We're gettin' good at this cliffhanger thing, huh?
Chapter Warnings: Character Death, foul language, Mpreg, past abuse and torture, one VERY pissed off butterfly demon.
Seriously, whoever it is keeps fainting at the mention of Mpreg, I SWEAR I will find you and I will come with smelling salts!
The inside of the shop was just as he remembered it. A display of candies to one side, with a small cash register on the counter. A low table in the back for tea and other goodies that Uncle Kisuke always had available for the children in the neighborhood. Ichigo dearly missed those days, hanging around on the cushions scattered about the floor, listening to Yama-jii prattle on about some fairy or ghost. His little sisters running around playing tag with the black cat that lived there most of the time. He took a deep breath, blinking away the tears that being in the neighborhood of his childhood brought. When they'd had to move to Tokyo proper for their father to get the job at the bigger hospital, the daily trips to Uncle Kisuke's funny little shop had dropped to weekly, and then as time went on, money got tighter. The visits became monthly, and then when Yama-jii died, none of them could bring themselves to visit the place where the old man had been so lively. It had been over ten years since Ichigo had walked through those doors, and yet it seemed like he had walked back in time, Yama-jii would shuffle out from around the corner that connected the shop to the living quarters, carrying a tray of tea and they'd listen to another story. Well, at least that part was true. Uncle Kisuke shuffled around that corner, carrying a tray of tea and sweets.
"It's not quite the same recipe that your Yama-jii made, but I'm afraid he took that one with him on his journey." The old shopkeeper gave an apologetic sleepy smile, set the tray down and groaned as he lowered himself to the cushion next to the table. He took in the way the Four clung to their mates and King. "I knew it'd be you, Berry-tan. You always had that air about you. Pity, Yama didn't make it to see this day. He'd have been so proud."
"Anyone would. He is a strong, compassionate young man," Aizen murmured, taking again the 'point' seat—the one closest to Kisuke. "He also," his mouth curved, "is the Key and Mate of our very own Conquest. Conquest and Kingship go together so well, don't they?"
Ulquiorra tucked his mate yet closer. Nobody was sending HIS mate to the darkness! Renji sat cross-legged with Gin in his lap, hands and arms crossed protectively over his tummy, ears back as he kept a watchful eye on everything. Grimmjow pressed against his mate's side—as much for reassurance as for comfort. His mate was here, his mate was safe.
Aizen, sitting in the traditional seiza, took one of the cups of tea. "If you'll forgive my ill manners...I believe we are deserving of the explanation you never gave back then."
"Ah yes...back then..." Kisuke's eyes, heavy with sleep and slow, glazed over in deep memory. "It appears we are all in dire need of an explanation. You were not to have been treated as you were. It doesn't make up for it, of that I am all too painfully aware, but it is the truth nonetheless. As you are already aware, Famine-san, I am of the Bloodline, and thought that the Court should be controlled. The untimely demise of my brother was devastating to the Other World."
"Uncle Kisuke, you...ah...are you that old?" Ichigo reformed his statement, catching himself before he gave an order.
The shopkeeper smiled sadly. "Actually I am, Berry-tan. The First King was my brother, and your Yama-jii was my nephew. He was to be the Heir but a meddlesome boy who saw the absence of his beloved twin as the end of the universe got in the way. He turned to a warlock for a special spell that would give him control of the Four until his nephew could grow up and take control himself. The trouble was, the boy didn't realize the warlock for what she was at the time. Spurned by one of the Four, she was vindictive, and gave the boy a curse. One that would throw the entire cosmos into chaos. Entropy became order and the Four were bound to seek out specific mortals to gain their powers back. The once majestic guardians of the Mortal World were reduced to the level of common demons, sent on impossible missions and able to be Contracted to any petty sorcerer or mage that stumbled across their Names." A shaky hand reached out to take hold of his tea pot, and Gin pulled against Renji's embrace to help his step-father.
Renji let him go. If he was getting what the old man had said right..."Who was it? The warlock?"
Aizen's mouth twisted at the question and his wings started to dye a blood red. "It was Hinamori. Wasn't it, Kisuke-san?"
Grimmjow, Renji, and Ulquiorra all visibly started and inched away from Aizen. Ulquiorra tucked his mate into his chest. Grimmjow shuddered and nudged Ichigo further down. Renji bodily moved Gin to the other side of the table, both closer to his step-father and as far from Aizen as he could get in this enclosed space.
The three mates stared. Gin poured his step-father's tea, and gladly sank back into the strong embrace of his violent mate. Ichigo blinked a few times, and Shiro cried out.
"Dude! Yer wings're like a mood ring. I've heard o' that."
The albino hauled his book into his lap and was furiously flipping pages ignoring the others around them. If Ichigo's focus was 'leader mode' this was Shiro's 'research mode'. Entirely buried in his manuscripts, in this mode, the budding mage could be lost for days without food, drink or sleep until he found what he was looking for.
The shopkeeper, however, was nonplussed. "Hai, Famine-san. That was her name, I believe. I knew nothing of her at the time. She merely took advantage of my pain after losing the twin that was my world. And she did exactly as she said she would. My nephew is King, your curse should be broken. Unless, for some reason..." Grey-green eyes scanned the room. "Ah, one of you is missing. That does pose a problem. I suppose the only thing left to do now, Famine-san, is to kill me." He gave a small, sardonic smile, taking a drink from his tea.
"Otou-san!" Gin whimpered.
"I know the curse that vile creature used."
Aizen's wings dyed even darker, nearly black now, and it was obviously scaring the other Three. The way they hovered over their mates and inched away from him were distinct signs.
"It made you immortal, yet not immune to age, cursing each of us in hopes that all would be like me, and miss their chance. I am the one who scorned that woman. For I could see the ugly, evil cruelty that she hid under her feminine wiles," he growled, eyes glowing. "It is a curse never meant to come undone. But," he forced himself to be outwardly calm, but his wings still betrayed him, "I suppose you are eager to finally enter the cycle of reincarnation, aren't you, Kisuke-san? After seeing everyone you know go through it over and over."
"Only you could understand my desires, Aizen-san." The old man was tired...very tired.
"B-but...Otou-san..." Gin whimpered again, one hand going to his belly, and tears in his eyes.
"I know, Maru-chan." Kisuke looked sadly at his step-son. "And they will be beautiful and strong, just like their parents. If I go now, perhaps I will be one of them, ne?"
Ichigo reached for Shiro's hand under the table, and the albino looked up with a bit of shock on his face. He took in what was happening and the twins exchanged a glance. Then the more vibrant spoke, "You wish for us to end your suffering, Uncle Kisuke. We will miss you dearly if you do this, but..." He looked around, and nodded, "none of us will stand in your way." A gentle caress of power touched each of them; the orange haired King was getting a better handle on controlling himself.
Aizen stood up and held out his hand for the elder. "Come with me. I know a spell...it will send you to sleep, and while doing so, your soul will be freed from this pain-ridden shell. Come, Kisuke-san. I hope your next life is kinder to you than this one."
The other three still stayed as far as possible away from the butterfly. His wings had turned pitch-black, and that had only ever happened once. When he had discovered his Key had been broken, when he had been forced to watch his love be sacrificed in the name of a holy war, the first time. None of them had ever seen such pain, nor such destruction before or since. Whole countries—whole civilizations—for all that he was handsome and nonthreatening, he scared the living shit out of them all.
"Arigatou gozaimasu, Aizen-san." The ancient man gratefully took the offered assistance. He gave a smile to each of the others in turn. "I look forward to actually seeing you, Death-san. I'm told you are truly a sight to see just before one's eyes see nothing else." Then he allowed the butterfly to guide him to his bedroom, shuffling, slow steps, leaning heavily on the demon's arm.
As soon as they were out of sight, Gin sobbed into Renji's chest. He couldn't do anything, and truly didn't want to hold his step-father back from his eternal sleep, but that didn't make the pain any less. Ichigo clenched Shiro's hand and the twins sighed as one, leaning back into the embraces of their mates. This was definitely not how the King had envisioned the confrontation going. There was still the warlock to find, but he began to put things together, and an idea was beginning to form. The gold eyes of his twin caught the light in his own, and nodded once, going back to his book to find the spell he needed. It would be painful, drawn out and slow to kill. The woman would know exactly what the others had felt and live through it three times over by the time the King was done with her.
Death laid a kiss on his mate's head and rose to follow the pair. There was shuffling as the Horsemen helped the elder to lay down. Not long after that, Aizen's not-voice once more rose and fell in the familiar makings of a spell, this one a spell he had not used in many centuries. In fact, it almost sounded like—no, he was—singing. A sweet, gentle melody. His not-voice rang clear and washed gently over the man in the bed, like a lullaby, pulling him towards sleep—and toward Death. It was less of a pull, however, and more of a lift, and the longer he sang, the less pain Urahara felt. This was a spell for releasing the soul, first designed to gently release tortured souls from the body they were trapped in, typically used on soldiers as they lay dying on the battlefield. It promised rest, relief from pain, and soft wings to carry the soul forth.
A few minutes later, Ulquiorra's black shadow slipped through the roof, arms wrapped around an exceptionally young-looking male soul, whose face was pressed gently into the soft skin of Ulquiorra's neck.
In the room with the others, Ichigo lifted his cup to his lips for the first time, eyes closed and breathing deeply. He would savor this cup, in this place, in this way, because it was the last such cup he vowed he would ever drink. Tea just wasn't tea without the elders who made it, and those had passed on to their next lives. Memories played unbidden across his closed eyelids and he could hear the soft keening from his right side, which told him that the slender kitsune felt the same.
"Is he...really gone, King?" Shiro's voice was quiet as he ran his hand across the cover of his book.
This man, this strange, at times perverted, old man, had been the twins' last connection to their old life. To the one they'd lived with their parents, happily around the corner and down a few blocks. It was like the end of an era, heavy and melancholy with the longing of days gone by. The orangette nodded, not trusting his voice, and felt the weight of his monochromatic brother laying his head against his shoulder. He reached out and placed his hand over Shiro's on the book. Quiet reflection keeping the normally boisterous duo solemn and reserved.
The horsemen did the same, saluting the departed spirit with solemn faces and quiet spirits. When Ulquiorra and Aizen returned, they joined the others at the table. Aizen's wings were folded against his back, but they were still black as pitch despite his expression being entirely serene. When their tea was finished, as one the Horsemen gave their cups a half-turn to the left before upending it—a salute to the life just finished and the life just begun.
At that point, Aizen rose, wings flaring. "Excuse me, my Liege. I have something I need to do."
Before the butterfly could leave, Ichigo spoke, voice soft but heavy with power, "Aizen." He opened his eyes and looked up over the rim of his tea cup. "Where are you going?"
Famine paused, but didn't turn around. "I am going," he said softly, dangerously, "to find that little chit. Doing so will break several laws of reality. It isn't safe for anyone else. I'm the only one with the experience needed to survive this venture. And when I'm done, I will undo everything and bring her to you for further punishment."
The other three demons shuddered as one. Ulquiorra and Renji pulled their respective mates into their laps, wrapping around the albino and the kitsune as completely as possible. Grimmjow pressed himself to the floor behind Ichigo with a small whimper. The butterfly in this mode was the scariest thing ever.
"See that you do."
Though he had only felt a fraction of the pain his Third had experienced over the centuries, and had only been Awake as King for the better part of a few hours, Ichigo was taking to it, quite literally, as though he'd been born for the job. His speech patterns were already shifting so that what he said actually was what he meant, and what he didn't say...well, his twin, the kitsune, and the Court were glad that reality didn't listen to his thoughts.
"We'll meet you back at the Shrine. Bring the warlock when you come. She and I will have words."
Aizen smiled over his shoulder, and it was not a nice smile. It was like staring into the eyes of the ugliest face of Death itself and finding it was smirking back in anticipation. Ulquiorra turned even more ashen than he already was. Grimmjow pressed against Ichigo's legs. Renji squeaked and shielded his mate with his whole body. Then Aizen abruptly disappeared, leaving nothing but a trace of dust.
Ichigo reached down and stroked his Consort's hair, enjoying the last few drinks of tea. "We have preparations to make. I fully expect each of you to be present when the warlock is brought in. She has much to answer for, and the Four have an apocalypse to create for her alone." He looked around the room, sadly.
Ulquiorra simply nodded, still ashen, body shaking. "We will be pleased to help you punish her," he assured, voice much steadier than his body.
Grimmjow shuddered, but also nodded. "I seen tha' face b'fore Ichi. Holocaust," he whispered, eyes wide and obviously traumatized.
Renji closed his eyes and mimicked his azure counterpart. "Ah. His key was involved in that one. Never had m' job taken from me like that b'fore…"
The redhead trailed off into a heavy silence that lasted for a few minutes, each of the gathered group just breathing and processing the implications of such a statement. Then Shiro brought them back to the present.
"Sum'body'll hafta tell Goat Face 'bout it."
He had shifted so his cheek rested against Ulquiorra's shoulder, but his hand remained linked with his twin's. Ichigo nodded, but added nothing to the sentence. Again, a melancholy silence descended. It seemed to be the theme for the day, quiet reflection over the memories of a man that had lived the equivalent of over ten consecutive human lifetimes.
Gin sniffled and said, sadly, "Ya really think Otou-san could be one o' th' kits, Tiger?"
"Sure," Renji assured. "When the soul is attached enough, it tends ta try'n be reborn where an' when they can see their loved ones again. I was born as m'own kid once. Fuck, tha' life nearly drove me insane, what wit' confusin' my mother for m' wife as the memories battled for supremacy. So it's entirely possible he'll be one of ours," Renji assured him, nuzzling into his neck.
The kitsune seemed to be comforted by the redhead's words. It would be a long while before anyone else could even sense the budding souls, but it didn't stop the sex demon from rubbing his hand across his stomach protectively anyway. Renji nuzzled his mate, also rubbing his belly, eyes going soft as he did, filling with love for his lover and their children. Catching the good feeling, Ulquiorra encased Shiro with his wings, closing them both in a large bubble of black.
...And if you should think that we tell you lies...