Hello all! Thank you guys so much for all the support you've given me! Not gonna lie, still pretty baffled over how popular this idea seems to be, but I'm glad you guys like it!
Anywho~! On to the next part!
This chapter takes place pre-canon. Like waaaaaay pre-canon. I'll leave it up to you to decide when exactly.
It was something of an open secret that the southern courtyard gardens in the First Division were home to the Jigokucho.
They were independent creatures, knowing exactly when they were needed, coming and going as necessary, needing little care. They were gentle, quiet, little things and while all Shinigami knew where they resided - as they had all been in charge of their care at one point or another - very few really knew of their common visitor.
When Genryusai first became Captain-Commander of the Gotei 13, he had found the Jigokucho swarming something that he could not see, though clearly there was someone there.
Furious that someone had managed to penetrate so deep into the Seireitei undetected and young as he was at the time, he'd demanded to know who was there. When he received no answer, he'd probably done something rash if not for the Jigokucho themselves. For young he might have been, he was still the Captain-Commander and he noticed things that others would over look.
The Jigokucho carried messages, yes, but they also had voices of their own - soft, quiet voices no louder than a whisper caught in the wind.
:Mistress,: they cooed to him, :Death.:
Genryusai had halted, hand on the hilt of his Zanpakuto, and listened.
"Why can I not see her?" he'd asked.
The Jigokucho only gave confused trills in reply before suddenly dispersing. One drifted closer, lingering by his shoulder.
:Gone,: it cooed, voice tinged with wistful longing, before informing him, :She is visible if you look.:
And then it fluttered off, leaving Genryusai to ponder of what had happened.
To this day, it was one of the strangest experiences he has ever had. No one seemed to know of this invisible stranger and there was no mention of her anywhere in the Archives. If Genryusai had not known better, he would have thought the entire thing was a figment of his imagination. But he had not gotten where he was because of fanciful notions or an overactive imagination. He knew what he'd seen. Or rather what he hadn't.
It was the hardest training he'd ever done for the simple fact that he didn't really understand what he was training for.
He knew what the end goal was – to see this stranger – but he didn't have the slightest idea how to even begin to work towards that goal. He took to visiting the southern gardens whenever he had a free moment. More often than not, the stranger was not there. During those times he would sit and meditate and listen to the Jigokuho's whispers. He learned that there were those that could see her without trying. Others developed the ability over time. But to most, she remained an unnoticed observer. The Jigokucho did not know how to see her – it was simply something that was or wasn't.
On the days where the Jigokucho swarmed, he spoke.
On those days, the Jigokucho outlined a human figure that sat across from him and listened.
Sometimes, she would relay messages to him.
:Knowing I am here is half the battle,: the Jigokucho perched on his shoulder cooed with a woman's soft voice, :The rest relies entirely on you. How well do you know yourself? How well do you understand the world around you?:
He was a captain class Shinigami. He had achieved Bankai – something that required no little understanding of one's self and he told her so.
:True,: she replied, :But have you accepted your fate?:
And then she was gone.
Fate, she'd said.
He had never liked that word. It implied an inescapable future, one that was predetermined and set in stone. A future that was not chosen by the self, but by others. He had never believed in such things.
:Promise,: the Jigokucho hummed around him, :The one Promise made and the one Promise always kept. No different from the others. Everyone is given the same Promise, the same Fate. Always.:
He hadn't understood at the time. But he'd had many teachers over the years and was old enough to know that on never truly stopped learning. This was simply a new puzzle, a riddle that he had to solve.
Admittedly, it was one that took him a long time to solve.
He was not young, not exactly, but he was not old either and it took him a few centuries before he had figured it out.
War was a hard thing to face and the end of a war was harder still for it was only once the fighting was at an end that one could truly grieve all that had been lost. His body ached and his wounds throbbed and his heart was tired. So very, very tired. When he returned to the First Division, he went straight to the southern gardens – more out of instinct than anything else.
The Jigokucho were calming and their whispers brought him peace.
He wanted very much to be alone right now, if only for a moment or two before stepping out to face the world again.
So imagine his surprise when he entered the gardens to find a young woman sitting in the grass instead.
The Jigokucho swarmed her, cooing softly to her as they fluttered around her face and nestled in her hair.
:Visitor, Mistress, visitor,: they sang.
She turned and Genryusai found himself looking into a pair of bright green, ageless eyes. She looked young, far younger than he knew her to be and her style of dress was like nothing he had seen before. She blinked as their eyes met, a smile flitting across her face when he held her gaze, and gestured to the space before her.
He mirrored her, sitting across from her as the Jigokucho shifted to allow him space to move.
:He sees, Mistress,: they cooed, :He sees!:
Her eyes gleamed with laughter. "So he does," she agreed before addressing him, "Hello, Yamamoto Genryusai. Welcome home."
He hummed, setting his Zanpakuto to the side and resting his hands on his knees. "Thank you," he said simply.
Her lips quirked up. "Do you know your fate?"
"My fate, you say?" he asked; he supposed she was right, after all. Such was the fate of all living things the moment they are given life. War had hammered that fact home far more harshly than anything else ever could. "That I will die one day, of course. It is the way of things."
She tilted her head in acknowledgement. "It is," she said softly, "Eventually, Death comes for us all."
"So it does," he said, "But we all decide how to meet it in the end."
She paused for a moment, considering, something strange flashing across her green eyes too quickly for him to identify and then nodded to herself. "I am called Hariel, little one. Well done."
"Hariel-san," he said, testing the way the name felt on his tongue. It was simple and short and he thought it rather suited her.
"Tell me, how will you meet Death?" she asked.
He raised a brow. "Knowing I will die and how I will die are two different things, Hariel-san," he said dryly.
She huffed, amused. "Don't play coy with me, little one. You know what I mean."
He paused, taking in the curious expression on her face, the way the Jigokucho clung to her anyway they could. He remembered the first words they ever spoke to him of the stranger in the garden.
"I would hope," he said after a long moment, meeting her jewel bright eyes, "that it would be as friends."
She beamed.
As always, let me know what you think!
Until next time,
~Elri