Dinner was quiet at apartment Asano.

Steamed peas, mashed potato with spicy gravy, and pan-seared chicken breasts slathered in butter, helped Keigo forget that this was potentially one of his last dinners in the living world. Miso soup washed it down along with bits of cold guilt stuck by his heart; he wasn't going to tell Mizuho, or his parents, because he had promised himself that he was going to come home. This was not the end of his Human life. Far from it.

"Keigo, are you okay?" Mizuho asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine, why are you asking?"

She regarded him with a skeptical look for a dozen ticks of an antique clock on the wall. That clock had been their grandparent's. Her eyes dipped to her plate. "You don't have to tell me."

He had nothing to say to that. Only stiff chewing. No quips or funny remarks sprouted.

But Mizuho teased, "You and Tatsuki, eh?"

Keigo nearly choked on peas. He gulped a mouthful. "Where'd you hear that?"

"I saw you walking with her. Holding hands."

"Erm… um… ehm... um." He roughly cleared his throat. "Optical illusion?"

"Right."

He couldn't worm his way out of this one. "Is it unusual? You've held my hand before."

"The last time you were ten-years-old." Mizuho's laughter was boyish. "You're not a small boy anymore."

"Yeah? So?"

"Forget it. Just make sure to use protection. I don't want rumors of a pregnancy scare wafting around school, got it?"

Yoruichi's droning voice from days prior echoed between Keigo's ears. Girls whom were blessed by Hell couldn't get pregnant without help from their Hell Butterflies. He could fill them up as much as his balls demanded. Zero risk. "Got it," he said in a kid's voice.

Mizuho scraped mash and gravy off her plate, the spoon harshly screeching. "I know this is awkward, but since we're not staying with Mom and Dad, I have to be the grown-up. I have to look out for you, make sure you're not seeing the wrong gals. There are some real sickos out there who would take advantage of a handsome young guy like you."

Surely the Shinigami didn't count.

"Thanks, but I think I can take care of myself." Keigo guzzled soup and wiped his face. "And thanks for making dinner again."

"Your turn tomorrow."

"Aw, really? You know I suck at cooking."

Mizuho's eyebrow wagged. "Why don't you invite Tatsuki over? I hear she's a great cook."

That was… not a risky idea. "Alright, sure."

Mizuho frowned. "So it's that serious? You and her? How long have you been seeing each other?"

Stupid.

So stupid of him. On second thought, he should have shut his mouth. "Nah, we're just fooling around."

"Fooling around. With someone you've been friends with for years." Mizuho's eyes rolled. "Actually, why am I surprised. You're a fifteen-year-old boy. Have your fun. In five years it won't matter."

In five years.

A week ago, he knew where he would be in five years—at Karakura University. Studying either business or accounting. He had been on the straight and narrow, mostly, with adequate grades and a relatively clean record if one were to overlook one or two perverted accidents. His life had been set. Now, he could be sacrificing everything for Ichigo's family. For girls, more importantly.

This wasn't a mistake.

"Yeah," he said with exaggerated cheer, "we're just having fun. Don't think too much into it." Guilt stabbed him. "Anyway, I'm going to my room. Lots of homework to do." Whistling an upbeat tune, he loaded plates and cutlery into the dishwasher, grabbed his disguised Zanpakuto, and walked off.

"Keigo."

"Wha?"

After a long pause, she asked, "Where'd you get that umbrella? It's nice."

The lies kept rolling: "Oh, Chad bought them for us when we went out for dinner. He got a big bonus at his construction job."

"Ah, good on him." Mizuho's smirk was judging. "You should also get a part-time gig."

"I'll think about it. Maybe I'll be a death god or something similar."

"A death god?"

"Like a rock band."

"Oh." Eyes rolled. "Good luck with that."

He took the chance to slip away.

In his room, a mess of paper and clothing had to be a new disorderly record. Manga comics were cluttered on his desk, and the lamp's broken bulb still needed replacing. The ceiling light too, which worked but was a hundred and twenty Watts, too bright for this cramped space. Wallpaper was ripped in the corners, and marked with pens at several places. This cheap apartment was a rat nest. But this location close to school was worth it; his grades had improved.

Grades weren't important right now.

It was his Shinigami powers that he needed to work on.

His Zanpakuto hidden under duvets, he laid himself on his bed, let his eyes close, and listened to his pulse inside his chest cavity, bumping up into his skull, throbbing in his teeth and ears. One bump, two bump, three. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. Soon he lost count. And only when he lost count did he hear the sea's tide washing onto land.

He was in his inner world.

Second time.

He was sitting on sand. Super fine sand. It wasn't the same as on beaches that he'd been to. This sand was like satin cloth against his fingers, cold despite the cloudless sun overhead. Air was lukewarm. The sea didn't smell salty; if anything, it almost smelled sweet. When a bigger wave rolled in, he touched its frothing bubbles, then licked his finger.

Tasteless. This inner world operated by different rules.

Someone huffed in amusement, and said in a slightly accented voice, "Isn't that obvious?"

The Zanpakuto spirit was relaxing on one of those sunbathing chairs. Today she was in a red bikini, no straps, just plain and not so lascivious like the white one from his first visit. Her ruby hair was in a bun, held together by two ebony sticks, rather dignified. While yellow-tinted sunglasses reflected the sun, her green eyes were vivid enough to shine through those circular specs. Downright gorgeous.

Behind her, behind palm trees, was the mansion. His mansion. This strange building was a mix of modern architecture and medieval European castle design, a combination of white marble and black steel smashed together at odd angles with mismatched overhanging roofs. On this tropical island, his mansion was a hideous yet mesmerizing blocky tumor, completely out of place, but in a good way.

The spirit yawned. Even her yawns were alluring.

"What's your name?" Keigo asked.

"What's yours?"

"I'm Keigo Asano. You don't know?"

"Oh, I know."

His eyelids rapidly blinked twice. A ludicrous smile curled his lips. "Then why ask?"

Her lips curled into a cute pout. "Because you asked first."

"Because I don't know your name."

"That's too bad. That you don't even know yourself."

"Which is why I'm asking. Obviously." His smile turned goofy. "I bet you have a really cute name. Maybe Chiaki or Akemi or Emiko."

"Emiko, I like that name, but it is not my name."

"Then I guess we'll have to call Chiaki for now." He stomped up to her as manly as he could. "So, Akemi, how are you feeling today?"

"I feel well enough." She leaned back, hands behind her head. Her breasts were close to bursting out of her bikini top. She picked her nails. "A lot better since you lost your virginity. I can at last sit back and relax. The music was deafening."

"Music? What music?"

"Ah, you still can't hear it." She massaged her temples. "What if I told you my name?"

Excitement bubbled. "Yeah?"

"Are you sure you want to hear it? It cannot be unheard."

"I'm sure. Tell me."

"My name is…."

"Tell me already, the suspense is driving me mad. I want my Shinigami powers now, Mommy." He was standing on his tiptoes. His fists shook.

Her mirth at that was estatic. "Alright, my name really is Emiko."

His soles flattened. "I guessed right. That means I did know myself."

"I'm kidding. My name's Cadenza." At the utterance of those three syllables, gold and ivory lines materialized in her right hand grasp, forming his Zanpakuto Katana. "Nice to meet you, Keigo. Would you like to train or have sex tonight?"

Cadenza.

"Cadenza," Keigo said out loud.

The word was oscillating in his lungs like a plucked guitar string. By this name alone, he understood his powers were musical. It was a dream come true. He'd always wanted to play in a band together with his buddies, which was why he and Ichigo had took up guitar lessons. But it had never been more than a side hobby. Admittedly, Keigo sucked at playing. Ichigo was much better.

Cadenza grumbled, "Well? Which is it?"

"Sex. No, train. No, sex. No, you decide for me."

"Hmm, alright." She smirked. That roguish smirk fit her so well. "I think I'll take you with a strap-on. I'll be extra rough."

Muscles in his ass were clenching. His dick had shriveled. He barely squeaked, "No, I'm good."

"Oh come on, you'll love it."

"I'm sure I won't." He backed up two steps then two more.

"Beg."

"Beg?"

"In the same way how you made Tatsuki beg," Cadenza said in a colder tone. "Let's see how you enjoy being on the receiving end."

Keigo dropped to his knees, brought his palms together as if in prayer. "Please don't. Please don't fuck my ass with a strap-on. I'm sorry, I just like to feel big and strong, and Tatsuki likes it, that's all, I promise."

"Tatsuki likes it? You pig. I hope your ass is ready." Cadenza's legs were suddenly in front of him. Her foot lifted and stomped his head down into sand. "Lube? Or no lube? How about a coin toss?"

"Don't do this! I'm not a bad guy! Mommy, I'm sorry!"

She lightly patted his cheek with the flat of her Katana's blade. "If not a strap-on, then your punishment will have to be this sword."

He shrieked, "Wait, wha—"

Steel, neither cold nor warm, cut into his back, pierced through his heart. Adrenaline and shock fried his sense of pain.

There wasn't any pain.

Or blood.

Miraculously uninjured, his heart was racing at two-hundred beats per minute. And yet the sword was stuck inside him, its point buried inches into sand.

Cadenza sang, "For I am part of you, Keigo, there can be no pain when I penetrate you. Can you now hear the music? The sound of your very being?" Violins and flutes were in the air. Near silent, but there. The melody was quick and upbeat, soothing. "Yes, you hear it. You feel it. Listen to it, the ebb and flow of these exquisite harmonic chords. Allegro in D Major."

He palmed up. Not sure what to do about the Katana in his chest, he left it in. "So my ass is safe?"

"What do you think?"

His jaw opened. Then creaked close. He hugged her leg, pleading, "Mommy, I'm a good boy, don't do it."

"We'll see what happens." She patted his head, ruffled his hair, tickled his ear. "You can't lie to me. I know what you like."

"Regular missionary with no begging or strap-ons."

"If you say so." She chuckled. Then breathed deeply. "We seem to be out of time. Your sister is at your door."

"Huh, you know what's happening outside this place?"

"Of course. I would never leave you exposed." She flicked his ear. "Never let yourself fall into misery or sorrow. When you're sad and frustrated, the music here is terrible. Drown in dissonance."

Chords were struck both in his head and in the music echoing from the heavens. "What did you just say?"

"You heard me."

Before he could repeat those words, all faded to black, including his body and sense of self, only for a second, and he was back on his bed, staring up at cracked paint on the ceiling. His body felt lighter. The rhythmic pumping flow of his blood had weight to it, which he could direct like a conductor—his spiritual pressure. His soul's music carried on in his ears, interrupted by bangs.

"Keigo, you better not have sneaked out again!" Mizuho shouted. "I'm coming in! I have the spare key! Three, two—"

He unlocked the door, opened it. "Sorry, I fell asleep for a bit. Haha. Long day."

"Yeah, haha." She sighed. "Look, I called Tatsuki—"

"Why?"

"Because she's dating my little brother, that's why. She didn't seem to appreciate the call, that brat."

Anxiety was broken piano keys in his chest. "What did you say?"

"Just the good ol' big sis talk. Don't think too much of it." Her fingers clicked. "But she agreed to dinner tomorrow with us. We're going downtown to some fancy French place she likes. Is your suit clean? You better not have damaged it."

He carefully stepped over books. The wardrobe door hadn't been opened in a while. Inside were neatly hung clothes. His suit, a birthday present from Dad last year, was in pristine condition, held in clear plastic wrapping. He hadn't worn it once. "I think it still fits."

"Good. Make sure your underwear is clean. Shower before we go."

"Mizuho… you don't have to baby me."

Her fist rested on her hip. "Oh yeah? Then why, whenever I do the laundry, do I see—"

"Okay, okay, I hear you." He exhaled in hot embarrassment. "I said we're just fooling around. What's with the big deal?"

"It didn't sound like you're just fooling around when I talked to her."

"What did she say?"

"She asked how you're doing."

He coughed into his hand. "And?"

"And nothing."

"This makes it a big deal?"

Arms crossed. "I know when I hear it—she likes you a lot. By that I mean a lot a lot. It wouldn't get through your thick forehead. "

Keigo waved her off. "You've been watching romcom shows again."

Mizuho was grinding her teeth. She made a sucking noise. "That's irrelevant, you dork. Just trust me."

"It's not that deep," he laughed. "Tatsuki and I really are just messing with each other a little. Once we're done, we'll be back to friends. She probably asked how I'm doing because Ichigo died. We were all best buddies. I miss him."

Inside, no amount of justification could diminish his excitement for tomorrow's fancy dinner. A date. A real date! His first date. A dinner with the one and only, the horny exhibitionist rape-slut, Tatsuki Arisawa. If only Mizuho didn't have to chaperone. Though it was good to have his sister around for little longer. Two days left until proper Shinigami training. And then it would be departure to Soul Society.

"Ichigo would want you to forget him."

"Yeah, I know."

"Then stop moping about." Mizuho punched his arm. "You have a girlfriend now, be strong and tough for her. Five sharp tomorrow. Don't forget." She glanced at his desk. "Have you started your homework?"

His shoulders weakened. "Alright, alright, I'll do it."

The door closed with a bit too much oomf.

He grabbed his backpack, slouched into his chair, looked out the window. Clouds in the shape of a pirate ship sailed past the moon. An essay on pirate ships would have to do. He hummed a theme song from a pirate movie and began scribbling on lined paper.


Author's Note: Keigo's abilities are all Italian. The reason will be revealed eventually.

Review Responses:

- There's only one power that can counter Hell's influence. It's been mentioned/hinted a couple times.

- Bounts don't exist in this story.

- Sometime within the last couple months, I decided to cut the beast realm entirely. Fortunately, Captain Komamura hasn't been mentioned yet, so I didn't need to edit anything. I've replaced him with a canon character that fits this story a lot better.

- Uryu will get more chapters but not that many compared to the others.