Chapter Eight: Judging the Cut of His Jib*

Ichigo set out the next morning, ignoring the ache in his leg that sent intermittent stabs of pain up through his hips as he walked. Renji had, as promised, mended his broken leg again, but it had still not entirely healed. The cave, however, was not far from the town and, for this, Ichigo was very thankful. Stubbornly, he resolved to make his way back to Thyilea on his own, not waiting for Renji's return, using Zangetsu as his crutch.

Reentering Thyilea was far easier than he had imagined. There were no guards posted on the trail. He easily avoided contact with any of the townspeople by sticking to the side streets and hiding, when necessary, behind bushes or trees, of which there were plenty. He had no idea where Rukia might be held, so he wandered about the town looking for the telltale bars of a jail, or something approximating a courthouse. It took less than an hour to find it - a small red-brick building with barred windows and an iron door which opened onto a breezeway and a number of small cells. She was in here, he was sure of it, although he could not see into the high windows.

What now? He had no idea. He considered blasting a hole through the side of the building, but thought better of it, given the pile of rubble that had resulted from his last attempt. He simply had not had enough practice to ensure proper aim and he wouldn't risk harming Rukia in his rescue attempt. A guard sat near the door, so he instead eyed the high windows with interest - they were large enough for him to fit through, although he had no idea which window to choose. Still, it seemed the best option available to him, so he began to look around for a way to reach the fifteen feet or so from the ground.

"I can help you, Ichigo."

He nearly jumped out of his skin at the voice which he realized, too late, had been in his mind. Sighing and hoping that, this time, he would not break his leg a third time in the attempt, he imagined himself at the same height as the bars. He experienced the same floating sensation as back in the cave, but this time, he found himself momentarily suspended in front of one of the windows. He reached for the bars, struggling not to fall, managing only at the last instant to grab hold of the metal. His legs hit the side of the building, and he winced in pain, but the splint held, and he pulled himself up to peer inside. The window looked down upon an empty cell with its door ajar - a perfect place to enter undetected.

"Now what?" he wondered, still holding onto the bars with both hands. He could not draw his sword or risk falling. He hung there for a minute, hoping against hope that no one would walk by and see him. He remembered how the Soul Warrior had vanished, and wondered vaguely if he could do the same to the iron bars. He focused his thoughts on the bars, imagining them to disappear.

He had not counted on his immediate success. Without the bars to hold onto, he scrambled to hold onto something solid. His feet dangled over the street, as he fought to remain airborne. Struggling, he managed to grab the corner of the window opening before he fell.

"Damn," he thought, as his legs once again hit the hard side of the building. Bit by bit, he managed to pull himself through the window until his belly rested on the brick sill. It was another twelve feet or so down to the floor. He sighed -this was far more difficult than he had intended. He closed his eyes and focused on the stone floor below. He landed, gracefully this time, balancing on his good leg.

"No woman is worth this," he grumbled, swearing under his breath. He raised his hand and his sword materialized in his palm. He grinned - he was getting better at this Druid magic, he thought, quite pleased with himself. Carefully, he looked out into the hallway - it was empty, and he walked, quietly, towards the other cells. None of them were locked. Where was she?

He had begun to doubt that he was in the right building – was it possible there were two prisons in this small town? When he got to the end of the hallway, however, he saw a set of stone steps which led upward to a second level. Checking behind him to be sure he was alone, he climbed the steps, his sword pointed in front of him. As he reached the top of the stairs, he saw another hallway and, at the end of it, a cell. The cell door was closed and locked.

He grinned and approached slowly from the side, taking care not to be seen by anyone inside of the cell. Then, pointing Zangetsu at the lock, he focused his strength on the metal, imagining it melting away. There was a loud cracking sound, and smoke flew into the air, filling the hallway. Ichigo coughed and ran towards the open cell, charging through, sword at the ready.

"What on earth did you do that for?" Rukia stood, hands on her hips, shaking her head. At her side stood a man Ichigo had never seen before, with sandy blonde hair and a battered green and white hat. Both of them were covered in black soot.

Ichigo pointed his sword at Urahara. "Get away from her," Ichigo said, motioning Urahara away. "I'm getting you out of here, Rukia." She looked at the man and threw up her hands.

"I'm sorry, Kisuke," she said, laughing now.

"What's so funny?" grumbled Ichigo, uncomprehending. "I'm here to rescue you."

"Rescue me?" said Rukia, with a soft laugh. "But I don't need rescuing."

"They're going to execute you, aren't they?" he asked, confused. "Renji told me…"

Rukia laughed. "I need to have a little talk with him," she said, shaking her head again.

"What the hell is going on here?" demanded Ichigo, the heat rising in his face. "Aren't you under arrest? And who the hell is he?"

"Yes," Rukia replied, "I am under arrest. And he" – she turned and smiled at Urahara – "is a friend. Urahara Kisuke."

"Pleased to meet you, Kurosaki Ichigo," said Urahara, tipping his hat to the younger man.

Ichigo looked even more baffled now. "How do you know who I am?" he asked.

"Let us just say that I know your family quite well, Captain," said Urahara, with his usual coy smile.

"Great," said Ichigo. "So if you know who I am, and you're her friend, tell her to come with me before we're caught."

"No one will come, Captain," said Urahara, with a grin. "There are no guards here."

"No guards?" Ichigo said, startled now. True, Ichigo had seen no guards, but he had attributed that to sheer luck. Now, he hesitated, unsure of what to do next. "But…"

"There are no guards, Ichigo," said Rukia, glaring at him, "because there is no need for guards. I have no intention of leaving this place."

Urahara peered at Ichigo from under the brim of his hat. "Captain Kuchiki is here of her own free will," he said, and Ichigo felt strangely like a small child who was being chastised for getting himself into trouble.

"Ichigo," said Rukia, frowning. "You haven't understood anything I've told you, have you?"

"Well, I…" Ichigo spluttered.

"Even if there were guards – even if the cell was locked – I could easily escape if I wanted to, Ichigo," said Rukia. "I choose to stay here, of my own free will, because it is the will of my people that I remain. Not because of any guard or any lock."

"But you'll hang if you stay here," said Ichigo, astounded.

"If that is my fate," said Rukia, her face stoic, "then I shall hang."

Ichigo was silent. They had both clearly lost their minds.

"Kurosaki Ichigo," said Urahara. "I can assure you that, now that you are here, Captain Kuchiki is in no danger of hanging."

"And why is that? She said it herself – she's under arrest. Abarai says she's going to hang, and…"

"She will not hang, Captain," said Urahara, with a broad smile, "because you are here."

"Me? What do I have to do with her hanging, except that she'll hang because of me?" Ichigo asked, warily.

"The Assembly wishes to see you, Captain Kurosaki," said Urahara, still smiling. "I have told them who you are, and they wish to confirm it for themselves."

**************************************

"I have to do what?!" Ichigo nearly shouted, as they walked out of the jail onto the sunlit street.

"Show them you are the son of Yamamoto Masaki," said Urahara, calmly.

"Yamamoto Masaki?" said Ichigo, stopping in his tracks. "You must have confused me with someone else. My mother was Masaki, but she wasn't a Yamamoto, she was a Nakamura."

Rukia raised an eyebrow and looked at Urahara, but Urahara just smiled placidly.

"I'm not liking this, Urahara," said Ichigo, following them again. "You're telling me that my proving to them that I'm something I'm not will mean that Rukia doesn't hang?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Urahara replied, placidly.

"Great," said Ichigo. "Now I'm really sure I made a mistake in coming back here."

"And what explanation am I going to give when I get back to the ship about where I've been for the last five days?" he wondered, silently.

They walked up to a stone building which sat on the edge of the waterfront. From here, Ichigo could see the Soul Warrior in the harbor. A few deckhands were aboard the ship, but there was little activity visible from this vantage point. As they walked through the building's entrance, Ichigo could see Rukia glance furtively at the ship when she thought no one was looking. He knew that look well – he felt the same urge to be back on the water again, aboard his own ship.

They were met inside the door by what appeared to be guards, who escorted them into the room in which the Assembly met. Rukia glanced quickly at Urahara, noting the lack of any chairs, or spectators, this time. He merely smiled back at her, apparently unconcerned. The members of the Assembly filed in behind the large bench set up high on a dais.

After a few minutes, the Chairperson of the Assembly stood, looking down over them, clearly curious. "Urahara Kisuke," said Ishikawa Haruna, her face impassive, "we have entertained your stories of the outsider. I assume you have called us back here to prove that you have spoken the truth about him."

Urahara bowed slightly, tipping his hat in the direction of the Assembly. "The outsider has been kind enough to accompany us here today," he said, nodding in the direction of Ichigo. "Chairperson Ishikawa, this is Captain Kurosaki Ichigo of the British Royal Navy."

"Chairperson Ishikawa," said Ichigo nodding stiffly.

Rukia noted with surprise that, in an instant, Ichigo had traded in his casual demeanor for the more formal posture of a military officer. Gone was the flippant attitude and casual air – he was fully focused on the Assembly and noticeably self-confident. Captain Kurosaki now stood before the Assembly. The man was truly a contradiction, in all respects, she thought with some amusement.

"Captain Kurosaki," said Haruna, eyeing him carefully. "Elder Urahara has represented to this Assembly that you are a direct descendant of the High Priestess of our people, Reika."

Ichigo's face remained calm, impassive. Inwardly, however, he thought this statement to be the most improbable thing he had heard since he had first become involved with the Druids – and he had heard a lot of very unbelievable things in the past week.

"I am afraid, Chairperson Ishikawa," Ichigo replied, "that I am at a distinct disadvantage. My mother died when I was quite young. I do not believe she was a Yamamoto."

Haruna raised an eyebrow, and Ichigo saw Rukia look nervously at Urahara. Urahara, as usual, was nonplussed.

"I appreciate your honesty, Captain Kurosaki," Haruna said, looking directly at Urahara this time. "But, regardless of your lack of knowledge of your ancestry, the Assembly must have proof that you are one of our people, or you and Captain Kuchiki will both hang."

"Chairperson Ishikawa," said Rukia, clearly concerned now, "it is my belief that the Captain is, indeed, one of us, but to force him to…"

"That is quite enough, Captain," said Haruna, cutting across Rukia. "I have been more than patient with you and Kisuke." Ichigo repressed a laugh, realizing that Rukia believed him to have no powers to demonstrate to the Assembly.

"It's alright, Rukia," Ichigo said under his breath. "I'm perfectly capable of showing them a few tricks. Your first mate and I have been practicing a bit."

Rukia glared at him and shook her head. "You have no idea what they want of you, Ichigo," she nearly shouted at him. "Kisuke, you must stop this."

"Ishikawa-san," said Urahara, stepping forward. "I would be happy to assist in a little demonstration." The Chairperson nodded her head, and Ichigo smiled confidently, turning to face Urahara.

"Kisuke," began Rukia, "I don't think he…"

"I'm fine, Rukia," said Ichigo, with the utmost confidence. Then, waving his arm with a flourish, his sword materialized in his hand.

"Very nice, Captain," purred Urahara, facing Ichigo now. "But I am afraid you will need more than just your weapon where you are going."

Ichigo frowned slightly at these words. "Where I'm going?" he said, confused. "I thought we were…"

The room vanished in a haze of color and Ichigo found himself standing on a sandy beach, alone. He still held his sword in his hand, but the splint on his leg was gone, as was the slight ache that had accompanied his broken leg. He blinked, hard.

"This isn't real," he thought, with confidence. "It's some trick – an illusion."

The sand under his feet shifted slightly, and he felt a strong vibration, like an earthquake, from deep within the ground. He struggled to remain upright, plunging his sword into the ground to keep from falling. He heard a loud sound behind him, and turned around as the vibration was repeated again. An enormous winged creature with green scales and bat-like wings was walking towards him. He laughed.

"You've got to be joking," he said, aloud. "I mean, if you were going to invent a sea monster to frighten me, you could have been a little more original. Do you hear me, Urahara?"

There was no reply, but the creature cocked its head sideways, staring at Ichigo with interest.

"Great," said Ichigo, shaking his head. "So, how does this work, Urahara? I stab the thing in its eye and kill it? Or do I find the soft spot under its belly instead?"

Again no reply, however, this time, the creature sniffed the air in front of it and made a soft cooing sound.

"Fine," said Ichigo, with resignation, "I'll fight it, if it'll make the Assembly happy." He walked up to the creature and looked up into its face, which was a least six feet up in the air. "So what's it going to be, big boy? You first? Or should I…" He coughed, as a foul smelled permeated his nostrils. The thing smelled like walking death.

"Impressive," Ichigo thought, turning up his nose in disgust. "Certainly adds to the effect."

He sighed and raised his sword. Then, focusing on his blade, he imagined himself plunging it into the creature's eye. Instantly, he was in the air, momentarily suspended. He gritted his teeth and shoved the blade at the creature, but it was like hitting his blade against a hard rock, and he found himself falling backwards, onto the sand below.

"Damn," he growled, spitting sand out from his mouth, slightly dazed, "for a figment of my imagination, you're pretty solid."

The creature stood, still watching him intently, its long tail whipping about haphazardly behind it. Ichigo stood up and aimed for the beast's soft underbelly, running towards it with all the speed he could muster. Again, he hit what felt like solid rock and found himself on his back, lying in the sand. The creature cooed again and took a step closer to him. Ichigo stood up and dusted himself off.

"Okay, I get it, Urahara," Ichigo said. "You're going to make this harder on me."

No response from Urahara came, but the creature reared up on its hind legs and blew fire at the place where Ichigo stood. He dove out of the way just in time, landing on his side. Where he had once stood, the sand had turned to black glass and smoke rose into the air.

"Nice," he said, sarcastically, hoping Urahara would hear him. "A touch of dragon mixed with sea monster. Really nice."

The beast blew another stream of fire at Ichigo, and he dodged the attack for a second time, somersaulting onto the sand. He could feel the heat of the fire on his arm as he landed.

"It can't hurt me," Ichigo reminded himself silently. "This isn't real. I just need to figure out how to get rid of this thing."

He pointed his sword at the monster and imagined the beast, like the pile of rubble in the cave. Blue flames shot out of the end of his weapon at his opponent's enormous head, and he dug his heels into the sand to counterbalance the strength of his attack. The creature's head glowed slightly as the energy hit it, dead on, but it did not budge. In fact, the attack appeared to have absolutely no effect on the animal at all.

"I've had enough of this, Urahara," Ichigo said, scowling. He walked up to the creature and glared at it.

It happened in a split second – the creature lowered its head and hit him hard in the chest, sending him flying onto his back, nearly ten feet away. Ichigo rolled over onto his knees, coughing and struggling to catch his breath. The pain in his chest was intense, and he instinctively put one hand on the point of impact. He could feel a least one broken rib under his hand.

"Damn," he thought, trying to focus through the pain, "that hurt."

For a moment, he considered trying the healing technique he had seen Renji use, but thought better of it as he reminded himself that this was just an illusion. The pain was an illusion, too, he was convinced of it. He stood up, swaying slightly on his feet, and raised his sword with renewed determination, and running at the beast and focusing the power of his weapon at the thing's soft underside.

Again, he found himself flying into the air. He landed like a rock on the sand, twisting his ankle painfully as he struggled to remain standing. Another blast of fire caught him unawares, and he saw his sleeve catch fire. He rolled onto his arm, putting out the fire, and felt a searing pain as his skin blistered from the heat.

"This illusion is real enough. You will die if this continues, Ichigo," said Zangetsu.

"You might have warned me a little sooner," he grumbled at the sword, which vibrated gently in his hand.

"You would not have listened."

"So what now?" Ichigo asked, panting heavily as he dodged another shot of fire from the monster's jaws. "Tell me what to do."

"Release me, Ichigo."

"Release you? I don't understand. I need you to…"

"Release my strength, Ichigo."

"I don't understand," Ichigo said, with frustration. "I've already focused my power through you."

"You must release my power as well, Ichigo."

"Your power?"

"I can add my strength to yours, Ichigo."

Ichigo felt the sword in his hands grow hot and begin to vibrate again. Gingerly, he ran his left hand over the flat part of the blade, but found it surprisingly cool to his touch.

"Alright," he said, gritting his teeth and pointing the weapon and the monster, "let's see what you can do, Zangetsu."

He closed his eyes and felt the warmth of the blade travel through his arms and into his chest. He felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that he was covered in a bluish-white glow, as if the energy from the sword was radiating out of his body.

"Time to end this little farce," he said, focused on the underside of winged beast. "I've had enough of being used as a punching bag."

There was a low hum which seemed to come from the sword itself, and which grew slowly louder. Streaks of blue fire flew from all directions from the blade, and Ichigo set his feet as firmly as he could in the sand. Then, with a resounding roar, an enormous burst of blue flame traveled from the tip of the sword to the creature, hitting it squarely in the center of its chest. The beast screamed in pain, and Ichigo expected to see a wound where the blast had met its flesh. Instead, the entire scene dissolved around him, and he found himself lying on the ground, back in the Assembly chambers.

He pulled himself back onto his feet, noting with interest the splint, which had reappeared on his leg. He was covered, head to foot, with scratches and bits of sand. His sleeve was burned, and he could see the blistered skin where the material had been vaporized.

"Not bad, Captain Kurosaki," said Haruna, the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

Ichigo smiled, a lopsided smile, and felt the room spin around him. The last thing he remembered, as he lost consciousness, was the face of Rukia, standing above him, hands on her hips.

*"Judging the Cut of His Jib" – The "cut" of a sail refers to its shape. Since this would vary between ships, it could be used both to identify a familiar vessel at a distance, and to judge the possible sailing qualities of an unknown one. Also used figuratively of people (e.g., "Judging by the cut of his jib, Urahara could tell Ichigo was an excellent fighter.").