.
.
There are many many things being whispered about the young General Kurosaki at court.
For someone of his station and office, he is unusually young. Barely out of his twenties, yet he has already served in three separate war campaigns. The latter garners a begrudging nod of acknowledgement from his older peers but only barely just.
It is fairly obvious at the imperial court from the very beginning that the majority of the courtiers have something against the young general. They whisper that he is too rash, arrogant, still wet behind the ears and in over his head with his ideals: aggressively advocating for war in response to the invasion of the Hun army at the northern borders of the country, when the older officials clamour for a peace treaty. To make matters worse, he is a half-blood- the latter most outrageously evident in his bright orange hair and angular features.
The Kurosakis are a clan of hardened warriors charged with the country's defenses at their Western borders. They have always been eccentric and their time away from court, the glory and the crowning jewel of the empire that is the great imperial city, have rendered them almost half-feral, nigh indistinguishable from the barbarians that thread beads into their hair and painstakingly mark their faces, wearing their ink like a badge of honour.
The general consensus is that the clan has lost their ways generations ago. Now, no honourable clan leader of a good and reputable household would ever agree to have one of their own matched and linked to the Kurosakis by marriage. Their dishonour has never culminated more egregiously than in this generation.
Some twenty years ago, Kurosaki Isshin- the then young master of the family and heir apparent lost his sense of propriety and all resemblance of common sense. He was bewitched and utterly smitten with a wild feral chit- the only daughter of the chieftain of a nomadic tribe. He was determined to wed no one but her.
That is, as far as many are concerned, the straw that broke the camel's back and the beginning of the end of the ancient and noble household. The Kurosakis have sullied their honour, corrupted their bloodline and betrayed their creed.
The foolish boy broke off the original marriage brokered for him with a good, sensible maiden of a reputable pedigree in the Imperial City, taking off after the barbarian girl with a stolen horse and spent at least a decade living in exile among her and her people until the current emperor granted him mercy and clemency upon his ascension to the throne.
To the court's vexation and dismay, the emperor has accepted the disgraced general back into their folds with open arms and openly acknowledged the existence of the latter's half-blood brood. As such, the current generation of Kurosaki children from the main family- the male heir and two girls, boast distinctively sharper features, lighter-coloured hair (barring the middle child), an unnatural litheness to their movements when riding astride; and above all, a sort of curtness that is most unbecoming, even when talking to their elders and societal betters.
Kurosaki Ichigo is not one of them and he will never be. One of these days, the emperor will see the boy for what he truly is- a barbarian, a boy playing at being a soldier; utterly undeserving of the emperor's esteem and favour.
Yet, despite what the courtiers think of the emperor's new favourite, frowning disapprovingly at his brash manners and apparent foreignness, Kurosaki Ichigo is an adept player of xiang qi. He may be of two worlds but he has been brought up to appreciate and understand both sides of his heritage. Politics is a necessary evil no matter which world he finds himself in.
Seated opposite his father, General Kurosaki the Younger watches with a deep-set scowl, eyebrows furrowed as his father's black horse chess piece moves down the file, capturing his soldier. It is a fair move- a necessary sacrifice on his part so he can move his own horse into position and remove the black chess piece.
Sacrifices are common in the game and Ichigo knows how to make the most of them, just as he knows that in order for him to lead his own army in the battle against the Huns, he would have to accept the co-leadership with the retired General Kuchiki.
The emperor cannot continue bestowing more imperial favours upon him. The emperor may be understanding and open-minded, uncaring of his lineage, openly supportive even, but the courtiers and noblemen at court are more than wary of his unusual hair colour and half-blood status.
Xenophobia is a default setting among courtiers at court and thanks to his half-blood status, Ichigo is more or less treated as an outsider. This is the only way to quell the voices of dissent from the conservative political faction at court. They need assurance that he would not betray his country and the emperor's trust.
As the emperor's new favorite at court, Ichigo knows that he already stands out too much from his peers in both appearance and manners. It would have been a dangerous move to make, establishing more political enemies for the young general when he is already at odds with the more powerful faction at court and treated with much wariness by his peers.
Favours, where unmerited, will only put Ichigo, who is already teetering at the edge, at a more precarious position. Certain ruination awaits should he carry on down that path. Jealousy is a terrible thing and the courtiers at court are as unscrupulous as they come by. They wouldn't think twice about making an example of the young general, hobbling and crippling him; clipping a young falcon's wings before he can take to the skies and soar.
Ichigo needs to prove himself and show his worth at court. His prowess on the battlefield and victory would act as the strongest deterrent to any objection to his future progression at Court. After all, at the war-front, another set of rules apply. Here, Ichigo is allowed to be what he is, allowed to be what the empire and the emperor needs him to be- a sharp sword unsheathed, unaffected by the malicious whispers that plague the court.
All this Ichigo knows, but the knowledge does not stop him from sulking and that sourness in his mood is reflected in his game play, more vicious than normal and refusing to cut his father slack. The game between them is about to end and Ichigo's victory is all but guaranteed as his general chess piece crosses the separation zone.
With a loud groan, his father pouts, "Oh Masaki, see how ill-tempered our son has become! Ichigo is so mean to his papa!"
"Can it, Old Man!" he grouses. He launches his attack with the General chess piece and easily checkmates his father.
Crocodile tears begin to spill but Ichigo barely bats an eye at the dramatic display.
"No fair! Papa demands a rematch! Come on, be a good sport! Humour your father! One more game- that's all I ask!"
Ichigo rolls his eyes. "That was what you said before the last game! Now let go! General Kuchiki should be here any minute now."
Beyond his military prowess, General Kuchiki is also known for being an accomplished poet, a learned scholar. Tall, pale-skinned and blessed with aristocratic features, Kuchiki Byakuya is an undeniably handsome man whose beauty once brought a street procession to a halt with just a flash of his smile. In his prime, the man fended off the attack of the invading Hun army of fifty thousand with a significantly smaller army, striking fear so deeply into the heart of their enemies that no Hun dared to encroach the borders for the next decade or so.
His men gave up their lives valiantly for the cause, with only a handful of them returning from the blood-soaked battleground that day. The stoic general lived to tell the tale, receiving a hero's welcome upon his return to the Imperial City but the experience changed him. Many say that he lost more than his sword arm that day; his fighting spirit was wounded and he retired shortly after, claiming that he no longer finds himself worthy of being in the emperor's presence. Since then, no one has seen him at court but his legacy- the legend of that man who stood and held his ground against the entire Hun army remained.
Social niceties aside, Ichigo respects the older man for what he sacrificed to secure the safety of the borderlands. He came out of retirement in the country's time of need and Ichigo wants to, at the very least, leave a good impression on the man. His father on the other hand, is determined to be uncooperative to the very last moment.
Isshin gives his only son another pout, his hands tightly gripping at the wooden chess board that Ichigo is adamant to fold away. He refuses to budge even as Ichigo gives him a deep scowl.
"Let the fuck go!"
"Report for General Kurosaki!"
"Enter!"
Both men turn their heads instinctively towards the messenger. The man that rushes into the tent is short and a little stout. His armour clinks as he makes his way in, bowing to his superiors. His black hair is shorn close to his temple and he is noticeably nervous as he stutters, "G-General Kuchiki- h-he is he-here! B-But-"
The soldier gulps, averting his gaze as he trails off. Ichigo scowls in response. He does not recall having such timid men serving under him.
"Speak up! What about the General?" Ichigo growls.
"T-The General that is to say, General Kuchiki um-"
Deciding that he has had enough of the soldier's useless stuttering, Ichigo pushes past the man. He lifts the flap of his tent up just in time to see a figure alighting from his horse. The horse he has no problems with. It is a good horse. Magnificent, even. Shiny coat, meaning it was well cared for; white flank, white mane and white tail.
The rider though- that he definitely has a problem with. He is altogether not who nor what Ichigo is expecting.
The man- or rather boy, standing in front of him doesn't look a day past sixteen; short and elfin, barely coming to the top of Ichigo's shoulders and weighed down by a heavy set of armour, so much so that Ichigo wonders how he managed to get on the horse.
Full apple cheeks, bright eyes and fresh-faced, the first word that comes to Ichigo's mind is: cherubic. He looks like a recruit fresh out from the academy, the goody-two-shoe kind hailing from a reputable family, whose grandfather probably served as a cabinet minister at some point. Not ugly-looking, but at the same time, hardly the sort of peerless beauty lauded to have brought a bustling street to a complete standstill.
This is not the eminent General Kuchiki. Ichigo is certain of it when he sees the boy's two good hands, the left clasped over his right, thumbs tucked, his head bowed deferentially in greeting. His hands are callused perhaps from the use of a sword, but definitely present and intact.
Ichigo frowns. "Who the fuck are you?"
.
.
.
Rukia raises her head, finally getting a good look at the man. She has heard a thing or two about the young general, but idle gossips do not do justice to the man's exotic and sharp features. It is true what they say. The general's hair is long and wild, vibrant like the colour of fire and ripe mandarin oranges that mark the beginning of a new year. She has never seen such colourful hair and a part of her childishly wonders what it would feel like if she were to reach out and touch it.
She hastily withdraws her gaze, not wanting to seem rude, especially when there is a crowd gathering around them. She tightens her grip around the reins of her mount, willing herself to be brave.
There is no backing down from this; no looking back.
Rukia clears her throat, for once thankful for her low-pitched voice. "I hail from the House of Kuchiki. General Kuchiki Byakuya is my father. I have come in his stead to serve. I have here, a letter of appointment and the conscription notice from the emperor."
Rukia keeps her head bowed low, reverently holding out the golden yellow mandate with both hands, raising it above her head.
Ichigo squints at Rukia in distrust even as he receives the mandate and unfurls it. The imperial seal burns scarlet and indelible against the white of the silk scroll. The weight of the scroll is heavy in his hand. The mandate is not forged, of that, he is certain.
Ichigo purses his lips, frowning. Men who have been on the battlefield carry with them a sort of weariness, a heaviness to their steps and a hardened flint in their eyes, their hands reflexively reaching for the hilt of their blades, senses keen and borderline paranoia; those who have killed, doubly so. This boy is so disgustingly inexperienced; too happy at the prospect of serving the nation, jumping at the chance to sacrifice himself for the cause. It makes Ichigo angry just looking at him.
A boy this young and innocent has no business being on the battlefield; could not possibly understand what he is volunteering himself up for.
Besides, Ichigo has never heard of General Kuchiki having a son.
Ichigo's eyes harden. There must be a mistake.
"The emperor said that he is sending me one of his wisest and most trusted men to act as my advisor. Not-" Ichigo looks pointedly at her- "a boy still wet behind the ears and barely out of puberty. How old are you, boy? Do you even know how to wield a sword?"
Rukia's face colours. Her temper rises in indignation, more so when the grown men gathered around them begin to snigger and guffaw. She scowls, clenching her fists tightly.
"Surely the young general should know not to judge a book by its covers? The conscription notice states that it is one man from every household," she replies coolly. "It does not ask for the General Kuchiki Byakuya by name."
"No, you're right. It doesn't. But the emperor clearly appoints your father in the role as advisor in the imperial mandate. Tell me Kuchiki, does your father seek to commit treason by refusing the emperor's summons?"
"My father is an honourable man! He wouldn't dream of committing treason! But the years have not been kind to him and his health is afflicted. We are at war, I would be remiss in my duties, both as my father's son and the emperor's subject, if I were to allow a sick, frail man to enter the battlefield, while I am alive and able-bodied."
Rukia thinks to herself that she must be a horrible daughter indeed. Her father has done nothing to deserve this. Kuchiki Byakuya may suffer from the occasional nightly terrors, but he is otherwise fit and healthy. Yet, here she is, cursing him to an early grave. Rukia sighs, praying that Kuchiki ancestors and her father would one day forgive her for the lies she spouts.
"Then have him take it up with the emperor himself!"
Ichigo scowls. He is a general, a warrior- not a politician. As much as he sympathizes the boy and the predicament with his sick father, this business with General Kuchiki sounds complicated. Ichigo does not want to get involved in this. He has enough on his plate as it is.
"The Tenth Division Army wants no part in politics. I am not in any position to make a decision on behalf of the emperor."
"On the contrary, General Kurosaki, during times of war, you have the authority to challenge even the emperor's direct orders. These are extenuating circumstances. Surely you can-"
"And what would you have me do instead, Kuchiki?" Ichigo snaps. "Look the other way? What should I tell the emperor when he sends his messengers to the camp, asking me about the whereabouts of your father? Would you have me abandoning my morals and betray the emperor's trust by lying?"
The boy has the good sense to look chastised by that, his gaze dropping to his feet. Good, Ichigo thinks. The sooner he realizes it, the better. The emperor's word is law. Lying to the emperor is tantamount to treason. The price of treason is death.
"It's fine if you want to risk your own neck for this, but your actions could very well endanger everyone at camp! We could all be beheaded for aiding and abetting an act of treason!"
Heated whispers break out among the gathered crowd. Rukia feels the weight of their gaze on her back, most of it unkind and unfriendly.
"I am asking you to let me prove myself to you!" Rukia meets his gaze fiercely, a hand on her beating heart as she declares hotly, "I am my father's son and his greatest disciple. I have learned a great deal from him and I humbly request that I be allowed to serve in his stead, to put my knowledge and talents to good use for the emperor and our country!"
Ichigo scoffs. "Are all Kuchikis born silver-tongued?"
Rukia's gaze sears into his, teeth gritting as she retorts, "not any more than Kurosakis born heartless and cruel!"
Ichigo's eye twitches at the jab. He hears his father snickering to his right and angrily glares at the man. Isshin ignores him with roll of his eyes, stepping forward from the crowd to address Rukia.
Both Kurosaki men are tall, broad-shouldered and lean; their skin tanned from hours of training under the sun. Kurosaki Isshin stands tall and unflinching under her gaze. His hair is grizzled, unkempt by the court's standards as he leaves it in a loose ponytail. Unlike Ichigo, he is dressed in plain clothes; still stern, but looking less as a fearsome general, and more of a disapproving elder.
Rukia stills, swallowing thickly though she tries hard to not let her panic show, willing herself to stand her ground. She recognizes the man in front of her. She saw him once at a family banquet, albeit only briefly and she panics, thinking that the older general would recognize her and call her out.
But to her relief, Isshin merely tilts his head at her, curiosity showing. "As entertaining as it may be, insulting my son will do you no favours. You are a good son, who takes his filial duties seriously, I'll give you that much. But even The Great Sage gives precedence to one's moral obligations to the country and emperor over one's birth parents."
"He also advocates for meritocracy," Rukia replies coolly. "Those who can achieve greatness should be given the opportunity to shine without judgment cast on his background and from whence he came."
Her gaze travels to meet that of Ichigo's, her voice echoing with determination. "I challenge the young general to a match!"
The crowd gathered around them still, suddenly quiet. Isshin arches an eyebrow at her.
"I ask General Kurosaki Isshin to act as witness. If I win, then it proves that I have a right to remain in the camp. I will take over my father's position as advisor and co-leader of the division with blessings and permission from both generals. I will be afforded the same courtesy and amenities as befitting of my father's rank and station."
"And if you lose?"
Rukia gulps. "Then I will leave the camp and never speak of the matter ever again."
Ichigo folds his arms. "What would you do if I refuse to answer your challenge?"
"Nothing," Rukia replies. "As general, you are free to ignore the challenge issued. I certainly cannot force you to accept the challenge. But I would have no choice but to think of you as cowardly, too afraid to take up the challenge because you know that you would lose."
She turns to the crowd, her voice ringing loudly. "How do you all feel, serving a cowardly general, who runs away with his tail tucked between his legs at the first sign of trouble?"
Ichigo scowls. The boy is prickly and even more troublesome than he had ever imagined. He is baiting him. Ichigo would be blind not to see through his scheme, yet he is not in any position to refuse him. A good general leads by example. How can he look to inspire confidence and loyalty among his men if he backs down so easily?
"The terms of your challenge seem unfairly biased to me," he replies at length, "It seems like you as the challenger have nothing to lose. I will humour you and your stupid challenge if you agree to add on this stipulation."
"Name it!"
"If you lose, you will concede your defeat before the entire army, admitting that you are a lesser man and promise to do anything that I ask of you."
"If it is within my power-"
Ichigo scoffs. These scholars and their pesky pedantry! His eyes narrow as he cuts Rukia off rudely. "Anything that I ask. Now do we have a deal or not?"
Rukia can feel her palms getting clammy. Yet, she cannot back down. It would look like she is afraid of him if she even hesitates for a second.
"Your terms are acceptable."
"Good!" Ichigo unceremoniously shoves past his father, grabbing Rukia by her hand firmly. "Now name your trial!"
Rukia is shell-shocked at his forwardness, resisting the urge to snatch her hand away from him and slap him across his face for his impudence. How dare he touch a lady's hand without permission!
The sheer impudence!
But then, Rukia remembers that she is masquerading as a man. Ichigo does not mean anything by that. If anything, it is a testament to the success of her disguise. She squashes her discomfort, steeling her face and gripping Ichigo's hand harder in response.
"I challenge you to horse-riding. Your steed against mine across the training grounds. Whoever that crosses the finishing line first wins. No take-backs or do-overs. May the best rider win!"
Ichigo breaks into a grin. He has this one in the bag. The boy does not even know who he is up against. The Kuchiki boy may pride himself as an accomplished rider, but he has nothing on Ichigo. Growing up in a nomadic tribe, he practically grew up on horseback, learning how to ride before he could walk or talk.
"Deal!"
.
.
.
Zangetsu is a magnificent pure-bred Ferghana stallion, fast as the wind, sleek and lean, blending seamlessly into the night with his midnight black coat, save the lone white star marking between his eyes. He is a source of much pride for Ichigo, who received him as a gift from the emperor. Alas, his cantankerous behaviour leaves much to be desired.
Uncut and half-feral, despite Ichigo's best efforts, the horse standing tall and imperious, looking down his nose, or rather snout, snorting at everyone and everything before him. He is notorious among the stablehands for his propensity for biting. He is undiscriminating about his victims, so much so that he has to be given his own stall to stop him from nipping at the other horses.
"Behave!" Ichigo chides at him as he cinches the saddle over the horse. Zangetsu's tail flicks, long legs stomping impatiently. He is off, breaking into a run as soon as Ichigo puts his legs over his back.
Ichigo keeps his reins tight, pulling into a stop just in front of Rukia, who is likewise mounted on her horse. It is a white mare that she rides- sweet and docile, with large brown eyes. Ichigo had offered the Kuchiki a different horse, concerned that the horse he is riding may be too tired to perform her best, but Kuchiki declined the offer.
"Don't come crying to me when you lose, Kuchiki," says Ichigo with a lazy smirk.
Rukia's smile is furtive in response as she bows her head at the man.
"We shall see."
At a loud bellow from Isshin, both riders and horse take off, kicking up clouds of dust and dirt behind them.
Zangetsu is built and bred for speed. He shoots forward like an arrow from the bow, unfettered and free, leaving the pair behind them like a smudge in the background. Ichigo feels the wind in his hair, the sun on his face as the horse carries him through the grounds.
The smile on his lips though quickly freezes, turning into a frown instead when he notices that Zangetsu is circling back. He is going the other way!
Ichigo tugs sharply at the reins, his heels digging into the horse's flanks as he attempts to steer him back to course, but Zangetsu whinnies, tossing his head, teeth showing, his legs kicking and thrashing. The horse refuses to listen. A less agile rider would have been bucked off by now.
Ichigo is forced to admit that he has lost control over the stallion. He throws up his hands with a huff, more or less resigned to his fate, as Zangetsu gallops in the opposite direction.
Uncaring of his owner's sour mood, Zangetsu carries him back to the slow-riding pair. Ichigo sighs, resisting the urge to face palm as he watches the horse prance and dances in front of the mare, his neck arched and tail raised, displaying like a proud peacock. Zangetsu nickers as he circles her, nostrils flaring at her scent, nudging and nuzzling at her face and her neck.
Shirayuki does not take kindly to the advances. Though gentle, she is not without teeth and nips at Zangetsu to show her displeasure, rebuking his advances. When it becomes evident that Zangetsu is undeterred, the mare breaks into a run, carrying her rider over the finishing line with Zangetsu and Ichigo trailing behind closely.
Ichigo hangs his head low in defeat and embarrassment as he crosses the finishing line. He swears he can hear his father's cackles from among the crowd and that just annoys him to no end. To think that he has been bested by a boy at horse-riding, something that comes as naturally as breathing to him!
His pride stings. Karin will never let him live it down if she hears about this, which no doubt Isshin would share as soon as he could, with much embellishments and dramatics, going into much unnecessary detail about Ichigo's defeat at the hands of an unassuming boy.
Ichigo groans at the thought.
"I ought to make you a gelding," Ichigo mutters darkly under his breath as he dismounts, but Zangetsu snorts in response, ignoring the threat. The horse whinnies loudly, his eyes practically boring a hole into the white mare as Ichigo hands his reins over to the two stablehands waiting. It takes the combined efforts of three grown men to finally wrench Zangetsu away, steering him towards the stable with the stallion fighting and writhing against his hold every step of the way.
"I win," Rukia announces with a triumphant grin, her cheeks ruddy and lightly panting from the exertion.
Ichigo grits his teeth, frowning. "You don't play fair, Kuchiki."
The mare is in heat and Zangetsu, like any hot-blooded male, heeds instincts. The urge and need to mate easily overrules his master's demands.
"All's fair in love and war, my general," Rukia tells him, her smile widening.
Ichigo scoffs, shaking his head. Despite his best efforts, his lips twitch upwards, amused by the outcome of the match. He is not a sore loser and like a proper gentleman, knows when to concede defeat graciously.
Kuchiki surprised him. Truly, one should not judge a book merely by its covers. The boy may be sly and a trickster, but he knows his way around horses well enough to use equine behaviour against him. Ichigo would give him that.
"How did you know?" he asks.
"It is known that the emperor has generously bestowed a prized stallion upon the general as a coming-of-age present," Rukia replies. "I believe that a fine rider like yourself, would not bear the thought of harming the intact male. You'd want to see a continuation of his bloodline and see him sire young foals instead. Besides, altering the emperor's gift in any way, shape or form would imply dissatisfaction. Such actions would have been shameful and invited much criticisms."
"Fair enough."
Ichigo nods. Kuchiki proved his point. He has a good head above his shoulders, smart to play to his strengths, capable of making quick deductions and meticulous enough to execute his plans perfectly. He has a way with words, aptly persuading and cleverly trapping his opponents. Ichigo refuses to believe that he has come up with the challenge on the spot, proving once again that Kuchiki is patient and thorough in his planning. More importantly, Kuchiki does not fold easily. He will not blindly follow. He challenges his superior for what he believes is right.
It is as he says. He will make a good advisor- a good replacement for General Kuchiki.
"The Tenth Division Army welcomes you, Kuchiki. But what is your name?"
"My name," replies Rukia dumbly. She curses inwardly. She did not think of that.
Ichigo is still looking at her expectantly and she does not want to give him any reason to suspect her of lying. She grips Ichigo's hand firmly, the words tumbling out of her mouth before she can stop them.
"My name is Ru-Ruki-"
Ichigo furrows his eyebrows. "Ruruki? What sort of name is that?"
The men around her guffaw and snicker. Rukia bristles in response.
"I-It is a pet name! Besides, you're hardly one to talk!"
Ichigo grits his teeth, glaring at the man who named him. Kuchiki isn't completely wrong. Ichigo is, what most would consider, a feminine name. Isshin sheepishly averts his gaze.
Ichigo clears his throat. "Listen up! I will only say this once. My name means 'he who protects', not strawberry. Now, do you want to be known by your pet name among us, Ruruki?"
Rukia can feel her face flushing from embarrassment. He doesn't have to say it like that.
"N-No!"
An amused smirk unfurls on Ichigo's lips as he inches closer to her. "Then, what's your name?"
"R-Ruka," Rukia bites the inside of her cheek. It is close enough. "My name is Kuchiki Ruka! It means 'swift wind'."
Ichigo nods. "Welcome to Wu Shu Camp then, Kuchiki Ruka! May you find your purpose here and serve the emperor well!"
"The honour is mine, General Kurosaki!"
Ichigo tsks. "Call me, Ichigo. It gets confusing when there's two of us around. My men will show you around the camp and your private quarters. You must be tired after such a long journey."
"As you wish."
Ichigo watches as rider and horse fade into the distance, his lips pursed. With them out of an earshot, he calls for his lieutenant. The man that emerges from the gathered crowd is striking and tall, pale with light-coloured hair, so fair that it seems white under the sunlight, and eyes that glint like emerald. He is not from these parts as many would concur, but to Ichigo, he is kin- a Kurosaki in all but name. An orphan that Isshin rescued from desert bandits, Toshiro has been a fixture in the Kurosaki household while the Kurosaki children are growing up. In a few months from now, this bond will be strengthened as Toshiro weds Ichigo's younger sister, marrying into the family.
"Toshiro, with me," Ichigo whispers, his tone hushed as they walk ahead, putting distance between themselves and the other men. "Find out if there is indeed such a person. You were friendly with some of the younger members of the Kuchiki family in the academy right? Reach out to them if you can, see if they know anything about him."
Toshiro nods, briskly walking away, his footsteps measured and quiet.
Kuchiki Ruka- there is just something not quite right about the boy. He sprang out from nowhere, so eager to take the place of his father. At first glance, everything seems normal. Most people would not find fault with his actions. Yet, something doesn't quite add up. Ichigo cannot put his finger on it, but his gut instincts have never steered him wrong.
His eyes narrow at the lone figure in the distance, his head bowed as he enters his tent. The boy is hiding something and Ichigo intends to find out exactly what it is.
.
.
.