Twilight: Hello all my faithful reviewers!
Kage: You have reviewers?
Twilight: Yup! I is proud!
Kage: …Right.
Twilight: Shut up.
Kage: I didn't say anything!
Twilight: You were thinking it.
Kage: Thinking what?
Twilight: That I only got three reviews for two chapters and will likely never get any more than that.
Kage: Oh, now that you mention it…
Twilight: Furry bastard. Disclaimer. Now.
Kage: Whatever.
Twilight: …I hate you.
Kage: I know, and I hate you too. Dragon of Twilight doesn't own Bleach. If the psycho did, Zaraki would have a lot more screen time.
Twilight: God bless that monster of a man…
Kage: Riiiiiight.
. Requiem of a Wandering Spirit .
… a bleach fanfiction
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Requiem of a Wandering Spirit © Dragon of Twilight
Bleach © Kubo Tite
This introduction format © B a y o – B a y o
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CHAPTER T H R E E :
"Attack of the Cleavage"
Opening Theme: "Houki Boshi" by Younha
Yuurei gazed at him, her eyes wary as Hitsugaya drew in a deep breath, dropping his piercing emerald gaze to the medical kit at his side, pulling out a few fresh bandages and an ice pack, setting the bandages on the floor in front of him. Yuurei reached out cautiously and gripped the bandages, drawing them back to herself as she curiously watched Hitsugaya wrap the ice pack with a tissue.
Questions whirled through Hitsugaya's mind as he handed Yuurei the ice pack, and he vaguely heard himself instruct her in an absentminded voice to put it on the bruised side of her face. He forced his thoughts to slow and regained his composure enough to look at Yuurei, face expertly schooled into careful indifference.
The wary gleam in her eyes had faded and a kind of relief and curiosity seemed to reflect in her wide black orbs. Her face was inscrutable, but her eyes reflected her emotions, finally allowing him to read her, which had been a constant source of frustration. She seemed to be much less intimidating and more human when she had an emotion other than that horrible blankness from before.
She began unwrapping the bandages on her wrist under his expectant gaze, cautiously unwinding the layers with a kind of careful deliberation. Faint dark scars crossed over her wrists in a thick line, as if had been slashed open many times. They were faded, though, almost perfectly matching her skin tone, if not for the smooth texture of the healed skin.
As Yuurei wrapped new bandages around her wrist and proceeded to unwrap her other bandages, Hitsugaya silently removed the used ones, dropping them in the trash bin. He watched calculatingly as other faint scars were revealed on her upper arms and around her neck.
Is she suicidal?
Hitsugaya was quickly sorting through the questions that crowded into his head as she finished, preparing himself for an interrogation of sorts. As she finished, freshly bandaged and holding the icepack delicately to her cheek, she looked up at him with a kind of simple contentment.
The questions that had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to be uttered with a great deal of his usual authority, died as they attempted to leave his mouth. Something about the way her eyes drooped contentedly as she surveyed his face stopped his words as they attempted to leave his mouth.
Yuurei herself was fascinated with this short, white-haired person who obviously held a great deal of authority for someone who looked so young. She let her eyes run over his face as he looked away from her, swallowing slightly with a slightly annoyed scowl replacing the small frown that seemed to be his normal facial expression.
Hitsugaya—that was his name, right? —was an unusual sight. Snow white hair—the purest tint she'd ever seen, especially compared to hers, which was more of an extremely light gray than truly white—sat atop his head in random sharp tufts, with a single tress of his bangs falling over his left eye. His skin had a healthy-looking tan, which created an odd but admittedly attractive contrast to his snowy hair. He carried his zanpakutō, which was almost as tall as it's owner, strapped diagonally across his back with a light green ribbon and dark green clip. The sword gave off a frosty aura, matching its master's demeanor. The captain's muscles were very well defined, beyond what any person his supposed age should have, his fingers slim but strong, and his build was both lithe and toned. His sharp, almost catlike teal eyes angled away from her as she continued to scrutinize him from under half-lidded eyes.
"Hitsugaya-taichou? What are you doing?"
Yuurei's eyes instantly went to their usual dilated state and immediately snapped to the source of the new voice, free hand flashing out and pulling her cloak over her narrow shoulders. Hitsugaya didn't seem surprised, merely irritated as he smoothly rose from his crouch and stood, crossing his arms as he leveled an incensed look at the person in the doorway.
The person was a woman that wore the same black and white uniform common to all shinigami, the only four differences being the pink scarf draped over her shoulders, a necklace that disappeared into the depths of her extremely generous cleavage, the small fukutaichou badge tied to her upper arm, and how her shihakusho (1) was open in the front to reveal a large majority of her chest. She had long, wavy, eye blinding orange hair and laughing light gray eyes. Her lips were curved upward in a childish grin, and a small beauty mark dotted the corner of her mouth. Her cheeks were flushed slightly, though she seemed sober. Her zanpakutō hung at her waist; the tsuba (2) was in the shape of a cat's head.
"Matsumoto, you're late." Hitsugaya snapped crossly. "You were supposed to be in the office working four hours ago."
"Hehe…sorry, taichou…" The woman—Matsumoto—said sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders, which made her…rather ample chest bounce slightly. "Shūhei was having a party with Izuru and he just had to invite me to join him!"
Why doesn't she wear some sort of bra? Yuurei wondered, watching the movement of the woman's large chest and noting that it was not bound in bra or by bandages, such as hers was. Those can't be very useful to have in a fight…
Hitsugaya suppressed the exasperated urge to scrub his hand across his face, and instead sighed irritably. He suddenly felt tired, and he struggled to avoid letting it show as he walked behind his desk. Matsumoto's mere presence was enough to incline an automatic migraine.
"And what, exactly, was he celebrating?" Hitsugaya demanded unbelievingly as he sat down in his comfortingly familiar chair. Matsumoto's face lit up like a Christmas tree and clapped her hands together with a sparkly gleam in her eyes.
"He got a girlfriend!"
Hitsugaya's angry look went flat.
"…Girlfriend?"
"Yeah!" Matsumoto exclaimed excitedly, waving her arms around enthusiastically. "I never would have expected him to pick her! I mean, she's nice and all, but her father would probably rip him to shreds!"
"So, you were late because you were out drinking, again." He summed up, allowing his eyes to flick to Yuurei, who was watching Matsumoto with an amused look. The icepack was nowhere to be seen, Hitsugaya noted, but the swelling of her cheek had faded to a slight purple bruise, much more healed than was considered normal.
Matsumoto seemed oblivious to her captain's tangled thoughts, nodding animatedly. "Yeah, of course! Hey, wait…who're you?" She asked, noticing Yuurei for the first time.
Hitsugaya cut in before Yuurei could open her mouth. "This is Maboroshi Yuurei. I've considered accepting her into the Division, but—"
Telling Matsumoto that was a mistake, especially an inebriated Matsumoto.
Immediately, Matsumoto squealed with delight at a volume level slightly louder than a squalling cat, shunpo-ing over to Yuurei and squashing the startled young woman tightly into her boobs.
"Aww, she's so cute! Where'd you get her?! Can we keep her?! Aww, she's adorable! She has white hair, just like you! A little thin and dirty, but I'll take her to get a makeover and feed her and brush her hair and teach her how to drink sake and—"
At this point, Hitsugaya suppressed a wince of sympathy for Yuurei, who had managed to squirm around in Matsumoto's death-grip so she was facing towards him, and hung limply while Matsumoto hugged her stick-thin middle in a death hold. The look in her eyes was amusing, a kind of disbelief that this sort of thing could be happening to her.
The disbelief morphed into slight alarm as Matsumoto began to carry her out the door clenched tightly to the older woman's chest, talking all the while about going shopping and a makeover. Hitsugaya also noticed that Matsumoto was heading for the door and abruptly spoke in an attempt to stop her.
"Matsumoto, wait—!"
Too late.
Hitsugaya growled angrily upon realizing that, once again, his opportunity to question Yuurei had passed, and it sunk in that Matsumoto had basically just kidnapped the new recruit into his squad without his permission. Matsumoto was stubborn enough to get whatever she wanted at times, especially when she was drunk, and if she liked Yuurei, he was stuck with the creepy girl for good, whether Hitsugaya wanted to or not.
He finally gave in to the urge—he slammed his forehead down onto his paperwork and let out a tormented groan.
I need some tea…
Yuurei blinked rapidly as if a camera flashbulb was repeatedly going off in front of her face as the large-breasted woman that had kidnapped her towed her along by the arm through the streets of the Seireitei market.
She was having trouble deciphering the woman's crazed mutterings, and in all honesty, she really didn't want to know what torture this woman surely had in store for her.
What other reason could have brought out that grimace of sympathy from her new taichou except some horrible torment?
I know the irony gods are laughing their asses off right about now…Yuurei groaned mentally, closing her eyes in defeat and allowing Matsumoto to tow her along. Matsumoto, though, appeared to have an epiphany, stopping dead with a sudden exclamation.
"Oh, that's right!" She spun around unsteadily to face Yuurei, putting her hands on the young shinigami's thin shoulders to keep herself upright. She grinned eagerly down at Yuurei with pearly white teeth.
"We haven't been formally introduced! My name's Matsumoto Rangiku, but you can call me Ran-chan if you want! I know your name is Maboroshi Yuurei, but I'm gonna call you…Rei-chan! What do you want to do first, Rei-chan?"
Yuurei blinked slowly, filtering through the drunken slur that had become more pronounced as Matsumoto spoke. Matsumoto…Ran-chan?…Rangiku…apparently wanted to take her somewhere.
"Wherever you want, Rangiku." Yuurei assured, and attempted to give her new friend an unsteady smile. But instead of flashing a thankful smile, Yuurei gave a sort of twisted grin, which could be interpreted, as 'I'm really grateful,' or 'I'd like to run you through with my zanpakutō.'
Luckily, Matsumoto had obviously seen this kind of smile before and interpreted it correctly as the former meaning.
"Ooh, well, I was thinking of going to this cozy little restaurant that I've eaten at a few times. The service is always really friendly, and they have all kinds of food, just right to fatten you up a bit; you're almost a stick!" Matsumoto exclaimed cheerfully, as if being almost anorexic-skinny was a good thing.
Yuurei barely had time to say anything, much less agree or argue before Matsumoto promptly resumed her death hold on Yuurei's hand, dragging her off again. She could feel the older woman's grip crush her middle finger against the shattered bone of her ring finger, but didn't complain, as she really couldn't feel it much anymore.
"After we eat, I'll take you clothes shopping. We have GOT to get you out of that cloak. Then we'll go get you hair washed and cut to make it look nice and pretty! After that…"
Yuurei deftly tuned her out, listening absently with one ear while the other and her eyes were examining the unfamiliar streets and interesting new sights of the inner part of Seireitei. Shinigami were rushing around in all directions, some just seeming to be doing mundane things like grocery shopping, while others were using shunpo to flash across rooftops and through alleyways. She saw a large building called Health Land, and some signs that pointed the way to separate divisions among the random shops.
After a while of pointless wandering, having to endure countless stares from other shinigami, and going through the Hakutōmon (3) and past a giant,Matsumoto finally managed to find the said restaurant. The sake appeared to be wearing off slightly, as Matsumoto sobered a bit as they approached the quiet restaurant, which was a small place that obviously was not visited often due to the fact that it could be easily be mistaken for a house with picnic tables in the front.
"Now Yuurei, I'll pay for your food this time, but after that, you owe me one!" Matsumoto said, smiling impishly.
Yuurei nodded, sending another mangled smile in Matsumoto's direction, the smile lightening a bit as Matsumoto let go of her crushed hand. The older shinigami smiled back and led the way into the restaurant, which was called the Yomigaeru Shishi.
The inside was as homey as the outside, with a small bar counter stationed where you ordered your food and some small, one to two-person tables dotting the warmly lit room in random places. The carpet was a simple dark green, and the walls were an earthy brown. Strategically placed lights on the walls and ceiling gave everything a warm glow.
A small, elderly man with large glasses and a friendly demeanor was intently scrubbing at a clear glass with a cleaning rag when Matsumoto entered, but he looked up and gave her a wide smile.
"Ah, Matsumoto! Nice to see you again!" He cried, waving the cloth in her direction.
"Thanks, Ojii-san!" Matsumoto grinned at him, bouncing enthusiastically over to a barstool near the counter. Yuurei followed, albeit a bit more slowly. "We're here for Obaa-san's yummy cooking!"
"Is that Matsumoto?" Another elderly voice, this time female, called from the kitchen behind the counter. "The usual, dear?"
"Sure, Obaa-san! Two orders of it, please!" Matsumoto called to the new person, seating herself. Yuurei sat at a table nearby. "I've brought a friend!"
"I can see that!" Ojii-san observed, leaning on the counter to give Yuurei a good once-over. "A new shinigami, it looks like! The poor thing's skin and bone!"
Yuurei nodded lightly, shrugging her shoulders. "I never really get the chance to eat, so…"
Matsumoto frowned. "When was the last time you ate something, Rei-chan?"
"Uh…two, no…three days ago?" Yuurei offered uncertainly, scratching the back of her neck in a sheepish gesture. "In the Academy I just sleep in a tree somewhere on the grounds…"
Matsumoto, Ojii-san, and Obaa-san, who had come out of the kitchen with two steaming plates, stared at her in disbelief. A small sweatdrop formed on Yuurei's head as she glanced from one horrified face to the other. The old woman, dressed in a pink apron, blinked, glanced down at the plates in her hands, set one down in front of Matsumoto, and went back into the kitchen to return with a plate piled almost six inches high with various other foods.
"Well, then, if that's the case…" The old woman set the piled plate down in front of a dumbstruck Yuurei with a satisfying clink. "Eat up, dear. No charge."
"O-oh! No, I couldn't just…I'll pay you back, you don't need to—" Yuurei stammered with wide eyes, shocked at the old woman's kindness.
"You wouldn't want to insult an old lady's cooking, would you?" Obaa-san asked shrewdly, fixing Yuurei with a playful old eye.
The young woman shook her head frantically. "N-no, I-I mean…I couldn't…"
Matsumoto and Ojii-san watched with pleased smiles on their faces as the old woman coerced the reluctant and still-astounded Yuurei into eating the enormous pile of food, bite by bite.
"Ah, it's times like this that I'm glad for her stubbornness and resemblance towards a mother hen." Ojii-san murmured fondly to Matsumoto as he watched his wife proudly.
The old woman looked to be having the time of her life as she jabbed at Yuurei with threats to eat faster. Yuurei submitted meekly, obediently stuffing rice into her mouth.
"And that young lady seems very sweet. You're welcome to bring her back anytime." He added, watching the young shinigami messily stuff her face with an approving smile.
Matsumoto grinned happily and split her chopsticks. "You can bet on it that I'll be bringing her back! I've got to keep her fed, after all. I know taichou won't do it unless I pester him long enough."
Ojii-san glanced at Matsumoto briefly before looking at Yuurei again. "The little captain with the white hair, eh? Well, don't be so sure about that."
Matsumoto paused in her eating for a second to swallow her mouthful before glancing up at the old man. "Why?"
"If your taichou is the way you say he is, he must not mind her all that much if he even considered accepting her into the Juubantai." Ojii-san replied with conviction, putting away the clean glass before pulling out another dirty one and began working on it with his rag.
Matsumoto shrugged, beginning to eat again. "If you say so, ojii-san."
Ending Theme: "Again" by Yui
A/N: As always, here are the translations for my little lovelies.
Japanese translations:
(1)—that black and white outfit shinigami wear
(2)—sword guard
(3)—West Senkai Gate
SPECIAL THANKS TO:
Someonething94, Kanervdss, queenofspades19;
THANK YOU!
Signing out,
Dragon of Twilight!