Author's Note: Finally, my muse cooperated and I've updated! XD I hope you enjoy the new chapter and what is to come. Thanks to Whitecloud, as always, for her ideas and for giving my muse the kick in the behind needed.

Happy New Year's to everyone – I hope 2010 is a great year for you all. Enjoy! -Lex

Chapter Eighteen: Siren Song*

"Ichigo."

He awoke with a start on the cold stone floor and, for a moment, he struggled to remember where he was.

The cave beneath the water.

He stood up looked around. He was alone.

"Rukia? Toushirou?" he shouted. His voice echoed through the emptiness.

"Zangetsu," he thought, touching the hilt of his sword. "Where are they?"

There was no answer.

He struggled to remember. They had been by the water's edge; they had nearly drowned, he and Rukia. He drew his sword and ran his fingers gently over the blade.

No response.

"Zangetsu," he thought, more urgently this time, "where are you?"

More silence.

He struggled to remember. They had rested for several hours not far from the pool, then started off again.

"At this rate, it will be at least another ten hours before we reach the mainland," Hitsugaya had said. "We'd better rest."

Rukia's face, still pale but determined. There were dark circles under her eyes. He was pretty sure he looked no better.

They had set their packs down in a small alcove off the main passageway. It was slightly warmer in this room and, unlike the rest of the cave so far, it was had been relatively dry. They had eaten their meager rations and laid down on the hard rock floor. Ichigo remembered closing his eyes. Sleep had come quickly.

"Am I dreaming?" Ichigo wondered silently, walking out to the tunnel and looking around. He felt the cool, wet walls. It did not feel like any dream. "Where are they?"

"Rukia!" His voice echoed down the passageway but, again, there was no reply. "Hitsugaya!"

Silence.

He closed his eyes and tried to focus on the sword spirit, calling its name several times in rapid succession, both aloud and silently.

Silence again.

He began to get worried; something was wrong. It had been folly not to have one of them remain awake while the others rested – Hitsugaya had warned them of the dangers of this place.

"Damn," he said out loud, clenching his jaw tightly. This was his own fault; he should have known better. If anything were to happen to her…

"Ichigo." The voice he had heard, that had roused him from his sleep. He looked around, trying to figure out what direction it had come from.

"Where are you?" he asked, to a chorus of echoes.

No response.

He began to walk down the corridor in the direction he knew they had been headed before. From time to time he stopped to listen for the sounds of footsteps on the rock, trying to convince himself that Rukia and Hitsugaya had must have gone ahead without him. Still, he could not shake the conclusion that they would not have willingly left him alone, that something must have happened to cause them to become separated.

Or was it that he been wrong to believe they wanted to work with him? Could it be that, despite all they had been through in the past few days, they had decided that he was an outsider, that he was not to be trusted?

"No," he told himself, doing his best to push aside the thoughts, "regardless of what they think of me, they need me to reclaim the Talisman."

The Talisman. He had heard most of Rukia's conversation with Hitsugaya and he now understood that the Talisman was what set the Druids apart from other humans. He also understood that the Talisman was the link that bound him to the past – to those who had come before – and which also bound him to Rukia and to the soul she had been for centuries, perhaps millennia before.

'You must search your soul for that answer – it is there – at the core.' Zangetsu's words still rang in his mind – there were so many unanswered questions, and Ichigo was quickly losing patience to find the answers.

"Dammit," Ichigo thought, "where are you, Zangetsu?" There was still no answer. He closed his eyes and tried to reach the spirit. It would do him little good to lose his temper; years at sea and in command of his own ship had shown him that the best way to cope with uncertainty was to remain calm and focused.

From somewhere ahead, Ichigo heard laughter. It echoed around the cave and he struggled to figure out where it was coming from.

"Who's there?" he asked.

There was no response. He frowned and pointed his sword ahead of him.

"Ichigo?"

"Rukia!" he shouted, relieved to hear her voice once again. "Where are you?"

"I'm over here," she replied, her voice echoing from somewhere up ahead.

He walked faster, resheathing his sword. Before him, he could see dim light which he followed until he came to a high chamber. Here and there, stalactites and stalagmites were interspersed with rock that had been polished to a high sheen by running water. Dry salt sparkled on the sides of the chamber.

"Rukia?" he said, looking around. He could hear footsteps from the far side of the chamber, and he followed them. "I don't see you."

"I'm over here," she said again, and he caught a glimpse of black hair.

"This isn't funny," he said, frowning. "I've been looking for you. I woke up and you were nowhere…" He stopped dead in his tracks. She was sitting on the top of a stalagmite with the top broken off, an informal perch of sorts. Her legs were crossed and she wore a broad grin. Her violet eyes were lit like tiny suns.

"You're not Rukia," he said, simply. He wasn't sure how he knew it, but he felt it to the core of his being.

"Of course I am," she replied, hopping down with the grace of a bird and alighting on the ground soundlessly.

"No," he replied, eyeing her warily.

"Have it your way," she answered, slightly irritated. "You can choose to believe anything you want, Ichigo."

She started to walk away, but he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back towards him. "Where is the little brat?" he asked, convinced that Hitsugaya was somehow behind this charade.

"Toushirou?" she asked. She shrugged her shoulders dismissively. "Why would I care where he is?"

"Who are you?" he asked, his right hand resting on his sword.

"Who do you think I am?" she replied, pulling away from him and nearly skipping away.

"I don't know," he replied.

She moved quickly behind one of the stone pillars and vanished. Ichigo took a deep breath. He must be dreaming. None of this made any sense.

Laughter again. He turned around. Rukia was gone and, in her place stood a completely different person.

"You…?" he stammered.

"You recognize me then, Seien?" asked Natyra.

"You aren't Natyra, either," he replied, stoically. "What have you done with Hitsugaya and Rukia?"

"Nothing," replied Natyra. "They are unharmed."

"Do you know where they are?" he asked her, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. Seeing her face and Rukia's violet eyes was more than just disconcerting. He struggled against his anger, willing it to recede.

"Of course," she replied. "Would you like me to take you to them?"

It was hardly the response he had anticipated, but he nodded and raised an eyebrow, gesturing to her to take the lead.

"Who are you?" he asked, for the second time.

She ignored him.

"Why won't you answer my question?" he demanded, losing his patience now.

"You haven't asked the right question yet, Seien," she replied.

"I'm not Seien," he replied, through gritted teeth. "Calm down, Ichigo," he told himself silently. He breathed in deeply once again.

"Oh, but you are Seien, of course," she answered, taking his hand in hers. For a moment, he felt completely overwhelmed, as if her touch was a powerful drug or the strongest whiskey. He felt dizzy, disoriented. She ran her hand over his face and her violet eyes glittered with desire. He felt his body respond involuntarily to hers and abruptly pulled his hand away from her. She was no longer the image of Natyra, but Rukia once again.

She smiled. "Apparently, you prefer me like this," she purred, relishing the look of pain on his face.

"You said I haven't asked the 'right question'," he said, scowling now.

She raised an eyebrow. "You would do far better to think before you act," she said, maddeningly.

"What are you?" he asked, eyeing her with disdain.

"Very good, Ichigo," she replied, leaning against the cave wall casually. He glared at her.

"Well? Apparently I've asked the right question this time. Will you answer?"

"Yes," she said, wearily. Then, she turned to him and put her hand to his face again. "Although I'd rather…"

"Stop this," he said, brusquely. "Tell me what you are. Where are the others? What do you want?" His tone was again that of a naval captain, focused, commanding.

"Fine," she said, "although I'd much rather play with you." He again felt an immense physical longing for her and bit his cheek until it hurt to maintain his compose.

"I am the Keeper of the Talisman," she continued. "You mariners often call our kind 'sirens'."

"The 'Keeper'?" he asked.

"I was placed here to guard the stone from those who might not be worthy to find it," she answered.

"Worthy? How does one become 'worthy' to find it?"

"It is different with every person, Ichigo," she replied, playfully. "For someone like you, however…" Her voice trailed off and she seemed to contemplate his fate.

"What do you mean, for someone like me?"

"Despite your bravado," she said, with a slight smirk, "you care deeply for the safety of others."

His face darkened. "What have you done with Hitsugaya and Rukia?" he demanded, again fighting back his anger and maintaining his control. "Where is Zangetsu?"

"Zangetsu cannot assist you," she laughed. "The others, well…let us just say their fate lies in your hands, Ichigo."

"Where are they?" he growled. He was growing tired of her games.

"They are safe," she said, "for now."

"What do you want?" He was angry beyond frustration now – he did not appreciate being taunted and certainly not at the expense of the safety of people he cared about.

"Relax, Ichigo," she laughed. "You have time to recover them."

"What do you want me to do?" he demanded.

"Just answer my questions," she replied with a grin, hopping up onto a large rock that jutted out from the cave wall.

"What questions?"

"One question for each. Answer each correctly, they live. Answer incorrectly and…"

"Hurt them and I will kill you," he said, his words calm but his face betraying his rising anger. She laughed.

He grabbed her by the shoulders. "You cannot hurt me Ichigo," she said, with a smile. "Even if you wanted to harm me, you would be unable. You cannot ignore this face, nor can you do it harm.

"Don't underestimate me," he said, his hand resting once again on his sword.

"Have it your way," she teased. "But you will not leave here alive unless you answer my questions. Of that, I can assure you." He frowned, but said nothing. "Shall we begin, then?"

He was silent.

"I will take that as a 'yes', then," she said, smiling.

"Let's get this done with," he said, pointedly.

"Good," she said. "The rules are simple, Ichigo. I will ask you a question about each of the three souls you wish to save."

"Three souls?" he asked.

"Yes," came the reply. "The third is the soul of your sword, Ichigo."

He wondered what power she might hold if she could determine the fate of Zangetsu, a spirit with no corporeal form.

"If you answer each question correctly, I will return all of them to you, unharmed. Answer incorrectly…"

"I understand," he said, cutting across her. He did not need to hear the threat repeated a second time. "Let's get on with it."

She smiled broadly, then spoke, "Lighter than what I am made of, more of me is hidden than is seen, I am the bane of the mariner, a tooth within the sea. Speak my name."

Ichigo stared at her. "A riddle?" he asked.

"What did you expect, Ichigo?" she replied, clearly amused.

He was silent, but he clenched his teeth, again willing himself to control his outrage at her deadly game. He had never been good at riddles as a child, mostly because he had never had the patience or the interest to try to solve them. Hisagi, on the other hand, had always been quite clever with riddles and had tormented Ichigo with them during the long months spent at sea. Ichigo silently prayed he had gotten better with the practice.

"The bane of the mariner," he thought. "A storm?" No, that wasn't it. A storm was not a tooth in the sea. A tooth…a tooth was sharp, hard. "A rock?" No, that wasn't it, either. A rock was not lighter than what it was made of.

"You cannot wait forever to answer," she said, tapping her foot lightly against the rock.

He shivered slightly, the cold air in the passage raising gooseflesh on the back of his neck. "Cold," he thought, feeling his slightly foggy mind begin to respond. He thought of Hitsugaya, with hair as white as snow, his eyes the color of the ocean, his cool demeanor. He smiled.

"You know the answer, then?" she said, slyly.

"Yes," he replied. "Ice. It is made of water, which is lighter, and in the form of an iceberg, far more of it is hidden beneath the ocean. It has caused the destruction of many a ship."

She smiled. "Well done," she said. "But the questions become more difficult from here on out."

"Go on," he said, tired of her games.

She smiled coyly at him, then spoke without fanfare. "Oft I must strive with wind and wave, battle them both when under the sea, I feel out the bottom, a foreign land. In lying still I am strong in the strife; if I fail in that they are stronger than I, and wrenching me loose, soon put me to rout. They wish to capture what I must keep. I can master them both if my grip holds out, if the rocks bring succor and lend support, strength in the struggle. Ask me my name!"

He now understood that the Keeper, or siren, as he preferred to think of her, had tailored each question so that it related in some way to the personality or appearance of each of the souls he sought to redeem. He knew, instinctively, that this question related to Zangetsu – the question evoked his strength and his steadfastness.

"Another question about the sea," he thought, his brow knitted in concentration. "A canon, perhaps?" No, that wasn't it. "I wish to capture what I must keep. An iron chain? A rope?" He was sure the answer was none of these things.

"Repeat the first few phrases," he said, his voice calm and steady.

"Oft I must strive with wind and wave, battle them both when under the sea, I feel out the bottom, a foreign land. In lying still I am strong in the strife; if I fail in that they are stronger than I, and wrenching me loose, soon put me to rout," she said, swinging her legs like a small child.

He thought of Zangetsu, and of the sword spirit's strength and purpose. Zangetsu had shown him his past and pointed him towards his present. A weather vane, perhaps? A sextant, to plot his life's course? "No," he thought again, frustrated with himself. The answer was there, somewhere, in the purpose Zangetsu served in his life. He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on the feelings he had for the sword, the serenity the spirit afforded him.

"He is my strength," he thought, "my connection to both past and future…that which is steady, unyielding. Something which keeps me focused, grounded in reality…" Grounded! That was it, he knew, the key and the answer to the riddle. With a sense of triumph, he opened his eyes and looked at her, a gleam in his eyes.

"The answer is 'anchor'," he said, without hesitation.

"Well done," she replied, and he felt his heart quicken with both excitement and fear.

Only one more correct answer, and he would know they were all safe. And yet this last question frightened him the most, for he knew the only remaining soul he needed to save was Rukia's – the soul he valued more than any other. He could not fail her; he would not fail her.

"Are you ready for the last of the three questions?" asked the siren with Rukia's eyes. He nodded, his face set like stone, his jaw tense.

"The key to life and death is everywhere to be found, but if you do not find it in your own house, you will find it nowhere. Yet, it is before everyone's eyes; no one can live without it; everyone has used it. The poor usually possess more of it than the rich; children play with it in the streets. The meek and uneducated esteem it highly, but the privileged and learned often throw it away. When rejected, it lies dormant in the bowels of the earth. In death it remains as the sharpest pain, the most haunting recollection," she said, hopping down from the rock and walking up to him.

"If you do not find it in your own house, you will find it nowhere," he said, aloud, trying to ignore her presence. He found it incredibly difficult to concentrate with her standing so close to him. His heart began to pound again, and he felt his head spin. "She is not Rukia," he told himself, willing his disobedient body to be still.

"Rukia," he thought. "What is it that you possess that no one can live without?"

"Repeat it," Ichigo said, aloud.

"Of course," she answered, with a smile. "The key to life and death is everywhere to be found, but if you do not find it in your own house, you will find it nowhere. Yet, it is before everyone's eyes; no one can live without it; everyone has used it. The poor usually possess more of it than the rich; children play with it in the streets. The meek and uneducated esteem it highly, but the privileged and learned often throw it away. When rejected, it lies dormant in the bowels of the earth. In death it remains as the sharpest pain, the most haunting recollection."

He closed his eyes, finding her violet ones too distracting to think clearly. That she looked exactly like Rukia was more than just disconcerting to him, it made his throat constrict painfully. He inwardly chastised himself for having fallen so deeply for the real Rukia, although he knew that he had little choice – he had known her all his life, and in past lives he barely remembered. They were fated to be together, or to suffer apart. And then it came to him, more clearly than with the others – the realization that he had always known the answer to this particular riddle.

He opened his eyes again and looked into hers with a determination of spirit he had not felt as long as he could remember. The dizziness faded, and he felt his heart steady.

"The answer is 'love'," he said, simply.

She was silent, but smiled and, as he watched, the outline of her body appeared to shimmer and glow. In a heartbeat, the fully-materialized image of Zangetsu he had seen in his mind now stood before him, solid, apparently alive.

"Ichigo," said Zangetsu. "You have done well."

"Are you really Zangetsu?" Ichigo asked, not sure if he should be angry or relieved.

"What do you believe?" asked the dark-haired man who stood before him.

"I'm tired of not getting any answers, whoever you are."

"Unfortunately, there is one more question I must ask of you, Ichigo," replied the man. Ichigo's eyes narrowed.

"I thought there were three questions. I answered each of them. Three questions, three souls. What do you want from me now?" He was beyond frustration now, but he knew there was little he could do in the current situation. He still was no closer to finding the others.

"I want you, Ichigo," replied Zangetsu's doppelganger.

"Fine, take me then, and let the others go," snapped Ichigo, angrily.

"Do you care so little for your own life, Ichigo?" asked the Keeper.

"I do not wish to die," Ichigo replied, "but if it is necessary to protect their lives, I will do what must be done."

"Every one of them, even Captain Hitsugaya?"

"Every one of them. They are my comrades."

"The Navy is not your conscience, then?" the siren asked, thoughtfully.

"The Navy has never been my conscience, although it has dictated my duty," Ichigo replied. "My conscience is bound only by that which is right and just. Regardless of what rank I possess, I will not harm those to whom I am bound."

"Who are you then, Ichigo? A navy captain or a Druid?"

"I am both," replied Ichigo, and there was pride in his voice. "But I will not betray my people. I have lived many lives, it appears, and I owe my existence and my loyalty first and foremost to them. If I cannot be both Captain and Druid, then I choose to be a Druid."

The Keeper smiled. And as he did so, the walls around Ichigo began to sparkle and vanish, and he found himself sitting up in the small room in which he, Hitsugaya and Rukia had laid down to sleep. Instinctively, he touched his sword. Had it been all a dream, after all?

"It was no dream," replied Zangetsu.

"Where were you?" Ichigo asked, confused now.

"I was with you all the time, Ichigo," replied the sword spirit.

"Why didn't you come when I called you, then?" asked Ichigo.

"I could not," Zangetsu replied. "The test was for my benefit, as well."

"But if I had failed…"

"I would have perished as well," answered the sword. "If I had helped you, we would also have both perished."

"But the last question," Ichigo began, still not comprehending completely. "There was no riddle."

"No, but you gave the correct answer," Zangetsu answered. "It was a test of your loyalty to those who would allow you to claim the Talisman."

Ichigo sighed.

"There will be no more tests in this place, Ichigo," said the spirit. "The path from now until you claim the stone will be free of obstacles. The next test lies in your ability to wield the Talisman, itself."

"And that may truly be the death of me," thought Ichigo, to no one in particular.

He took a deep breath and watched the sleeping Rukia. Even in sleep she was beautiful. Perhaps, someday, he would be able to tell her about their past - someday, when he knew they had a future to look forward to.

*Siren: In Greek mythology, a sea nymph, half-woman and half-bird, who was believed to sing beguilingly to passing sailors in order to lure them to their doom on the rocks she sat on.