro…" she began, trying not to sound awkward, "what do you like to do in your free time?"
Hitsugaya grunted disdainfully at the very notion of free time.
"A Captain of one of the Thirteen Divisions should have no free time if they're doing their job right."
Karin fought as hard as she could to keep from rolling her eyes and failed, getting up from the bed and turning away from Toshiro so that he couldn't see the gesture. Taking off the dirty, bloodstained coat she'd lifted from the dead gangster back in the Rukongai, the young Kurosaki arched her back like a cat and sighed in relief as her stiff joints limbered up again. Turning her attention back to the kid who clearly took life way too seriously, Karin squared her shoulders and settled in for the long haul.
"All right," she began, "maybe I can believe you on that. But if you hypothetically had some free time, what would you see yourself doing?"
"Picking up Matsumoto's slack, like I always do."
Karin almost growled, and felt Hyorinmaru utter a faint apology in her head.
This was going to take a while.
In the Human World, two titans clashed in the settling dusk. But rather than engaging in a frenzied, whirling firestorm of a duel, the warriors fought with all the methodical precision of two chess masters. Aizen had never succumbed to bloodlust-driven brashness before in his life, and he was certainly not going to lose his head to pointless aggression in this crucial battle. Saika might have normally fueled his strikes with burning emotion, but at this point he was so detached from his feelings that the only thing residing in his soul was frozen, bitter hatred. His strikes were accordingly subdued, smoldering with wrath rather than blazing with fury.
So the two men dueled, barely moving further than six feet from each other and trading verbal barbs almost as frequently as sword slashes.
"Tell me, Prince," Aizen spoke calmly as he deflected a blow aimed for his heart, "how does it feel to know that you're going to leave your son an orphan, like your father before you?"
Saika grit his teeth and ripped through yet another illusion of Yoruichi before slashing his nemesis once again. It was almost unnerving how easily he cut down what had once stopped his blade entirely, but the half-demon prince shoved that thought far from his mind as he replied to the traitor's taunt.
"How does it feel to know that even if you kill me here, your victory will be utterly hollow, Sosuke?"
Aizen raised an eyebrow in amused curiosity, a smirk crossing his face as he parried another sword stroke with the effortless grace of a dancer.
"Oh, really? Please enlighten me, Prince Aron."
"If I die here," the one-eyed warrior elucidated, "my soul will descend to Hell immediately, where I will take back my throne while you deal with my friends. And when they kill you, which they most certainly will, and you come racing down to join me in the abyss I will be waiting for you, Aizen. And trust me when I say this: your pain at my hands will be indescribable."
Sosuke laughed at that pronouncement, a deep, rich sound that still somehow managed to scrape against Aron's ears like razor wire.
"What's so damn funny, you bastard?" the Prince asked. The brown-eyed man did not answer him immediately, but drew the moment out with multiple parries and counterattacks before replying, a sly smile curving his lips.
"Who says I'll ever join you in Hell, Prince?"
The half-demon was in the midst of comprehending that Pandora's Box of a statement when his enemy knocked him backwards with a surprisingly powerful strike, following the attack up by raising his free hand to his forehead and pulling it down swiftly.
Saika was taken aback by the white mask, the right eye of which was framed by a green hexagon that matched the tsuba of the former Captain's zanpakuto. Dark yellow irises surrounded by inky blackness replaced Aizen's genteel, almost regal eyes before narrowing in anger and primal anticipation.
"Shall we begin?" he spoke in an unearthly tone, and Aron allowed himself a grim smile.
"Sounds like fun. Bankai!"
When the transformation completed, the demon prince flexed his wings forged of raw reiatsu and tensed into his stance, muscles rippling with barely-restrained power. The pair of warriors closed the distance between them once again, and Saika could only hope that no Hollows were drawn to their duel by the sheer amount of spiritual energy leaking from their strikes.
As his attacks became more and more aggressive due to the buildup of energy inside of him, Aron realized that his enemy had been trying to goad him into his bankai state from the start. Saika knew that if he stayed this way for too long his attacks would get sloppy and he would be wide open, a weakness that Sosuke Aizen knew how to exploit better than anyone.
"Hado number 4: Byakurai."
The kido spell jolted the demon prince out of his thoughts, and if he had waited a split-second longer to sidestep the bolt of lightning he would have wound up with one less lung. Unfortunately for Saika, that dodge was exactly what Aizen had been waiting for. Before Aron could bring his wings around in front of himself like a shield, Kyoka Suigetsu had carved a deep gash from his right shoulder-blade to his left hip. As he staggered backwards leaving a thick trail of blood in front of him, the demon prince heard the Vizard's voice over the ringing in his ears, sounding like a harsh wind slicing through an icy fog.
"That's the second time I've failed to cut someone in half," Sosuke mused, his voice more curious than angry. "Is my zanpakuto going dull?"
Aron boosted his reiatsu up high enough to stop the copious bleeding before he slid into unconsciousness, but the strain was sapping away his energy like a leech on steroids and he could feel fatigue beginning to spread outward from the wound. It was inescapably clear to Saika in that moment that he had to end this duel soon or he was going to die. Gathering up what strength he could spare, the demon prince raised his sword and charged forward once more. Aizen stood as still as a statue and waited for the right moment to strike, a confident, eerie smile on his face.
The two warriors collided, and a massive burst of energy completely leveled the surrounding buildings.
As the light that had ripped through the deserted cityscape moments before began to dissipate, Saika and Aizen could be seen standing a short distance apart, their backs to each other. Both were breathing hard, but Aron was clearly in worse shape. His bankai shattered instinctively, the blue wings behind him splintering into a thousand shards that fell to the ground, glimmering briefly in the brilliant moonlight before evaporating into the air. The orange energy that glowed from his empty eye-socket dimmed and went out, and his appearance shifted back from more demonic to looking like a normal Soul Reaper. As if to punctuate his grim appearance, the re-opened gash across Saika's chest emitted a spurt of bright red blood as the demon prince's legs went weak under him. As he slumped forward, it was only by bracing himself on his zanpakuto that Aron kept from careening to the ground completely.
"Damn it…" he gasped, feeling the strength leave his limbs as each second ticked by.
The traitor Captain's normally-placid brown eyes were slightly widened with shock as his mask shattered and disintegrated, and a deep gash that had been carved into the shoulder of his sword-arm was all-too-happy to release a burst of crimson onto the pavement.
"Impressive," Sosuke spoke after a few heartbeats had passed between them. "I had figured your strength had left you behind, and yet you managed to land quite a solid strike."
"Shut up," the orange-eyed warrior said harshly as he forced his body to turn around, stand up straight and re-take its stance.
Aizen mirrored the gesture, smiling condescendingly at his opponent.
"Do you really think you can kill me in that kind of shape, Prince? I thought you were smarter than that."
Not replying to the taunt, Aron simply raised one of his arms and extended his hand outwards.
"Hado number 63: Rai—"
"Shakkaho."
The pure incantation bypass and the searing agony that followed it cut Saika's incantation off abruptly, and a moment passed for the demon prince before he realized that his hand had just been obliterated by Aizen's Shot of Red Fire spell. In the time it took the demon prince to get over the pain coursing through his body, the traitorous Captain had already prepped another kido.
"Hado number 54: Haien."
The purple flames shot out and engulfed Aron's right leg, turning it to ashes and bringing the once-indomitable warrior to one knee. Sosuke walked forward calmly, drawing Kyoka Suigetsu with one hand while the other pulsed with blue energy.
"It's a shame things had to wind up like this for you, Prince Aron," the traitor Captain mused. "Alone, mutilated, and bleeding to death in a deserted alley a world away from anyone who cares about the fact that your miserable existence is about to end…"
Aizen paused in his speech as Saika raised his good hand, only to have the entire arm severed by a mercilessly precise sword-stroke. Taking a moment to flick the blood from the blade of his zanpakuto and pointedly ignoring the half-demon prince's groans, Sosuke resumed his pseudo-monologue as if he'd never been interrupted.
"… not to mention that the woman currently carrying your bastard offspring is already seeking comfort in the arms of another. How does that feel, Prince?"
As if to drive the insult home, Aizen concentrated for a moment and conjured an image of Yoruichi and Urahara sitting on the porch of the Shiba house, gazing out at the full moon hanging in the sky above them. Aron, rather than be angered, simply snorted.
"Is that supposed to upset me, Sosuke?" he spat. "You and I both know that I have no qualms with whatever Yoruichi decides to do with her life at this point, especially considering that as soon as our kid is born I'd be consumed with the desire to murder her."
Aizen's smile widened, and the true point of his malicious goading became more apparent.
"Ah, but you're assuming that the child gets carried to term in the first place, Prince."
Despite the battered position he was in, Saika summoned enough strength to shoot his enemy a thoroughly murderous glare.
"What are you talking about, you bastard?"
Sosuke chuckled.
"Well, if I told you everything now that would ruin the surprise, and I do so enjoy seeing the looks on people's faces as they witness their worlds crumble around them. Unfortunately for you, Prince," the traitor Captain finished as he raised his zanpakuto once again,
"I'm afraid that you'll be seeing it happen from a much warmer climate."
The demon prince let out a breathy, raspy chuckle.
"You'll be joining me soon enough, Sosuke."
Those were the last words the mortal body of Saika Aron ever uttered.
The brown-eyed Soul Reaper looked down at the now-headless corpse of Saika Aron and couldn't completely restrain a sigh; the former Captain would have been a valuable asset in his plans for conquest, but now all of that potential had vanished completely.
"What a waste," Aizen said disdainfully as he picked up the head of his fallen rival, before turning around and opening a senkaimon with his zanpakuto.
He had pressing business to take care of in Soul Society.
Ichigo set Rukia down on her own two feet as they approached the Shiba household, knowing that Rukia would derive great pleasure from chopping him into pieces if he let the others see her in such a moment of weakness. Nonetheless, he still forced his loved one to brace herself around his shoulder. The orange-haired Soul Reaper wasn't about to let the stupid midget reopen the wounds he had spent so much energy healing. Mercifully, the younger Kuchiki didn't complain, and actually seemed to lean into him with some degree of contentment. That brought a goofy smile to Ichigo's face, but he wiped it off as soon as he sensed someone approaching.
"Rukia-san, are you all right?" the panicked voice of Hanataro Yamada called out. Soon the perpetually flustered Fourth Division Soul Reaper was upon them, casting a critical eye on her injuries.
"Rukia-san, what happened to you?" Hanataro asked in a shocked tone of voice when he had completed his initial inspection.
"I got into a little scrape, that's all. I'm fine," she grit out, and Ichigo had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing as Rukia's pride forced her to call a battle with the former Second Espada a 'scrape'. Yamada knew not to press the short-tempered Kuchiki for a better explanation, but he wasn't about to let her just limp off, either.
"Still, you should probably let me take a look at those wounds, Rukia-san. I might be able to keep them from scarring over if I get started right away."
"I'm fi—what the hell, Ichigo?!"
The young Kuchiki's declaration was unceremoniously cut off by Kurosaki sweeping her up into his arms once again, before she could finish lying through her teeth.
"Bakudo number 4: Hainawa."
Tendrils of golden rope bound Rukia's arms behind her back as she wriggled like a hooked fish, but her thrashing stopped completely when she realized what had just happened, and the young Kuchiki turned a pair of stunned violet eyes on a pair of very amused brown ones.
"Ichigo, did you just…"
"Perform an incantation bypass?" his intolerably smug voice answered. "Why yes, Rukia, I believe I did."
"How?"
Ichigo didn't answer the question, instead capitalizing on Rukia's state of relative calm and prodding Yamada on his way. The healer got the hint and dashed off, leaving Kurosaki standing in the clearing by himself.
Well, not quite by himself.
"I see you actually do have some discipline," Byakuya's level voice spoke out, but Kurosaki was sure a smile was buried in there somewhere. Turning to face the new arrival, he shrugged.
"Hey, it was your teaching, Byakuya. Thanks, by the way."
The elder Kuchiki waved a hand dismissively with practiced poise.
"Please, that was but a trifle. Besides, it was worth forcing that kido into your vacuous head to see the look on Rukia's face."
Ichigo's anger at being insulted so casually was swiftly overruled by his shock at the fact that Byakuya had just made a joke.
"Just wait until we get to the hado incantations, Ichigo Kurosaki," the grey-eyed Captain said, with an edge to his voice that sent chills down the orange-haired Soul Reaper's spine. All of the memories in which ropes had bound his arms around his back shifted sinisterly, the glowing bands of energy replaced by the bright, searing flames of soukatsui.
"That will be quite enjoyable. For me, at least," Byakuya appended, turning away and preparing to flash-step. Before he vanished, however, Ichigo voiced a question that had been nagging at him since had returned from the woods.
"Where's Saika? Usually I can sense his reiatsu easily, but… I can't feel anything right now."
Kurosaki saw the back of Byakuya's head slump forward momentarily, before rising back up to its accustomed posture.
"If everything has gone according to his plan," the elder Kuchiki's strong voice answered,
"Saika Aron is dead."
Ichigo's eyes widened slightly in surprise, and he wondered for a moment how exactly they were going to take down Aizen without the half-demon's support. He was shaken out of his thoughts, though, when Byakuya spoke again.
"Ichigo Kurosaki."
"Yeah, Byakuya?"
The noble turned his head slightly, fixing a single grey eye on the orange-haired Soul Reaper.
"Thank you for saving Rukia."
Kurosaki was silent for a moment, trying to comprehend why the world wasn't ending right then and there as he heard the stuffy Kuchiki sibling thanking him. Before he could reply, however, Byakuya had vanished in a burst of reiatsu.
Ichigo just chuckled, deciding to practice his reiatsu-sensing skills by following in the wake of the elder Kuchiki's flash-step trail.
He had some kido he needed to learn, after all, and something told him Byakuya wasn't a heavy sleeper.
Rukia grudgingly opened her eyes and groaned; for promising to heal her, Hanataro had somehow managed to make her feel even worse. Wiping the sleep out of her eyes with her sleeve, the young Kuchiki noticed that she was still clad in the haori of Thirteenth Division. The robe had once felt lighter than air and more comforting than a warm embrace, but ever since her humiliating defeat at Halibel's hands the fabric felt like a cold, constricting weight pressing down on her shoulders. No matter how fervently Ichigo tried to persuade her otherwise, Rukia knew that she had no business cavorting around in a haori for at least another five-hundred years; if she was lucky enough to survive that long, anyway.
Sighing, the petite Kuchiki forced herself to her feet and began to walk towards the calm, potent reiatsu of a certain white-haired, fully-recovered Soul Reaper.
Jushiro Ukitake broke his meditation and looked up as he felt Rukia's reiatsu enter the room, and was surprised to see the melancholy look on her normally untroubled face. The second thing Jushiro saw that surprised him was the immaculately-folded white garment resting in the young Kuchiki's outstretched arms:
It was the Thirteenth Division's haori.
"Is something wrong, Rukia?" Ukitake asked as smoothly as he could, knowing how stupid it sounded once it had actually been spoken. The violet-eyed Soul Reaper laid the folded robe down carefully in front of the cross-legged former Captain, sighing in relief as she did so.
"Not anymore, Captain Ukitake, sir," she answered, turning on her heel and beginning to walk swiftly from the room. Right as she reached the doorway, however, a stern voice stopped her dead in her tracks.
"Rukia."
The young Kuchiki had heard that voice say her name many times, many different ways, but never quite like this. This was the voice of a leader forged through centuries of combat, one who knew that when he gave orders they were obeyed not out of fear, but out of love and respect for his tenacity and skill. Powerless to command her own legs, Rukia found herself turning back to face her now-superior officer.
"Come over here and sit down."
His normally kind brown eyes were as hard as opals and shined just as fiercely. It took Rukia a moment to remember that Ukitake had been cured of his affliction by the wounds the Horseman Pestilence had inflicted on him what felt like a lifetime ago, and had surged back to the pinnacle of his powers. The violet-eyed Soul Reaper understood all-too-clearly that to disobey her powerful Captain now would mean entering into a battle of wills that she had no prayer of winning in a hundred lifetimes, and so she trudged back towards him and sat down, crossing her legs as well and waiting tensely for her rebuke.
But the harsh words she expected did not come. Instead, Jushiro's eyes softened once again and he flashed a smile warm enough to melt Hyorinmaru.
"Now, Rukia," he said affably, "why don't you tell me what's bothering you?"
"Nothing is bothering me, Captain Ukitake."
The white-haired Soul Reaper didn't speak for a few moments, looking deep into Rukia's eyes with his own pair of molten brown orbs, as if he was trying to burrow down into the deepest recesses of her soul and dig up the secrets she was keeping buried.
"Hey, look over there!" he exclaimed suddenly, pointing a slender finger towards the corner of the room. The young Kuchiki twisted on instinct, and her still-healing wounds cried out in protest. As Rukia grimaced sharply, Jushiro could only sigh.
"Well, at least I know those are still bothering you," he said tiredly, and Rukia glared childishly at her longtime superior.
"That was underhanded of you, Captain," she said sharply, and Ukitake gave a small smile.
"You don't hang around for as long as I have without picking up a few tricks, Kuchiki. Now," he said as his smile blossomed back to its normal size, "are you going to open up about what's got you down, or should I go looking for my pliers?"
Rukia chuckled despite herself; she could never stay mad at her Captain for very long. But then the weight of her self-loathing came rolling back onto her shoulders, and the chuckle became strained more and more until it had shifted into a broken sigh.
"I seem to have the bad habit of biting off more than I can chew," she said at length, her eyes downcast. "That haori is yours, Captain Ukitake, and I had no right to wear it. Please forgive my hubris."
Jushiro gave a small smile that he knew the young Kuchiki couldn't see, and extended one of his hands out towards her. Placing it gently under her chin, he lifted her face upwards until their eyes were level once again.
"Can I tell you a story, Rukia?" the Captain asked, his voice soft but insistent. The violet-eyed Soul Reaper had no idea where this was going, but she nodded nonetheless and Ukitake took his hand out from under her chin, relaxing back into a normal sitting posture and exhaling. Silence hung between the pair for a few heartbeats, before Jushiro began to speak once more.
"A long, long time ago," the white-haired Captain said, flicking a stray bang out of his face, "shortly after I had begun my third year training in the Academy, Shunsui and I were carousing around in the grasslands outside of the Rukongai after a 4-hour long sake bender with a couple of Kyoraku's lady friends at the time."
Rukia arched an eyebrow at that.
"He had more than one?"
Jushiro couldn't help but chuckle at the look on her face.
"Of course he did, Rukia. Lisa Yadomaru wasn't around to whip him into shape yet back then. Anyway, Shunsui's proclivities are beside the point. What matters is that we were too drunk to control our reiatsu properly, and soon enough a horde of Hollows came barreling down upon us. We managed to defeat them after some struggle, but not without a cost."
"What happened?" Rukia asked, beginning to wonder what this tale had to do with her dwindling sense of self-worth.
"I'm getting to that, Kuchiki. We defeated all of the Hollows without myself or Shunsui suffering any grievous wounds, but the young women we were traveling with weren't so fortunate. Two of them were killed outright, and the last one survived but came away horribly mangled. Shunsui was a wreck for weeks; if you think you're feeling bad, you should have seen Captain Kyoraku in cold turkey."
Rukia gave an involuntary shiver at the image, wondering how painful that must have been not only for the floral-cloaked Captain, but Captain Ukitake as well.
"He would barely talk to anyone, and his depression got so bad that the Old Man finally stepped in."
The young Kuchiki noticed how wistful her Captain's voice became when the late Captain-Commander was mentioned, but she stayed silent, knowing that Ukitake was approaching the point of his story.
"He sat Shunsui down, and told him one very important piece of advice. I am now going to pass it onto you Rukia, as the Captain-Commander is no longer here to say it himself.
"'Every living creature possesses a power of some kind, be it great or small. In keeping with the natural balance of the universe, every power carries with it some kind of weakness or flaw that keeps us humble. It takes very little to ignore those flaws, and much more to admit that they exist.
"'It takes the most willpower of all, however, to have the strength needed to resist falling into their siren song of self-pity and defeatism. If you can accept your flaws, turn them into assets and ultimately rise above them, then you will have become unconquerable.'
"There was no hubris in your acceptance of the haori, Rukia," the Captain finished. "You merely lacked the training to overcome your most glaring flaw; the desire to constantly prove your self-worth. This will eat you up from the inside if you let it, Kuchiki. You cannot allow that to happen, and especially not now, when we have a need for all of the strength the remaining Soul Reapers possess."
Anger had been slowly but surely building up inside Rukia and gaining more and more momentum since her Captain had called her out on her weakness, and the fact that he was absolutely right about it did nothing to assuage her. Unable to hold herself in check any longer, the young Kuchiki snapped and railed at her superior officer.
"What do you want me to do about it?" she said, more anguished then angry. "How am I supposed to become stronger if I always wind up getting humiliated? Who can I fight against?!"
Ukitake was unmoved by the tirade, uttering a single word in response.
"Me."
Rukia had not been expecting that response at all, and was stunned into silence for several heartbeats.
"…what?" she asked feebly, when she had regained her voice.
"I would be more than willing to train you, Rukia," the Thirteenth Division Captain explained. "If you would be up for it, that is," he appended swiftly, not wanting to sound like he was pressuring her.
The violet-eyed Soul Reaper was shocked back into stillness. Here was one of the most powerful Soul Reapers alive, offering to take his time to train someone like her? But…
"Why?" she asked. "Why would you take the time to train me?"
"There're ways to become stronger that don't involve throwing yourself headfirst into suicidal duels, Rukia," Jushiro replied patiently, although frustration was beginning to seep into the edges of his voice.
"I thought Kaien taught you at least that much."
Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of her old mentor, but the young Kuchiki quickly got over it, swallowing pointedly and nodding. Her Captain was right; if Kaien had been sitting in this room, he would probably be giving her a headlock right now and telling her to snap out of it before he started giving her a noogie. Flashing a smile in spite of her mood, Rukia looked her Captain square in the eyes, the fire long-since lacking in her own returning with a vengeance.
"I would be honored if you would train me, Captain Ukitake-sensei!"
Jushiro laughed, the warm sound buoying Rukia's spirits up even further.
"That's what I like to hear, Kuchiki! But it's rather late in the day to begin now," he qualified, looking out at the starry sky through the window.
"What do you say we start tomorrow, with the sunrise? You should go get some rest for now; I have a feeling the next few days are going to be anything but calm if Aizen begins to move in earnest."
Rukia nodded and rose, practically sprinting out of the room. Ukitake sighed and shook his head, a small smile on his face as the haori shifted its size in response to his reiatsu and he put it on once again.
"Kids these days," he mused, before rising in kind to brew himself a pot of tea.
The Human World: Kurosaki Residence
Yuzu sat watching the TV, an almost glazed look in her eyes. It was tough finding anything to do around the house, with Karin gone for good and Ichi… well, she didn't know quite what had happened to her brother, but her dad had remained quite silent on the subject. The youngest Kurosaki heard something that sounded somewhat like a cough next to her and looked over, her eyes flashing with happiness as she saw what had appeared beside her.
"Bostafu!" she fairly squealed, lunging and trapping the altruistic mod-soul in an embrace. Kon tried to grimace, but couldn't bring himself to do it; if Ichigo wanted to leave comforting duties to him again, he could handle it. The last thing he wanted was to see Yuzu crying again, the poor kid.
Yuzu was so preoccupied with her stuffed companion that she was completely oblivious to the rather heated discussion her father was engaging in over the phone.
"Damn it, man, I'm only going to say this one more time before I come over there and kick your ass myself! I'd go, but I have to take care of Yuzu now that Karin's over in Soul Society with Ichigo! Leave her at Urahara's shop? Are you kidding me?! Absolutely not… I don't even know why we're arguing about this! I have responsibilities here, and you don't! Simple as that! Besides," Isshin finished with a flourish, "you still owe me for introducing you to…"
"Say that name and I will kill you," the cold voice replied on the other end, and Isshin fell silent.
"… I'll do it," the voice continued, "but we are beyond even, Kurosaki."
The Kurosaki patriarch smiled on his end of the line.
"Understood. Safe travels, and say 'Hi' to Ichigo for me!"
"Go die in a fire, Soul Reaper."
The line went dead after that, and Isshin shook his head as he hung up.
"Man," he mused, "that guy needs to get laid."
Soul Society: Shiba Household
Rukia lay in bed slumbering, a contented smile on her face. Her Captain had just offered to train her personally; she didn't feel nearly as worthless now as she had earlier in the day; her wounds had pretty much healed and the guy lying next to her was far and away the best bed-warmer ever. Life was good.
And the dream she was having wasn't too shabby either.
Standing alone on a grassy hill… or rather, the grassy hill, with the sun shining down on her face and surrounded by happy memories. The only thing that was missing was…
"Oi, Kuchiki!"
Rukia spun around and found herself staring into the face of the only person who had managed to change her life as thoroughly as Ichigo had, for better and for worse:
Kaien Shiba.
She almost allowed herself to smile, but then Rukia saw the glove on his left hand and was immediately on alert, reaching for the zanpakuto she wasn't even wearing out of instinct. Kaien started for a moment when he saw her reaction, but then relaxed and smiled, reaching for the glove with his free hand and pulling it off, to reveal…
A perfectly normal, human hand.
"Ta-da!" he said triumphantly. "Nothing up my sleeve, Kuchiki. You can relax; just because the most vivid memories you have of me are the ones where I'm wearing this freakin' ridiculous outfit, that doesn't mean I'm an Espada in disguise!"
Rukia's stance sagged in spite of her resolve, and she huffed childishly.
"Don't do that to me, Kaien-dono!" she fumed, and the elder Shiba just laughed before closing the distance between them, kneeling slightly so that they were eye-to-eye, and putting his hand lightly on her head.
"It's good to see you again, too, Kuchiki," he said sarcastically, before sticking his tongue out erratically and ruffling her hair just enough to infuriate the violet-eyed Soul Reaper and running away like a mischievous teenager.
"Why you little…!" Rukia seethed, a veneer of anger lightly shrouding the warmth she felt rising up in her heart. Taking off after her former mentor, the young Kuchiki couldn't help but think of the sweet retribution she was going to wreak on that infuriating man…
Back in Soul Society, the sleeping form of Rukia Kuchiki shifted from grimacing and trembling slightly in her sleep to going still, before tensing, rising out of the bed and then commencing to sleepwalk to the door and then through it, outside into the still night.
Behind her, standing in the shadowed corner of the room, a white-clothed Soul Reaper smiled maliciously before walking silently over to the empty space on the bed and putting the severed head he was carrying down on the pure white linens, smirking as they were stained with black blood. Kurosaki was in for quite the surprise when he woke up…
Turning sharply and following the departing Kuchiki, Sosuke Aizen allowed himself a moment to marvel at the potency of Kyoka Suigetsu's 'Complete Hypnosis' before he flash-stepped away, making sure to stay close enough to his prey to be able to recast the illusion if it faltered. Creating a stable one inside the turbulent mind of a dreamer was much more challenging than normal, after all.
"Kaien Shiba," the traitor Captain said to himself, addressing the phantom of the departed Soul Reaper, "how useful you have proven yourself to be. Trust me when I say it is most appreciated."
Rukia chased after Kaien's still-fleeing form, but couldn't help but think that something was off. Her legs were beginning to burn from fatigue, and yet her former mentor was still moving as swiftly as he had been when the chase had started.
"Wait, Kaien-dono," she called out, cursing herself for failing to keep up with him but feeling the fatigue clawing mercilessly at her muscles and forcing herself to admit defeat for her own sake.
Hearing her plea, Kaien slowed down and stopped, not even bending over to catch his breath or rest his muscles.
"Whatsa matter, Kuchiki? Can't keep up?" he asked as Rukia all but limped up next to him, walking abreast of her mentor as he began to move again.
"Jeez, this is what happens when I leave you be and stop pushing you to get stronger," the elder Shiba groused in the half-whine Rukia knew so well.
"Remind me not to die a third time, Kuchiki!"
The violet-eyed Soul Reaper forced herself to chuckle when faced with Kaien's good-natured smirk, but it left a bitter taste in her mouth. Rukia then paused for a moment, wondering why everything felt slightly… off in a way she couldn't quite put her finger on. In an effort to get her mind away from the unnerving feeling creeping up her spine, the young Kuchiki turned to face her mentor.
"So… what are we going to do, Kaien-dono? You didn't just come here to exhaust me, did you?"
The face of Kaien Shiba twisted itself into a smirk that sent a dart of pure fear lancing straight into Rukia's heart. Her instincts were howling at her now to get the hell away from here as fast as possible by any means necessary, but when she tried to move she found that she was completely immobile.
"What the…?" she gasped, a sound which turned into a barely-strangled scream as Kaien and the landscape around her suddenly shattered into pieces, revealing a moonlit plain of grass as the warm sensation of the sun was replaced by the sharp feeling of a chill wind sliding against her pajama-clad form. Rukia felt her nose itch and tried to reach up and scratch it, but her arm still wouldn't move. Looking down to try and figure out why, the scream that had previously been strangled burst out of her throat, driven by sheer terror. The violet-eyed Soul Reaper saw six shafts of golden light pinning her still, and a few seconds later she felt an oppressive reiatsu that froze her movements even further and choked the raw scream into silence. Forcing her head to rise upwards, the young Kuchiki saw the face of the one who had imprisoned her and was seized with disbelief.
"Im—possible!" she choked out, and the man in front of her smiled.
"Improbable, perhaps," the calm, ever-polite voice of Sosuke Aizen replied, "but certainly not impossible."
The traitor Captain eased up on his reiatsu and Rukia found her voice once more, snarling like a caged tiger.
"You should finish me now," she said fiercely, "or I swear to God I'm going to find a way out of this and kill you with my bare hands."
"My, my," Sosuke replied, smiling faintly. "What is it with you Soul Reapers and your absurd threats? You have no zanpakuto, no way to cast kido and no hope of breaking free from my rikujokoro. Stop struggling; it will make this whole process that much easier to weather."
As the former Captain drew his zanpakuto and readied it in one smooth motion, Rukia glared daggers at him, a gesture which only intensified as Aizen began to walk towards her with methodically-measured paces. When he was within arm's reach, the violet-eyed Soul Reaper strained towards her enemy with all of her might and spoke with as much force as she could.
"Go ahead and do it, you coward," she spat. "Kill me; I'm not afraid to die!"
Sosuke's smile widened, showing more of his teeth.
"Yes, I was given ample proof of that at the Soukyoku," he answered smugly. "But don't worry, Rukia Kuchiki; I'm not going to kill you. No, I need you as a hostage to draw out that brat Ichigo Kurosaki. However," he finished, raising his sword up,
"Even if you are just a hostage, I need some physical evidence that you are, in fact, in my custody. You won't mind giving this up, will you?"
Rukia barely had time to brace herself for the searing pain before her sword hand was severed, leaving an even stump in its wake. Unable to restrain herself any longer, she broke down in a mangled, discordant fugue of sobs and pain-filled moans.
"Fear not, woman," Aizen's voice said as it cut through the haze surrounding her mind, "this will all be over soon."
Knocking his captive mercifully unconscious with the hilt of his zanpakuto, Sosuke vanished just as the sun began to crest the horizon.
At the same time Rukia was being led towards captivity, a lone figure passed through a narrow, precise senkaimon and fell to the grassy earth below without as much as a whisper hinting at his presence. Straightening up, the new arrival instinctively brushed at his shoulder and looked around, appraising the dwelling that the few surviving Soul Reapers had chosen as their makeshift sanctuary. It was ridiculously easy to spot, and the man wondered how these scattered Soul Reapers had survived for so long if this was what passed for strategy. The visitor made a mental note to strangle Isshin Kurosaki for making him bear the burden of being a glorified bodyguard; if there was one thing he had no desire to be, it was the protector of a bunch of accursed Soul Reapers.
"Well, I'll be," a smooth voice spoke out from the figure's left. The man spun to face the speaker, shocked that he hadn't felt any reiatsu coming from him.
"If it isn't my favorite little ray of sunshine," Shunsui Kyoraku said as sarcastically as he was able, finishing up a cup of sake.
"What brings you all the way out here…
"Ryuken Ishida?"
The self-proclaimed 'Last Quincy' snorted sharply at the jest, readjusting his glasses out of habit.
"An obligation to a mutual friend, Kyoraku," Ishida replied tersely, "nothing more."
The floral-cloaked Captain sighed, placing a hand over his heart.
"You wound me, Ishida-kun," he said with mock-gravity in his voice. As he poured himself another cup of sake, the Captain's voice shifted back to jovial.
"Hey, come help me polish off this bottle of sake, Ishida. I was going to split it with Rangiku, but she's probably doing something I'd rather not know about with Ichimaru. What do ya say to a drink between friends, for old time's sake?"
"We are no longer friends," came the glacial reply, "and those times are as dead as my people."
Shunsui readjusted his hat, looking into the steely eyes of the Quincy with his equally strong brown ones.
"What happened to you, Ryuken?" he asked, his tone atypically serious. "Where's the man I used to know, the diplomat who tried to stop that horrible war?"
"He is buried, Kyoraku," the Ishida patriarch shot back bitterly, "and he isn't coming back. Not after what happened to my people because I couldn't see past your veil of lies!
"I could have turned the tide in our favor," Ryuken continued with a voice of steel, "but instead I clung to my father's delusional belief that the conflict between us could be solved with words, and not with arms."
Exhaling heavily, Shunsui finished his full cup in a single pull.
"Not all of us supported the directive, Ryuken," he began, but the white-haired Quincy cut him off.
"But all of you drew your swords when the time came. Even the one person who I thought understood my plight, Kyoraku! Do you know how devastating that felt?"
"Yes," a calm voice answered from beyond the pair's verbal sparring, "and to be honest, a part of me feels it still."
Ishida froze like a man who had just stared a gorgon in the face, torn between pure hatred and a lingering shred of deep affection that he had never been able to completely banish from his heart. When he spoke again, his voice had returned to its usual calm, if gruff tone.
"It has been quite some time," he began, turning to face the figure that stepped gracefully into the moonlight,
"Retsu."
The Fourth Division Captain gave a smile somewhere between serene and heartbroken, and Shunsui knew his place was no longer here. Glancing warily at the tense, white-haired Quincy one last time, Kyoraku vanished. When they were alone, Unohana exhaled a breath she had no idea she had been holding and spoke.
"I owe you an apology, Ishida-san," she began, ignoring the scornful sound that passed for a reply and continuing.
"What passed between us constituted a grave error in judgment on my part, and I hope you can find it within your soul to forgive me."
Cold fire flashed in his eyes as Ryuken spoke, his voice barely remaining even.
"An 'error in judgment'? Is that really what I was to you? I seem to recall you proclaiming me as something entirely different all those years ago, Unohana."
"Please, do not do this," the Captain entreated, her crystal-blue eyes flashing in the moonlight. "The only thing that lies in those memories for us now is pain."
"Be that as it may," the Quincy said forcefully, "I have to know. Why did you abandon me, Retsu?"
The Captain was taken aback by the urgency in the question, but quickly mastered herself.
"Many reasons, all of which I failed to see because I was too blinded by an emotion I thought I had long since outgrown. First and foremost, you were, and still are a Quincy; your people would have cast you out like a leper if they had known what we had done. Second, you were, and still are a human; you deserve more than to age next to someone who cannot grow old, and die long before the one to whom you had pledged your love. What we possessed was more fragile than a snowflake, and as volatile as a flame at the end of its life.
"It was a desire we were both foolish enough to fall victim to, Ishida-san, and nothing more."
"I see," the Quincy replied after several strained heartbeats had passed. Silence reigned over the space between the pair, broken only after Unohana had taken some time to choose her next words.
"How is he?" she asked, and Ryuken shrugged dismissively.
"Hopeless. You gave him your compassion, and it has made him soft. He lacks a killer's instinct."
"Some would consider that a boon, Ishida-san."
The Quincy chuckled bitterly.
"Not in times like these, Captain."
The blue-eyed Soul Reaper noted the harshness with which her former lover uttered her title, and a small part of her soul crumbled into dust.
"Does he know?"
"Of course not," was the icy reply. "All he knows of the Soul Reapers is that they are deceitful, selfish beings devoid of any true emotional attachment thanks to their state of virtual immortality. This is a quality that has also lent them a disturbing level of ignorance in regards to the consequences of their actions. In other words, he knows the truth."
"… I see," the Captain replied, in a strained echo of Ryuken's earlier words. "So Uryu…"
"Will never know who, or what he really is, until the day he dies and is forced to make the choice of which path to walk. Or I guess I should say that, at the very least," the Quincy amended, "I will not be the one who tells him of his true heritage. If you wish to open up that particular can of worms, Captain, be my guest."
"Very well," Retsu answered with a weary sigh. She had never expected to have this shard of her past dug up and slammed back into her chest, and for it to happen so suddenly still had a part of her reeling.
"Is there anything else you came here to do besides exhume old shades, Ishida-san?"
Readjusting his glasses once again, the Quincy made sure they sat so that the light would block out his eyes before he replied.
"Isshin Kurosaki decided to call in an old debt, and I am here to repay it. Nothing more, nothing less. If you see me again, Captain," the archer finished right before he flashed away,
"It will be when I emerge to salvage victory from your looming defeat, as the majority of your comrades lay dying."
With that the Quincy vanished, leaving Unohana alone with the weight of her only regret bearing down upon her. Sighing heavily, the Captain flash-stepped to her quarters and laid down to a fitful sleep, plagued with visions of happier times that had come and gone far too rapidly.
Ichigo was sore in places he didn't even know existed thanks to Byakuya Kuchiki's insane idea of a 'light workout'. Kurosaki could remember five times off the top of his head when he might have died had he been a half-step slower, but at least his kido skill was improving in leaps and bounds.
Groaning, the orange-haired Soul Reaper stirred awake as the sun's rays danced apathetically across his face. The odd feeling produced by the fact that the other half of the bed was cold and empty brought Ichigo out of his dreams much faster than he would have liked. The Soul Reaper sat up sharply, scanning the room quickly to see if Rukia was sitting somewhere before his eyes fell upon the cold, dead object that had replaced the warm, comforting body of his loved one.
The resulting shout of horror ensured that no one else remained asleep for very much longer. A few hectic minutes later, everyone was gathered in the main room of the Shiba household. The general reaction was one of either shock, anger or disgust at Aizen's barbaric message, but anyone with a keen eye noticed that the practiced, stony look Yoruichi had put up was barely concealing a wave of grief that threatened to surge forward and swallow her whole now that the final hope for Saika's return had been crushed. Kisuke put his hand reassuringly on her shoulder, whispered a few words into her ear and the Shihoin princess sighed, gathering herself up again as her expression became much more keen and focused than it had been a moment before.
After he had let the silence hang over the gathering for long enough, Ichigo stopped fidgeting and spoke the question everyone wanted to avoid asking.
"What happened to Rukia?"
The tone was as much self-deprecating as it was genuinely curious; the brown-eyed Soul Reaper was clearly already beating himself up for having failed to protect the one he had sworn to keep from harm. When the answer to his question came, it froze everyone's blood cold.
"Rukia Kuchiki now belongs to me."
Every pair of eyes in the room widened in disbelief and turned slowly to regard the speaker. He stood in the back of the room with a sinister smile on his face, a gesture that was thrown into sharp relief by the faint light.
Byakuya broke the tense quiet, his voice as lethally frozen as anyone present ever remembered hearing it.
"Give me one reason why I should not obliterate you where you stand, you bastard."
Aizen's smile widened.
"I currently have your sister trapped in a rikujokoro, Captain," he replied. "That should be reason enough, I believe."
"Like hell!" Ichigo shouted, preparing to lunge at the traitorous former Captain until Byakuya laid a firm hand on his shoulder, holding him still.
"Please try to refrain from getting Rukia killed with that temper of yours, Ichigo Kurosaki."
Ichigo blustered, looking over at his kido teacher and future brother-in-law incredulously.
"What're you talking about, Byakuya?"
"Rikujokoro is a dual-purpose kido spell, Ichigo," Urahara explained. "The rods are initially used to imprison the target, but if enough force is applied they can be made to shear the target in two."
The orange-haired Soul Reaper's eyes dimmed slightly in defeat, and for once he found himself missing Rukia's horrible drawings that normally accompanied such an explanation. Looking for anything to take his simmering rage out on, Kurosaki turned his attention back to Aizen.
"What do you want in exchange for Rukia?" he seethed, and Aizen chuckled breezily.
"You truly are a fool if you think this is going to proceed like a typical hostage exchange, boy. If you do not accept the terms I am about to give, there will be nothing left of Rukia Kuchiki to exchange at all five minutes from now."
Before Ichigo could reply to the haughty proclamation, Byakuya pre-empted him yet again.
"Speak, filth."
"Ichigo Kurosaki will meet me on the plain two miles from here, with precisely one companion, in exactly three hours. If he does not appear at that time, or is accompanied by anyone other than his chosen comrade, Rukia Kuchiki will die. And I can assure you it will not be swift, nor will it be merciful.
"Good luck, human ryoka boy. Oh, and before I forget," he finished,
"Here's a little something to tide you over for the next few hours."
With that Aizen withdrew Rukia's right hand from somewhere within his robes and tossed it to Ichigo, who caught it on reflex before seeing what it was and blanching in rage and disgust. Using the shock that rippled through the room as a cover for his escape, the traitor vanished as quickly and untraceably as he had come. When he realized Aizen had slipped away, Ichigo all but snarled as he ran his free hand through his hair in a failed attempt to control his rapidly-spiking anger. Deciding that he needed some time to think this through alone, the orange-haired Soul Reaper walked out of the room as calmly as he could manage, putting a dent in the wall with his fist along the way. The room was quiet enough to hear a pin drop, until Gin Ichimaru cleared his throat and spoke.
"I know that a majority of the people in this room will never trust a word that I say," he began, "but I hope those people will take into consideration the fact that I know Sosuke Aizen better than probably anyone else present. I've seen enough of his ploys to know when one is coming, and this reeks of one.
"I would suggest that the person who felt the most compelled to volunteer to be Ichigo's second in the duel make it known to us now; clearly, Aizen is counting on the predictability of someone in this room to play right into his hands."
It was barely a glance. It seemed more like an instinctive understanding between two people born out of something deeper than friendship, or even love. Just by observing each other for the slimmest fraction of a second, each of them knew exactly what was going on in the other's mind, and exactly what had to be done.
"It was me," Kisuke Urahara announced to the gathered Soul Reapers. "I hate to come out an admit it like this, but the kid's kinda grown on me. Well," the Twelfth Division Captain finished, rising from his seat, "I guess that means I'll be takin' my leave. To whoever's crazy enough to go out there, good luck!"
Yoruichi Shihoin felt a lightness come over her as she watched her best friend go out the door that could only be described as a feeling of complete and utter determination. Urhara had unlocked the door for her; now all she had to do was find the courage necessary to open it up and walk through. Getting up from her seat, she left to go search out the Soul Reaper she hoped would allow her to satisfy her desire for the ultimate closure.
The rest of the Soul Reapers could only watch with heavy hearts, knowing exactly what had just happened but also honoring the unspoken code that prevented them from stopping it; even at the expense of their better judgment.
Ichigo paced around his room like a rabid wolf, and every morbid glance at the severed hand he had been given so callously by Aizen just reminded him even more acutely of his failure. Even though the rational part of his mind knew that this was an attempt to make him angry and unfocused before the duel, his emotional half could not have cared less.
I'm going to rip that fucker to shreds, his Inner Hollow hissed, enraged that someone had dared to steal something so precious from him. Ichigo was jolted out of his rage by a knock at the door, which he didn't so much slide open as pick up and chuck across the room with a clatter. Before the orange-haired Soul Reaper could regain his bearings, a pair of deceptively strong, slender hands had gripped his shoulders like vises, the hold forcing Ichigo to look right into the grim golden eyes of the person directly in front of him.
"Pull yourself together, Ichigo!" Yoruichi half-snarled, putting enough pressure on the soft spots where her thumbs were currently positioned to bring him to his knees with a strained grunt.
"The last thing we need is for you to lose your cool before you even face Aizen," the Shihoin princess continued, once she was sure Ichigo was paying attention. "He's counting on you being a wreck, and no doubt he thinks that as soon as you're out of the picture the rest of us are sitting ducks."
Ichigo nodded solemnly as he rose to his feet, and Yoruichi let up on her hold.
"As much as I appreciate that advice, Yoruichi," the brown-eyes Soul Reaper spoke, "it's obvious that you didn't come here just for that. So what the hell do you want?"
The golden-eyed princess readied herself one final time before actually forming the words; once she declared it, there was no going back.
"I want to be your second at the duel."
Ichigo stood still for a moment, looking over his former teacher with a searching intensity Yoruichi had no idea he was capable of.
"And you say I'm in danger of losing my head…" he mumbled, turning away to go sit on his bed.
She wanted to retort with something, but Yoruichi had to admit that Ichigo had a good point. Was she ready to go into that fight with a clear head, knowing that not only might she not make it out, but also that Aizen already knew she was going to be the one most likely to accompany Ichigo? In an attempt to get her mind off of that loaded question, the former Captain sat down next to the brooding Kurosaki and put her hand gently on top of Ichigo's.
"I'm sorry you have to go through all of this hardship, Ichigo," she said, giving his hand an encouraging squeeze. "Humans like you should at least get to live their first life out in peace before having to worry about stuff like this."
Ichigo took a moment to listen half-heartedly to whatever words of wisdom his former sensei was deigning to share, and was about to shove them from his mind before he thought about them for a few seconds and his eyes widened in shock. He shot straight up like he'd been hit by a bolt of lightning, rising up off of the bed entirely as he was almost overwhelmed by the sudden epiphany. Phrases he had heard in the past came rushing back to him and echoed with a newfound level of clarity. Ichigo almost smacked himself for not thinking of it sooner.
"In the end, you are still just a human."
"A ryoka such as yourself would never be able to overcome this gap in power, not even after a hundred years,"
"Even I have to admit that for a human, you were quite amusing."
"Just a human…"
"Human…"
"That's it!" he called out excitedly, before turning around to face Yoruichi and pulling her to her feet before giving her a huge bearhug.
"You're a genius, Yoruichi!" Ichigo said almost euphorically, before letting his former teacher go and dashing out of the room like his uniform was on fire. The Shihoin princess watched him go with skeptical eyes, wondering if maybe her student had finally gone as crazy as his father.
When she took in the room's newfound silence and began to think, Yoruichi found herself confronting one question over and over, and the Shihoin princess became more and more uneasy as it became chillingly apparent that she had no idea how to answer it.
Why, exactly, did Aizen want or need her to be the one to go with Ichigo to the duel? Why did she matter as much, if perhaps not more, than the one with whom Sosuke would actually be crossing blades?
Ichigo skidded to a halt in front of the door, drawing the surprised and slightly unnerved stares of the Soul Reapers still in the main room. The orange-haired Soul Reaper's eyes zeroed in on a certain Kuchiki noble, however, and as far as he was concerned no one else was in the room.
"Captain Kuchiki," he said breathlessly, hoping to grab the man's attention by using both his last name and his title,
"We need to talk. Outside. Now."
The noble was so stunned by the fact that the insolent brat had finally addressed him properly that he was certain pigs were going to start sailing through the sky on golden wings. After a quick glance out of a nearby window disproved that fear, though, Byakuya locked onto Ichigo's pulsing reiatsu and flash-stepped towards it. Once he came down from the initial rush that accompanied high-speed movement, the Captain regarded the strangely calm and confident Kurosaki with a skeptical look.
"What is it you wanted to speak to me about so urgently, Ichigo Kurosaki?" he asked, with a part of him unsure if he really wanted to know the answer.
"I know how to do it," he said, his voice more alive and stronger than Byakuya had heard in a long time. "I know how to become more powerful than Aizen."
The elder Kuchiki's tone shifted from one of skepticism to one of surprise and the slightest bit of hope.
"Oh? And prey tell, just how would that be done?"
Ichigo took a breath in, as if what he was going to say required actual physical force behind it. After a heartbeat, he spoke.
"I need you to kill me."
A/N: Before we wrap this chapter up completely, a quick announcement: this story is officially past 100 reviews! Everyone who has reviewed this in the past should give themselves a hearty pat on the back; your continued encouragement and support has made this much less of a Herculean undertaking than it might have otherwise been, and I thank you for it.
The Oscars go out to MatsuMama and blackmedelninjan, who have been with this story since its inception and have consistently given fantastic feedback. A special Jury Prize is also awarded to Spin1978, who dropped the 100th review. Good times.
I hope this story has remained enjoyable, and I'll see you back next time for what's probably going to be the last (Gasp!) chapter, followed by an epilogue.
And last but not least, please review! (You didn't think I wanted to stop at 100, did ya?)