The Ishida family had recently taken in an orphaned quincy girl, and Ishida Soken thought it was time to try and cooperate with shinigamis, for once. To prevent more such tragedies.
For that, to happen, of course, he had to get a shinigami to listen to him.
tags: Ishida Soken, original female character, Kotetsu Isane, Ukitake Jushiro, Kurotsuchi Nemu, Wandenreich, Gotei 13, compromise
This one is part of "the Quincy Paradox", because it elaborates on the Wandenreich, on the life of quincies in the Living World, on the Ishida family, on the past wars with the shinigamis. Some things are only hinted at and will hopefully appear in later OSs, one day.
Change the world
There was an orphaned girl living in their house, and Ishida Soken could only watch as she mourned her parents.
He'd never been able to watch people suffer. When a ghost was about to be devoured by a hollow, when a family was in danger because one of their relatives had died and become a hollow... Soken could rely on his bow to help – the quincy couldn't even fathom not trying to help.
There weren't many quincies left – at least, there weren't many live, human, full-souled quincies left, and technically Soken didn't count, not as he'd been born under the Wandenreich, on the other side of life and death. Soken was, in truth, a soul bound into a human-aging gigai given to him by the wandering shinigami he'd crossed paths with right after escaping from the Shadow Realm, in exchange for providing him with a sample of quincy power in the form of arrows.
His wife wasn't the same as him, though – Izumi was alive, her, a human as well as a quincy, born in this world, just like Ryuken and Masaki-chan and the gemischt quincies who had found protection under the Ishida roof, after most of their people had died during the war Soken's father had taken part in.
Soken's wife had no idea that a lot of the quincies who'd died back then had used a failsafe upon their death, to keep their powers complete even upon losing their bodies – that they were bidding their time in the shadows of Soul Society. She had no idea that Soken wasn't born here, that he knew what went on in the shadows of death, that another war was brewing and he couldn't do anything to prevent it, except make sure that his son and the others knew how to defend themselves by then.
When he'd escaped from the Wandenreich, Soken had been a teenager, barely sixteen. A schattenspäher – a spy, the only ones allowed out of the Shadow Realm for any length of time, to gather knowledge about the shinigamis and the rest of the worlds and bring it back to his Majesty.
As a schattenspäher, his words were bound to secrecy – and it wasn't the kind of bond you could relinquish even with desertion. Soken was literally unable to speak up, to tell anyone any details about the Wandenreich. Common knowledge amongst human quincies was alright for discussion, so he could speak of things like the Auswählen and the tale of the Sealed King – but nothing else.
He'd spent years trying to find a way around it, to share some of his knowledge – but for now, the most he'd managed was through written words that he couldn't physically give to anyone.
Soken would keep trying – Juha Bach and the Wandenreich were dangerous, extremist monsters who'd never stopped to consider or care about the consequences of their actions – but for now, his oath as a schattenspäher kept him bound in secrets.
Sometimes, it created tension between him and Izumi – between him and Ryuken, too, in the latest years. Soken couldn't tell them anything, but he also couldn't not do anything.
He wasn't often at home.
Still.
There was a grieving girl in his house, a distant cousin of the Ishidas' – Izumi's family, because it was better for Soken to forget his family name now that he was out of the Wandenreich's influence; there were schattenspäher in the Living World, too – and her family had died on a hollow's claws.
The Kurosakis had been quincies – pure-blooded ones, for what it was worth – and there was no reason a single hollow could kill not one, but two adult quincies before their daughter managed to finally eliminate it.
No reason except fear.
The Ishidas were likely safe from such a fate – Izumi couldn't quite fight, not with that leg injury of hers, but they had gathered several gemischt families who all lived in the surrounding neighborhood. There were enough of them to ensure safety – perhaps.
Maybe Soken couldn't tell his family the truth, maybe he couldn't warn anybody about the Wandenreich, maybe he couldn't change the world – but he could at least try and make it so that others were better prepared for it, even if they didn't know why.
It wasn't time yet for the Sealed King to rise again – the legend was just a legend, true, but even legends came from somewhere – and by that time, Soken would likely be dead. He was getting old, truthfully, and now that he aged like a human, he had been born perhaps a century too soon to be involved in the coming war.
If the timing turned out right, he'd be one hundred and two when the Wandenreich would start making moves.
Others would have to witness it.
oOo
What he needed was a way for quincies and shinigamis to co-exist.
For that, he needed to speak to a shinigami – and the Onmitsukido member most likely keeping an eye on the local quincy hotspot would never reveal themselves, so it would have to be a Gotei soldier instead.
And for that, he needed a hollow.
Soken spent hours and hours and days and weeks patrolling, thus. He'd look for a hollow, follow it, and only intervene at the last moment, should a ghost or a human be in danger and no shinigami had shown up – they weren't numerous enough, that was obvious, they couldn't be everywhere.
Soken had been a schattenspäher, he knew those things. Six thousand shinigamis or so to balance the afterlife of all of humanity. Even if they didn't have to keep a part of their forces in Seireitei proper, it still wouldn't be enough. It wasn't even their fault – there were few souls with enough reiryoku to actually make a difference, and there would be absolutely no point in arming people without spiritual power, except to throw them to their deaths.
Soken had watched more than a dozen shinigamis die during his three years as a schattenspäher. He couldn't blame them for not trying.
If only they could work with the few remaining quincies, if together they could get the trust of the Vergessenen in Soul Society, if they could look past their diverging ideals and find a point of balance, if...
Well. Soken wasn't certain of all they could do, should quincies and shinigamis finally join forces, but he was reasonably convinced that it would be better than what Juha Bach intended for the world – he'd never been in on the little secrets of his majesty, but he'd seen the results of his actions. The rampant hatred, the children stolen from Soul Society, the Auswählen, the silent insanity growing within the Sternritters, the experimentation upon the remains of the Vergessenen, the utter lack of care for anything but war and death.
His father used to speak of the pride of the Quincies – of avenging your dead and protecting your family, of standing in front of those who had no power to defend themselves, regular humans and even some of the few other psychics out in the Living World. Soken had yet to see any of that from the Wandenreich – and he had had so many questions, all the way from the days of his youth, so many empty, hollow answers given by the Shadow Realm's education. Who had started the war two centuries ago? Who had gone against who the first time around, eight centuries earlier? What was the goal of the Wandenreich aside from revenge?
How many had died for the emperor's sake?
His father hadn't had any answer to those questions and had told him to keep them quiet, because some might not appreciate his doubts – and Soken had been selected for a post as a schattenspäher the day he'd turned thirteen.
Watch. Don't say anything. Don't be seen.
Schattenspäher were dispatched all through Soul Society, hiding in the shadows, just one foot out of the realm Juha Bach's forces had retreated to. Not quite here and not quite there – watching. A few were in the Living World, too, keeping an eye on the quincies who hadn't died during the last war. A handful of pure-blooded families, and about four thousand gemischt relatives.
Soken had watched, then – and he'd seen, in Soul Society, souls living their lives and amongst them shinigamis doing their job as well as the Vergessenen moving on from the old war; and he'd seen, in the Living World, quincies who still protected each other and unsuspecting humans, as well as shinigamis who kept putting their lives on the line each day, everywhere across the world.
Neither the living quincies nor the shinigamis nor the Vergessenen were perfect, and some of them weren't good despite their powers – but generally speaking, Soken had thought they were doing more for the worlds than the Wandenreich had ever pretended to.
Then another schattenspäher had asked one single question, and Soken had found out what happened to spies who dared to think for themselves. Maddalena was likely still in her cell, today – or maybe she was dead, now.
Anyway, he was now standing under a bus stop, his reiatsu pulled tight around himself, as a hollow roamed the empty street. It was about three in the afternoon, and someone was bound to walk by at some point. Whether they'd look appetizing to the hollow would be anyone's guess, but Soken might have to deal with the monster if...
Ah.
Soken retreated further into the shadowed part of the bus stop, unwilling to distract the muted presence he'd just felt. Whoever they were, the shinigami who'd just arrived didn't need to worry about a human in the middle of their fight with the hollow.
Soken could defend himself, of course – but they wouldn't know that.
The old quincy didn't see the shinigami right away, and neither did the hollow. The monster did pick up on their presence too, as its head swerved around suddenly, eyes looking for the origin of the reiatsu it had just noticed – but a blade fell against its neck before it could see the newcomer.
The shinigami darted away, wincing at the shallow cut where they'd just attacked. They'd likely underestimated the hollow's own reiatsu and the protection it gave them – like a second layer of skin, a forcefield to bring down before you could actually break into the flesh. Occasionally, a hollow's spiritual pressure would break Soken's first arrow, forcing him to fire a second or a third one – this was the same problem, in the end.
Soken watched as the tall woman forced her way through the hollow's natural armor with several blows, and finally breached it. The hollow's head fell to the ground before it could break into spiritual particles, and the shinigami wiped away the blood on her right cheek before staggering towards the nearest bench, exhausted.
The nearest bench, as it was, was under the bus stop.
Soken and the woman found themselves staring at each other.
She was a woman in what looked like her forties – which didn't mean much for pure souls, only that she was at least forty-something years old – with some grey in her short brown hair. Muscular in a way that said she relied on her physical strength more than on any kind of kido-based attacks.
If Soken hadn't looked her in the eyes and promptly frozen, she'd have most likely concluded he couldn't see her.
As it was, there was no mistaking the squinted eyes and pinched lips: the woman was waiting for him to demand an explanation in a panic, or some terrified reaction of the kind. Quincies aside, there were perhaps ten, twelve thousand humans with some spiritual power in the Living World – and only a fifth of those, maybe, could reliably perceive ghosts and be qualified as properly psychic. Less could see hollows or pure souls like shinigamis, and most of them had never, in fact, crossed paths – and survived – with either.
Even psychics would panic in their ignorance if they had to witness a fight between a shinigami and a hollow.
Of course, Soken was a quincy, and therefore knew all about it. He also had no reason to pretend otherwise, not when his goal, here, was to get into contact with the Gotei 13.
"Shinigami-san. You... should sit down."
She had a gash in her right leg, he now noticed. While it didn't seem deep or overly dangerous, it had to hurt, and she couldn't do anything about it while standing, locked in a staring contest with an old man she'd never seen before.
The woman seemed to deflate suddenly, as she moved past him and let herself fall on the bench with a sigh. The look she sent him then was still vaguely suspicious, but at least she wasn't wary of his presence itself.
"Already seen a shinigami, uh?"
Soken shrugged.
"My family has known of you for generations."
Not untrue.
The shinigami looked like she was debating asking, but ultimately, she decided she'd rather take out a hook-like tool and a small ointment jar from within her shihakusho. She dipped the hook inside – it came out covered in a viscous liquid. Probably some new disinfectant, perhaps even with a healing kick to it, that Soken had never seen during his time as a schattenspäher.
The woman paused, her eyes back on him.
"Can I help you with anything?"
That was polite talk, not an actual offer – unless he had a problem with an earth-bound spirit or any other kind of ghosts haunting his house, nothing a regular psychic could ask of a shinigami was truly her problem.
Still, she'd offered – and as it was, Soken wasn't a regular psychic.
"Take care of yourself first, please, shinigami-san."
She frowned but didn't protest.
Soken averted his eyes when she parted her torn pant leg to stitch back together the gash through her skin.
"Never been very good at healing kido, and I'd rather not mess anything up by trying it myself. I can sew, though, and that'll last until I can get someone from the fourth to come and do it for me."
Soken hummed, unwilling to say anything in case he'd reveal that he knew a bit more about shinigamis and their organization than a knowledgeable psychic should. He intended to reveal that he was a quincy, true – but that didn't mean he could explain about the Wandenreich, all of a sudden, if the Gotei got suspicious about his precise intel on their ways.
That, and unlike his son and wife, Soken had never gotten the hang of watching people in pain, not even to better help them. That had made him a terrible spy, all things considered.
"You can look, I'm done."
The shinigami's voice was dry and a bit mocking. She, unlike Soken, was probably used to injuries and taking care of them while amongst many other people. Soldiers of the Gotei endangered their lives daily against hollows, and most of them had to get close to their targets to purify the deformed souls – that meant they had to face a much higher chance of getting wounded than quincies.
Once a hollow was in close quarters with a quincy, there wasn't much that could be done anymore. Sure, blut could save their lives for a time, but that was about it. If you hadn't managed to activate it in time, or if you were faltering, the hollow could easily kill you – and even a simple wound could be dangerous. It was difficult for quincies to recover from hollow wounds, almost always facing infections and fever, sometimes losing some of their reishi control over it.
Izumi had that problem.
The soldier on the bench was waiting, polite if a bit dubious, for him to say what he wanted. It was obvious that he wasn't hanging around just for her company, he reminded himself – he'd also basically admitted it earlier, when she had asked him if she could help with anything.
Soken steadied himself and looked the shinigami in the eyes. If he wanted to get anything done...
"I am a quincy, and I wish to make a deal with the Gotei 13."
The woman's entire demeanor shifted, and Soken almost summoned his bow in defense – but he recognized that look on her face, and he couldn't help but remember some of the things he'd heard back in the Wandenreich.
"Randolph died that night, but at least he slaughtered a good dozen of them on his way out! Those pitiful, weak shinigamis had it coming."
Distrust, fear, anger, resentment.
That was what he could see in the woman's eyes – and it was so easy to recognize, because he'd seen those so often in the assorted gemischt families who lived in his neighborhood.
The shinigami stood up violently and made to leave.
Soken hurried after her.
"Wait! I really need to ta...!"
"I don't give a damn, old man! Now I have other hollows to track down, and tonight I'm holding a mass konso ceremony, so I don't have the time for your little games!"
And she shunpoed away before Soken could see in which direction she'd left to try and follow with hirenkyaku.
Soken sighed, disheartened. It had taken him eleven weeks to even get close to a shinigami, and she'd left before he could say more, visibly unwilling to listen, too.
This was going to take longer than he'd hoped.
oOo
When he saw her again, thirteen days had passed.
He'd thought he might find her mass konso ceremony back then, but hadn't been able to pinpoint the event – it must have happened further away in her patrol area. Those rituals weren't precisely discreet: once a week, a shinigami assigned to the Living World would put hollow hunting on hold and burn soul-calling incense made with reishi from Soul Society; all pluses souls within range would be attracted to the incense, and most of them would make their way over. Some didn't, too scared or confused, and of course jibakureis and tsukireis would be unable to move freely, but that was how most ghosts were sent to Soul Society. The shinigami only had to konso every ghost that gathered there and keep an eye out for hollows – kido came in handy then, to create a barrier around the gathering spot. Maybe they'd created autonomous barrier devices, by now.
Soken hadn't managed to find her then or during the next shudan konsoshiki – but this morning, Soken had vaguely recognized her spiritual pressure from afar and had decided he'd better check it out, just in case he was right.
This time he watched as she cleanly dispatched a weaker hollow without getting so much as a scratch. He guessed she was, for all purposes, a standard shinigami: strong enough to kill most hollows, but not to easily battle the beasts who had already started collecting souls to quench their monstrous hunger. An unranked soldier without particular merits, except for the thousands of hours of service, endangering her life to purify hollows and guide pluses to Soul Society.
He wondered if she was, perhaps, old enough to have lived through the last war with the Wandenreich.
When she spotted him, she made a face and disappeared.
oOo
It was only four days later that Soken did manage to speak to the shinigami again.
She was battling a hollow this time too, without much difficulty – except that a second one sneaked up on her and almost bit her head off, if not for the arrow Soken shot before she could be killed.
The shinigami turned around violently, cleaving the head of the first hollow in a large swing. Her zanpakuto finished its path right in the second hollow's mask, purifying it before Soken could fire another arrow.
The woman collapsed, unable to keep up with the momentum she'd built up for that last strike.
Soken cautiously walked closer, and stopped a few feet away, sensing that she wasn't happy to see him at all, even if he'd saved her life – and she knew it, that was obvious from her face.
"What do you want."
She didn't spit it out, but her tone was cold and barely resembling a question at all. The old quincy doubted that she cared at all about his answer – but this was the third time he'd showed up and she'd realized he wasn't going away.
Soken watched as she got back on her feet, holding warily onto her sword.
He only talked when he felt she was in enough of a position to defend herself – to feel less like he was cornering her into listening.
"I told you, shinigami-san. I only wish to make a deal with the Gotei 13."
The woman looked away, unconvinced, but didn't make to leave yet.
"That's what they said too, more than two centuries ago. 'We have a deal for the Gotei', they said."
Soken frowned imperceptibly at her words, but had no time to ask. The shinigami sneered instead, an ugly – hurt, angry – look on her face. Her fingers were white on her zanpakuto.
"When Central 46 finally decided to see what it was all about, they sent the captain of the 6th division with several soldiers as guards. It probably wouldn't have amounted to much, even if the quincies had been sincere, but the Kuchikis have too much pride to do anything badly. Sending one of them there was as close to saying 'we're listening even if we probably won't change our mind about anything'."
Soken knew about the Kuchikis – one of the Great Houses of Seireitei, proper to the point of being pretentious. He hadn't been the one tasked with keeping an eye on the nobles, back then – but he did know about them, all schattenspäher were taught the basics.
Back during the war, Kuchiki Hatsuyo had been the captain of the sixth. She'd been killed a year before everything had ended.
He'd never heard about that offer for a deal.
The shinigami continued:
"Of course, their idea of a deal was in fact a declaration of war. 'Surrender or we'll destroy you'. Of course the captain of the sixth refused, and then your people killed almost all the guards that had accompanied her. Tried to kill her too, but she wasn't a captain for nothing. She and two soldiers made it back to Seireitei, just in time for the first offensive from the quincies."
...Soken couldn't say he was surprised by such a story. The Wandenreich as he'd known it was certainly worse these days – the things they did to their own people, the complete lack of life outside of his majesty's will – but it had had to start somewhere.
For all that this shinigami probably didn't know all the details of what had happened – for all that there was most likely more to it than just that – the old quincy didn't think she was lying or pushing blame where none was due.
To be honest, he thought that whatever history remained hidden there was probably even worse.
Soken didn't think that the choices the Gotei 13 had made concerning the quincies who'd survived in the Living World were right – especially as most of the families who were still here were those who hadn't directly taken part in the war – but he couldn't blame shinigamis for distrusting quincies, not after what had happened back then.
It wasn't, however, making his life easier right now.
Especially not as the woman finally spat:
"My brother wasn't one of those who came back, so excuse me if I don't find your claims of 'wanting to make a deal' very convincing!"
"I... I'm sorry. I know losing ties of blood can be..."
"We weren't related like that, but that doesn't matter. You quincies don't, can't get it. That hollow you shot and almost killed? That was someone's family too. Maybe they have a sister or a son waiting for them in Soul Society, hoping they might one day be reunited. And the thing is, you people would just destroy that soul when shinigamis can purify them instead. And perhaps I could forgive that if it was only about defending other people and yourself with the only tools you have, but quincies came into our homes, attacked us, killed hundreds of shinigamis, and all that for what? For power? To enforce your own vision of justice? They never cared about anyone but themselves, and I don't trust you to be any different! So leave me alone, quincy."
Soken took a deep breath and told himself he could still look for another shinigami, somewhere else. This woman had been the logical first attempt, since she was overlooking Soken's town, but there were other shinigamis out in the Living World.
He could find one who hadn't been there for the last war, one who might be willing to listen.
Maybe this one could be convinced – but Soken didn't know how to do that.
"...Alright. I understand. And for what it's worth... I don't think your brother deserved what happened to him. I don't... I don't agree with that war, either."
And rather than force the shinigami to listen to his justification, the old quincy left her alone.
This was, after all, once again the fault of the Wandenreich.
oOo
Soken dismounted his bike with a sigh. His search for another shinigami next town over had gone... disappointingly. He'd found the man, sure – but the old man wasn't certain this one was an option either.
The youngster – well, for the little it meant with pure souls – had been uncouth, from the little he'd heard from across the park. Soken didn't really know how to talk to people like that.
Still, he'd try. His goal was more important than a little discomfort; he did what he did to ensure a better future for the quincies, for his family, for Masaki-san, for the gemischt families – even for the shinigamis and for the powerless humans and souls. If they could all work together, fighting hollows would become easier, more efficient, and fewer people would die.
If they could work together, Soken might manage to warn them against the Wandenreich's ambitions.
It was...
The old quincy turned around suddenly, all too aware of the shinigami reiatsu that had appeared a few houses over. It wasn't the woman in charge of the area.
Soken hoped none of the neighbors would take it badly. They'd all learned, decades ago, to pretend no one was there when a shinigami walked by – to play the part of another human, unable to notice the souls amongst them. Not to take unnecessary risks.
Not all shinigamis would try and hurt a quincy just because – but some might.
And – thinking back to the shinigami working around Karakura town – some had been alive and part of the Gotei 13 long enough to have resentment against quincies. Those who lived in the Living World did not deserve that anger – but it was more prudent not to let any shinigami know.
Soken himself had never been that taken with invisibility – but he had not grown up as one of those families who had survived the massacre of the war, and he had been taught to stay hidden for much different reasons.
The shinigami's reiatsu was getting closer, and he couldn't help but wonder: had the woman reported him to her superiors? ...Was it them making sure he wouldn't get in the way?
Soken put down his bike but didn't summon his bow. He didn't want to appear ready to shoot, if...
A small woman with short dark blond hair wearing a shihakusho walked into the street, her eyes searching for something. Her zanpakuto hang at her side, not in her hand – but this didn't mean she wouldn't draw it if things went wrong at any point.
Her focus settled on Soken, and her mouth thinned into a single line for a moment.
Then she marched towards the old quincy in an aggressively obvious manner, her face oddly reminiscent of a little kid all puffed up with simple outrage.
She probably could do a lot more damage than such a child, therefore Soken kept his impression quiet. He might, or might not be a match for her – he had no idea, and didn't wish to find out.
"You!"
Her voice was loud, her hands moved expressively.
Soken waited for what would come next.
"Are you the one who was following Seto-san around?"
The old man politely took a step back – she'd stopped right in front of him, a bit too close for comfort.
"If Seto-san is the shinigami in charge of this area, then yes. I wish to speak with the Gotei 13 on the matter of quincies."
Soken would have liked it better if this confrontation had happened anywhere but by his neighborhood – almost entirely populated by quincies. Someone would tell his wife, and he would be unable to explain exactly why this endeavor was so important, again. She'd already heard his most simple reasons – and he was still unable to tell her more – and knew there was something he wasn't telling her behind it all.
Still.
At the very least, a shinigami had come to talk to him, even if the woman working Karakura Town didn't want anything to do with him. This one wasn't attacking him either, for all her loudness and perceived aggression.
The small woman threw a hand behind her without looking – she seemed to move a lot in general, he mused, an energetic young girl – and scoffed:
"Sure, that's the story you're trying to sell. Leave Seto-san alone, though. She's doing her job and doesn't need you trying to distract her. It's..."
"I'm sorry, shinigami-san, but there is truly something I wish to speak of with an officer, at the very least. I think shinigamis and quincies may help each other in this war against hollows, and not just side-eye each other and ignore when one of the others is dying in battle. I am willing to make an effort, and only wish for a similar attitude from your people."
The young woman faltered a bit, taken aback by his politeness – by his honesty, perhaps? Soken couldn't tell. He didn't know her at all, had no way to know what her thoughts were on quincies, how far she might be willing to listen to well-meaning propositions.
Eventually she shook her head and groaned.
"For the...! I can't deal with this. Alright, alright..."
She looked him in the eyes, then, as if trying to assess his sincerity.
"Promise you will leave Seto-san alone. It's difficult to keep long-standing unraked soldiers. She's not the most powerful, but she's good at what she does and she's already survived more than two centuries here! Seto-san doesn't need a quincy talking to her about making deals. The captain is fond of her, too, and if she was more powerful she'd have been promoted a long time ago."
Agreeing wasn't difficult, considering Soken had already made that decision less than a week ago.
If it could buy him some goodwill, too...
"I swear on my people's pride."
The woman nodded along, eyes closed, as if deep in thought for a moment.
Then she crossed her arms and squinted at the old quincy.
"I'm Kotetsu Kiyone, third seat of the thirteenth division. Well, me and the monkey, but that doesn't matter. And I'm not promising anything, but if you are honest about this I can ask the captain if he'll talk to you."
She said that with great difficulty, as if she already knew her captain's answer and didn't want to be the one to tell him about it.
Soken's heart fell a bit, wondering if that meant there was no way he'd be heard. He'd heard a bit of Ukitake Jushiro, decades ago, and he'd thought the captain of the thirteenth would be the one most likely to listen – but maybe the man had finally died or retired. If that was the case, he had no idea of who he'd have to convince and...
The shinigami's countenance got more visibly defensive, full of spikes and squared shoulders:
"The captain is the greatest, and if you even try to touch a single hair on his head, you'll be sorry, you hear me?! Just because he's kind and awesome doesn't mean he wouldn't be able to subdue you in a blink! And since he's too nice to do more, I'd be the one to beat you up! So don't even think about putting up a trap, do you hear me!?"
...Ukitake was still the captain of the thirteen division, then.
"Of course. I am being honest, dear girl. I truly wish for cooperation and mutual help. I do want to move past the errors of centuries ago and make something better of it."
The shinigami stared at him for a moment – then she huffed:
"I won't be tricked by your gentle demeanor, old man! I'm absolutely not weak to reasonable-sounding older people who want to help others! So if you try anything, I..."
"Yes, yes, you will beat me up, Kotetsu-san. I heard you the first time and do not doubt your dedication to your captain's safety."
"Damn right!"
Soken couldn't help but feel a bit amused at the turn the conversation had taken. This girl – woman, yes, but he'd gotten old enough to consider most people young, even if as a pure soul she might be just as old as himself, she just hadn't aged quite so yet – was perhaps a bit too enthusiastic about many things, but she was far from mean-spirited.
"If I may..."
Her eyebrows rose up.
"You may tell your captain that Ishida Soken wishes to speak to him. I doubt he'd know of me, but a name is the least I can offer as an assurance of my intentions."
He didn't add that Ukitake would be able to ask the Onmitsukido for more details on him, with his full name. As a supposedly-living quincy, he wasn't supposed to know about that.
"Sure. Once again, I'm not promising anything. And my captain might not come right away, he's busy, but I will tell him."
If she was really contemplating a visit to the Living World, it was more likely that they'd wait for a day without sickness for Ukitake Jushiro – but Soken wasn't supposed to know about that either. A day during which he'd be able to defend himself to his fullest.
Of the little Soken knew about the captain of the thirteenth division, two points would be more important than the others: his chronic sickness, and the massive spiritual power laying underneath. He wasn't certain of his age, of his kido or zanjutsu skills – but any schattenspäher could tell you of the two former points.
On a good day, the old quincy doubted an arrow would be able to pierce through the man's passive reiatsu.
On a bad day...
Soken bowed down.
"Thank you, Kotetsu-san. For listening."
The young woman looked ill-at-ease, a bit fidgety – but Soken had the impression it was her default reaction to anyone saying something positive to her, nothing sinister behind it.
"I... My sister convinced me to give you a chance, really! And I couldn't let you disturb Seto-san's assignment. And it's not like I'm promising you anything at all, just..."
Soken knew what she meant by that – even a captain wasn't going to change the ways of the entire Gotei 13, or Seireitei's in general. They were influential, yes – but they were the army, not the governing authorities.
Still, even if it was only amongst the thirteenth's soldiers, only within Ukitake Jushiro's jurisdiction... If there was only the smallest trace of change... It would be something.
"Thank you, still, Kotetsu-san."
oOo
More than a week passed before anything – other than Izumi asking him at dinner what the neighbors were whispering about – more happened.
Then Kotetsu-san found him once again, this time as he was coming back from an appointment and taking a moment to breathe in the park.
Soken had been sitting, eyes closed and listening to the wind when the shinigami's reiatsu prickled his awareness. The old man slowly stood up and looked around, cautiously expectant.
He finally spotted her by the pond. She had a medium-sized package under her left arm, as well as a bamboo basket by her feet. There was a tall, thin person by her side, looking over the water with their back turned. Their hair was long and white, and they wore a captain's haori.
Soken had only gotten glimpses of the captain of the thirteenth, back then, but there was no doubt that this was Ukitake Jushiro.
The old man couldn't help but feel somewhat curious.
Kotetsu-san turned around and spotted him then, gesturing from afar for the quincy to come over.
Soken felt a bit surprised at all this, but didn't question it. He made his way, slowly but surely, to meet his two visitors.
This was... important. A shinigami – no, two of them – had listened to his plea. It might not pan out, maybe nothing would come of it – but they were here, now. Maybe this day wouldn't change the world, maybe they'd need more time to understand each other and start trusting their counterparts – but at least, at least...
What the Wandenreich taught its children was wrong: quincies and shinigamis could talk.
Soken had always known that – that shinigamis were people too, that you only had to try to see it – but it was... nice... to have proof.
When the old quincy finally reached the two shinigamis, he was greeted by Kotetsu-san's bristled attitude – like a cat prowling around its important person, making it clear who it belonged to.
"You, Ishida-san! Remember what I told you! If you try anything, I'll..."
Her captain smiled bemusedly as he interrupted:
"Kiyone, please. You did check for all kinds of traps, and I'm certain you left a lasting impression when you two first spoke, didn't you?"
Ukitake Jushiro seemed absolutely aware of his subordinate's tendencies – and only vaguely apologetic over them, veering towards acceptingly amused.
When Soken looked at the pure soul, he saw a forty-something-year-old man who looked a bit tired – and whose eyes, brown or maybe lightly hazel, wore so many centuries of experience. This man didn't even look Izumi's age but was unbelievably older than any of them.
There were other things that Soken noticed, too – the hair and eyebrows that didn't match, the tight control over his spiritual power, the unassuming demeanor – but for now, nothing caught the old quincy's attention more effectively than the silent call of wisdom and benevolence coming from Ukitake Jushiro.
Not omniscience, like his majesty boasted, or an ability to be always right, but a moral fortitude – a wish to try, if nothing else.
If everyone could be like that...
The captain of the thirteenth smiled at him.
"Ishida-san, isn't it?"
"That's me. I take it you are Kotetsu-san's superior?"
"Ukitake Jushiro, captain of the thirteenth division of the Gotei. Kiyone told me a quincy had been approaching Seto-san during her patrols, wishing to contact the Gotei."
Soken doubted that was the exact words the excitable young woman had used, but said nothing. This, after all, spoke more of Ukitake's character than anything else so far could.
"I asked for a deal, yes. A contract, I suppose, of mutual assistance. I do think it necessary for the few of us quincies who are left in the Living World to ally ourselves with shinigamis against hollows. To protect ourselves, to better protect unsuspecting humans, to be able to help you, too. There's no reason why we couldn't work toge..."
Ukitake raised a hand, a kind look in his eyes, and Soken immediately let himself be interrupted.
The shinigami shook his head gently.
"Let's not talk about this so. Your request is important enough for us to sit down and not discuss it in the middle of the path. Kiyone, if you would?"
The young shinigami stood at attention, her grip getting stronger on her package, as if she'd been tasked with a most important duty through those seemingly innocuous words.
"Of course, captain!"
She grabbed the bamboo basket and disappeared in a flush of shunpo, leaving Soken and Ukitake to stare bemusedly at where she'd been standing.
"Oh, dear..."
The captain was shaking his head again.
"Kiyone?"
The young woman reappeared, without her package this time.
"Yes, captain, I'm here! I found a perfect picnic spot not far over, that way, everything is settled, I even picked the best picnic blanket in the division, to show you how much I appreciate you! I mean, how much I appreciate your work! Because you are the best captain there is and you should know it! Now I'll keep guard over here, just in case!"
There she glared at Soken without much heat, and took a step back.
Ukitake sighed.
"...Right."
Soken only blinked as they walked a couple of minutes into the park until they saw a green and blue patterned blanket laid out on the grass, the bamboo basket sitting in a corner and three little round carved stones holding it in place.
The shinigami captain looked back behind them – Kotetsu-san stood by a tree, making a relatively-convincing impression of looking out for trouble – and sat down.
He looked at Soken, who stood silently by the blanket.
"Do sit down, Ishida-san."
The old man did as he was told, still a bit shocked at it all.
No officer of the Wandenreich would ever be so beloved by their subordinates – or willing to humor them if they were – not even those few who were considered approachable. Stern Ritters, especially, had a tendency towards psychopathy that summarized a lot of what Soken found problematic in Juha Bach's ways.
The quincy didn't doubt that not all shinigamis were so personable, but the facts remained: even should Ukitake be the only captain this pleasant, that would still be more than the Wandenreich had to offer.
"Ishida-san."
Soken focused back.
"Yes?"
Ukitake was holding a nodate set.
"Some tea, perhaps?"
"...Of course."
Ukitake smiled contentedly and set about to prepare their drinks.
"...I don't get out as much as I wish I could. It's certainly been a very long time since I've last set foot in the Living World."
Only unranked soldiers were usually dispatched to the Living World, Soken knew – and couldn't comment, because that would be suspicious. Officers remained in Soul Society, overseeing the efforts of the troops, guarding it from attacks, and most importantly, being on standby, ready to intervene if something a simple soldier couldn't manage arose.
Captains being sent to the Living World meant something grave was happening.
Soken couldn't help but ask:
"If that's not indiscreet... How old are you?"
Ukitake gave him an understanding smile.
"Much older than you, I fear, Ishida-san, and yet... I wouldn't call you young by any measure. There is value, I believe, in aging and being subjected to the passage of time much more firmly than souls are. Humans will never reach the average age of a citizen of Soul society, and yet..."
The captain didn't finish, letting his sentence disappear into a fleeting silence.
Soken had never exactly known how pure souls aged, not even when he'd still been one. The Wandenreich didn't care much for the longevity of its soldiers, to be quite honest.
What Soken did know was that, generally speaking, childhood wasn't much different for a pure soul than it was for a human. It could last a bit longer, in some cases, but it rarely took decades. After that... Having children as a soul did induce aging in some way, and several different events could push someone's body towards a more mature appearance, but the old quincy didn't know why or how it worked.
Considering he'd spent most of his life following the rules of humanity, it had never gotten to the point where he'd be concerned by the aging system of souls.
"But to answer the question you haven't asked, Ishida-san... I was there when the first quincies appeared, a millennium ago. I was there when Juha Bach first assaulted Soul Society and grievously harmed the Soul King. I was there for the second rise of the quincies two centuries ago. I was there when the worlds started eroding under the abuse of their powers."
The shinigami said it all with a calm look on his face, his eyes completely taken with his tea-making. He didn't make it sound like he resented anyone – or at least, not anyone present – for those events; they were merely facts.
Ukitake Jushiro had been there for all those things.
He may not be a quincy – and still Soken wondered, with that white hair, but he knew it wasn't possible, not if the shinigami was as old as he said himself to be – but in many ways he knew more than Soken himself did about the quincies of old.
Not everything, of course – but more.
The captain finished setting the fire under the kettle and looked back at Soken.
"I was there, too, for the deaths of your people."
"...I figured."
Of course the old quincy had known that. The moment he'd learned that Seto-san and Kotetsu-san's superior was Ukitake Jushiro, he'd known that the captain he might get to talk with had been there to witness the assault upon Soul Society, more than two hundred years ago.
He hadn't quite realized how old the man sitting across him truly was – he hadn't expected him to have seen the beginning of his people, if anything – but he'd known that much.
"I realize, however, that you were at war. Those who went and confronted Soul Society chose to do so, for the most part. I will not vilify you or your people for fighting against a known enemy."
The most he could blame the shinigamis for, Soken supposed, was the fact that they had taken no prisoners – and even that came from the mouths of the Wandenreich. Their officers weren't exactly sinless or known to be self-aware with their own sins.
"At the very least, you didn't go out of your way to slaughter the families who'd remained in the Living World, those who hadn't taken part in the war."
That was bringing them closer to the real topic of this meeting, Soken believed.
Ukitake hummed and checked the water. It wasn't boiling quite yet, but they were getting closer.
"That is true... I do believe, however, that the rules imposed on the surviving quincies by Central 46 were unnecessarily harsh on some points. I do not quite blame them, considering they'd almost all lost someone at the time, family members and friends who were felled during the conflict, and that your ancestors had truly abused their powers, to the point that Soul Society and the Living World were bleeding into each other, and Hueco Mundo kept spilling over, but it's been decades now. We pure souls do live long, and several of those who suffered back then are still amongst our governing body, but that shouldn't excuse the lack of change."
Soken didn't point out that Ukitake himself was still there, amongst the military leaders of Seireitei – that he had almost certainly lost many soldiers to that war – and that yet, the captain was here and willing to listen, him.
He saw no point in risking to aggravate the only one who had been willing to listen so far.
Instead, the old man asked:
"You do think quincy powers are dangerous for the balance of the worlds, then?"
The captain took a moment to ponder his next words. He poured them both a cup of tea and drank a sip of his own before answering.
"One of our former... captains... had looked into what quincy arrows do to a soul, briefly, in comparison to any other type of attack, be it kido, hand-to-hand, or a zanpakuto, anything that uses reiryoku. From what I understand of his research, when a hollow is killed in the usual ways, it... loses, I guess that would be the word... external fragments of the soul. The mask, the inhuman appearance, the powers, the memories of its time as a hollow. Everything that changed through its existence as a hollow. Such a change is possible because hollows, like pluses, are unstable souls, in-between the two steps of life. What happens during that time is much less anchored to the core of their soul than any other external fragment of soul they've gained through their first life."
Soken frowned, trying to remember it all for later.
It wasn't completely alien, what Ukitake was telling him – but the Wandenreich had never cared much for teaching its children the intricacies of soul growth and evolution. The little he'd learned of it came from his parents, not from boot camp.
The captain continued:
"Quincies, on the other hand, use reishi in their arrows, and only reishi. You send projectiles that make the core of the soul explode, while the external fragments fall directly into the ocean of souls, the great reservoir of life waiting to be reborn. Even a pure soul that dies doesn't disappear like that. Its core and fragments separate, the first goes on to be reborn as another person, a human with new external fragments to dictate their nature, the latter either becoming pure energy within the ocean of souls or melting together to create new cores. The more hollows a quincy destroy, the less soul cores are present within the ocean of souls. More babies in the Living World are stillborn, lacking a soul to truly become someone new. Creating a new soul core takes a lot longer than just recycling old souls. The balance between the worlds starts crumbling, and that's never good for anyone."
Ukitake gave him a wan smile.
"If it's only a few hollows here and there, a few souls out of balance... The worlds can cope. It's not very fair to the people who don't get to live their second life within Soul Society, but of course protecting people who are still alive comes first, of course it comes before purifying a hollow. So, if you use your powers sparingly, when you need to to save a life, it's not really a problem. However, when your people started large and recurring hollow hunts... If the worlds fall into pieces, Ishida-san, then there are no lives left to protect. I do not believe this is what you want."
"No. It's... really not. It's just..."
Soken stared into his cup of tea.
"There aren't many of us left, today. A few thousand, or at least there were thirty years ago. But, Ukitake-san... Mere months ago, my family took in a girl whose parents died because they were too afraid to use their powers. I'm not saying they didn't fight back, when the hollow came, but... They had little training, not much in the matter of reflexes. Their daughter only managed to take the hollow down after they were both killed. And the reason they never trained themselves, except to show their daughter how to use her powers, was because they were afraid of how shinigamis would react if they knew."
The captain didn't interrupt, didn't ask for more details, didn't refute Soken's points.
So the old quincy went on.
"My wife was almost mauled by a hollow, not long after our son was born, because a shinigami was present and she didn't dare expose herself or our son by using her bow. The shinigami did kill the hollow, in the end, but Izumi should have been able to defend herself."
His last plea, he had to admit, had less to do with being a living quincy, and more to with having been a schattenspäher for the Wandenreich – yet, his experience on the matter wasn't untrue for others, for people he'd known, for his neighbors, for all quincies who'd found themselves watching a battle to the death between a hollow and a shinigami.
"...I've watched shinigamis get killed when I could have helped, all because it was too dangerous for us to be seen using our powers."
There was a long moment of silence, until Soken looked back at the captain sitting across him.
Ukitake was watching him intently, waiting to see if that was all – and when he grew certain that yes, the old man had nothing more to add, he simply sighed.
"I see."
Soken almost thought the silence would continue – but the white-haired shinigami only took another sip of tea before speaking again.
"I cannot promise you that my words will change the laws of Soul Society. I do not have that power. I can, however, push for a proposal, an experimental deal with one individual from the quincies. A test drive, if you will. A show of good intent, the proof that we may work together if needed."
"That...that would be better than nothing."
"It wouldn't be much."
The captain knew exactly what he was saying there – and he wanted to make sure that Soken understood it, too.
This wasn't about making things better for all quincies – not yet.
Soken closed his eyes for a moment.
"It might lead to a lot more."
It was taking the first step – both for him and for Ukitake, only hoping that the rest of the quincies and shinigamis would follow suit, if they saw that it could work. Soken couldn't convince the gemischt families living around his house with words alone, and Ukitake couldn't force an entire military organization to change its ways without giving them something to witness – but they could, both of them, force them to watch.
To see.
Ukitake nodded with a small smile.
"If you are willing to try, then, Ishida-san..."
oOo
It was more than a month later that Soken was contacted again by shinigamis. He recognized Kotetsu-san's presence easily enough, but had no idea of who the woman standing stiffly next to her could be – thin, braided dark hair, dark green eyes, and a uniform that was closer to a short kimono than an actual shihakusho.
Kotetsu-san was eyeing her warily as Soken came closer to the two shinigamis.
"Kotetsu-san?"
The small woman jumped a bit when he called out.
"Oh, old man!"
"Do you have... news, perhaps?"
The third seat of the thirteenth division laughed awkwardly, angling herself so she could keep an eye on both her... colleague? – and Soken himself. It had the old quincy wondering what was going on with both women, especially as the unknown shinigami didn't seem to mind – or react at all – to Kotetsu-san's attitude. Her face remained perfectly neutral – waiting to be introduced, perhaps.
"Oh, that, yes! The captain did manage to convince Central 46 to let him handle your proposition, since you live in the thirteenth's jurisdiction. Usually they wouldn't have much to say on the ways a captain deals with their own soldiers, but quincies are... Well. I'm sure you can guess. Anyway, the captain is awesome, I told you back then, didn't I? So he managed. It's not much, though. The general idea is that the shinigami in charge here has been instructed to take your presence into account, whether to help you or to let you help them, and if you get caught with too many hollows you could call for back-up, just like one of our soldiers can. That's why she's here, Kurotsuchi-san is with the Shinigami Research and Development Institute..."
The woman bowed then – formal and impersonal and just slightly abnormal in her demeanor. Perhaps that was why Kotetsu-san seemed uneasy around her.
"Ishida Soken-san, I am Kurotsuchi Nemu. I am my father's, the president of the institute, assistant. When Ukitake-taicho passed along your request for cooperation, my father was tasked with creating a device for you to be able to contact the thirteenth division in case of emergency."
Kurotsuchi-san handed him a pentagonal wooden badge with the quincy cross engraved on it. Soken took it, curious, and wasn't able to distinguish any particular circuitry – but shinigami-created science did rarely resemble human science in its details, from the little he'd observed back before leaving the Wandenreich.
Kurotsuchi-san pointed at the center of the quincy cross.
"To activate it, you'll need to insert a small amount of reiryoku in the badge. It'll open up a direct line of communication to the thirteenth division that third seat Kotetsu or another upper officer will be monitoring."
"Yeah, the captain tasked me with keeping an eye on you, so don't die on me, old man!"
"I'll do my best not to, I promise, Kotetsu-san."
"You better! Say, Kurotsuchi-san, you can go ahead, I just have to tell Ishida-san some things. No need for you to stay behind too."
The impassive woman watched Kotetsu-san for a second before nodding:
"...Alright. Ishida Soken-san, it was a pleasure to meet you."
Soken and the third seat of the thirteenth division watched silently as the other shinigami opened a senkaimon and disappeared from the Living World.
Kotetsu-san deflated visibly when Kurotsuchi-san left.
"Okay, that's done with. I have a message from the captain, one I couldn't say out loud while Kurotsuchi-san was there: he wants you to know, should the twelfth division or the SRDI try to contact you to learn more about quincies and their powers, be very careful. More importantly, don't ever end up alone with Kurotsuchi-taicho. That man has a... very unusual take... on scientific ethics, and Ukitake-taicho isn't quite certain of where that might lead him, should he take an interest in quincies."
Soken didn't comment. That was, he supposed, the less pleasant side of the Gotei 13. Not all of them were Ukitake Jushiro or Kotetsu-san, that much was certain – but Soken had been part of the Wandenreich, decades ago, and he didn't feel like throwing stones.
"I understand. However, about those arrangements... Are you certain Seto-san won't mind having to work with a quincy?"
Kotetsu-san blinked at him – she might have expected questions on the Kurotsuchis – before waving away his concerns.
"Oh, that! The captain did ask her if she wished for an early reassignment to another area or to Rukongai, but she said she'd soldier through it. I'm not saying she will always be overly happy to see you, but she trusts the captain, everyone in our division does, and they had a talk. She's willing to try, though I think she's also trying to keep an eye on you, rather than letting a newbie who doesn't know anything about quincies get involved..."
"I understand. I suppose we might still change things if it really doesn't work with the two of us, anyway..."
If Ukitake had taken his soldier's opinion into account, even before any problem could arise, there was no reason why he wouldn't do the same should something actually happen.
Kotetsu-san bid him goodbye cheerfully, reminding him once again not to get himself killed and that old men shouldn't be reckless against hollows.
The thirteenth division, Soken thought to himself, seemed like a good place for shinigamis. If only there had been a place like that within the Wandenreich...
If you want more details on how souls age, I wrote about it in "How the years take hold".
Also, I'm definitely implying something about the fact that Kubo treats white as a valid hair color option (when other, not-normal hair colors do exist in Bleach but are seen much less often). That's for another time, too.
I'm going with the assumption that "only a zanpakuto can purify a hollow/kill souls" is a misinterpretation of canon, my own take on it being that, when this idea was introduced, it was in opposition with living-world weapons that can't touch (or do much damage at least) spiritual beings without spiritual energy being used on them. In other words, someone's reiatsu will protect them from any non-reiryoku-powered attack, but all reiryoku-based attacks can kill souls and purify ghosts.
- Quincies are the only exception, because they don't really use their reiryoku, and their arrows are a completely different type of attack.
You don't have to agree, but that's my take on it.