Author's Note: A bit shorter chapter than my usual, but with lots of information, explanations and even a few answers to some of your questions. XD I've indulged the die-hard romantic in me with this story – no lemons in this chappie, but lots of fluffiness and a promise of more to keep you all going.

This chapter is dedicated to my good friend Vicki, in memory of her soul mate. -Lex

Chapter Sixteen: Moorings*

"Damn." His voice echoed around the empty cave. "Damn," he said again, angry with her, angry with himself.

"She is alive." Zangetsu's voice. Ichigo realized he had been resting his hand on the sword's hilt. "They are both alive, Ichigo."

"Thank God," he said, aloud. More echoes.

"Before, when I thought I was drowning, I heard your voice," he thought.

"Yes."

"There was another voice – a woman's voice."

"Yes."

"Who was she?" Ichigo asked.

"I cannot tell you," the sword replied.

"Nobody will tell me anything," he said, aloud, to no one in particular. He was still angry – angrier now that he knew they were alive. He could afford to be angry with her, knowing she was alright.

"You do not need anyone to tell you who she was," said the sword. "She was and is your past, your present and your future."

"More riddles," growled Ichigo. Again, his voice echoed off the stones.

"No riddles," replied Zangetsu, "only the truth of your existence."

"Tell me then, who am I, really?" Ichigo asked. He felt exhausted, but it had little to do with his ordeal in the river.

"You must search your soul for that answer – it is there – at the core."

Ichigo stood up and looked around. The boat was gone, the river far too rough to swim. He would have to continue on foot. But which way?

"Let me guide you, Ichigo."

"You can do that?" Ichigo asked, silently.

"I can do much more," the sword spirit replied. "You need only ask."

Ichigo turned towards a passage which led away from the river. Instinctively, he knew this lead towards the cave exit and the underwater tunnel to the mainland. He began to walk, with only the sound of his own footsteps to keep him company.

"Zangetsu," he asked, as he walked. "Who are you?"

"You are learning, Ichigo," the spirit replied.

"You didn't expect me to believe swords have souls, did you?" Ichigo thought, with a laugh.

"That is what you thought when you first learned of my existence, is it not?"

Ichigo frowned, but did not answer.

"I was like you, once," Zangetsu explained. "Human. Alive."

"A Druid."

"Indeed."

"A priest?"

"Yes. I lived nearly two millennia ago, now," said the spirit. "When I died, my spirit attached itself to this sword. This sword was my sword, once."

"Your sword," thought Ichigo, realizing the import of that statement. "You are my ancestor?"

"Yes," Zangetsu replied. "It is one of the abilities Druids possess – to attach our spirits to certain objects."

"Immortality," mused Ichigo.

"Only in a sense," explained the sword spirit. "I am here, with you, but I remember little of my own existence. I remember only that I was a priest, that I am a Druid. I serve the rightful possessor of the Moon Cutter."

"Then Zangetsu is not your real name?"

"I do not remember my real name. Zangetsu is the only name I know," was the sword's reply.

Ichigo walked further into the cave. From here, he could make out the smell of salt water – the ocean was not much further, he knew.

"The passage, under the water," Ichigo asked the spirit, "it was made by the Druids, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Zangetsu replied. "Five hundred years ago."

"There is more on the other side of the passage than pirates," thought Ichigo. It was not a question; he was sure of it now.

"The passage was created to protect and conceal the Talisman," replied Zangetsu.

"The Talisman?"

"A Druid object, similar to your sword," answered the spirit. "Unlike this sword, however, the Talisman is an object meant only to be used to protect the very existence of our people."

"It's a weapon?" asked Ichigo, understanding dawning.

"Not a weapon in the normal sense. Something far more powerful."

"How so?" Ichigo asked.

"It is the source of our power, Ichigo. Without it, we are just humans, like any other."

Light had begun to seep into the cave, and Ichigo could now hear the sea. He ran now, eager to leave the darkness. At the end of the passageway, he saw an opening. The sun was beginning to set, but the light was still so bright that his eyes had difficulty adjusting. He realized that he must have spent nearly a week underground. He walked over to the opening and looked out; he stood hundreds of feet above the water in the side of a sheer cliff.

"Where to now, old man?" he asked the sword.

"In all truthfulness, I do not know," replied the sword. "I do not possess the ability to locate the Talisman – that knowledge is not within my power to give you."

"Then how do I find it?" Ichigo asked.

"Close your eyes and listen to its voice," Zangetsu replied.

"The Harvest is nearly here." The same voice – that of a woman – familiar, warm.

He stood outside a small house with a thatched roof, leaning against its outer wall. In the distance, he could see the sun slowly setting against the trees. A gentle hand brushed the wayward strands of hair from his eyes.

"You're worried, Seien," she said. "I can tell."

"It's nothing," he replied, taking her hand. "The Elders worry far too much."

"You're not telling me the truth," she said, with a sigh. "I have heard talk of outsiders, as well, who would take the Talisman."

"I won't let them get anywhere near it," he said, angrily. "I won't let them go anywhere near you."

She laughed and smiled at him. "There is nothing that can protect me from my fate, sweet Seien," she said, caressing his cheek with her free hand.

"If I lose you…," he began, his voice trailing off.

"You will always know where to find me," she replied. "It has been that way for as long as I can remember, and it will always be so."

"Natyra," he said, taking her in his arms and holding her against his chest. "I will protect you. I promise."

He looked down into her eyes. They were violet, like the color of the setting sun.

"Rukia," said Ichigo, opening his eyes.

Rukia looked out over the sandy beach. Hitsugaya sat, his bare feet in the surf, leaning back on his elbows. He looked so much like a young boy that she nearly laughed. She wondered how long it had been since he had seen sunlight.

"He is nearby," said Hitsugaya, watching the waves roll in.

"Please don't be angry with him," said Rukia, with a sigh.

"He is young, impulsive," Hitsugaya said, darkly. "And yet…"

"You need him, to retrieve the Talisman," she said, interrupting him. Hitsugaya looked up at her with mild surprise.

"Yes."

"Why not be honest with him, then?" asked Rukia, walking over to the water's edge.

"I don't trust him," replied the white-haired Druid.

"Why would he be given the power to wield the Talisman, unless he were someone who could be trusted?"

"Blood alone does not ensure trustworthiness," Hitsugaya replied. "He was raised with no knowledge of our people – he has no reason to safeguard our existence."

"He is a good man, Captain Hitsugaya," said Rukia. "He has had ample opportunity to betray me, and he has not done so."

"In the end," said Hitsugaya, standing up and sighing, "we have little choice. He is our only means to recover the Talisman."

"You've been testing him," Rukia said, with a frown. "You've known all along that you can't do this without him, and yet…"

"You know the risks, Captain Kuchiki. You know why we must do this. He must learn the truth on his own; he will only believe it if he sees it for himself."

"Ichigo," she thought, sadly. "If we survive this, I hope you can forgive me."

They made camp on the beach. Hitsugaya was waiting, Rukia knew, hoping that Ichigo would rejoin them. He said little as they ate the fish they had cooked over the small fire.

"Captain Hitsugaya," she said, as they sat there, watching the stars come out. "What do you know, about the origins of the Talisman?"

He looked at her for a moment, then leaned back on the sand, his hands behind his head, watching the night sky. "Its genesis is not known," he said. "There are those who believe that it was not created, but that it is an extension of ourselves, created from the flesh of our ancestors."

"Not created?"

"Legend tells that the Talisman can exist in several forms. I have hidden and protected it, in its solid form, for half a millennia." Hitsugaya stood up and walked to the water's edge. The moon reflected off the waves as they washed ashore.

"The Talisman can exist as a simple stone, but it can also meld with its wielder," he continued. "There are stories of priests and priestesses who joined with the stone, but there has been no one capable of wielding the stone for a millennia. It's an ancient story – I'm not even sure it is true."

"Still, you believe Ichigo may be able to join with the Talisman, or at least control it, don't you?" Rukia asked, thoughtfully.

"Ever since you both arrived in this place," Hitsugaya said, "I have felt the Talisman more profoundly than ever before."

"Felt it? How? I thought you said you could not wield it."

"I cannot," he replied. "Still, I have guarded it long enough that I can feel even subtle changes in its power. I believe Kurosaki's hallucination was as a result of these changes."

"As if the Talisman were trying to communicate with him…," said Rukia, her voice trailing off.

"Perhaps," answered Hitsugaya. "There are no longer any Druids alive who truly understand its properties."

"Has anyone tried to join with the Talisman?" Rukia asked.

"Those who tried have died," Hitsugaya replied.

"Died?" The thought was not a comforting one. "But…"

"Many died in struggles over possession of the Talisman," said Hitsugaya, darkly. "Civil wars fought amongst our people killed many. Others died when they tried to wield it, not able to contain its power. When the colony at Thyilea was established, the Talisman was brought there. The Elders believed it would be safer here than in Great Britain."

"How does Aizen know of the Talisman?" Rukia asked.

"I am not sure," Hitsugaya answered. "But there were men and women who parted ways with our ancestors during the long struggle for the control of the Talisman."

"He is one of us?" she asked, alarmed.

"It is possible," replied Hitsugaya. "It would explain a great deal."

"Gin," said Rukia, taking a deep breath.

"Ichimaru?" asked Hitsugaya, raising an eyebrow.

"He let us escape," she said. "He provoked me…he knows what I am."

"Interesting," said Hitsugaya. "I had wondered why he did not pursue you once you came to me."

"He's waiting for us to make our move," she replied.

"Then we will have to oblige him, won't we?" It was not Hitsugaya who had answered this time, but Ichigo. He stood on the beach - he had clearly been listening to their conversation for some time.

"Ichigo!" In spite of herself, she ran to him and embraced him. He did not return her embrace, but stood, looking at Hitsugaya, his face unreadable. Rukia stepped back and straightened up.

"He's still angry with me," she thought. "And with good reason."

"I'm pleased to see you are still with us, Captain," said Hitsugaya, matching Ichigo's cool gaze.

"Apparently," Ichigo replied. "It seems you need my assistance."

Hitsugaya scowled, but said nothing.

"How much did you hear?" Rukia asked, suppressing a shiver.

"Enough," Ichigo answered.

"Will you help us then, Kurosaki?" Hitsugaya asked, studying the other man's expression with interest.

"Yes," Ichigo replied.

Ichigo sat on a high rock overlooking the bay. Rukia and Hitsugaya had long since fallen asleep on the sand below. The moon had set and the fire glowed dimly in the starlight. He laid his hand gently on the hilt of his sword and sighed. It vibrated slightly beneath his fingers, but remained silent.

He closed his eyes briefly and saw her again, the woman with dark hair and violet eyes. Her face had been different then, but her soul was the same as the soul of the woman who slept on the sand. Natyra, Rukia…Seien, Ichigo…how many others had there been over the centuries?

"She doesn't remember," he thought, sadly. Perhaps it was better that way; she would only be at risk if her true identity became known.

He breathed in deeply, the cool ocean air filling his lungs. He longed to be on the water again. He longed to be with her. It had taken every ounce of his strength not to respond to her touch – the realization of who they had been, who they were, and who they might still become - made him ache for her all the more.

He remembered her. He would protect her. He had promised her he would.

* Moorings (also "berth"): – A location in a port or harbor used specifically to tie up or "moor" vessels while not at sea. "Berth" can also mean a place to sleep or a bed.