Edit: Chapter now comes with the characters' names spelled fucking correctly.
Renji had just arrived at the mall when Shuuhei arrives at the Ninth Division for work. Of course, Shuuhei has no knowledge of this, since he's no longer with Renji and is mostly preoccupied from thinking about what Renji could be doing just then by repetitiously dodging Rangiku.
It's a harder task than Shuuhei would have predicted. On his way to the Ninth Division she had appeared walking out of the Fifth, evidently having come to visit Hinamori. She had actually just been about to turn the corner when Shuuhei picked up her spiritual pressure. The resulting flash-step straight past her rendering him invisible was, if Shuuhei said so himself, some of the finest footwork his side of Seireitei.
He should join the Second Division, is what he should do. He's like a ninja. A stealthy, sleeveless ninja.
He had planned on repeating this technique (SRAM- Sneaky Rangiku Avoidance Maneuver) as necessary for maybe the rest of his life, but failure came in the form of a coffee break. For all the considerations he took into his plans, he had made the fatal flaw of forgetting that Rangiku suffered just as greatly as he did from caffeine addiction.
"Shuuheeeei!"
"Heeeeey-" He says, straining to keep his voice level, "Rangiku. How're you?"
"Great!" She combs her fingers through her hair, beaming at him over a cup of espresso. "Well, well, looked what the hollow dragged in. It seems like I haven't seen you all week!"
There's still time, maybe if he's quick he can implement an escape route! Shuuhei forces his words, on a quick breath. "Yeah, it's that weird? Anyway, it's been great but I gotta go-"
"Oh, come on." She presses, grabbing at his bicep and pulling him towards the coffee machine. "There's an extra-dark black java with your name all over it! We both know you've been hooked on the stuff ever since Twelfth division lugged this machine-thing in from the real world. Can't you hear your precious coffee calling to you? Do not ignore her siren call."
Trapped, Shuuhei watches as she picked up the coffee pot, stooping to pour it into an empty plastic cup. Oh gods don't look at her boobs. Just imagine Renji's puppy-dog face or anything, just not the boobs.
"Okay, so I had this great idea to sneak out and do shopping in the material world before work and you'll never guess who I saw!" She chirps in a conspiratory voice. She edged the cup into his direction, an undeniable invitation. He was stuck. "Rukia and Renji! Can you imagine she actually succeeded in dragging him into a mall?"
"Imagine." Shuuhei echoes, resignedly picking up the cup.
"I mean, what's that about?" Rangiku asks, waving her hand in the air vaguely, "You think they're together now?"
Shuuhei represses a snort. He had been positive from the very beginning that Rukia wasn't going to be a rival for Renji's affections. The two were just a little too emotionally explosive to be anything other than friends, in his mind's eye. Rukia needed somebody to take the edge off her once in a while, and as for Renji? Renji needed Shuuhei.
But Shuuhei couldn't very well just announce that. As far as Rangiku or anyone else was aware, Renji and Shuuhei just spent more time together doing wholesome, completely straight activities. Playing dumb was really the only option.
"No, from what Renji tells me." Shuuhei confirms for Rangiku, pausing after taking a long sip from his cup. "He's being dragged along to dance for highschoolers with Inoue."
Rangiku's eyes lit up, she presses her palms to her face. "Aww, that's so cute! I think they'd be good together, you know?"
A hint of curiosity stirs. At least Shuuhei hopes that's curiosity, lest he confront certain, much more negative feelings bubbling up inside him. Shuuhei takes a moment of recovery to make it appear as if he hadn't just inhaled his coffee before putting down his cup to ask as casually as he can manage. "Do you, now? How do you figure?"
"What, you disagree?" Rangiku asks, sounding just a little defensive on behalf of both her friends.
Shuuhei shrugs noncommittally. This was straying into dangerous territory, the kind that Shuuhei had promised to himself not to risk, but he felt he had to at least sow the seeds of doubt. "They just don't seem like each other's type. I can't picture it working well."
"Oh, come on!" Rangiku's inner romantic flourished, taking over her brain like a possession. She abandons her coffee to elegantly hold her clasped hands to her bosom as she speaks as if from the recitation of a time-told love-story rather than pulling it from thin air for the sake of an argument, "Just think; naturally, Renji harbored feelings for Rukia, the girl for whom he had chased after for so long-"
Wrong.
"-But she's fallen for another man- obviously Ichigo just callin' it now-" She adds dismissively before returning to her wistful tone, "-leaving Renji heartbroken-"
Wrong
"-And love comes in the form of Orihime, the healer with the ability to heal his broken heart, and of course he'll fall for her because she's beautiful and sweet and everybody loves her and she's got a great big rack! They get married and have lots of vibrantly red-headed children and live happily ever after, the end!"
Wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.
Shuuhei's voice, against his will, has worn down to a mutter, "I don't think Renji's planned that far ahead. Not really the white-picket fence kinda guy, if you haven't noticed."
But Rangiku swings her clasped fists like a blunt weapon against his words. "Don't be so oblivious! Maybe Renji doesn't seem the kind of guy to another man like you, but he's totally the type to go the whole nine yards. You know, Wife, house, kids, dog… fishing trips!"
Shuuhei quickly ticked off the cons on his fingers. "Compromises, responsibility, paying rent. What makes any of these sound like Renji to you?"
Rangiku sighs dreamily. "I just think it's romantic. Just because you and your mystery-woman don't share the spark of love in your life doesn't mean others have to be the same way. If Orihime had half a mind to make a move, I wouldn't blame her." Rangiku chuckles, leaning back onto the coffee table with a grin. "Abarai's not my type by a long shot, but even I thought he looked pretty fine in his fancy human world get-up."
Yeah, Shuuhei bets he did.
Shuuhei hates life.
"That's great, Rangiku." Shuuhei mutters, deciding now is the time to make a break for it. What did he learn about evasive maneuvers in training again? Bob and weave bob and weave! "I really gotta go. Got squad stuff to do. Just doing boring things like my actual job, keeping the Seireitei safe and all with patrols, instead of going to dumb dances. No big deal or anything."
It makes for an excellent excuse, seeing as Shuuhei does actually have to lead patrols. Also excellent in the way that he's actually looking forward to them. Shuuhei is good at patrolling, and as the lieutenant of the squad specializing in communication and security it's a huge chunk of his overall job description. If the Gotei Thirteen had Help Wanted ads for vice-captains that's the first thing that they would ask for. "Wanted: Lieutenant. Must be proficient at cardio."
Also, doing some ground work would be very useful in the manner of getting Shuuhei's mind off Rangiku. And Renji. And Renji in formal wear. And Renji on the arm of Inoue "beautiful/sweet/everybody loves her/great rack" Orihime.
Yeah. Patrols. Looking forward to them. Awesome.
And yet, patrols never happened.
His squad is surprisingly difficult to cajole out of the office for their more active duties. The Ninth Division is an odd breed, conditioned by years under a (then thought-out to be) selfless man to put duties before pleasure and throw all their attention onto the problem set before them with no room for distractions. With a slew of deadlines on the rapidly arising horizon, they are reluctant to leave their work for the paper. Shuuhei has to stand in the doorway, disapprovingly clucking his tongue like an impatient mother hen before he can concede that they won't budge until the majority of the workload is off their shoulders.
It's probably for the best, Shuuhei thinks. He ducks his head out the window, looking up at the sky. This morning, during his walk with Renji, it had been merely overcast with the cover of clouds so thin it was only barely noticeable. Time drew on, however, and the light dusting of grey overhead had grown into a thick blanket of darkness.
With a heavy sigh, Shuuhei returns to his office to spend another day buried in paperwork. Or tried to. Captain Muguruma was good on his word to pass the final duties for tomorrow's publishing to the lower ranks, meticulously hiding every bit of work in Shuuhei's office. For the first time in what must be years, Shuuhei can actually see the surface of his desk. It's somehow not as shiny as he had imagined it.
Shuuhei roots around in the drawers of his desk for the few articles he was still supposed to be editing, only to discover that those had been removed too. Say what you would about Captain Muguruma but the man belonged to the Ninth Division through and through, obsessively thorough tendencies included. Shuuhei was left with little else to do but watch the cover of clouds grow progressively heavier until it blotted out the sun overhead.
Shuuhei rolled his eyes up towards the ceiling and shoved his chair back from his desk. Perhaps he could at least run back down to the publishing office to supervise or something.
The Ninth Division halls buzzed with life, shinigami flitting in and out of rooms with armloads of paper like worker bees in a hive. They whirled around Shuuhei like faint breezes as they carried on their work, the buzzing sound of their chatter flooding the air.
He passed by a window and glanced outside, glaring at the dark marks of rain striking against the ground as it began to shower. Shuuhei had decided rain was a bad omen, thinking back to the night in the real world in which he had nearly lost Renji. Sure, it was an event that had brought them closer together, perhaps even made their relationship possible, but it wasn't something Shuuhei would look forward to repeating.
Shuuhei could tell his captain was near without even sensing his spiritual pressure. At an acknowledgeable 5'11, Shuuhei was now a whole whopping half an inch taller than Captain Muguruma. Still, whether it was because of the extraordinary power the man was capable of or whether it was merely in his nature, Captain Muguruma's presence filled up a room without even trying. It never failed to make Shuuhei feel inexperienced, like the same sobbing child he had been almost a century ago at the silver-haired captain's feet.
"Not leading patrols, then?" Captain Muguruma asks, absently wiping a black smear of ink on his otherwise pristine captain's haori. Whether the stain is the evidence of his dedication to his work or simply the result of a loss of respect for the captain's garments Shuuhei can't be sure. Of the three visored to be asked to return to their positions as captains, all came with a certain amount of distain from the traditional ways they had been banished by. Shuuhei's just glad his captain gave in and stopped wearing muscle shirts and army boots to work.
Shuuhei shakes his head. "No, sir. I thought it might be better to put it off until later. The officers are all distracted, and the weather isn't looking favorable anyway."
Captain Muguruma drifts to the window to follow Shuuhei's gaze, looking at the rain thicken and paint the world below dark and heavy with water. He says, with precise decisiveness. "Fuck the weather."
Shuuhei raises a brow at that, but patiently waited for the visored to continue. "It's not that bad out there, 'least not for two powerful shingami like you and me, eh Hisagi? Let's do a little one-on-one training."
"You're certain?" Shuuhei asks, a little taken aback. Shuuhei and Captain Muguruma didn't take to sparring often. Truthfully, Shuuhei was a little hesitant about testing unpredictable Kazeshini's blades against the disciplined air-strikes of Tachikaze. Captain Muguruma could probably wipe the floor with Shuuhei and be back in time for tea, and Shuuhei's ego didn't need that particular thrashing quite yet.
Captain Muguruma shrugs, "Let's do it. I'm sick of paperwork anyways!"
"I could help with that if you hadn't stolen all of my documents." Shuuhei points out.
"That's the lower seats' problem, now."
When Captain Muguruma set his heart on something, there is little Shuuhei could do to deter him. He found himself, albeit reluctantly, steered towards the training grounds with his captain.
Training grounds in Seireitei tend to differ for whatever technique is being practiced. Areas used most often for kido, for example, display a variety of obstacles to make viable target practice. Fencing and close-combat grounds fall into the category of flat, cleared arenas for one-on-one fights with minimal distractions from one's opponent. To visit the spacious, open, long-range training grounds, however, is too find oneself ankle deep in the untamed grass, the foliage only cut by jagged tears into the surroundings from ages of shinigami testing their biggest, wildest attacks without the fear of bystanders walking into their blades.
Surprisingly, when they get to the plains of the long-range training grounds, Captain Muguruma's mood only seems to improve with the gradual worsening of the weather. Looking across the cleared plains, fingers tensing on the hilt of his zanpakutou, he looks perfectly at home against the rain descending from the skies above and the wind seeming to bend and curve around his figure.
Shuuhei, on the other hand, assumes that he looked much less imposing, shoulders hunched and tensed against the descending rain as he brushed bangs out of his eyes again. Maybe Renji was right; he's turning into a sheepdog.
"Tell me something, Hisagi." Captain Muguruma began abruptly. "You fought against my successor, the traitor Tousen."
Shuuhei starts, unprepared for the sudden conversation. Plenty of times there had been people who wanted Shuuhei to tell the story of how he took his revenge against the man who had betrayed him, and plenty more times Shuuhei refused. It felt too personal to try to recount, let alone relive.
But this was Captain Muguruma. The past century of almost his entire life had been shaped by betrayal. Betrayal in the form of a fellow captain, and betrayal of the Gotei Thirteen that he had pledged his heart and service to. Of all people, perhaps he could understand.
"Yes." Shuuhei answers. "I fought Tousen alongside Captain Komamura. I killed him, so to speak. I gave him the wound that caused his death, if that makes more sense."
Captain Muguruma hums in acknowledgement. "What was that like? Honestly?"
Shuuhei feels compelled to be truthful. "Honestly? It was terrifying. I was scared of him. I was scared of myself for doing that to him. I know it sounds ridiculous, but that fear- it's sort of what keeps me grounded."
For a moment, there was no sound except the pounding of the rain, followed by the unsheathing of Captain Muguruma's sword. "Ch." He snorts. "So naïve."
Shuuhei's reflexes kick in, sending him rocketing away from the first sweep of Captain Muguruma's blade. His sandals squeak against the grass as he skidded to a stop, bracing himself and unsheathing is sword.
This isn't just a friendly chat anymore. This was training.
Captain Muguruma is fast, raising his word to strike at Shuuhei a second time. Shuuhei quickly blocks with Kazeshini, catching their blades locked with one another.
Captain Muguruma coolly met him eye-to-eye even his vice-captain struggles against the full weight of his body being pressed against his blade. "Do you really think that fear is a quality shared only between you and that delusional bastard? That the rest of us are just fools throwing our weapons around, obliviously waiting to get hurt?"
Shuuhei is caught off guard, and it showed in the way that he slips ever so slightly in his stance. Muguruma sees the chance and takes it, throwing Shuuhei back with a heavy push. Shuuhei goes with the momentum, falling back before ducking around to prepare to return the strike.
"Blast Away, Tachikaze!"
The air ripples with the sudden force of the wind being pulled and manipulated. Where there was once a full-sized sword, there was now a wicked-looking combat knife in Kensei's hand. He slices at the air, which lit up in a spiritually-charged stream, arcing towards Shuuhei. The vice-captain barely has a chance to flash-step away, letting the wind rush past him before slicing a tree in the distance.
Kensei pulls Tachikaze back, readying for another strike. "You aren't so special, you know!" He calls out, a hint of danger in his voice. "Everyone stupid enough to stumble through the soul reaper academy knows they're going to have to do a lot of things they don't like. You're going to have to hurt people, Hisagi. Do you think moping and obsessing over it makes you different?"
Shuuhei grits his teeth, finding Kazeshini with both hands. Getting lectured when he was trying to fight was becoming tiresome. "Believe me," He warns, "I am different. Reap, Kazeshini."
The sword's shape shifts in his hands, changing and morphing into its unreleased two deathly scythes. Shuuhei draws and arm back before throwing, tossing one of the blades to spin in a right curve towards his captain.
Muguruma strikes with his air-blades again, attempting to knock the scythe off its course. The wind strikes at nothing, however, when Kazeshini wildly weaved to the left, spinning towards its target from the opposite side.
Shuuhei's eyes widened in shock. He hadn't meant for Kazeshini to do that at all! The visored captain had no choice but to dodge, pulling back to narrowly avoid being sliced by the whirling blades.
"Not a bad trick, there!" Captain Muguruma commented with a grin, oblivious to Shuuhei's accident, "For an attack that only works when you're hiding in the distance like a scared child."
Kensei launches himself straight ahead towards Shuuhei. The scarred man pulls on the connecting chain of his zanpakutou, sending the scythe flying backwards towards Muguruma's unguarded back. But Muguruma is wary of Shuuhei's blades by now, and avoids the flying scythe easily, letting it fly back into Shuuhei's hands.
Another slice of wind came to Shuuhei, this time too quick for him to do anything than brace himself against it with Kazeshini like a shield. At the same time the voice of Kensei bellowed in his ears.
"You're different, huh? Because being afraid of power is such a rare trait." He taunts,
Shuuhei tightens his grip on his scythe's handles, gritting his teeth. "I'm not afraid! I just have this neat little thing called a moral conscious to adhere to."
"You must be a blast at parties, aincha' kid?" Muguruma mutters.
Captain Muguruma flash-steps closer, closing on him and eliminating his long-range advantage. "So then what are you even doing here? What makes Hisagi Shuuhei set aside his precious self-loathing and fight with the rest of us in the dirt and blood? Do you fight for power?"
Heaving a shuttering breath as he got his bearing back, Shuuhei scowls and grits his teeth. He abandons his long-distance strategy, letting Kensei get close to raise his scythes above his head and strike downwards upon his Captain's head. "I have power! Enough to do my duty!"
"Duty to what?" Kensei barks, disappearing from under Kazeshini's blades just in time. "What do you want to serve? What matters enough for you to fight for?"
For a split second, Shuuhei's eyes gazed unseeingly across the training grounds. In his mind, he was back in time, in the academy fighting alongside three nosy first-years because they had been stupid enough to try to help even as Shuuhei tried to protect them. He was fighting against the hollow by the the portal alongside Renji. He was pulling Renji out of the river, forcing air into him and urging him to refusing death. He was traversing the tunnels in Huenco Mundo, volunteering on a mission of great danger to blindly follow after Renji and, above all, to keep him safe. In a memory just as scary, he was going to Renji's quarters after work for the first time since they'd kissed and he realized that he might slowly, so very slowly, be falling in love.
And why? Because Renji had been worth it all, even doing downright stupid and dangerous things. Because Renji was someone worth falling in love with. Renji was worth fighting for. And if the situation would arise, Renji would be worth Shuuhei having blood on his hands for.
Shuuhei swing Kazeshini again, aiming to to slash at Kensei with both scythes in hand. Predictably, Kensei dodged such a sloppy move, but the captain stumbles just a little bit because for a minute the impossible had happened.
The air had been moved, and not by Tachikaze.
It isn't at all like Kensei's shikai, pin-point slashes in the air like an invisible blade. This change, the sudden wind that pulled from nowhere curved like a cyclone. It bends the wind and pulls at everything around it, sucking out Shuuhei's breath as if all the air had just disappeared from his lungs but to catch his breath in this whirlwind is to thirst for fresh water in the ocean. For a terrifying moment, Kazeshini rattled chaotically in his hands, pulling in the direction of that twisting wind so hard Shuuhei feared he would be lifted off his feet from the very force of it. Something like a shadow swirls around Shuuhei's vision. Painful ringing sounds in his ears, a sharp sound that, if Shuuhei didn't know better, he would recognize as laughter.
The wind was frenzied. It blusters around his body and howls in his ears, tearing at his clothes, and biting at his skin and feeling as if it was threatening to pull Shuuhei apart with it's very force. Panicked and bewildered, he looks towards his captain, the call for assistance being ripped from his throat as if the wind carries away his voice.
Then Shuuhei sees Captain Muguruma's elbow coming towards his face. Then there was black.
When Shuuhei blinks his eyes open, he almost squeezes them shut again. He knows this place, and he has not been looking forward to returning to it.
He would recognize his inner world instantaneously just from the solemn walls and impending darkness surrounding him. The place is a underground structure, one that Shuuhei has never seen from the exterior, but he knows without a doubt that his inner world is a catacomb.
The hallways are long and narrow, entirely dark except for the torches nailed into the walls along either side. Without fear that they will burn away and go out, they flicker ghostly in the dank shadows. No matter how long they burn- hours, days, centuries- the torches continue to glow as if fueled by some impossible force of will, forever a continuous cycle in a battle between the light and the dark.
The walls are smooth, marred only by the tombs carved out of the walls in great slabs. They yawn, empty and untouched except by the coat of dust that serves as proof that when Shuuhei is here he is truly alone, without even the dead for company.
Well, almost alone. A distant cackle of laughter echoes through the catacombs, and with it carries the wind, always whistling eerily as the same musty air settles and unsettles again and again, disturbed and undisturbed only by the two beings in the universe who tread here.
True to his nature, Kazeshini can't make things easy and simply appear before Shuuhei. Seeing his zanpakuto's soul solidified in human form is perhaps even more of a startling experience for Shuuhei than when then dark sprit simply clings to the shadows, drifting like a spirit against the walls.
"Well, well, well." Kazeshini muses, his voice ever on the timbre between high and low. "Look who's been so kind to grace me with his presence. It's been what, a month? Two? Three? For a while I thought you had left me in that damn desert again. Thanks for that, by the way, you forgetful fuck."
Shuuhei rolls his eyes. He would sigh, but he doesn't want to risk breathing in the horrid dust of the place and choke. "You know I didn't come here by choice this time. Cut the crap."
Kazeshini's profile appears, creeping against the torchlight as a shadow. He says, in what Shuuhei would assume to be a sulky tone. "You're always too impatient. I wish I had a fun shinigami instead of your boring ass! I swear, the hollow I was stuck in was more fun than you were, and hollows don't exactly have stimulatin' hobbies. I mean, sure they're violent sons of bitches and I can appreciate that but it's always eat, eat, eat! Where's the passion? The art?"
Shuuhei ignores the characteristically immature behavior, deciding that as long as he's here he may as well get some answers. "It was you, wasn't it? You went out of control during my fight with Captain Muguruma , and then you did that wind thing! Are you trying to get us both killed, or does your creepy little mind just not think of these things?"
Shuuhei starts only a little when Kazeshini appears sitting off the ledge of one of the crypts next to him, because really he never gets used to that. The dark spirit doesn't have eyebrows, at least none that Shuuhei can see, but if he did he imagines they would be narrowed accusatorily, "You really don't know? Holy shit, are you that dumb?" He heaves a dramatic, long-suffering sigh. "Can't blame ya, I guess. I didn't think you'd do it, either. And yet here we are, ain't we?"
Shuuhei steps back in suspicion, "What do you mean? That wasn't…"
"Our bankai?" Kazeshini snaps, now sounding a little irritated. "'Course it wasn't, you stupid slug! If I went into bankai, you can bet it'd be way cooler than that pathetic little breeze you kicked up! Oh no, no, no, that was just a fraction of what our power could be!"
Shuuhei's hand finds Kazeshini's physical form in its sheath on his hip. Could he achieve bankai? It didn't seem real, or even possible. His shikai has always been good enough, he had hardly ever considered bankai until Tousen left and vacancies in the captains arose. And by then, he was far too busy managing his squad to even consider training towards bankai.
Not to mention the other flaw in the plan, grinning at Shuuhei maniacally, the torn burial shrouds wrapped around him trailing onto the floor. Kazeshini wouldn't let Shuuhei drag him into the real world kicking and screaming bloody murder if their combined lives depended on it.
"I guess Captain Yells-A-Lot finally struck a chord with you this time, huh?" teases the bane of Shuuhei's existence, vanishing to reappear only a second later a few paces away from Shuuhei, next to one of the tombs, this one seeming to be closed. That was odd. None of the tombs in Shuuhei's inner world had ever been closed before. "Does it have something to do with this?"
Curious, Shuuhei approaches as Kazeshini dug his bony fingers under the cover of the crypt, pulling the lid out of the wall to smash against the floor. Shuuhei wishes he hadn't, because inside was a skeleton, worn down to to bleach-white bones. It lay listlessly in the crypt, everything but its body perfectly preserved, including the shinigami's uniform and bandana it was garbed in. The red sheath placed across the skeleton's chest holds a familiar katana. Shuuhei doesn't need to look at it closely to know that the sword is Zabimaru, to know just whose skeleton that is supposed to be.
"So this is the guy, huh?" Kazeshini quips, prodding at the skeleton in the crypt. "Your little beau makes you realize you actually want to fight? That you need to be stronger? How lame is that."
Without hesitation, Kazeshini picks up Renji's skeleton. There was a snap, making Shuuhei wince and look in horror as Kazeshini cleanly pulls Renji's skull free from the rest of his body, which he let fall to the floor in a clatter of bones.
"Don't do that!" Shuuhei demands, his hands curling into fists at his sides.
"And why not?" Kazeshini laughs joyously, tossing the skull up and down in his hand like a tennis ball. "You don't care that much about this one idiot, do you? Face it, shinigami, we both know how this is gonna end."
Kazeshini kicks a boot-clad foot against the opposite wall, dislodging the cover on that crypt to fall and join Renji's. Perhaps propelled by morbid curiosity and a masochistic need to torture himself, Shuuhei looks within.
A second skeleton, dressed in Shinto-style wedding robes, sits slumped over in the crypt. Two object's glittered in its clasped hands, which on further examination proved to be Orihime's hairpins. Next to Orihime's skeletons two more bony figures lay curled up on their sides in a heap of remains, their skeletons tiny, thin and fragile, curled up in the fetal position as if in sleep. The bones of children. Bile rises in Shuuhei stomach and this throat closes. Children's remains. Orihime's children. Renji's children.
"Look, shinigami! You finally have some friends that will listen to you, for once!" Kazeshini roars, tossing Renji's skull into the crowded crypt where it rolled to a halt next to the Orihime skeleton. "There, the family's all here! And you end up alone, like we both know you will."
A lesser man than Shuuhei would have trembled in rage, but Shuuhei would not give Kazeshini the satisfaction. He kept his face stony, even as his knees threatened to give out underneath him.
Catching the look in his eye, Kazeshini smirks. "Upset about the truth? Whatcha' gonna do, cry about it? You're pathetic!"
"We're done here." Shuuhei announced, "I'm leaving."
"This is my home court, braniac! You don't leave until I say so." Kazeshini argues.
Shuuhei looks Kazeshini straight in the eyes, the dark spirit's eyeballs glazed cloudy and flat. The eyes of a corpse to contradict the wicked, livid grin stretching his face. "You know, that's the funny thing about you." Shuuhei says, chuckling darkly, "I just hate you so much, whenever you say something it just makes me want to go out of my way to prove you wrong."
And then Kazeshini and the catacombs bled away into utter blackness.
The next thing that Shuuhei was aware of was being clumsily dropped somewhere, most likely in the vague direction of downwards. He opens his mouth to tell off whoever had dumped him in said direction, but all that tumbles across his tongue was a garbled, un-Shuuhei-like "Ow my fucking head."
"Sorry." A voice that sounds like Captain Muguruma says. "At least you're awake now. Can I get some help over here?"
Shuuhei slowly opens his eyes for what had to be the third time today. The second, if you didn't count arriving in his inner world as being "awake". Consciousness was a funny thing when inner worlds were involved, sometimes. At least he's inside now, instead of out in the rain. Evidently, Shuuhei had been moved into uniform-looking hallway looking typical of one of the Gotei Thirteen's buildings. Finally, he can make out the shape of Captain Muguruma motioning for someone to come over, someone turning out to be Izuru and Rangiku. Together, Izuru and Captain Mugururmaa lift Shuuhei off the ground.
Shuuhei groans, feelings a bump form on his forehead where he had been dropped. "The hell is happening now?"
He looks straight ahead to Rangiku for answers, and she strokes a hand his hair comfortingly. The hand feels foreign. Only Renji touches Shuuhei's hair, it was like a rule. Still, Shuuhei likes that caring smile on Rangiku's face. She made a lot of nice facial expressions when Shuuhei wasn't ogling her breasts.
Oh wait she was talking. Maybe Shuuhei should pay attention. "-Said that there was some kind of accident when you were sparring." She was saying. "He called us over to help get you to the Fourth Division."
"Who cares about Fourth Division?" Shuuhei protests, working himself free from Izuru and Captain Muguruma's grip. "Nothing good ever happens at Fourth!"
Izuru looks at him disapprovingly when Shuuhei shoves him away. "Hisagi, you're not looking well. You're clearly exhausted, so at least lie down if you're going to refuse-"
"What time is it?" Shuuhei asks, whipping his head around and looking across the hallway for a wall clock. He glares at the given time, "It's gotten late. Shit, I don't have a lot of time."
"Time for what? Shuuhei, you're not acting like yourself?" Rangiku asks gently, trying to coax him into calming down.
Captain Muguruma seems to agree, giving Shuuhei a testy look. "She's right, brat. Plus, you and I need to have a chat about what happened back there when we were training."
"I'd love to, sir, really I would." Shuuhei lies, dreading the idea of conversing about the announced subject more than even trying to wheedle answers out of Kazeshini. "But I have a very important appearance to make. I think it's important to my inner… something. There were skeletons, I don't really understand but I really do have to go!"
Izuru throws his hands up in exasperation. "Hisagi, you're not making sense. Where could you possibly need to go right this very minute?"
If it wasn't obvious before, affection and closeness are not things that come easily to Shuuhei. He's not good at putting his feelings into words, either. To express his emotions has always been a challenge, a fill-in-the-blank puzzle with neither hint nor code and to risk getting the answer wrong and to risk failure is not in his nature.
Shuuhei is past thinking about the risks. Past caring what people think and past being afraid. This puzzle, this comprehensible mess of the heart that Renji has set before him without even realizing it in his own Renji way, Shuuhei discovers, is not a puzzle at all. It's a riddle, the kind Shuuhei had always overthought without understanding that the answer had been staring him, uncomplicated and undervalued, smack in the face.
He answers, more truthfully than he's ever been in his entire life, both Kira and that unfathomable riddle: "To tell Renji that I love him!"
He doesn't wait to get a reaction back, disappearing into the storm. Because he is a stealthy, sleeveless ninja. A ninja in love, and highly aware of the fact.
Author's note: Oh, Shuuhei and Kazeshini, could the two of you BE any more brattier siblings?
Much thanks and praise to Namayani, my beta who has been very patiently walking me through this strange process known as writing. And thanks to viewers like you.
I have finals tomorrow. I know nothing of American government.