Chapter 4: Death Machine
Hisana dipped her hands in the frigid water. It had been warm. Steaming and soothing, but she had stared into it, watching the steam rise and scatter. It had gone lukewarm and then cold. It was icy now.
She could not feel it. Everything was numb. All she could perceive was the blood pulling from her skin. It was surreal—like drops of dye expanding in the water. But it wasn't dye. It was blood. Red, red, red blood.
Her eyes watched. They stung, not from crying. She had not cried a tear. She couldn't just yet. Her mind was still sorting it out. Sifting through it all. Still not quite believing what happened, happened. It was a bad dream. She would wake up and everything would be different. The Third's Captain would still draw breath. Lord Sōjun would still require her treatments.
The last thought brought on an avalanche of pain. Realization, harsh and cruel, crashed over her. She felt like she was drowning. She couldn't quite catch her breath. Her heart couldn't quite figure out how to work—it was all quick starts and stops. Her muscles ached from fatigue. Her body felt wrecked. Her eyes burned, bloodshot and red-rimmed, from a steady refusal to close.
"He is here," a subordinate said softly, cracking the door back on its hinges.
Hisana turned to the meek voice. "Yes," she said mechanically. Her face must have horrified the young Shinigami for the woman stepped back, aghast.
"Vice Captain," she murmured, shutting the door behind her as she crossed over the threshold. "Here let me." With quick fluttering movements, the woman dampened a towel and began to clean Hisana's forehead and neck. "You have not slept since the mission was announced," the woman noted gently. "After this, let me relieve you for a few hours."
Hisana nodded, not really feeling it. Her feelings had been stuffed away in some forgotten compartment of her brain. She could barely move let alone argue with her well-intentioned Third Seat.
"I think you look sufficient," the girl said gently.
Sufficiently what? Hisana wondered to herself. Tortured? Professional? Clean? "Thank you," she murmured under her breath.
Her muscles tensed with each step she took. It took a herculean effort, indeed, just to push the door open. It took a herculean effort just to stand there before Lord Byakuya. He watched her desperately.
It took all of her strength to meet his gaze. She could see that he was searching her. Hope still lingered in his eyes, on his face. She hated this part the most—the part where she took that hope and crushed it.
He had already begun to suspect her news. Her face was as blank and as unfeeling as a white page, which was uncharacteristic for her. She always had an easy smile and comforting look ready to pull out at a moment's notice. Not now, however. She could barely function let alone emote, and if her emotions did break forth, she was certain they would surge forth like a deluge. It would have been ugly, and it would have involved a great deal of sobbing.
That maelstrom would have to wait. It would wait for the pillow, when she was alone in her own dormitory, certain that no one was nearby. She could have her well-deserved breakdown far from the earshot of her contemporaries. Far from the earshot of the deceased's family. They deserved better.
She stared up into Byakuya Kuchiki's face, waiting for realization to hit him. Perhaps it already had, but hope still resided in his grey eyes. It always did. Hope remained where logic would dictate otherwise.
"Hisana?" he asked, deepening his stare.
"Lord Kuchiki," she began, and she saw the change in him. It was instant. She never referred to him as "Lord Kuchiki," because "Lord Kuchiki" was the title reserved for his grandfather or his father. "Lord Kuchiki" was his inheritance.
His eyes widened, and she knew he was preparing himself. "Captain Kuchiki is in the intensive care unit. His chances of survival are good," she said softly.
Byakuya swallowed and exhaled. His breathing began to regulate, and he appeared less tense. "My father?"
Hisana forced herself to keep her gaze trained on his. Her jaws clenched, and her lips tightened as she pushed her immense sadness down to the pit of her stomach. "I—" she began, but stopped herself. No. This was about him, not her. "Vice Captain Kuchiki," she began, shaking her head. The words burned in her chest and stuck in her throat.
Byakuya, however, was astute. His expression fell. Reflexively, he grabbed her by her shoulder. It was visceral, his touch. It was heavy and tight. It would leave marks, perhaps bruises.
"He perished."
His grip intensified. Hisana, however, did not flinch. He was tethering himself to something real, something unmovable. It was a common enough reaction in her experience. That sort of news could leave someone spinning, unsteady.
She stood firm, keeping her gaze on him. "Lord Kuchiki?" she asked, feeling him begin to wane. His hold of her relented, but she could feel the muscles in his hand shake. "Shock," she murmured, bracing him against her.
"How?" he asked, confused.
She shook her head. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" he repeated. It wasn't an accusation. He seemed sincerely perplexed. The news had not fully pierced him. It would eventually sink in. It would eventually turn to misery.
"He arrived," she couldn't speak the word. Dead. It was on the tip of her tongue, but it seemed so vulgar. Gone. It was another euphemism, so was Passed on or Passed away. Trite expression after trite expression entered her head, trickled her thoughts. She had brandished them all at some point. But, not now. Those words weren't good enough. "I tried to revive him for an hour." She shook her head, biting back the sob that began to swell in her throat. "I am so sorry."
"His body?" Byakuya asked, not quite believing her.
Hisana stared into his face. It felt like a bad idea. The pain was too fresh, too new. Seeing the body now, in its state, may only make things worse. But, who was she to deny him the ability to pray over his father's body? It was standard operating procedure to allow the family access to the bodies. "Yes," she said, lowering her head. "Please." She led him to the small private room. A heavy blanket concealed the body. A heavy blanket concealed the damage. She had pulled it tightly over him as a sign of respect. Sōjun Kuchiki deserved his dignity even in death. He deserved the protection and warmth of the blanket on that dark, cold, treacherous night.
Sōjun Kuchiki deserved a better fate.
She left Byakuya to grieve in private, closing the door behind her as she crossed the threshold into the hallway. She stopped, bracing her back against the wall, and she gazed helplessly in front of her. Swirls of white sterile activity assaulted her senses from every direction. It was almost pretty in the abstract. Her mind would only afford her the world in the abstraction. Exhaustion twisted her senses, shooting her concentration to hell.
"Vice Captain." The voice was unmistakably Unohana's. It rushed over her. But she did not react. Her gaze remained fixed on the wall in front of her.
"Yes, Captain," she murmured mechanically.
"Lord Kuchiki?" Unohana asked gently, nodding in the direction of the door.
"Yes."
"I will speak to him," Unohana murmured softly. Before pulling the door back, she glanced over at Hisana. "Get some rest. You need it." A motherly order, but an order nonetheless.
. . . .
"So, what next?" Kaien asked Ukitake over a cup of tea.
Ukitake's brows rose at his subordinate's candor. "I suppose we find a match."
Kaien stared at Ukitake. 'What the hell did that mean? Find a 'match'? This isn't blood donation.'
Kaien's vexation was quietly understood. Ukitake shook his head. "Pardon my assumptions. The King's Fire is a weapon of great destruction."
"Obviously," Kaien said, "It nearly wiped out two well-armed divisions."
"It is housed in a golden sepulcher. The sepulcher maintains the fire, but it also constrains it. To deactivate the weapon requires a powerful key."
"So we need the key to the sepulcher?"
Ukitake shook his head. "You really ignored your arcane studies, didn't you?" he teased lightly over his cup.
Kaien smirked. "Do you know how many relics there are?" he retorted under his breath.
Ukitake glanced up approvingly as if counting the number in his head. He stopped part way through his mental inventory. "Well, we have the key to this relic."
"That's great news!" Kaien said, feigning excitement; he was keenly aware that it was not so simple. "So we find the King's Fire and lock it up. Sounds easy."
"It isn't." Ukitake exhaled a sharp breath. "The key requires the spiritual power of a healer to charge. Once it is fully charged then it can be used to lock the sepulcher."
"The key requires a sacrifice in other words?" Kaien sighed.
"A fresh sacrifice. The individual's spiritual power must be drained within a few minutes before the key loses it charge completely, rendering it useless." Ukitake filled his mouth with tea.
Kaien rolled his eyes. "Of course it would. Because when you need to deactivate a death machine, be sure to make the process completely ass-backwards and impossible."
Ukitake nearly choked on his tea. Composing himself, he shot his Vice Captain a wry look. "The sacrifice serves as a potent reminder for us to use the King's Fire only as a last resort. It requires a harrowing sacrifice of a respected and necessary member of our society."
"Except when it is stolen and used against us does this mechanism really go from poetic to stupid," Kaien retorted, unamused. His captain's pretty reasons did not warm his heart or calm his mind.
"Yamamoto will order the Kido Corps and the Fourth to submit the names of their healers," Ukitake said, ignoring Kaien's tirade for the time being.
Kaien sighed, shaking his head. "Great, we strap a bomb on one of our healers, and pray that we find the machine before it kills him or her. Sounds like an airtight plan there." He went from incredulous to caustic in only a few seconds.
"It is the only plan."
"We could secure it before we strap the key of death to our lucky healer."
"What do you think last night was?" Ukitake watched his subordinate scoff. "Don't worry. I will not submit Miyako's name for the test. Her healing kido is helpful, but it isn't strong enough."
"Test?" Kaien echoed, becoming slightly less defensive after Ukitake's assurance.
"Yes, the key must choose the healer."
Kaien grimaced. "So any ole healer won't suffice?"
Ukitake shook his head. "It requires an experienced healer."
"For the maximum effect?"
Ukitake nodded. "It is a brutal instrument."
Kaien frowned into his cup of tea. "Chances that this thing picks the Captain of the Fourth?"
"Very likely," Ukitake said sourly. "I would be surprised if it didn't bind to Captain Unohana."
"And if it does?"
Ukitake's gaze drifted to the side. "I don't know."