Shinigami stationed in the living world were sprayed with temporary surveillance bacteria when passing through the official Senkaimons. Rin Tsubokura knew this very well, for he was the one who had first proposed this technology to Captain Kurotsuchi, and for this achievement, Rin had rightfully earned his officer seat in Squad Twelve. Naturally, he was the one in charge of maintaining and administrating the surveillance bacteria network—tedious work.
Recently, for the past few years, surveillance footage from Karakura Town and nearby regions was seldom marred with static streaks and fuzzy patches. Audio quality was often scratchy, muted, or unintelligible. There was a handful of potential causes which Rin had hypothesized, but so far he was unable to find any defects or interference sources. Stubbornly, he was leaning on the simplest explanation—Karakura was an increasingly concentrated Spirit Zone.
Grabbing another sour candy to suck on, Rin kept flipping through surveillance archives. One notable recording, among others, was from Officer Rukia Kuchiki. He replayed it in slow motion.
It was a routine Hollow patrol in the suburbs. The night sky looked completely black, even though a moon was supposed to be visible. Rooftops were out of focus, even though the latest bacteria should be able to capture in high-definition at relatively high speeds. On the three second mark, rooftops blurred and a Zanpakuto blade was drawn. At the four second mark, static noise filled the screen. Right at eleven seconds and three hundred and forty-seven milliseconds, colors and shapes gradually re-emerged with Rukia looking down at a wreckage scene. One of those barbecue machines was smoking, pieces of steak starting to burn. Ichigo, his Chain of Fate strewn on muddy grass, looked up back at her. His family was on the ground, no Chains, just unconscious.
Rin rewinded back to the third second, then advanced the footage frame by frame. Of course, this was probably a waste of time and money, and it was; there wasn't anything of note.
"Interesting," Captain Kurotsuchi's grating voice quietly said, "very interesting."
After decades, Rin still wasn't fully comfortable in Kurotsuchi's presence. Growing comfortable wasn't smart, anyway. "What is interesting, Captain? If I may ask?"
Kurotsuchi's black face paint hid minuet details of his expression. He was either amused or surprised, or a mix of both. His eyes flicked away to an inactive screen on the wall. "Oh, many things, first of which is the peculiar layout of your workstation." His eyes slashed back to Rin. "Second of which is your incompetence in this matter."
Slimy, cold, gaseous spiritual pressure slithered up Rin's limbs, constricted around his neck. Warning was the intent. "Captain, I've been overworked, and my initial hypothesis still hasn't been disproven. Spiritual activity at Karakura has been increasing for—"
"Excuses, excuses." Kurotsuchi dismissively waved a pale bony hand. "My evaluation, however, is that you haven't been overworked, but that you've been slacking off from your duties. You spend far too much time enjoying yourself with female squad members."
Sensing an incoming lecture, Rin wisely did not rebut.
Kurotsuchi continued, "This is exceedingly disappointing—in multiple ways. Especially of a scientist such as yourself, or so you claim to be. For to be enslaved by your own biochemical urges, which has long been researched in painstaking detail, should be humiliating to any competent scientist. During your tenure in my laboratory, you haven't made any effort to free yourself in this regard." Kurotsuchi sighed, eyes rolling. "But I suppose it's only to be expected; high expectations can only be as such if the average outcome is disappointing."
"I understand, Captain," Rin said, honest. "I'll try to do better." Not as honest. No sane guy would give up sexy-time pleasures.
"Try?" Kurotsuchi's head tilted almost as though his neck were broken. "No, you will do better, and it shall be ensured." From his baggy sleeve, he took out a syringe filled with red liquid.
Ten thousand phantom knife-tips pricked Rin all over his body. He sat absolutely still. He knew resisting or squirming would only make this worse. But he couldn't keep dread off his face. Beads of hot sweat rolled down his arm as the syringe needle pierced his neck.
Kurotsuchi's thumb slowly pressed down the plunger.
In two seconds it was over.
In the span of two itchy seconds, his genitals shrank and reverted to that of a small pre-pubescent boy's. The thought of girls was no more desirable than stale hardbread. Sure, he could still picture a naked girl, but there was no longer an accompanying lustful desire. The feelings of lust and orgasms were fading memories, his heart rate decelerating to a steady seventy beats, his body cooling down, dread evaporating off his face.
He exhaled. He was strangely fine.
He was free, as Kurotsuchi had claimed.
"Now," Kurotsuchi said, "is that better?"
"Yes, Captain."
"Good, good." Kurotsuchi pocketed the syringe. "It is a semi-permanent solution. Semi-permanent in that can be reversed, which, of course, means it doesn't modify your soul in any tangible way. It is a suppressant, but as for a permanent solution, that would be a true breakthrough."
"How long have you studied this, Captain?" Rin asked calmly.
Kurotsuchi's eyes wandered. "That is a discussion for another day." His fingers clicked. "Nemu!"
The Lieutenant walked inside. She had been waiting in the hallway. "Yes, Captain?" She was in a slightly more revealing variant of the normal female Shinigami Shihakusho; tiny pleated skit, Geta sandals, and a loose short-sleeved top cropped high up her belly, showing off a fair amount of underboob.
Rin loved the underboob look… or he used to. Her body was now merely aesthetically pleasing and no more.
"You are to personally oversee this matter. I want hourly reports." Kurotsuchi pointed at Rin without looking at him. "You may administer the antidote when a source of the interference is found."
Nemu nodded, but she asked, "Is this matter really so important?"
"Yes, you imbecile."
"Then why aren't you leading this matter?"
Kurotsuchi glared, his face paint giving the look a demonic slant. "Obviously I have more important problems to deal with."
"I understand," Nemu said. A smaller nod. "Apologies for asking, Captain."
Kurotsuchi walked into the hallway before departing with a Flash Step that Rin's eyes couldn't follow. A gust of slimy spirit spiritual pressure buffeted Rin. That was no stealthy Flash Step. It was no secret that the Captain cared little for physical combat. Few in this Squad did.
Nemu, however, was an exception. She walked to him with smooth steps. "Hello, Rin." Her monotone voice was off. She was a tad apprehensive.
He didn't care why. He would usually stitch together a conversation in attempt to have sex with her. Now he simply did not care. "Hey, Nemu." He swiveled the chair around—back to work.
Her spiritual pressure hugged him warmly, seeped into his skin, into his head and heart. A Hell Butterfly landed on his left forearm as she said, "Does my presence not please you?"
Logic spoke: "You know the Captain injected me with his sexual suppressant."
"That's too bad," she said, a lot of emotion entering her voice. "I was just in the mood." The cocoon of spiritual pressure thickened.
Annoying.
"Cut that out," he mumbled, "we have work to do."
"Very well, let me get comfortable first." She pulled a chair up right next to him. Her arm brushed against his as she took off her top. Next came off the sandals and skirt, her panties staying on. She sat down, leaned against him. A second Hell Butterfly landed on him, his right shoulder.
He had never seen her this way before, actively trying to seduce him. Funny, in a way. He patted her knee. "You're cute, but it's not working."
"What's not working, Rin?" She was putting so much effort into her voice. "As I said, I'm getting comfortable. It's going to be a long night."
"Alright then, suit yourself. It'll get cold though."
"You can be my warm hugging toy." She played with a fabric knot at her hip.
Off came her panties.
He glanced at the floor, only now noticing her panties were held together by strings and knots. The gusset was a little white triangle. He knew these panties were one of his favorites. So was her hairless pussy. She was one-hundred-percent naked, right next to him, touching arms. Normally, he would be pinning her to the floor.
He was free.
Nemu's shoulders sank as she slouched. The Hell Butteries flew off. She stole one of his sour candies, plopped it into her mouth. "Rewind this recording of Rukia. The first dozen frames."
Finally, some work was going to be done.
He did as asked. The blackened night sky and blurred rooftops slid downward frame by frame. Minor interference was consistent up until a point where the footage was abruptly flooded with static noise. Rin already knew this very likely was not regular interference from everyday spirit energy and pressure; however, there was a non-zero chance, so he wasn't ruling out his first hypothesis just yet.
"It's clear to me," Nemu said, "that someone is trying to tamper with our surveillance systems in Karakura Town."
Rin scratched his ear. "Like I've said, it's possible."
"Do you have a hypothesis on who?"
"No."
"That's unfortunate." Nemu pouted, an unseen expression for her. "I cannot yet administer the antidote."
Rin was no longer sure if he wanted it to be administered at all; rather he hardly cared. His mind was occupied by the ongoing situation, centered around Ichigo Kurosaki. Why was this orange-haired teenager so special? Rin had to find out. Science and curiosity demanded it.
Over a hundred feet underground within smothering darkness, it was Ichigo's turn to help carry the tent. The bundle of fabric and sticks was awfully cumbersome and much heavier than when he had first shouldered it. Maybe all the Flash Step training had tired him out. Or maybe it had something to do with these Sekkiseki mountains….
"Hey Rukia," he said.
Her cute voice wafted from behind: "What is it?"
"Since Sekkiseki stone repels spiritual pressure and energy, does that mean it can also trap it?"
"I'm surprised it took you this long to notice." She was mildly impressed, judging by her tone. "Your body weighs more. The air is thicker. Concentrated spirit energy may manifest as various elements of nature."
"Well that's good." Ichigo tossed the bundled tent to Rukia.
She caught it with a bear-hug, tossed the lantern to him in exchange. "Good?"
He caught the lantern. Pale hues lit up his face from bellow. "My friend Tatsuki said the more intense the training is, the better. She runs a Dojo. Did I mention her?" The question was a test of her memory. Surely that mind-warping crimson pill didn't have any side effects on her memory capacity.
A few seconds sank into the dark before Rukia said, "You did. You wanted to fuck her and Orihime." Her tone was a bit playful.
"Yeah, I did." He was almost not embarrassed to say it.
"Well too late now, you perv."
He laughed.
"Oh? What's funny?" Rukia asked.
"Tatsuki calls Keigo that all the time."
"But not you?"
Ichigo's head swayed. "I was a lot better at hiding my pervy self."
"Why would you have to hide your true nature? Don't answer, I know why. Just understand you're in a better place now. Let it all out."
A better place. He'd heard this a few times now. Soul Society, this perverted afterlife. Was it better? Well, he was enjoying it so far minus the Hollow raids.
Ichigo flinched as his right foot dropped into an abyss. He stopped himself from falling in, Flash Stepping.
"We're here." Rukia threw the bundled tent into the abyss. It thumped several times before scuffing to a stop, not hitting anything. She took the lamp from him. Her icy spiritual pressure surged—into the lamp. It wasn't an oil lamp. It burned spirit energy, and it burned brighter the more energy it was fed, and she kept feeding until it was a cold inner-cavern sun.
In the bluish-white light, this cavern had an etherial feel. The Sekkiseki mining pit was perfectly square. There were exactly six steps on the terraced slopes. The square clearing at the bottom was about a hundred strides wide, suitable as a fighting arena. And the stone was smoothly cut, easy footing. On the far side of the arena, mist shrouded what Ichigo assumed to be volcanic hot springs, potentially good for a bath. The Shinigami had intended this mining pit to be used for training from the start.
Ichigo leaped into the arena with a burst of spiritual pressure. Flash Steps were becoming second-nature.
With a cute back-flip, Rukia landed in front of him, facing him, one and a half strides apart. She sat down, cross-legged, her hand on her skirt to stop him from peeking. Apparently this arena didn't count as part of that better place. She placed her Zanpakuto katana on her right side. "We'll start with the fundamentals of Kido today."
Magic spells. Fun.
His white coat bunched up around him as he sat down, his dual blades at his left side. His eyes zeroed-in on her blood-smeared lips. For a heartbeat, he thought she was injured. She wasn't. And all of a sudden, it only now occurred to him exactly what Rukia had done by linking her soul to his. She was entrusting her life to him—his Auswahlen may end her life at any moment. Yet here she was, with him, unbothered and relaxed. That, or she too did not fully understand what this meant.
He tried to not sound nervous: "You have my blood smeared on your lips."
She wiped her lips on her forearm, and when she saw only a tiny smear, she looked at him peculiarly. Out of a few opposing emotions, amusement won. "Let me guess, you just had a brilliant idea—if I don't have sex with you soon, you'll use your Auswahlen to kill me. Am I right?" Her eyes were mischievous. She was being coy in such a sexy, deranged way; he couldn't say that it wasn't alluring.
"Stop with the crazy talk," he muttered, unable to hold eye contact, looking away from her skirt to her exposed belly. That outfit dangerously left far too much skin exposed, but how much could plain old cloth help in battle? It didn't make any difference. Spirit energy was all that mattered here.
She hummed a breath, then eventually said, "I'm really wondering if you would."
"You know I wouldn't ever do that."
"Something that despicable? That selfish?"
"Yeah."
"Such as requesting for a girl you barely know to be your personal sex-slave, then making her eat a memory-wiping virginity pill, followed by tying her soul to your own? Such as that?"
"Rukia." He reached out to her.
And she shook her head. "Don't pretend you're doing this for me. Don't lie to yourself." Her face was both toying and bleak. Her eyes were challenging, as though testing him, if he could really go through with this madness which he was inflicting upon her. She was right.
"Rukia. You have my word that I won't ever harm you with my power. That is my vow to you."
"Your vow. I've heard that one before." She was contemplative for a moment. "Listen, I drank your blood for your sake. If I heard your Zanpakuto spirit correctly, then you should be able to take some of my energy to heal yourself. I did it for you, so be thankful."
There was only one thing he could say here, and with a boyish grin: "Thanks, I owe you one."
She smirked. "Now, listen up. Kido fundamentals. When spirit energy is woven into patterns, it produces interesting effects. There are countless visualization techniques, many of which may seem bizarre and unintuitive. This is the simplest visualization: first, hold your palms apart, like this."
He did as instructed. Like her, his palms were several inches apart, fingers loosely spaced. Though her fingers were like stone. His fingers were tofu. He hadn't meditated like this before. A ridiculous sitting pose, as though he were holding a grapefruit. It took a very, very long minute to steady himself.
When his fingers were solid, she continued, "Shape your spirit energy into a ball, hold it between your palms, and visualize a pitch black circle, and picture yourself falling into it. The circle should be as round as possible, and the black as dark as possible." On the final word, a translucent sphere of ice materialized between her palms, spinning like a miniature planet.
Shaping spirit energy and visualizing images was far easier. He'd been doing it for years, secretly honing his spiritual powers and secretly fantasizing about girls he wanted to have sex with. No secret now. Wide out in the open.
Between his palms gyrated a sphere divided into two hemispheres: black and white. The black was like viscous fiery liquid, decorated with little red streaks. The white was untextured and tinted a very slight blue. A hair-width gap separated the two hemispheres. He tried pushing them together, but either he was too weak… or it was impossible; this separation was a core part of his power, as was his two distinct Zanpakuto swords and spirits.
Rukia was staring, lips parted, eyes wide. She blinked, saying, "That was quick for once. One time I mentored, it took over two days, and—" Her face blanked. Her spirit energy ball dissipated into ice dust. She squinted a little, touched the side of her head.
Sparks shot up Ichigo's spine. "Rukia?"
She coughed. Her cheeks reddened. "There are long gaps in my memory. I was mentoring Hanataro and—" Her eyes jumped to Ichigo, and she cleared her throat. Her blush spread to the rest of her face. "What is it?"
He realized he was scowling. For good reason. At least she was embarrassed about it now. Before, she had been proud of her past escapades. "I bet Hanataro still remembers."
"So?"
"So how about you stop pressing down your skirt?"
She sighed loudly, sat straighter, pulled up her skirt a couple inches, and presented him with a splendid open view between her crossed legs. Her panties were the same as the one she had worn when she saved his family. Her thighs were milky petite like the rest of her body, undeniably irresistible. "There, happy?"
He swallowed drool. "Yeah, good girl." Good slut.
Eyes closed, she continued with the instruction, "Now, reform your sphere. Palms spaced twice as far apart. It should be four times as hard to do."
Accurate to her word, it was far more than twice as tricky, but still manageable. The real problem was keeping his visualization focused on the black circle and not her panties.