A Little Death (I)
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The morning air is crisp and fresh. The paper wall in front of her is near translucent as sunlight streams through the shoji paper. Beyond them, she makes out the shape and shadow of the bamboo forest in the garden outside- jade green and vibrant. The wind begins to pick up speed and the bamboo forest sways in time to it. The white noise from the muted, susurrant whispers of the rustling leaves, the gentle and quiet crackling of the unbendingly rigid bamboo stems knocking into one another; is soothing and she allows a sense of calmness to wash over her.
Rukia blinks at her surroundings. Kuchikis pride themselves for their understated luxury and good taste in all things in life. The austerity in the room furnishings and the design of the Kuchiki compound is meant to reflect that. Her private quarters are exactly as she remembers. To her right stands a small bookshelf, the scrolls and books on it are carefully organized and arranged, kept clean and dust-free by the maids that clean the room daily but beyond that, merely decorative.
Rukia cannot remember the last time she had touched one of them, let alone tell you what their titles are. The walls are bare of decorations and the only other furniture in the room happens to be her writing desk. Upon it, there is a small stack of blank papers and a still wet ink brush to her right, its pointed tip dipped in black ink from the inkwell, poised for use and function.
She reaches out instinctively for the cup of hot tea in front of her- still hot and steaming, no doubt freshly served by one of the maids. The first sip of hot tea invigorates her and she sets it down carefully, lowering her gaze to that of her clothes and her hands. She gives a small frown as she tugs at the pale blue yukata that she has on, feeling the well-worn feel of cotton sliding against her fingertips.
It all feels so frustratingly... normal. She has seen herself in the same space numerous times, holding the same brush, dipping it into the same inkwell, making the same brush strokes numerous times; catching up on the backlog of paperwork, trying her best to remain inconspicuous from the curious gazes from the members of this grand household. She would be content with just that- being in her own room, surrounded by her own loneliness and white noise.
But not today.
The wind outside verges on howling and it will not stop. The din of knocking bamboo stems becomes a noisy and unpleasant clamour. The light in the room begins to dim.
A storm is coming. There is no escape.
Rukia gets up unsteadily from her kneeling position on the muted green tatami mat. Her legs feel stiff as if she has been sitting frozen in the same position for a while now but she easily brushes away the discomfort.
She knows. There is something missing. There is something not right about this place.
She has to go. She is needed elsewhere.
The floorboards under her sock-clad feet are solid and firm despite their age. Putting one foot after the other, she makes her way towards the exit and slides the shoji door open. She breaks into a run. The sound of her thundering footsteps echo as she runs down a dark corridor with no light in sight.
Tense silence fills the air, but the sound of her heart pounding furiously away fills her ears. Unease pools at the pit of her stomach. It is eerie enough to unnerve her. It occurs to her then. It is too quiet. Beyond the sound of the wind wreaking havoc in the bamboo forest, there is no sound made. The Kuchikis boast servants- a small battalion for every room that the estate houses.
So, where are they?
Where is everyone?
She stops dead in her tracks, her eyes wildly and frantically looking at her surroundings. She is standing in a sea of pitch-black- alone and weapon-less. The hairs on the back of her neck rise. Her hands feel clammy with sweat.
Then, she hears it- the sound of approaching footsteps coming towards her, growing louder by the second.
Rukia turns towards the direction of the noise, curious to see who it is. Her eyes squint, trying to make sense of the humanoid shape slowly taking form from the depth of the shadows. She feels him before she sees him. She dips into a deep bow, subservient and humble as she greets him.
"Nii-sama."
Kuchiki Byakuya stands impeccable in his black shihakusho robes, his captain's haori draped elegantly over his shoulders. The bone-white kenseikan in his jet-black hair gleams and shines. He raises an aristocratic brow, peering down at her, his expression inscrutably cold.
Under his gaze, Rukia's head dips even lower. She feels so small, uncomfortable in her own skin, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear than to spend another minute with him. She wills herself to remain calm, fighting against the urge to fidget and twitch.
Even after so many years of being siblings, she can count on one hand the number of times that they have been alone in each other's presence. To him and the rest of the Kuchiki clan, she is always the unwanted one- the half-wild orphan that their esteemed clan leader took in out of pity.
There are rumours of course- unsavoury and dark about how her resemblance to his late wife is a contributory factor to her successful adoption into the family. Rukia has never mustered the courage to ask but she hears the whispers nonetheless, learning over time to just shrug it off and push the thoughts away to the darkest corner of her mind. There are some secrets that she is better off not knowing and her early life on the streets of Rukongai have conditioned her not to ask questions that she is not prepared to know the answers to.
Nii-sama has never offered any comment or explanation on the matter and she takes a leaf out of his book. She is in no position to demand answers. She owes so much of what she has to him- her position within the Gotei 13, as a member of the Thirteenth, serving under Ukitake-Taichou, meeting Kaien-dono and the others- none of that would have ever happened without being taken in by the Kuchiki family. She is already an inconvenience.
Her clenched fists tighten against the material of her shihakusho. She must not add to her brother's burdens.
A sword clatters to the ground.
Rukia raises her head upwards to see a nameless katana- its blade unsheathed and gleaming wicked sharp with its hilt facing her. Her gaze flits towards her brother questioningly but his expression betrayed nothing.
"Pick up the sword, Rukia."
She gulps. Hesitation thrums through her but a warrior's instincts run deep and her eagerness to please her brother, innate. Her shaking fingers somehow find themselves wrapped around the hilt and she raises it, the tip of its blade pointed down and her stance, subservient and dutiful. She would never raise a sword to her brother even in the direst of situations.
Seeing that, her brother finally deigns her with an approving nod. He beckons, waving his hand and from the depth of the shadows, someone else appears. Rukia squints. The stranger is too far, and her surroundings are too dark for her to make out his features, instead; she was drawn to the outline of chains glowing in eerie blue. They snake around the prisoner's wrists and ankles, rattling and groaning with every step that he is forced to make towards them. His bloodied form ambles towards Rukia and she cannot hold back her gasp of pain and surprise.
"Ichigo!"
This is not the Ichigo that she knows. His left arm hangs broken and limp by his side. One of his eyes is bruised and swollen shut. A jagged gash runs dangerously close under it. Any higher and Rukia thinks he might have lost his eye. The once stark white uniform is ripped and tattered. Through the gaps in his tattered clothes, Rukia sees a body littered with scores of garish wounds, deep and still bleeding.
Byakuya waves his hand in a downward motion. It sends Ichigo sinking down to his knees right in front of her with a heavy thud. The chains on him begin to coil and tighten, emanating heat that even Rukia feels from where she stands. An unpleasant smell wafts through the air, reminding Rukia of charred bodies and half-scorched buildings. Ichigo lets out a sharp hiss at the pain, shooting the black-haired man a dark look with his gritted teeth and furrowed eyebrows.
As he raises his head, golden-brown eyes snap to hers. It almost breaks her. Rukia can feel her heart seizing. She wants to scream at him.
What is he doing- broken and bent on the floor before her?
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Get up!
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Rukia tightens her grip on the hilt, fighting the urge to scream. Tears will do her no good but she can think of nothing else to do this pain in her heart justice. A man like him bows to no one!
The Ichigo she knows smirks more than he smiles, his hair forever unruly and bright; his streak of careless cruelty showing through in the most opportunistic of times; be it in him bringing a room full of Sternritters to their knees with nothing but a downturn of his lips, or his spur of the moment decision in kidnapping a Shinigami and keeping her as his pet.
He is always so infuriatingly arrogant, his head held up high and disgustingly unrepentant of his actions.
As a Shinigami- a soldier from the opposite side of a war and a victim of his wrongdoing, Rukia knows that she should enjoy seeing a proud man like him suffer, to let him have a taste of his own medicine; see how he would like it, held and lead like an animal in chains. Yet, the woman in her balks and wallows in anguish in seeing Ichigo suffer this fate.
Who did this to him?
"R-Rukia."
Her tongue is heavy and thick. There is a lump in her throat. The weight of his stare crushes her soul as their eyes meet.
Rukia feels her heart breaking, more so when she sees the grimace that he tries hard to morph into a smirk in her presence. She is barely able to hold herself together, willing herself to appear brave and unfazed.
Ichigo's voice is hoarse, but the sentiment and endearment that rings from his voice as he whispers her name breaks her. A single tear rolls down the side of her cheeks. An ominous feeling grips at her and the sword in her hands has never felt heavier. She feels frozen, unable to drop the sword and unable to form words, caught in a situation that she has no desire to be in as it becomes ever more apparent that nothing good can come from this confrontation.
Her breath hitches when she feels Byakuya's stone-cold gaze sweep over her. His grey eyes harden as he gives her a once over before telling her.
"Kill him."
"N-Nii-sama!"
She almost drops the sword within her grasp. Her eyes flit to her brother in disbelief. He is honourable, reserved and proud. She is in his debt forever and she owes everything to him. Defiance is unthinkable.
But Ichigo?
The flame-haired Sternritter has stolen Rukia the dutiful vice-captain from her place by her captain's side, stolen the near mute Kuchiki princess from her forgotten corner in the Kuchiki estate.
Would anyone still remember that girl?
Would anyone know what she has been through since the day that she was captured?
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Would anyone care?
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Behind enemy lines, her world has been shaken to its core, tilted upside down and when the dust finally settles, she can never go back to the girl she was before. Or perhaps, that was never her to begin with.
"I-I can't."
She owes everything that she is to her brother, to the Kuchiki clan but she cannot do this to her heart. Ichigo is her heart. A heart does not heed reasons. It does not bend to logic.
It simply wants.
She hears a disappointed sigh from Byakuya. She turns to face her brother, forcing herself to meet his gaze unflinchingly.
"You're a disappointment, Rukia."
The words sting. Even after so many years, it still hurts to know that she will never be enough. She is undeserving of the name and the honour that comes with being associated to the grand household. The rest of the world has never let her forget about it. No matter how hard she tries, no matter what she does, the Kuchiki clan will never find her worthy. All Nii-sama had to do was to ask her to jump and she would have asked how high. No price was too steep to be paid or so she once thought. She will always be a disappointment., but the sword in her grasp drops with a heavy thud.
Rukia takes her stance. She cannot do this to Ichigo.
"Very well."
There is a sudden pain bursting at her chest. Her eyes widen, her gaze dropping to the gleaming blade protruding from her chest.
"I-Ichigo?"
It is Ichigo's face that she is looking up at, but that bloodthirsty grin devoid of all humour is one that she has never seen before. She staggers back from the force of the sword being thrusted into her body. With the blade impaled through her chest, she drops to her knees, surprised and betrayed.
Ichigo stands before her again- tall and imposing. The Sternritter uniform fits immaculately once again- rendered new without any sign of repair. She sees no scars or wounds. She sees only Ichigo the Sternritter, the Crown Prince of the Wandenreich Empire- born and bred as he was to be a machine of war, destined for the destruction of realms and reaper of souls. He casually dislodges his sleek blade from her chest, ignoring her gasp of pain as he wipes the remnants of the bloodstain against her yukata, staining the soft blue into the deepest and darkest of reds.
The pain makes her choke, and she instinctively presses a hand to her wound. The blood that stains her finger is warm. She feels her life force trickling away. The sluggish drip-drop of the viscous fluid continues no matter how hard she presses her hand against the gaping wound.
"W-Why?"
Why would Ichigo do this to her?
She raises her head, staring into his eyes, hoping to see a shred of remorse or guilt; unable to accept what has just happened. She cannot believe that the man in front of her would ever do something like that. She spared his life. She must have been tricked. This man in front of her is an imposter. Ichigo would have never done this to her.
Yet, there is no mistaking those amber eyes looking down at her. There is a cruel glint in them, enough to make goosebumps rise in response. Rukia wishes she can inch away but she is too weak to even crawl.
"Why do you think, Shinigami?"
Ichigo laughs at her crumpled form as he straightens his uniform, smoothing out the crinkles before snorting. "You and your kind are all too weak. Too weak for me to even finish off. Do yourself a favour and just stay down. It's only a matter of time anyway before you bleed out."
Tears glisten from the corner of her eyes.
Rukia shuts her eyes, willing herself not to look any more as Ichigo leaves her in her puddle of blood, his laughter echoing. She is past that. The mocking half-smile on his lips, his utter disdain for her hurts worse than the physical impalement.
She has only herself to blame.
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"RUKIA! HEY! STOP DOING THAT! YOU'RE HURTING YOURSELF! WAKE UP!"
She wakes up with a loud gasp, her eyes wide and frantic. Her cheeks are wet. The clothes on her body cling to her uncomfortably. She is hoisted up, folded into a sitting position, struggling against someone.
"Let go of me!"
The person holding on to her is a man. Ichigo— she realizes. It is Ichigo, but why is he holding her like this? Why does he sound so angry?
"Breathe, Rukia! It's over now! You're safe! It's just a dream!"
A dream?
But how can that be?
It had felt so real. Her memories of being back in the Kuchiki Estate, Nii-sama's disappointment when she refused his request, the sound of Ichigo's half-crazed laughter as he walked away from her, right down to the tearing of her flesh as he buries his sword into her chest—
Ichigo is shouting again. She cannot make sense of what he is saying. His voice is too loud. His grip on her wrists is too painful and tight. He wouldn't let go even when she struggles, kicking and screaming at him.
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Stop it!
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His face overlaps with the face she remembers. In the darkness of the room, she thinks she sees the Ichigo in her dreams- cruel, sadistic, bloodthirsty. The sound of his maniacal laughter echoes and she feels angry.
Ichigo—
Her violet eyes sharpen into focus and clarity that was never there before suddenly came to her. Ichigo betrayed her and humiliation burns her.
Or maybe that was her fault too. Her fault for letting things get as far as they had, for letting him into her heart, for growing dependent on him and for letting herself fall when he never would. Ichigo said it himself, didn't he?
Monsters like him, don't love. They have an obsession and at the end of their infatuation and hyperfixation, what more is left but abandonment?
Rukia is not nearly delusional enough to believe that she is the exception to any rule. She is just a little Shinigami caught at the wrong place, at the wrong time.
She is nothing special, least of all to him- The Crown Prince of Wandenreich Empire.
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"STOP IT!"
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She all but shrieks and the silence that comes after is deafening.
There is no mistaking the sound of her palm meeting his face.
Rukia blinks. Her hand hurts from the impact. Tears spill from the corner of her eyes. Ichigo's head is turned away from her. She gasps. The realization of what she has done overwhelms her and she falls back limply onto the bed, motionless and stunned.
Her chest heaves. In the silence, her senses begin to adjust to her surroundings. The mattress underneath her is thick and springy- a far cry from the futon that she uses in the Kuchiki Estate and she is in her nightclothes- a night dress to be more specific, a design that is more apparent in the modern Human World than the yukata that she is used to wearing. Her hand drifts to the front of the chest and unsurprisingly, there is no gaping stab wound.
She is still in Silbern and it was only just a dream.
Rukia forces herself to unwrap from her curled position. She can hear Ichigo's deep pants opposite her, the way he forces himself to breathe deeply. Her hand is still throbbing and she can only imagine the pain on his face. She reaches out, extending her hand a little shakily.
In the dark bedroom that they share, Ichigo's eyes gleam at the sight of her hand, but to her surprise, he doesn't slap it away. Instead, he grabs hold of it firmly and presses it to his face. She leans in closer, emboldened by the invitation to make her way into his lap. Her touch is no longer hesitant when both of her hands reach out to cup his face, gently caressing his cheeks, her thumbs stroking the outlines of his lips. The barely-there stubbles prick at her fingers. One side of his face feels warmer than the other and she cannot help but choke.
Guilt makes her eyes water, her tongue heavy with emotions. She hates herself for being like this- weepy, out of control, emotional.
"W-Why didn't you dodge?"
A hardened warrior like Ichigo could have easily avoided the hit. He was holding onto her wrists as well. Why did he just suddenly let go and let the hit land?
Ichigo says nothing. He reaches out to touch her face. The pad of his thumb is rough, but he is unbearably gentle with her when he swipes the remnants of her tears away. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, murmuring soothingly into her ear while a hand rubs her back. The warmth of his body, the smell of him, the sound of his voice grounds her.
Ichigo lets her hold onto him, slowly rocking her to sleep as he cradles her body with his.
"You had a bad dream," he tells her when she finally relaxes in his arms. He tucks her under his chin, savouring the warmth of her tiny body pressed against his.
Rukia nods, burying herself deeper into his embrace. Silbern is cold. She always feels so unbearably cold these days. She can only hold out for so long before she finds herself back in Ichigo's arms. As much as she would like to keep her distance from him, her current state of being reiatsu-depleted throws a wench in her plans.
Ichigo's reiatsu calls out to her like a siren's song while Shirayuki has been unhelpfully quiet on the other end. She strains her ears for even a slight hum but Shirayuki is resolute in her resolve not to grant her audience in her inner world.
"I-I'm sorry."
The past week has been hellish. Rukia's recovery from her reiatsu-depletion is slow and her frustration at that shows. She wouldn't eat, claiming that she has no appetite. Even when she does fold to Ichigo's prodding and begrudgingly eats, she rarely even clears half the plate. Nightmares, on the other hand, are steadfastly becoming a regular occurrence.
If a slap to the face was what it took for her not to flinch at his touch any more, Ichigo would gladly take another hundred more blows.
He heaves a sigh of relief, wrapping his arms tight around her as he gently strokes her hair. "Sleep. I'll watch over you."
Rukia makes a contented sound then, not unlike a cat's satisfied purr he thinks, sighing when she feels the warmth of the duvet sliding over her body and tucked under her chin. Her eyes are half-shut and her lips curled into a sleepy smile as she drifts off to sleep.
Her breathing evens in a matter of minutes and Ichigo slips his own hand under the cover, gripping tightly at her much tinier one. He presses his forehead against hers, greedily inhaling her scent. The smell of her skin, the silky feel of her hair against his too-warm skin, the way her reiryouku thrums in contentment as it twines against his own—
Everything about her is intoxicating to him.
She is perfect.
He brushes the tip of his nose against her own, wanting nothing more than to be close to her. There is a sadness to her these days and it unsettles him much more than he would ever care to admit to anyone. It seems like Rukia is slipping away- right through his fingers, right before his very eyes; like trickles of sand flowing through a sieve.
It frustrates him to be in this position.
He does not like this feeling of powerless, to be stuck with the sight of her fading and wasting away right before his very eyes when he has her fully in his grasp. There are forces threatening to snatch her away from him right under his very nose and yet, there is nothing he can do to retaliate.
The All Father has spoken. He has no need for a disobedient mutt. Ichigo has effectively been muzzled and gagged, his hands bound and tied behind his back. He scowls, his grip tightening. He can feel his mood dipping into dangerous territories- dark choppy waters of murderous intents whenever he lets his mind wander.
He has not forgotten how pale and frail Rukia looked as she lied unconscious on the hospital bed. He has not forgotten the way his heart leaped to his throat, the way his fingers itched to sink themselves into Äs Nödt, to tear him apart limb from limb, when he saw the Sternritter standing over her, fully intent on dealing the final blow. The bastard would have killed her if he hadn't been there.
His eyes flicker. Dark sclera gleaming as amber eyes flash gold.
He has not forgotten his promise. He will make it up to her. Äs Nödt's days are numbered and the prick will pay for his crimes.
Rukia belongs to him. She belongs with him.
Silbern is her home now.
It is where she belongs rightfully, by his side until the end of days and of many other things to come.
He will crush anyone who dares insinuate otherwise.
"I'll be back before you know it," he tells her as he tucks her bang behind her ear, pressing a kiss- gentle and chaste to her brows. Rukia does not stir; does not see the look he gives her as he shuts the door behind him.
Behind the door, Ichigo's eyes harden with purpose. He stands taller, his shoulders squared and he willed himself to show no weaknesses.
Silbern is a world where compassion is scarce and among the ranks of the Wandenreich, nothing more than a weakness to be exploited.
The row of silver buttons on his white uniform gleam as his footsteps thunder down the deserted hallway towards the throne room. The dark fur cloak that is draped across his shoulder contrasts sharply against the ivory white uniform, stiff and form-fitting. The cloak billows menacingly behind him, the red velvet lining adding to his severity.
The sound of his footsteps echoes through the spacious hallways. Those who have had the misfortune of crossing paths with him know well enough from the look in his eyes, the scowl on his lips; to steer clear. There is something about their crown prince that they have not seen in a while.
They thought his Shinigami pet has curbed and reined in some of his bloodlust and destructive habits, but perhaps they thought wrong. His edge- the ominous shadow of madness and discord that he brings into their fold, is back.
Ichigo has had enough. All he ever seems to do in Silbern is wait.
But not anymore.
The All Father-no, Yhwach cannot stop him, but he is welcome to try.
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The heavy doors to the throne room are pushed open with a loud bang as Ichigo makes his way into the room with his head held high. His steps are slow and measured. The shine in his eyes is calculative. He passes the row of kneeling Sternritters and the Schutzstaffel without sparing a glance in their direction.
His eyes are trained solely on the imposing figure of Yhwach seated comfortably on his silver throne, lasting just long enough to be on the fringes of what is considered polite before he dips into a bow, keeping his head down and his expression unreadable.
He wants it- that seat of power and what it symbolizes: the power to crush everything that dares to oppose him. Surely then, no one would dare question his authority and come between him and Rukia; to oppose his desire for blood and vengeance when she was harmed in plain sight before his very eyes?
The more Ichigo dwells on it, the more he desires it. It makes sense and the pieces fall into place without fear or shame. Power- to do as he pleased, to protect, to possess. Not what his mother wants for him, and not for the so-called 'Greater Good', no; Ichigo wants power for the sake of having it.
The attempt on Rukia's life is unforgiveable. He will be damned if he takes this slight lying down. He will challenge Fate and break through these chains of despair himself or die trying. For Rukia, there is nothing that he would not do.
Yhwach's ruthlessness does not faze him. Hollows have always been voracious, their greed and appetite a dark and bottomless pit. Their touch corrupts. Ichigo has been called much worse in his years growing up as a Gemischt Quincy in Silbern.
He is Kurosaki Ichigo- The Crown Prince of the Quincy Empire, The Anomaly, Wandenreich's very own half-breed filth and he is out for blood. They will know of his wrath.
Ichigo has been making compromises for as long as he can remember. Yet, the more he relented, the more they took from him.
He bid his time, willing himself patience, reminding himself repeatedly of his place among the ranks of Wandenreich. He has tried in vain to be patient and live a life of service and devotion dedicated to the cause, to be understanding and reasonable, yet they insist on treating him like a monster, like a dog leashed tight and dealing him scraps, beating him, and muzzling him when he was asking for his due and fair share.
He only ever asks for so little, but perhaps he has been asking for toolittle.
Perhaps it was time to show Yhwach and the Wandenreich how much he's been holding back. It will do well to reassure them that he is every bit as ruthless as they thought him to be. If it's a monster that they wanted, then they will have it.
Yhwach will have his perfect soldier.
He will have the perfect monster that he created and molded.
The greatest monsters in the world are all created abominations, Ichigo withstanding; but can The Almighty All Father hold onto the reins forever?
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Yhwach sits upon his throne imperiously, fixing Ichigo with a penetrating gaze. He lifts his hand and Ichigo does as he is made to do, straightening himself up but avoids Yhwach's eyes.
"How nice of you to join us today," chides Yhwach, "Where is your little pet? Not going to keep vigil over her today? We wouldn't want to keep you away from her."
The smirk on Yhwach's face is infuriating and Ichigo clenches his fists tightly, wanting nothing more than to slap it off. Yet, he forces himself to remain calm and keep his tone even as he spins his web. Words are only ever words.
Yhwach can keep those words, for as long as he keeps his tongue and the head he keeps above his shoulders.
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"Forgive me, All Father. I have been... foolish. By the blessing of The All Father, I have come to see the light—" Ichigo drops to his knees again— "I am ready to serve."
"Hmm."
Ichigo is kept on his knees, groveling for Yhwach's forgiveness and favour under the open gaze of his compatriots. He can already hear their thoughts and feel the weight of their despising glares on his back, but it is nothing that he cannot handle.
"Come closer, Ichigo."
Every step that he takes towards Yhwach thunders and echoes across the crowded throne room. Everyone watches with bated breath, casting their eyes reservedly upon the two men on the throne. Yhwach- their Emperor and God, The All Father; seated upon the throne, and Ichigo- The Crown Prince and a filthy half-blood, a monster in every sense of the word; standing below it.
The Emperor and The Heir Apparent.
Father and Son.
The tension is simmering.
After what seems to be an eternity, Yhwach heaves a long-suffering sigh and his subjects groveling under his feet releases a collective breath that they have been unwittingly holding. He clasps a hand on Ichigo's shoulder, patting him as if he were a proud parent, reassured of his son's growth. It sends a signal to the people of Silbern: the prodigal son returns.
The All Father welcomes him back with arms open wide.
All is well.
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For now.
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Yhwach's grip is ice cold and heavy enough to crush bone to dust but Ichigo grins and bear, showing nothing of his discomfort. He knows that he is forgiven. To Yhwach at least, he still has value.
"It gladdens me to see you coming back to your senses. You are loyal to the cause. You make me proud, my son."
"You are too kind, All Father. Your forgiveness is humbling, and I am proud to serve."
"And serve, you will," Yhwach releases his grip on Ichigo's shoulder. There is a barely noticeable smirk on his lips.
"Silbern has many enemies, eager to strike when we are at our weakest. We have been met with open resistance from the Hollows and Espadas in Hueco Mundo, engaging in guerilla tactics and small skirmishes hardly worth mentioning. But they know the desert well and we are made to look like fools, chasing after shadows that aren't there. The clearing of the Menos Forest has halted to some degree because of it and my patience wanes."
His gaze swept over the faces of the Sternritters gathered, lingering on those of his Schutzstaffel lined at the front before continuing, "We have been far too lenient. We must not allow these little victories to get to their heads, especially when there have been Shinigamis sighted, coinciding with the timing of the attacks on our outpost. There are rumours that the Espadas have struck up some sort of alliance with the Shinigamis who managed to settle in the Human World."
Yhwach snorted. "How the mighty have fallen! The new acting Captain Commander must be even more desperate than I realized to join forces with the Hollows. Fools! They are merely prolonging the inevitable fate of their demise, living on borrowed time without even realizing it!"
Yhwach's dark chuckles sends a chill running down the Sternritters' spines as he rises to his feet and the crowd kneels, dipping their head even lower than before.
"They must be delusional! But no matter. They will learn soon enough. Extinction is their fate and their fate is sealed! We will crush the Espadas' puerile attempts at resistance at Hueco Mundo and crush them like the vermin that they are!
"Those pitiful Shinigamis—" Yhwach frowned, lips curling in disgust— "lingering like pests and disease; pitifully running interference from the Human World, how dare they encroach upon our hold in Hueco Mundo! Did they think that they can just take over Hueco Mundo? They make a mockery of us! Did they think that we would simply let them?
"No! We will send these pests a message! Show them that resistance is futile! Their days are numbered. They should be using the time they have left to repent for their sins before we crush them and erase their existence from the course of history! We save the best for last. After the Hollows, they will be next! But first—"
Yhwach looks to Ichigo with a menacing grin. He takes another step towards Ichigo, gripping him by the shoulder— "Ichigo, you will lead the attack. Redeem yourself. Bring forth My wrath and show them, show them the might of the Quincy and The Wandenreich Empire! Show them no mercy! I want the heads of the leaders of this so-called resistance served on a platter! And if you see any Shinigamis- Captains from the Gotei, I want their bodies delivered to Silbern!"
Ichigo drops to one knee. "It will be done, All Father. I will leave for Hueco Mundo at once."
"Your eagerness does me proud. How many men do you need with you?"
Ichigo can feel Yhwach's eyes boring into him; the room full of Sternritters likewise, hanging on his every word. Yhwach's face betrays nothing, but Ichigo has played this game long enough to know to read between the lines. With Yhwach, everything is a test and there is no room for errors. Every move Yhwach makes is calculated and for every question that he asked, there can only be one correct answer- one that he already has in mind.
His displeasure is a terrible thing that Ichigo knows well from firsthand experience to avoid. Lille has his broken ribs that he is still recovering from in the infirmary, Ichigo does not wish to suffer the same fate.
He focuses on the trap that Yhwach has laid in front of him.
Sternritters do not like to be associated with their crown prince, preferring to keep their distances, and avert their gazes, be it from fear or disgust. Ichigo reciprocates their sentiments in kind. He does not want his actions scrutinized and reported back to Yhwach, but should he decline the offer, Yhwach would chide him for being arrogant and force someone- probably Jugram, knowing his luck and Yhwach's perverse sense of amusement- into the role as overseer.
The only correct answer would be—
"Just one," Ichigo answers, pointing out Äs Nödt to Yhwach.
"Oh?"
Yhwach quirks an eyebrow in surprise. He is not the only one. Sensing the weight of gazes from the room's occupants, Äs Nödt raises his head among the crowd, unease etched in his furrowed brows.
Ichigo smiles, knowing that he passed Yhwach's test. It is what the mad man preaches, but of course, never what he practices.
"Think of it as my repentance. The Wandenreich must always show a united front to the enemies. On my pride as a Quincy, I will see to the utter decimation of their forces in Hueco Mundo. They will tremble at the mention of Your name, All Father."
Yhwach's sardonic smirk follows as he snaps his finger, motioning for Äs Nödt to make his way behind Ichigo and take his place.
"See to it that you do, my son. Make us proud as you always have!"
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Song inspo: A Little Death (The Neighbourhood)
Happy belated birthday, Ari! Sorry it took so long.
The first part of the chapter. We are almost halfway through. Someone will die at the end of the chapter. I make no promises.