Bleach (c) Tite Kubo
Black and Blue
Downtime
The vacant Lieutenant's office fell into decay years ago.
Regrettable, yes, but with no Lieutenant to occupy it the room went unused for the past few decades and quietly fell into disrepair. Regular maintenance became less regular then dropped to the bottom of the priorities ladder. The resulting neglect showed with the layers of caked dust, the several cobwebs gathering in roof corners, empty bookshelves and parts of the desk, and in the moth-eaten furniture.
In its tidy state the office is a decent space, sized appropriately for the Captain's primary adjutant. Upon immediately entering the room, a visitor is greeted by a modest marine blue longue, now faded with time and dust, and a proportionately sized coffee table to entertain the occasional guest or for the Lieutenants to eat privately away from their primary work area. On the other side of an invisible divide, the left half of the office is occupied by a sturdy wooden desk and office chair facing the door, with rows of shelves behind them.
Ordinarily those shelves would be stacked with tomes and records and occasionally personal devices of the Lieutenant in question, but those too had been removed and put into storage or returned to the late Lieutenant's family a long time ago leaving the shelves naked.
Only spiders remain.
Put together it sketched a desolate image.
Until a couple days ago.
On the orders of Co-Third Seats Kiyone Kotetsu and Sentaro Kotsubaki, a group of custodians sliced out two whole week's shifts and dedicated themselves solely to the laborious task of cleaning the worn-down Lieutenant's office, vowing not to stop until it was restored to pristine condition (the adjacent Lieutenant's quarters are to follow shortly thereafter).
In Third-Seat Kotsubaki's words, "I want those rooms so immaculate the Fourth Division can use them as operating theatres!"
Cleaning rapidly transformed into complete restoration; those duties included reupholstering the desk chair and small lounge, reoiling and varnishing the woodwork, shelves, desk and coffee table, reinstalling the windows and refinishing the floor and skirting boards.
No nook or cranny was safe, they were told. If it could conceal so much as a speck of dirt or rot, it was vigorously cleaned or replaced entirely if judged unsalvageable.
Naturally, the rumour mill exploded with rampant speculation.
Some believed that after concluding many long years of mourning, Captain Ukitake is finally ready to take on a new Lieutenant. Others whispered it was a choice born of necessity. With so many traitors exposed the Captain has no choice but to fill the role with the next best candidate. A new administrative aid had to be appointed to ease his burdens of running the division while Ukitake dealt with broader matters of Soul Society's defense. More cynical, less charitable voices suggested that the Captain had quietly grown sick of his two third seaters yapping his ear off and desperately needed someone to run interference.
No matter the reason, Haruto Takada unfortunately got suckered into assisting with the dreary renovation activities.
After an unfortunate incident involving a Jigokucho breakout (because someone forget to engage the kido seals properly) Haruto ended up on the hook with a disciplinary action to his name and subsequently reassigned to a different sector.
Worst part of it? It wasn't even Haruto's fault! He performed the signs and seals, he did the stupid chant and he closed up those cages exactly as he was taught. He could do it perfectly! With his eyes closed even. If it was anyone's fault, it was that idiot woman who taught him those seals. Obviously she hadn't relayed the instructions correctly! If anything, Haruto was the only one getting anything right!
Supervisor Ito threw his hands up and tossed Haruto to the janitorial department claiming he might be better use there. The young Shinigami seethes at the sting to his pride because he's back right where he started, sweeping floors from some unknown self-important, probably arrogant, glorified bureaucrat. On some level, it feels like fate is taunting him; mocking him by forcing him to clean what should have been his office if only the powers that be recognized his capabilities. (More and more, he loathes to admit his friends back home might've had the slightest point. He should've just stayed in Rukongai. The pay was far better.)
The office furniture had been removed for their miscellaneous repair jobs and new floorboards were installed this morning. Now Haruto and an older member of the division, Dan Kimura, are currently sweeping the last remnants of sawdust dust away in preparation for varnishing.
The constant scrape of stiff bristles against hard wood is more maddening than those loathsome butterfly cages. When Haruto glances at the clock he sags against his broom with despair upon learning its been two minutes since he last checked at the time.
"If you have time to moan you have time to keep sweeping."
Haruto spares a withering glare towards the only other person in the room before petulantly resuming his demeaning task.
Old Kimura is a haggard man with ancient scars carved on his face accented by wrinkles. There's more grey than brown his hair which sweeps back in a neat short tail. Hints of a five o'clock shadow hug his craggy jaw and bandages covering a life time of scars and callouses wind around his wrists disappearing up his shihakushou's sleeves.
When he's not being suckered into glorified janitorial duties, Kimura is one of the chief trainers and taskmasters in the Thirteenth Division. But bafflingly, Haruto heard he'd volunteered his precious spare hours to assist with renovating the Lieutenant's office (probably an excuse to curry favour with the Captain, Haruto wagers).
Kimura doesn't seem bothered by the silence in the slightest, performing his duties with steadfast purpose.
It's insane to admit but Haruto is almost starting to miss those incessant butterfly cages. At least then he could cuss and grumble under his breath to his heart's content (or sneak in a quick powernap when no one's looking) when tending to the stupid things. But now the silence is so deafening one could hear a pin drop.
"The Captain took his time appointing a successor, wouldn't you say?" Haruto ventures when it becomes too much to bare.
"No." Kimura grunts.
Haruto grimaces. So much for striking up conversation. He gives the floor a few more futile sweeps before stopping again with a huff, glaring down at the floors.
This time Kimura raises his head with those sunken grey eyes examining the younger Shinigami stoically. "You think this task is so beneath you, boy?"
"Isn't it beneath you?" Haruto challenges.
"No. To lead one must-"
"-'One must learn how to serve'." Haruto cuts off, rude and impatient, "I've been told that line before, not that it makes any more sense to me now. It's a contradiction. Shouldn't leaders be the ones to... lead? You wouldn't find them handling this sort of menial grunt work."
"You'd understand if you could see past your own nose." The old taskmaster scolds reproachfully. "Your time at the academy clearly taught you nothing. Or perhaps that's simply a result of your general failing as an individual."
"Respectfully, swordmaster. You don't know me." Haruto replies.
"Word travels, boy. And there's been plenty circling about you." Kimura responds and Haruto beams with pride, chest puffed out confidently but that confidence is swiftly snatched away by the old man's next words.
"If you spent half as much time training as you did stewing in your own self-obsession, you might actually be a quarter of the Shinigami you've deluded yourself into believing you are." Kimura points out coldly, "And in that assessment, I am being more than generous."
Haruto scowls petulantly at the old man.
"But allow me to be the antidote to your ignorance and explain things in small terms: A Captain, the Lieutenant at his side and the seated cadre under them serve their division by guiding them through strife and seeing to their needs as a whole. In turn, the division repays that service with obedience. Perhaps devotion if they've earned it."
"If that's the case then why did it take so long for the Captain, great man though he is, to replace our Lieutenant?" Haruto questions, no longer caring about the pretence of respect for his senior. "Other command officers have been killed in action and replaced before, it didn't take nearly as long as it has with our Lieutenant's vacancy."
Haruto returns to his task grumbling under his breath, "Especially after the fool got himself killed on some stupid run-of-the-mill Hollow. Some prodigal genius he turned out to be."
There's a tremor in the craggy man's expression, the first hints of true anger. Despite that, his tone remains neutral. "Have you any idea why that occurred, Neophyte? What Lieutenant Shiba's reasons were when he engaged in that battle? Or did you, arrogant whelp that you are, even bother to ask? Did you care to learn the truth or did you choose to invent your own incorrect assumptions on the matter?"
"What's the point of asking? The result speaks for itself. He's dead. As much as I admire the Captain, I don't understand why it took him so long." Haruto points out.
Kimura stands tall, though wizen, his full height towards over Haruto. He tries and fails not to whither under that half-hooded expression. "Lieutenant Shiba engaged in battle and died to avenge his wife's honour, and the honour of his men. Had you been with us and perished that night, he would've been fighting in your name as well. The wound his death left behind aches to this day and not just for the Division's administration or composition."
"You just finished saying how the commanding officers are supposed to serve us; that doesn't explain why the Captain took so long. Don't you think it would've been better for morale if he'd chosen a Lieutenant sooner?" Haruto retorts.
Those sunken grey eyes narrow dangerously and Haruto realizes his bluster might've crossed the tiniest line. "The Thirteenth lost a Lieutenant, yes, but the Captain lost his protégé - a man he loved as his own son. You don't think perhaps Captain was grieving as any man with a heart would? And perhaps the idea of replacing Lieutenant Shiba was a prospect too painful to consider until now?"
Haruto folds his arms over his torso, lips pressed in a line.
"Of course if you bothered to understand the division and the people you aspire to follow I wouldn't have needed to inform you of this at all. You'd do well to buck that arrogant streak of yours and learn a modicum of humility." Kimaru warns him harshly, "Ideally before you suffer the fate of all snort-nosed fools like you blunder towards."
"And what fate is that?" Haruto asks.
"Death." Kimura responds frankly. "Death or the Maggot's nest."
Its about time Ukitake showed up.
Kukaku doesn't express that consternation out loud.
She sensed the good Captain's reiatsu signature on the far edges of her grounds five minutes ago and she glimpses the tell-tale white head passing through the tree line that encompassed the outer boarder of her palace. Ukitake is chased by only one of his shadows this time, the woman Kiyone. A shocking fact by itself considering she and that tall Shinigami Sentaro are usually joined at the hip and rarely go anywhere without the other, forever trying to curry their Captain's indulgence and favour. Must've taken a hell of a lot of convincing to keep him away.
Kukaku mentally notes that while the ancient Captain's expression is grim there's a lightness to his steps that wasn't present last time. Despite outward appearances implying the contrary he must be in a good mood. She wonders how long that will last.
The current head of the Shiba Clan sits at the base of her Flower Crane Cannon. A white shawl is draped over her shoulders pinned by a gold chain and idly puffing away at her kiseru with a neutral expression that hides her deep agitation. The very same satchel Ukitake gave her in his last visit sits at her side. Instead of books it now contains horrific files and loathsome research notes - the fruits of her wild scavenger hunt through the Shiba archives (and the source of a number of sleepless nights recently.)
Kiyone remains a respectful distance away and out of earshot, evidently at her Captain's request, and the man strides over to greet Kukaku with a short respectful bow.
"Ukitake." She greets back curtly.
"Kukaku, my apologies that I couldn't respond to your invitations sooner. I'm afraid a matter of urgency took precedence and I wasn't able to attend to your request for a meeting before now." Captain Ukitake explains briefly.
"That's always the way isn't it." Kukaku muses rhetorically, thoroughly robbed of her usual boisterous mood, stabbing her kiseru towards the satchel at her side. "We don't need to waste time exchanging formalities. I've found what you asked for."
His dark eyebrows disappear into his hairline in surprise. Kukaku expected eagerness or relief on the Captain's face, but after a second to compose himself, he takes the news with a simple nod. However, his gratitude is obvious all the same. Ukitake steps forward and takes the satchel, peeling back the flap to gaze inside. Satisfied with the contents, he closes the satchel and seals it closed with a quick binding kido. A smart move. No telling what kind of damage someone could do with those inflammatory documents.
Green eyes regard her sincerely. "Thank you for your efforts. I appreciate that this wasn't the easiest task in the world to accomplish, nor the most enviable. But you have my gratitude."
Kukaku dismisses it with a grunt. Her tone and expression are hard. "Its an alternation to our agreement but I want this cursed filth out of my home. Despite that, I expect you to keep up your end of the bargain regardless."
Ukiake bows his white head respectfully. "Of course. I swear it. Thank you again, Kukaku. I'm in your debt."
"Bring my brother back alive and we'll consider the matter settled. If that's our business concluded I'll bid you farewell, Ukitake. I trust you know your way back to the Seireitei." Kukaku abruptly climbs to her feet and starts towards the deceptively plain entrance of her underground abode.
The audience, as much as she's willing to give, is done. She'll feel much better when that cursed blight is burned to cinders but she'll settle for those notes being removed from her property. On the other hand, Ukitake doesn't move. He is silent for a long moment while gathering his thoughts. It takes a minute before he's ready to speak again.
This time, he speaks with a more somber tone that halts Kukaku in her tracks. "You should know that I've recently journeyed to the World of the Living. As you can understand, I'm not at liberty to reveal the details of that mission as a matter of confidence, however I can tell you that... during my time there, I saw Kaien. Spoke with him."
Kukaku is visibly struck by the frank admission. Belatedly, she realises that explained the Captain's lighter mood.
Kukaku closes her eyes and composes herself with a steady inhale through the nose and exhale out her mouth. She asks over her shoulder, "... how did he seem?"
"Tired. Very tired," Ukitake answers honestly, "But as well as he has any right to be. He's not changed much as far as I could gather. I'd go as far as to say not at all, not in the ways that truly matter."
Kukaku's lips twitch up into a smile, "I see."
"We need only a little more time. A fortnight at most but I will fulfil my promise to you and deliver him safely home." Ukitake speaks with such conviction that Kukaku finds herself taken by it, "I beg your patience until then."
Its an effort to bite back the childish prang of ferocious jealousy at hearing Ukitake confess to seeing her brother again before she could. Despite that she feels her spirits paradoxically grow lighter as though a great weight's been lifted off her shoulders.
At last, she speaks, "I spent sixty years believing he'd never come back to me. To any of us. Compared to that, what's two more weeks?"
Ukitake smiles softly, expresses his gratitude once more and takes his leave with the satchel. Watching him and that cursed research disappear over her shoulder, Kukaku feels as though she has been relieved of another burden. She sighs a shuddering breath for two more heartbeats. Her brother, nearly home. The thought scrubs away her anxiety, replaced by giddy excitement. She still wants to kick his ass to the Soul King's palace and back, but decides she'll let him off with just a light bruising... this time.
Kukaku strides back to her house and descends the staircase into the facilities below. As soon as she hits the main floor, she spies her two retainers on standby and relays her instructions. "Shiroganehiko, Koganehiko, unpack storage room 3 and make sure everything's washed and returned in pristine condition. Make up a room too, the larger empty quarters should suffice."
"Yes Master." They bow in unison and set about their task.
Kukaku watches them go, hand on her hip and her eyes close while she imagines the days her brother will finally cross the threshold, loud and boisterous and cajoling. They must prepare a feast, Kukaku decides. A banquet filled with their brother's favourite foods. She'll rope Ganju into prep-work. The brat's been sullen lately, and tossing him in the kitchen to whip up a fancy spread might be just the thing to lift his spirits.
Without meaning to, Kukaku finds herself back in the where she'd set up Kaien's shrine and again she marvels at how much things had changed in only a few short months. She remembers idly musing about what Kaien would've thought about Ichigo and wonders if they'd crossed paths in the World of the Living. A thought occurs and her eyebrows shoot up.
Wait... instead of being a baby cousin; what if Ichigo was actually a baby nephew?
The thought lingers for a half second then she throws her head back with a loud hearty laugh. The first honest laugh in days, it feels like.
No, Ichigo Kurosaki's probably the offspring of another family member who hid in the human world. It could be that Kaien doesn't even know about him at all, and the whole thing is sheer coincidence. Though she finds that highly unlikely.
Regardless, she'll be able to ask those questions herself before too long.
"Soon," Kukaku promises the grinning photo, her lips pulling into a wistful smile, "You are going to get such a talking to when you get back."
The next morning, and at his suggestion, Ichigo and Rukia found their way to the abandoned part of town where Ichigo and Kaien frequently trained together in recent weeks.
It feels strange to be in his Shinigami form without the comfortable weight of Zangetsu pressing against his back and he instantly regrets musing upon its absence. Thinking about his sword brings forth feelings of melancholy, resignation, anger and resentment. And not all of it is his own.
But as an attempt to quell a sense of helplessness before it could take root, he's taken Rukia up on her offer to teach him kido techniques while they awaited news of a replacement from Kisuke.
Ordinarily Ichigo would grumble and complain about being up so early on a weekend but their enemies clearly aren't sitting on their loreals doing nothing while he's sulks. If Ichigo wanted to keep up with their enemy's pace, he couldn't afford to sit idle. Not when it's abundantly obvious Aizen and his cronies weren't going to leave Karakura town alone in the foreseeable future.
They were already hard at work for an hour with the theoretical aspect of the craft. By which Ichigo means Rukia used her crappy illustrations to explain the concept of fine reiatsu control and spell weaves. Though despite her efforts to embellish the explanations with her trademark bunny sketches, the textbook dry terms nearly bored Ichigo to asleep. She explained in needlessly convoluted terms that incantations and spell runes were used as a mental key shape one's reiatsu into the required size and output for the spell to work effectively. The more control one possessed and the greater their memory retention, the more refined the spell would become.
In a flash of insight, Ichigo abruptly observed during one of her strangely longwinded explanations that the spells were like poetry. Equating the chants to rhyming lines and verses forming into stanzas to invoke certain patterns and imagery. Rukia was thoroughly taken by the comparison and reworked her explanations to fit around the metaphor, which made that subsequent discussion a lot easier to follow.
Having concluded the theory, Rukia gave him his first task; learning how to summon and project his raw spirit energy in a refined manner.
At first Ichigo thought it would be a snap. He channeled energy into that Reishukaku when he infiltrated the Seireitei and he actively funneled his reiatsu into Zangetsu whenever he'd prepared to launch a Getsuga Tenshou. He remembered the trick Ganju showed him (totally because the oaf needed the practice and totally not because he genuinely wanted to help without swallowing his pride, of course). Ichigo thought the concept would've been similar enough that he could apply what he'd learned to this lesson. Unfortunately he soon discovered its a lot harder to project and hold his reiatsu in a condensed shape without an external object to function as a crutch.
A dozen times in about ten minutes now he tried to conjure up a simple ball of reiatsu as per Rukia's instructions and part of a rudimentary control exercise. To excruciatingly limited success; his attempts kept fizzling out, guttering like a candle or utterly refused to coalesce into a ball at all. Twice it blew up in Ichigo's face without warning, knocking him and Rukia flat on their backs. Rukia wacked him with her sketchbook when she'd recovered with that disapproving scowl after the second time.
"It's as much about your breathing as it is about concentrating on your energy. Your breathing and movement of your hands were out of rhythm and it caused the reiatsu to expand violently out of control." She lectures him, wielding her scolding tone while dusting debris off her hakama.
Ichigo curses under his breath, hands twitching from the numerous tiny burns he's collected over the course of their session as red blotches.
Rukia huffs, kneeling down at his side. "Give me your hands."
Ichigo doesn't protest when green healing energies pour over his hands and soothe his wounds. "Damn it. What am I doing wrong here? I can't seem to get this stupid thing to work. I'm trying to follow your instructions to the letter but the breathing and focusing exercises you're trying to teach me are doing jack to help me focus. They're more distracting than anything else."
"I'm teaching you the same way I and everyone else was taught. Or trying to." Rukia responds firmly.
Ichigo grumbles quietly to himself but doesn't say anything else until Rukia's finished treating his hands. He flexes his fingers experimentally, satisfied there's no pain before jumping to his feet. Of course, its now of all times that his mobile begins ringing.
"What now?" Ichigo groans annoyed, fishing out his phone from his robes to check the caller idea.
He realises too late that Rukia can see the screen too. Which means she sees Kaien's name in bright white letters against the black background.
"Oh, um..." Ichigo stammers suddenly extremely awkward and fretful. He always intended to tell Rukia about her former mentor is still alive (or came back to life?) at some point but it never felt like the right time. Too many competing priorities kept pushing that conversation down the road. But he'd never intended such inflammatory news to be delivered like this.
"Aren't you going to answer it?" Rukia urges.
Ichigo stare at her, nonplussed by her rather blasé reaction.
Rukia rolls her violet eyes, "Yes I know. Kaien's alive. We've spoke after that last attack while you were still unconscious. Oh, don't look at me like a slack jawed idiot - answer him already! It's rude to keep the Lieutenant waiting." Rukia reprimands.
"Hey kiddo. How's it going?" His cousin greets brightly over the loud speaker when Ichigo dumbly follows her command.
It shakes Ichigo from his stupor and he grunts, "I've already told you to stop calling me that."
Kaien ignores him and Ichigo can easily picture that idiot's grin on his face. "Oh fantastic. Sounds like you're in a far better mood today. Glad to hear it."
"What do you want? I'm busy." Ichigo demands flatly.
"Hey, don't speak to him like that." Rukia admonishes in defence of her former superior.
"Oh, is Kuchiki with you? Am I on loud speaker?"
"Yes you are. I'm busy. I ask again what do you want?" Ichigo repeats grumpily.
"Settle down. I'm only checking in. Certain, erm, harsh words were exchanged yesterday and I wanted to make sure everything's okay...? There's no lingering issues...?" Kaien trails off. For a split second his elder cousin sounds self-conscious, genuinely worried about Ichigo's reaction.
"I'm fine." Ichigo grumbles. "I'm a big boy with a thick skin; I can handle a few mean comments."
"Yeah. Still, I'm sorry. I promise he means well but he tends to be an ass about it." They hear Kaien clear his throat, "Anyways my offer's on the table. Promise me you'll give it some thought, alright?"
Ichigo spares a glance towards Rukia who returns a confused questioning look. "Yeah, I'm thinking about it. But anyways if you're done pestering us I'd like to get back to training now if you don't mind."
"May I ask what you're training?" Kaien inquires curiously.
"I'm trying to tutor him with Kido. Trying being the operative term." Rukia announces to Ichigo's consternation.
"Ah." They hear him click his tongue, "Dare I ask how that's going?"
Is it Ichigo's imagination or did his cousin sound a little morose and perhaps disappointed?
"No." Ichigo answers bitterly.
"His reiatsu blew up in his face. Twice." Rukia reports and Ichigo scowls at her, grumbling a protest.
"Twice." Kaien repeats bluntly, inhaling sharply. "And that would be your ancestors are spinning in their graves, Ichigo."
"Both of you can bite me." Ichigo grouses. "If you're really that concerned about my Kido training, get your lazy ass over here and teach me yourself. You said you would."
"Hey. Watch your tone." Rukia chastises him in defence of her Lieutenant.
Kaien sniggers at his former student, "Yes I know and I'd loved to, but I can't. I've got urgent business to tend to today and that takes priority. That being said, I do have a little free time to talk through any issues. Lay it on me; what's the problem over there Kuchiki? Is it the rudimentary exercises or have you tried teaching spells first?"
"We're going through basic channelling and breathing exercises to help improve my control." Ichigo admits slightly embarrassed.
Rukia gives him a long look and a beat of silence follows.
"My, Kuchiki, your voice has dropped a few octaves. Might want to get that checked out because if I didn't know better I'd say that sounded like Ichigo answering me just now."
Rukia pinches the bridge of her nose, exasperated. "Oh good grief, here we go..."
Ichigo sucks on his teeth, then speaks with deceptive calm. "Hey Kaien, theoretically speaking, is there some sort of Kido I can learn to reach through a phone and strangle someone? Asking for a friend, I swear."
"Nope." Kaien chirps happily, "But that sounds incredibly useful. If you ever figure anything out make sure to let me know."
Worst part Ichigo can hear that cheesy grin and it makes him want to find his cousin and whack him a few times for good measure.
Ichigo groans, dismayed. "Why are you like this?"
"A question I've asked myself every day since I met him." Rukia mumbles under her breath.
Kaien ignores them and returns to the subject matter at hand. "If I might offer a friendly suggestion Kuchiki, skip the exercises. Give Ichigo a basic spell for casting practice instead."
"He barely has any control. What good would that do?" Rukia points out.
"Maybe, but I'd wager he doesn't have a focus either." The former Lieutenant returns, "When it comes to Kido a person's either a theoretical or a practical learner; Ganju had the same problem with the basics. Couldn't understand how to apply the theory for love nor money either, but aced the practical side once someone showed him what was what. I have a hunch Ichigo's the same. The intention behind control exercises is to develop efficiency for someone with limited reserves of reiatsu. They're perfect for your average neophyte but Ichigo has mountains of the stuff. That in mind, you safely can bypass those steps I think. Give him a spell shape and focus on reliably casting that first. Once he gets the feel for it, refinement can always come later."
Rukia puts a finger to her lip in thought, "I suppose we could give it a shot. He can't do any worse than he is now."
"Hey!" Ichigo barks.
"Can't hurt either way - ah crap, sorry. I gotta go. I'll let you two kids have fun. Out of curiosity, it's just the two of you over there, is it?"
"Yes." Rukia answers.
"Oh. Oh, okay."
That knowing tone sets both Ichigo and Rukia on edge. Ichigo because he's learned very quickly his older cousin adores taking every opportunity to needle and tease (demonstrated most recently by this conversation), Rukia because she used to be his subordinate and student and knew precisely the kind of mischief he could get up to, having fallen victim to it personally numerous times herself.
Both of them knew that tone very well.
"Why do you ask?" Rukia questions cautiously.
"No reason." That sly tone set off alarm bells in their brains.
"Kaien what are you thinking?" Ichigo asks sceptically.
"Hm? Nothing." Kaien responds too quickly with that faux innocence that always heralds trouble.
Ichigo warns darkly, "Kaien-"
"Absolutely nothing. As you were." Kaien cuts off. "I've got places to be. I'll let you two kids get back to it. Have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do... oh and Kuchiki?"
Rukia arches an eyebrow, "Yes?"
They can practically hear the conspiratorial snigger. "Let me know if I have to schedule an Omiai with Byakuya, won't you?"
Beep.
The line goes dead.
"Wha-?!" Rukia sputters, cheeks cherry red.
"Wai - That son of a bitch hung up!" Ichigo screams into the phone, flustered and red-faced. "Oh, I'm going to find him and I'm going to kill him again."
Rukia groans, covering her blushing face with her hand. Then after taking a minute to compose herself and willing her cheeks to stop flushing an embarrassed red, she forces her next words out through gritted teeth, "Let's... just try Byakurai."
As it turns out, his elder cousin's hunch was right on the money.
Sure, Ichigo's reiatsu was still exploding, but it was exploding away from them as a ball of static instead. They kept at it for another three hours. Rukia demonstrated the spell and coached Ichigo through the motions. It took him a dozen tries but he managed a relatively potent albeit omnidirectional Byakurai.
It knocked them flat on their backsides again but Rukia was thrilled and encouraged him to keep going. Every subsequent spell was incrementally better than the last, until by the end of their three hours Ichigo could fire a lightening bolt from his palms. They only flew about ten feet before exploding into a metre wide sphere of static electricity but Rukia insisted that much progress in four hours was astounding (including the hour they spent going through the theory).
They probably would've persisted if not for two things. One; they were getting hungry and hunger isn't conducive to a good learning (or teaching) experience. Two, Kisuke called, informing them his contacts pulled through and a new sword was waiting for Ichigo at Urahara shop.
Ichigo's eager to get his hands on that new sword and hopefully make some headway (though he kne he'd have to cross that bridge eventually, he's decidedly less eager to face his despondent Zanpakutou and supremely pissed off Shiro).
The pair have to pass through a commercial district to on their way to Urahara's shop, which means they could quell their first problem on the way to handling their second.
Rukia's halfway through giving him a few extra tips and some important feedback on his progress, when something across the street catches Ichigo's eye.
"Wait a damn minute." Ichigo snarls, suddenly furious.
Rukia follows his gaze and witness a very familiar individual sitting in a restaurant by the window, apparently deep in an enthralling conversation with a beautiful woman with glasses and dark hair tied in a long braid, she's wearing a stylish black mini skirt and trendy black and white jacket to match. Though more reserved, she too seemed quite taken by their discussion.
"Are you kidding me?!" Ichigo hisses, stalking his way across the pedestrian crossing around about the same time the woman excused herself for something.
"What?" Rukia follows his gaze and her eyes widen in recognition."
"I don't believe this." Ichigo growls, barging into the restaurant and slamming his hands down on the table, causing his cousin to jump in fright.
"Did you seriously ditch us to go on a date?!" Ichigo explodes, uncaring of the questioning glances aimed his way.
Kaien has the grace to look like a deer in the headlights, his wide eyes shifting focus between Ichigo and Rukia who trailed behind him.
A beat later, he shrugs a shoulder. "Pretty much."
"This was your 'urgent business'? I'm disappointed Lieutenant." Rukia chimes in, arms crossed over her chest.
Kaien raises his hands in defence, "Look I cherish you both dearly, you're not the centre of my universe. I have a life too."
Ichigo's about to launch into a whirlwind of indignation before another voice interruptions.
"You lied to me."
Kaien's date announces dryly, snatching their attention away from the argument.
She's silent as a wraith, this one. She'd returned without so much as a noise or anything to indicate her presence.
Unimpressed emerald green eyes peer down at them scrutinizingly, shifting between her date and the two uninvited guests over the rim of her glasses. She's apparently gone off to retrieve tall glasses of iced tea, which she'd already set down on the table while they were distracted. Now her arms are folded over her chest with a single eyebrow arched and her lips were set in a thin line.
"I beg your pardon?" Kaien ventures cautiously.
Her hard gaze lands on him and she speaks cold,y "You said you didn't have children."
"Wha-?" Kaien blinks, wrong-footed.
"He's not-"
"We're not-"
Rukia and Ichigo hurriedly rush to deny the accusation but its too late.
"Liar."
Without another word, the tall woman turns on her heel and stalks away. Kaien feebly reaches for his date with an attempted protest but she's already out of earshot. Five seconds later he collapses back in his chair, slack jawed in utter devastation.
Ichigo and Rukia wince, overwhelmed by guilt and shame at how crushed their mutual mentor is, helplessly watching the dark haired woman disappear into the crowd. The trance is broken by Kaien inhaling sharply - furiously - through his nose.
The three are silent, save for the gentle clinking of ice in Kaien's glass when he reaches for his drink.
"Uh... um, we..." Ichigo ventures awkwardly, his anger vanished entirely. He's half-way through stammering out an apology while Rukia snatches his sleeve and is already half dragging him away.
"W-we should probably go." Rukia suggests quickly, fretfully.
"Wise decision." Kaien sips his iced tea, his tone completely devoid of emotion which they both know is a very very bad sign. His lip and cheek are twitching slightly, holding back a flood of fury. "I'll pick you up this afternoon, Ichigo. Pack a bag for two weeks and go get your sword from Kisuke."
Ichigo gives a tiny frightened nod.
A fierce green gaze lands on the pair.
"Bye."
They promptly and wisely getting the hell out of there.
Five minutes later, Lisa returns with two small dishes of dipping sauce she'd prepared at the serving station further into the restaurant, hers is more on the spicy side while the one she'd prepared for Kaien is more salty.
She returns to the table and is pleased to note the servers had delivered their platter of fresh meats, seafood and vegetables while she was gone, but her date is completely unresponsive. Hunched over, shoulders bouncing and red-faced, tears streams down his cheeks and he's biting down on his fist hard to prevent himself from exploding with hysterical laughter.
The treacherous corners of her lip twitch upwards, "Do I need to give you a couple minutes?"
Every attempt to answer her question ends with a breathless incomprehensible wheeze. He'll be at this for a while and Lisa resigns herself, rolling her eyes. But it is infectious and she doesn't stop herself from quietly chuckling. "Suffice it to say, I won."
Kaien nods silently, face buried in his hands.
They'd sensed the sprites not ten minutes ago. Lisa bet the kids would find them and cause a scene, Kaien bet they wouldn't even notice. That little bit of improv theatre was largely off the cuff but no less entertaining. Lisa's only regret is she couldn't see the dumbfounded expressions on their faces when Kaien told them to scram.
Damn it. Why is there never a hidden camera around when you need one? That would've been a hilarious page in the photo album and the perfect blackmail material for years to come.
"Might've overdone it with the kids comment." She muses then shrugs. "Are you okay?"
"I-I'll be fine just... the looks on their faces..." He trails off breathlessly giggling to himself like a man possessed, whipping the mirthful tears away with his thumb and the back of his hand, "Oh, I am a total bastard."
"Won't stop you from milking this for all its worth."
"Nope." He hiccups.
"Go wash your face and calm down, you silly man. You sound drunk." Lisa reprimands, reaching over to slap his arm. Kaien laughingly excuses himself to go do exactly that.
"I'm dating that idiot." Lisa sighs to herself picking up her iced tea for a sip, "There's no accounting for tastes I suppose..."
Author's note:
A bit of a funnier chapter. But the 13th are prepping for their new LT. Kukaku's unpacking and setting up Kaien's room and yeah. I just wanted to have a little fun with this chapter. The moral of the story here is: Don't prank a chronic prankster.
Regards,
Aurora313