"Good evening, Ms. Kuchiki," a familiar voice said to her left.
Rukia had just emerged from the concrete wall of an apartment building, slipping down into the underground parking lot.
What the?
The man standing over six feet tall to her left made a click-clack sound from the clogs on his feet against the cement flooring. She had not sensed him coming closer from his shop. Was that carelessness on her part, or did he mask his spiritual pressure so well that even fresh off the cloud haze of a spiritual reiatsu swarm, she had missed when his spiritual signature had shifted directions?
Whenever a soul reaper enters the World of the Living, a surge of reiatsu assails their proximity, a second before it engulfs them like a swarm of mist invisible to the human eye. For a few disturbing moments, they are subjected to all the spiritual essences of the dead, dying, and the living.
After being dumped from the unnaturally glowing doors of the Senkaimon by the riverside of Karakura Town and then falling gracelessly into the mud and grass, Rukia was treated to the humiliation of rolling down the elevated landscape towards the river's bank. That should never have happened. Not the rolling down-the-slope business. A soul reaper with a hell butterfly shouldn't have been chased like a Ryoka by the Cleaner through the Donghai System.
Thankfully, her tumble slowed far enough from the water's edge to not warrant a plunge, which would have been interesting, if not an instructive exercise in the esoteric paradigm of whether a spirit sinks or floats over water.
Rukia was grateful no one was here to watch her fall on her face with a resounding 'plop!' even over the background noise of a thunderstorm.
Dodged that humiliation, at least. Rukia thought, picking herself off the ground and brushing off her uniform reflexively.
In her spiritual form, the physical repercussions of falling face-first into mud and grass couldn't leave their mark on her uniform or her body. For that honor, she had to put on a GiGai (an artificial human body made in her spiritual likeness) or as close to it as possible. And to acquire a Gigai, Rukia would have to visit Kisuke Urahara's creepy little shop.
If there was any other way to avoid an encounter with that man. She thought helplessly.
Rukia isn't afraid of Kisuke, exactly. Still, ever since her experience with the man and the 'ORB of DOOM' he'd secretly placed in the soul-shell of her GiGai (ergo her soul), the one he conned her into wearing the first time she came to the World of the Living, she's been weary of him and his machinations. Even the most careless humans will learn the wisdom of caution born from a brush with death too close for comfort. A Shinigami is more diligent, knowing all too well the intricacies of death's embrace as they serve as guides to the Night Lands.
Not everyone gets an access pass to the Soul Society. Souls who die a 'true death' either return to the formlessness of the aether that spawned their soul complex or they're sent to hell for a few eons to repent for whatever atrocities they committed in their mortal lives. Rukia didn't know about heaven—not her sphere and above her payroll, being a personification of the death process.
Like elves are to Santa Claus, she helps ferry the souls to the other side of their journey, keeping balance and order in the Cycle of Death on the human plane. And that's if a hollow doesn't devour the soul's essence first; hence, the reason all soul reapers exist. She would be considered a goddess of death in some human lore. But there is a heaven, somewhere magnificent; she's led to believe. Again, not her sphere.
"Your face says you weren't expecting to see me here," Kisuke Urahara said, drawing her out of her thoughts. She had almost forgotten that the man was here, though she was looking at him.
What the hell is happening to me?
His long, easy strides brought him closer to her. Rukia couldn't help feeling her guard doubled regarding this man.
Are you ever where you're supposed to be, Kisuke Urahara? She thought, a little irritated at his sudden appearance and a lot disturbed by it at the same time. There aren't many people who can sneak up on a Shinigami, especially other Shinigamis, exiled or not.
Throughout the battle with those hollows who tried their damndest to devour and kill her, Rukia was able to follow their spiritual signatures perfectly, regardless of how neatly they tried to mask them. Hollows love hiding their presence, like chameleons blending into foliage. It's a natural process for them until they are on the hunt for their next meal. Before this battle, Rukia had never been able to sense hollows on such a minute level. It was eerie how she could tell before they struck out at her where they were coming from, when to dodge, and how fast she needed to move to get out of the way. A still voice in her head kept instructing her in the middle of battle. How strange, not to mention heart-stopping, it was to hear someone else in her head. At first, she thought she was going crazy! Who wouldn't? She'd never had precognitive tendencies before that battle and didn't know where that power was coming from, if it was, indeed, a power. A latent instinct, perhaps?
Ignore it!
This was her first move. After all, she was in a fight for her life here. Taking pointers from an insistent, unknown, uninvited second opinion in her head during a life-and-death battle that she didn't wait for backup for is a bad idea. Dying or being severely wounded and then dying was just not something her pride was willing to take standing up.
For her disobedience of the voice within, Rukia's mid-drift was now sporting a tight, mostly white, bandage where a hollow's claw raked across it, just missing her proper vitals.
It took the combined suffrage of her upper back from a surprise attack on her blind side (which she was forewarned about). Then her left shoulder was burned from an acid spew from the mouth of one nasty hollow (that she was also alerted about) to get her to listen to the voice within, which, strangely enough, sounded like Shirayuki's. And if that was her zanpakuto's spirit, why did it feel like a stranger? For a soul reaper, there is nothing more disturbing than disharmony with your zanpakuto.
Then why was it guiding me throughout the battle? It has never done something like that.
As for disharmony, Rukia has never felt so in sync with her zanpakuto. What does that mean?
Since the battle concluded and up until this moment, she hasn't heard a peep from that voice since the last hollow disintegrated in the column of her ice. Did it only happen because of the battle? What types of conflicts will cause it to occur again? A part of her mind wonders if she would have to endanger herself as thoroughly as she did to hear it again. Hell and damnation! The questions were like quicksand, dragging her down into the unknown. Rukia needed answers, and only by speaking with her Zanpakuto spirit would she silence the burning questions in her head. She hoped.
Will I now have a voice in my head instructing me during every battle?
By seven hells, she hopes not! Yet, a part of Rukia couldn't help the curiosity refusing to keep quiet inside her now that she'd tasted such power. The alacrity of her movements was slime. For the uncountable minutes during the battle, Rukia's reality was reduced to flash-step, parry, lunge, duck, counter-attack, counter-strike, defense spells, offense spells, Shikai attacks, thrust, parry, lunge, defense, counter, and on and on in fluidity. Effortlessly, nearly giddy, she danced to the song of battle.
Change is hard, especially for an entity like the soul reaper species, which ages slower than molasses in winter can move. But what if this change is something she can come to rely on?
Then again... Was that just a fluke? Did I gain access to that power because I was raging mad before I barged into that fight? No, that shouldn't be the case. She answers her own mental question. Anger dulls the senses, not enhance them. When engaging in battle, one's mind must be clear and focused. Anger is not an alley in a battle; it's the quickest path to defeat.
Rukia knew that. Thirteen Hells—she's lived that! Yet she still dived head-first, engaging the enemy, throwing Kidou spells left, right, and center, and Shikai techniques with the same level of abandon, pretending the faces of the hollows were members of the Kuchiki Elder Council. That last hollow she killed, the Menos Grande, was Kaito, without a doubt.
Talk about carelessness. Rukia thought in hindsight.
Thinking back on it now, that was really stupid. No wonder Captain Ukitake gave her a time-out. It's not like she knew that power would show up out of nowhere. And here I was, hoping for a promotion? I'll be lucky if I move up the ranks in the next decade after pulling a stunt like this. Rukia thought miserably, with an internal groan.
Kisuke snapped his fingers in her face a few times, saying in a sing-song voice, "Hello? World of the Living to Rukia-chan?"
Rukia blinked up at the man, feeling embarrassment and irritation flood her. If she had her Gigai on, she could have blushed furiously. Here in the mortal realm, blushing is for humans. The Reishi content is too low in the World of the Living for a soul reaper to blush.
She clears her throat awkwardly. "Are you saying I should have sensed you coming out to meet me from your shop? Were you expecting me? And refrain from associating 'Chan' with my name. We're not that close, Mr. Urahara." It wasn't much of a recovery, with her barely remembering what he'd asked her.
Could he have been expecting her? No, that was impossible. No one else, save Captain Ukitake and the guards of the Senkaimon, should have known that she was in the World of the Living yet.
"Ah!" Kisuke exclaimed craftily. That fan he always carries opened before his mouth to indicate he was smiling. "So you sensed where I was before when you exited the Senkaimon, but you couldn't keep track of my movements afterward; that sounds correct? Or were you not paying attention? Your mind in another direction perhaps?" A blond brow cocked questioningly under that stripped green hat he wears continuously.
Oh! You think so? Rukia thought sarcastically, knowing full well that Kisuke knew exactly what a soul reaper had to go through after entering the World of the Living.
Experiencing the World of the Living for the first time is akin to the Soul Society letting go of the bicycle at the brow of the hill, shouting "Good luck!" through cupped hands to the terrified toddler as they descend the slope at breakneck speeds, their first time riding without training wheels. It doesn't get easier with more visits. No amount of training could have prepared Rukia enough the first time she stepped into the mortal world. Because when a soul reaper gets assigned to the World of the Living and every living, dead, and dying human's spiritual aura and emotional kernel within a ten-mile radius is magnetized to their being, there is simply nothing you can do about it!
Before deploying to the realm of humans, the soul reaper undergoes training given by so-called 'experts' who'd traveled to the World of the Living in their prime. Some three hundred years before Rukia existed! Thank the Seireitei, she didn't follow their suggestions on fashion while on assignment. On a mission, it's strongly encouraged that the soul reaper practice equanimity. But what the hell does that mean when you're faced with that situation?
The mob of emotional and spiritual attributes cascading all over her, crashing through her spirit, and overwhelming her is inescapable! Like ocean-crushing waves, a deranged tide injects Rukia's perspectives with all the regrets of the dead and the dying, the essences of dead and lost dreams, and the spoilage of unfulfilled fruition. Through her spirit, all the lust of the living is filtered, as is all the hatred, malice, and envy of the dead. All the pain and suffering of the dying and the sick.
Pleasures and joys are intense and transitory. Peace is mixed with chaos and confusion. Rukia experiences the mad hunger for power from those seeking more, the embitterment of the losers, laziness, anger, jealousy, hopelessness, the stress of the desperate, the biting ache of loss, and the tragedy of the mournful. The penetrating fear lurking at the edges of every human soul; and the draining list continues. It's enough to drive a reaper to madness, sucking their souls into the nearest, most convenient abyss. And yes, soul reapers can go mad. It's never pretty when they do.
Experiencing this gang of humanity for the umpteenth time, however baptized she was now, it's still core-shakingly scary. It carries as much discombobulation as it did the first time she felt it. Yet the feeling Rukia observes as the process dies down is akin to the muted sounds of a river running right next to someone's house who's lived there all their days. Many might believe there is a difference between emotional and spiritual attributes, but they are only different sides of the same coin, with the common denominator being the scale of 'want' each carries.
Rukia folded her arms under her chest as she addressed Kisuke. "Speak plainly, Mr. Urahara, for I am not in a gentle mood at present, and my patience for riddles is a leaky boat even on the calmest of seas, sir."
Just what was he trying to imply here? Is Kisuke Urahara questioning my abilities to sense reiatsus?
He, of all people, should tread lightly on that subject with her, considering the months it took to nurse her spiritual pressure back to the required health it needed to be after he sold her that Gigai that nearly turned her into a human of all the beings in the universe.
Kisuke Urahara was standing directly in front of her, their height differences much too opaque for Rukia's liking. Rudely, the man bent suddenly to sniff at the air in her personal space, causing Rukia to back up a step away from him.
"What the hell do you think you are doing?" she cried, outraged at his odd behavior.
He smiled at her snit, not bothering to conceal it with his fan this time. From beneath his hat, two piercing eyes looked out at her curiously. The action reminded Rukia creepily of the current captain of Squad Twelve.
"Is that jealousy I smell on your spirit, Rukia-Chan?" Kisuke asked, singing her name jabbingly and pointedly ignoring her polite request for him to stop acting so familiar with her. "He's just a boy, you know!" The man in the striped hat continued, clucking his tongue at her disapprovingly. "And by my estimate, you could be his great-great-great-"
He didn't get to finish that sentence, not with her right hook forcibly in his mouth. Kisuke stutter-stepped two paces back away from her fist, holding his bleeding mouth in his palm. He might be wearing a GiGai and look human, but foundation is foundation, and at the end of the day, Kisuke Urahara was born a spirit in the Soul Society. She could hit him and make it hurt if she wanted to. Right now, that's an appealing idea.
The man was, of course, referring to Ichigo and his activities. Despite the rumors spreading around the Soul Society about her and the substitute carrot top, ridiculous and outlandish as they are, Ichigo is only a friend. Someone she argues with, respects, cherishes, and vice versa.
To Rukia, Ichigo is the brother she never had. He's more relatable than Byakuya could ever hope to be. Rukia can never imagine saying a tithe of what she said to Ichigo in their heated moments of raw honesty to Byakuya and then making up within the hour as if they didn't just volley insults at each other in flight after flight of arguments.
After getting ambushed by that cesspool of humanity, it was almost automatic how easily Rukia picked up the spiritual aura essences of friends and associates she'd known from previous visits.
The first spiritual reiatsu she picked up on was Chad Sado's low spiritual pressure moving about somewhere in the city. Karin's and Yuzu's were next as they were close by, meaning they were not in the direction of their home, and the other souls—faint but unmissable—Rukia sensed among the Kurosaki sisters she wasn't familiar with.
They must be out with their friends somewhere in this stormy weather.
Ichigo's sisters were at the age where they would be looking for part-time work, which their culture found acceptable. Is Ichigo's dad allowing them to do so unimpeded, though? Rukia couldn't see that happening without a fight from the girls. She smiles as an image of the goofy man fussing over his daughters plays unbidden into her thoughts.
Lucky little girls. She sighed.
Then she sensed the former commander of Squad Two faintly off to the east. It was no surprise that the feline woman was nearby in Karakura Town. Lady Yoruichi's activities spread between a few unknown regions in the deepest reaches of the World of the Living, undiscovered by man to this day, back to Karakura Town's central area, according to reports from a specialized group designated to track the movements of the exiles from the Seireitei, handled by Squad Twelve.
Rukia sensed Kisuke Urahara at his shop, pantomiming the life of a human being. By order of Central 46, Kisuke was confined to a Gigai upon his exile to the World of the Living. He is forbidden to return to his home world. For any Shinigami wanting to experience life as a human in all its messy, emotional, tragic, and confusing glory, wearing a Gigai is essential. But just like eating the same meal every day, you become sick of it quickly. Ouch!
She didn't actively seek out Ichigo's spiritual pressure. She didn't have to because the powerful teenage soul reaper could never tame his spiritual pressure. It had been loose and unconcealable from the moment she stabbed him with her katana on the fateful night they first met. If Rukia had to describe Ichigo's spiritual signature, it would be as a loud, piercing bell, clear and distinct even in the crowd of other spiritual signatures and the emotional clouding about her.
It's because of what she felt coming from her friend's spiritual reiatsu, too, why Rukia proceeded in the opposite direction of the Kurosaki household on arrival by Senkaimon three miles away. She had no desire to interrupt Ichigo or whomever he was entertaining at the moment. And with the rain coming down in sheets now, she can understand their 'interactions.' Weather conditions have that effect on humans.
Teenagers will be teenagers.
The notorious thing about humans is that they love to screw, a lot. The notoriously unfortunate thing for soul reapers is that it's an occupational hazard to be enlisted unintentionally as a voyeur privy to the mating rituals of the human race. The whole 'invisibility and emotional sensitivity thing' plus the ability to sense spiritual auras over long distances, can be a double-edged sword. It's difficult not to pick up on things you weren't supposed to feel when visiting the World of the Living.
Being a spirit in the World of the Living has pros and cons, as any job does.
Rukia shook her head as she moved away from the steamy spiritual concoction between the two teenagers (the location Rukia guesses is Ichigo's room given where she was picking up the aether vibrations). Rukia can imagine nothing more mood-ruinous than watching your spiritual friend unexpectedly stroll through your bedroom wall while you're getting it on with your girlfriend. From what Rukia picked up, even from that distance, Orihime's reiatsu is the other spiritual aura meshing so vigorously with Ichigo's right now. No surprise there.
Guess I'm heading to Urahara's first. She had decided.
"You see, that's how rumors get started," Rukia now said sweetly. Her face, however, said nothing of sweetness. "Some idiot starts running their mouth about something they know nothing about. Before you know it, all the tongues are wagging enthusiastically with lies at your expense; wouldn't you concur, Mr. Urahara?" She finished through clenched teeth as she spat his name out of her mouth like a curse.
Kisuke didn't seem bothered by her apparent disdain for his family name. He just grinned at her, showing bloodied teeth, which he swiped at by curving his tongue over them before he turned his head to the side and spat the bloody spittle onto the floor. Rukia wanted to slap that grin off his face.
"It would be foolish to disagree otherwise, Ms. Kuchiki," Kisuke said cordially, recovering and wiping his mouth free of the remaining blood with a handkerchief from his pocket. The man gave her a suggestive wink: "Or will it be Lady Kuchiki within a short passage of time?" He said casually, that fan before his mouth again.
Hearing that, Rukia's eyes tried and nearly failed to escape to somewhere outside of her face through the windows of their sockets; they got so big.
"I've seen open-eyed stares on dead men that were less fixed than the one you're wearing." The man chuckled, amused that his information had such an effect.
Interestingly enough, for a man exiled and excommunicated from the place of his birth, Kisuke Urahara knew everything about the Soul Society's activities most times before those living in the Soul Society, who are supposed to know, knew themselves.
It occurs to Rukia that if a brilliant mind like Kisuke Urahara had taken a chapter out of Aizen's book and turned on the Seireitei, there may not be a Soul Society left after Kisuke-san was done with it. From what she learned about the clandestine details of the former captain's life, it was an unjust ruling, and recent events have provided irrefutable evidence of his innocence. So why not lift his exile and reinstate him to his former post with a heartfelt apology and expensive gifts? Because if his sly creature before Rukia decided to be a bad guy, the current Gotei 13 would be hard-pressed to fight him if he were to turn his cloak. Doubly so if he allied with one of the most powerful Shinigamis in existence, Yoruichi Shihōin, and Master of Kidou, Tessai Tsukabishi, who just happened to work with him at his shop. Exile-lees united in the name of injustice.
Rukia blinked at him and noticed that she was holding her breath, such as it was. As a spirit, she didn't need to breathe in the World of the Living—it's just an old habit left over from her lessons living in a world of mortals a couple years ago.
"It's Ms. Kuchiki," Rukia said slowly, regaining as much of a conversational tone as she could manage in light of that metaphorical boulder Kisuke just dropped on her head so unceremoniously.
How in thirteen hells did he know about that already?!
That happened this morning in the Soul Society. Rukia knew from experience with the man that she wouldn't get a straight answer if she asked him how he knew that, no matter how aggressively she pressed. She should act unconcerned. Yeah, that was the best course.
"I would suggest for the sake of your health that you do not dress me in borrowed robes, sir," Rukia said, though the words had less of a bite than she wanted them to sport. She also tried hard not to call him an asshole. Exiled or not, this man was formerly a captain of the Gotei 13 and a former senior officer.
"Just so!" The man said amiably. He swept his hands with some ceremony in the direction of his shop.
It's been less than a day since the counsel dropped that bomb. How in the name of the Soul King's chamber pot had Kisuke Urahara gotten that tidbit already? What else did he know? Who is this monster beside me right now?
A moment ago, she thought it impossible for Kisuke to know that she would be in the World of the Living. Now, she was eating her conviction.
Her guard had not dropped a fraction since they met, and she'd be damned if she allowed his man to continue to rattle her as he seemed to enjoy.
"Shall we then, Ms. Kuchiki?" Kisuke Urahara asked with emphasis on her name. "On our way there, you will find no mud or grass to fall face-first into; I guarantee it!" the man said expressively.
That stopped Rukia dead in her tracks. Float? Hoovering? Whatever it was! It would seem as if her capacity for surprise had a ways to go before it reached its peak.
"Thirteen hells!" Rukia swore softly, looking up at the man, startled. "How in the name of the Soul Ki-"
"Careful now," Kisuke interrupted her invective smoothly, "there are things we dare not say even if we're in another world."
"You've been spying on me," she accused harshly. That accident happened immediately after she exited Senkaimon. How could he have know that she would be in the World of the Living or predicted where the Senkaimon would appear? That's impossible.
"I've been expecting you," Kisuke deflected coolly.
"Why?" Rukia asked, her eyes narrowing suspiciously. "You couldn't have known I would be sent to the World of the Living at this time or in that place."
"Couldn't I?" the man asked cryptically, one eyebrow suspended in a high arch. "You will find while enjoying the nuances of my company," he smirked at her, "and should I choose to disclose them at my leisure, that the things I'm not supposed to know can fill libraries a thousand times over," Kisuke stated without guile. As if it were a fact on the level of the sun rising in the east.
"But you won't," Rukia stated flatly. "You'll never reveal what you know, will you, Kisuke-san? Not even for the betterment of the Soul Society, your homeworld, or for a price."
The man shrugged nonchalantly before he strode past her, waving his fan carelessly about his face. "Let me lead the way in case you've forgotten," Kisuke said dismissively.
Rukia stood her ground. "What do you want, Kisuke Urahara?"
"Now that is the most open-ended question I've heard in three days," Kisuke said, unconcerned. Then more seriously. "But I'm curious, Ms. Kuchiki, if I tell you my wish, what my most secret, most fervent desire is, will you be able to grant it to me?"
His change in mannerisms and his question gave Rukia pause. When an answer failed to come to her lips, Kisuke gave a disappointed mew and then started walking again.
"What do you want with me?" Rukia restated. "You almost took away everything that I am when you sold me that Gigai. You almost made me into a human, a sacrificial lamb to hide your dirty little secret."
Kisuke stopped walking. He stood with his back turned to Rukia, listening.
"You spy on me. You know things about me that you have no business knowing. Why? Are you so bored with your human existence as to pay heed to the activities of someone as insignificant as me? A soul reaper of no rank or station?"
She didn't realize she was so angered by this man's actions until she started speaking about them.
"You're no insignificant soul reaper, and we both know that," Kisuke told her softly. "No ordinary unseated officer defeats a company of hollows on her own, now does she?"
He turned to face Rukia again. "But I would bet that you had a little, did you?"
Rukia's hand reached for her sword hilt. "How did you?" She stuttered, "How could you...?"
"Know that?" the man said, finishing her sentence for her. If Kisuke felt threatened by her or her weapon, he didn't show it in the slightest.
Why am I the only one getting rattled here? To hell with this. Rukia thought, growing sick of reacting to everything this man spat from between his teeth.
Rukia dawned an impassive mask, determined not to get tripped up by the man again. At this point, as far as she was concerned, the things Kisuke didn't know about her or anyone else that tickled his fancy were the things he didn't want to know.
"I bet that freaked out Ol' Ukitake." He chortled. "Sent you into the world of mortals faster than lightning can flash, did he? You're a smart girl, Rukia. It must have occurred to you that something was off when your captain sent you without assignment to the World of the Living."
This trip to the human world is, in a word, strange. The more Rukia thought about it, the more it felt like she was a child getting a time-out.
"And you're saying you know the reason why I hear that voice in my head?"
"Did you tell your captain about the voice in your head?" Kisuke asked reasonably.
"He would think I'm crazy."
"Oh, but you told me?" Kisuke said, smirking. "Guess you don't really care about what I think," he said, sounding serious for a second.
"What's-what's happening to me, Kisuke-san?" Rukia asked, trying to keep the desperation out of her voice. She wasn't sure if it was entirely successful.
"All will be reviled in time." Kisuke chose to say at that inopportune moment when all Rukia needed was a clear answer she felt he knew but was refusing to give her.
"Goddamn Kisuke!" Rukia exploded.
He smiled at her indulgingly, as one would a petulant child screaming about the unfairness of not getting a cookie. "A wise man's best alley is wisdom; wisdom abounds in silence."
"And a foolish man's downfall is the indiscipline of his tongue; the foolish will never hear the words of the wise," Rukia said, finishing the proverb. "Are you calling me a fool, Kisuke Urahara?"
There was a dangerous softness to the younger soul reaper's tone.
Kisuke lifted his brows, impressed with Rukia's knowledge of a thousand-year-old proverb when many of the denizens of Soul Society wouldn't have known what he was talking about, even among the nobility. Then again, her Lord husband-to-be would not abide ignorance, especially regarding Rukia's education. For the health of his teeth, he will keep that sentence to himself.
"Oh, Ms. Kuchiki, I would never be crude." He gave her a searching look before coming to some personal decisions. "You'll do, Ms. Kuchiki. You'll do." Kisuke said, nodding to himself.
I'll do? Do for what?
Before she could ask, he started walking again.
"You sound like your brother when you get angry. Has anyone ever told you that?" The man in the hat and clogs said this, calling over his shoulder to her. "Come along," he beckons her with that fan that seemed to live in his hand, "the storm is getting worse."