A very good day everyone :)
Here comes Chapter XXIX
Same good disclaimer, reminder and warnings:
Friendly reminder: this story will be slightly AU and some characters might be OOC. For anyone who is not into YAOI, please do not read any further, this is not going to be your cup of tea :) By now, all of you who are continuing to read on and supporting me, I know you know what this story is about, so fear not and please read on :D
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of its characters, they all belong to Tite Kubo-Sensei etc., etc.
WARNINGS: Spoiler alert for anyone who is not up to date with the manga and only watched the anime! Somewhere along the way might contain, but is not limited to include: dark themes, suicidal thoughts, heavy sexual contest, yaoi (again xD) and some other themes not suitable for under-age reader. Read at your own risk and discretion! :3
Our previous chapter really took its toll on me. But, like I said, I'll keep them coming in nice sizes and, unless I screw something up, I won't be posting any humongous chapters like that one (+16 thousand words in one go is really a lot). Although, I may be persuaded to do them in the future. If you liked them that long, I will aspire to continue making such big chapters. In case that you feel more at ease with the slightly shorter, I'll try to make +10 thousand to +12 thousand words my new average :D
Ok, less inner monologue and more reading – enjoy x3
Thank you all for the continuous support ^.^
Chapter XXIX
A sunny day filled the air in Karakura town. Many a resident were delighted at the prospect of working with the Sun's rays warming their backs. Especially, after the quick drizzle from the previous night. Sudden weather changes were not an anomaly, particularly during the time of the year between two seasons. But those were the thoughts of adults.
Quite differently from their adult counterparts, most children, notably those stuck in educational institution of various age groups, felt rather downcast at losing the chance to play outside. Although, they were all cheerful at having a beautiful and radiant day, some were saddened at the prospect of having to sit down in classes and study. Such a day was made for different activities and outings.
Among those learning centers, were also the three high schools in Karakura town, where young teens were receiving lessons in: Arts, Biology, Crafts, Drama, Health, History, Home Economics, Geography, Geometry, Mathematics, Music, Physical Education, Science, Social Studies and many more subjects. Accompanied by a firm regimen and plenty of homework, these institutions were the stepping stones in which most would either find their future calls or generic direction as to what they might be interested and where to go from there on forward.
As it is the case in life, there were those who were less interested in studies and more centered on other activities. Nevertheless, the majority of pupils performed their duties for one reason or the other. Whether it be for a plausible career path, parental influence or the desire to know more. Everyone had their aim or motive to attend.
Nonetheless, it was not uncommon for a pleasant day to positively influence the atmosphere in classrooms. Though, the enjoyable feel, mixed with long lectures resulted in less students paying attention to their instructors than one would appreciate in such facilities. Dozing off, admiring the world outside class or simply doodling in notebooks was a very common occurrence.
In one such high school, looking out the window, sat Kurosaki Masaki. Being a new girl in school, it was surprising to see she relatively easily made acquaintances and friends. Within the first day, she became very close to a number of classmates. Her vivacious and kind personality, attracted people. Everyone wanted to be a part, or as close as possible, to the radiance she emitted.
Still, the little one was at the moment lost to the world around her. She was mildly upset at her cousin for not waking her up, when he saw she was not ready for school. At the same time, she figured it had been her own fault for arguing with Ryuu-chan in the first place. Oh, and the fact she openly disobeyed Quincy tradition, was probably grating her cousin's nerves.
Remembering their disagreement brought forth the main reason she was absentmindedly taking notes of the ongoing lecture. The Shinigami. For as long as she remembered, she had been warned never to cross a Shinigami's path, no matter the reason.
In her opinion, it was sad to see two races, who shared a similar goal, fight among themselves. As far as she was concerned, both Quincies and Shinigami could protect the living from Hollows. Masaki's father gave her a lengthy speech in Quincy and Shinigami abilities, what made them different from each other and the history they shared.
The whole past was written in blood. Though, she was unaware to be one of the rare individuals with the whole story. Opposite to the Shinigami, who were only taught the most recent skirmish, that which claims that about two hundred years ago Shinigami were forced to exterminate their entire race in order to protect the balance of the Worlds.
Even so, according to the data her family had gathered, that had been false, incorrect and untrue. Yes, some of the Quincy families united and protected each other, but never went hunting for Hollows. Thus, there was no way they could have eliminated a sufficient number of Hollows to threaten the balance.
Members of her family had recorded several Shinigami attempts at their lives. There had been something wrong with those Shinigami, as their reiatsu signatures were dissimilar from other, regular Shinigami. These were much stronger and had a dark taint to them. Her ancestors did not have much success in unveiling the source to the mysterious stain in the Shinigami reiatsu.
The number of assassination attempts steadily increased. More and more Quincy families united in hopes of deterring or even stopping the futile tries. Until the moment when all hell broke loose. Angered by the unsuccessful results, the Shinigami started to raise their reiatsu to the point in which hordes of Hollows attacked the World of the Living.
Enraged by the vile and dishonest tactics, a new war began. Even more blood was spilled and the Quincy paid the highest price. Only at that point the Quincy did fight back and Hollow hunts became a norm of life. The Shinigami realized that the balance of the Worlds was at stake and negotiations started. However, those negotiations were naught but a set-up in which several Quincy families perished. Having hurt their pride, the Quincy refused to talk about treaty and used their powers instead.
The end result was a near annihilation of nearly the whole legacy. The few survivors made themselves disappear and connections were lost. Call it a fool's pride, but the Kurosaki House Head, decided to conceal the second war from history. As per his last words:
"I saw too many youngsters die in a war which could have been avoided had we, the Quincy, not ignored the Shinigami. We should have fought from the very beginning, instead of waiting for the worst to occur. By the time we acted, it was our words against theirs. Therefore, this particular segment will burn with me. I want the remaining Quincy to keep this bitterness in their veins for only then, will they act on the spot. It may be wrong of me to wish harm to any being, but in light of such tragedy, only hatred can keep us either away from any Shinigami or to respond the way we should… to protect our kin."
Masaki thought the elder had been really stupid. Had the Quincy made contact with high-ranking Shinigami maybe the whole thing could have been avoided. Those who were not doing their jobs properly and were trying to kill of her kind were the responsible ones. It never meant everyone was the same.
That particular incident was destroyed. But the Kurosaki's had kept the verbal knowledge and passed it down from generation to generation. Intimidated by her father's harsh words and his anti-Shinigami monologues, she had refrained from making any personal comments to the matter.
That did not mean she kept it a secret from her mother. The wise woman felt proud her child could think for herself and outside the metaphorical box. She never judged her daughter and would always encourage to do what she felt was right.
"Masaki-chan, a war is a horrible affair. One in which there are no victors, just despair and lost lives. Even so, you will learn that human history too is filled with combat. It is, unfortunately, human nature. When they are unable to attain something they strongly desire, they fight for it. It is only different by what it is the end goal. You never know, we ourselves could find ourselves in such a situation. It may be to protect our home, our land, our property, other people, our opinion, legacy or religion. The moment that two parties find each in between of something they want, unless they can negotiate, a conflict will be inevitable. And the very moment that reason was overpowered by geed and the wish to clash, war ensures. In that instant, both sides are guilty. Yes, the victor will decide how history should be written. But, don't forget the many sacrificed on the way, the unwilling participants or the unlucky casualties and crowd lost in the crossfire."
Those words were ingrate into Masaki's memory, though she never fully understood their meaning. When voicing her confusion, the Lady of the House gave her a small smile.
"Your predecessor felt it was a necessity to conceal parts of our old life. He had been one of those who strongly suggested to confront the Shinigami from the very beginning by getting in touch with their higher ups. In his view, subordinates may have been doing wrong things while unsupervised. It was rather far-fetched in the eyes of other Quincies, but an odd all in the same. When the war started, he was the first to appeal for negotiations. He survived the first meeting where all Quincy attendants were murdered. We cannot critic his decision to let us live with a strong repulsion towards Shinigami. We can only hope that his decision will not bring forth more sadness. So far, dare I say, it looks as though his verdict allowed us to live in relative peace. By avoiding the Shinigami, we are evading possible new conflicts. For that reason alone, we, the Kurosaki, have kept this a secret. And we will continue to do so. That is, until the Emperor returns from his slumber. As King, it will be his responsibility. That is a big burden to hold on just a set of shoulders, wouldn't you agree?"
Back then, Masaki had been utterly lost. She never figured out what her mother tried to tell her, nor what was her opinion on the whole ordeal. She had been told that not everyone is the same and that was the end of it.
Now, she was under the strong impression that her mother had been a non-judgmental and very open-minded person for one born and raised in the Quincy ways. Maybe she too inherited that particular trait. And perchance that was the reason she couldn't stop thinking about the nice Shinigami Taichou.
Once again, her mind was filled with images of the strong man. He had been fighting the Hollow for a long time. Even so, he had tried to tell her to escape. He wished her no harm. The way he reacted when she said she was a Quincy, made her believe he was not aware of her heritage.
'Hehe. It must have been weird for him to see my bow and arrows during the short time I battled. He was curious and so very kind. He even protected me from the big explosion. Had he not done that, I would have died. Even after finding out I was a Quincy, he didn't become angry nor mad. There were no regrets in his eyes, just a startled realization. He looks even better when he smiles.'
Masaki puffed out quietly. Looking at her notebook, she tried to concentrate on the subject at hand. But for the love of everything marvelous, she couldn't even recall which calls she was attending.
If Shinigami changed and were much more like the one she met yesterday, it could be a new and blessed discovery. It would be so nice to be able to assist when needed. She would much prefer the chance at giving a helping hand, rather than hide in the shadows and see anyone getting hurt.
Looking out, she found the fluffy clouds to be very interesting.
'I wonder if he was able to return to Soul Society. He had been badly injured. Even with my help, he wasn't that much better… I hope he won't be scolded. With any luck, no one will be angry with him… Maybe I should have asked his name…'
Any other questions, thoughts and worries were interrupted by the ringing of the school bell.
'I hope I do get to see him again. If that happens, the first thing I will ask of him is his name.'
With her mind set and thrilled by her decision, Masaki prepared for the next class, only to be told by her friends it was lunch break. Any doubts and uncertainties regarding Quincy and Shinigami were promptly tossed out the window in exchange for some fun time with her classmates.
Having left the Urahara Shoten a way back, Shirosaki and Ossan made their way through an inhabited zone. Shirosaki would then concentrate on opening a Garganta to Wandenreich. If everything went according to plan, they would end up in the Eldritch room. It would be a first for the Hollow to attempt something on such a huge scale.
From what little Ossan knew about the Garganta, it was an instinctual gate opening every Hollow knew how to perform. Shirosaki did explain that a Hollow would have to know approximately where they wanted to go to. Most importantly, they would require to have some sort of connection to the place they wanted to visit.
Shirosaki proved to be a very good teacher and gave the Quincy an extensive lecture.
By automatic default, plus souls who turned Hollows had an urge to devour souls. In doing so, they become the main target of Shinigami. The primal instinct to hide somewhere safe, leads them to Hueco Mundo. Once there it was much more difficult from Hollows to return to the World of the Living.
That revelation had greatly surprised the Quincy. Shirosaki had gone on to enlighten Ossan on how those Hollows who entered Hueco Mundo, rarely made it back to the Living World on their own volition. Most times, they would find a way if there was a strong presence or a powerful human with high reiatsu. Only then would a Hollow open a gate to hunt the one emitting the energy.
There was also the case with intelligent Hollows. They were on a new level and a story of their own. If the Hollow was smart, it meant that as humans they had a higher reiatsu than normal. It didn't mean that it was strong enough to allow them to see spirits, but above average nonetheless.
Those were the ones causing problems. They first go after their relatives or souls they had a bond with in their previous life. From there, they evolve and become even brighter to the point where they start chasing after Shinigami. Their goal, to raise above the level of a common Hollow. After a while, it is not just hunger for a missing heart that pushes them to consume souls. Rather a desire to be stronger, more powerful. It could be considered as uncontrolled greed.
More often than not, such Hollows eventually meet their end at the hands of Shinigami. Trying to bite more than what they can chew, brings them to their ultimate death. Some were smart enough to limit themselves and could avoid capture for decades. None, however, lived longer than a century.
In the event that they made it to evolve further, their need to go to the Living World is drastically reduced. Why go after a single prey, when one could fight against other Hollows who already ate their fair share of souls? For this reason, powerful Hollows congregated in certain locations through Hueco Mundo. A battle to the death full of gore was the next path to take. Those who survived, became the first among Menos Grande. In other words, they were the Menos who had their individuality and would aspire to evolve even more to the level of Adjucha.
Rare were the cases when a bloodbath of such caliber yielded only one Menos. The accumulated corpses of the defeated, merge into one, giving birth to several Menos Grande. They normally have no specific goal and mingle with others of their kind. Basically, they are easy to persuade to work for more powerful beings, becoming fodder or foot soldiers.
Adjucha Hollows would either try to conquer other Adjucha class Hollows or would assemble an army of Menos. In either case, Menos were a good source of energy and it wasn't infrequent for an Adjucha to leave them in the Menos forest to wait until he would need them for food or for fun.
Shirosaki himself believed all of that to be useless. Above the Menos forest, in the now deserts of Hueco Mundo there was enough Reishi to sustain most Hollows. It was just fear of transgression that pushed Adjucha Hollows to fight and devour. Again, idiotic as not all Adjucha reached the Vasto Lorde level. Not to mention that Vasto Lorde rarely ate other Hollows. They would only eat when they used a large portion of power and needed to replenish themselves. Either that, or they were severely injured. With enough 'food' they could use their regeneration and continue as though nothing changed.
The regression was a fake tale with unknown origins. It was something which happened shortly after the usurpation of the First King, Shirosaki's father, and the rise of the Second King Barragan. Shirosaki had heard from his father about an Adjucha who reverted into a Menos Grande. As per his father, it had been a conscious decision. The Adjucha was in the process of ascending to the level of Vasto Lorde. For some reason, memories from his life as a human resurfaced. Having had a difficult past, he opted to starve and self-injure himself to the point of no return. He did fall and become a Menos with no remembrance of either his human or Hollow life.
Ossan had been more than honored Shirosaki had deemed him trustworthy enough to share so much intel on the inner workings of Hollows. A knowledge which greatly assisted them several centuries ago when they made the decision to find the pieces of the Haldister. In all of the time they shared, not once did Shirosaki request to go after Barragan. When they did go to Hueco Mundo, Shirosaki flatly refused to challenge Barragan. His reasoning being that he would have to take the title and throne as the Hollows King, which he did not desire. Another motivation to keep far away, was the honest admission that he was unsure he would manage to defeat the other.
Their time in Hueco Mundo had been very unusual. There had been several close encounters with Barragan and his cronies. It was thanks to Shirosaki and his many skill-sets which allowed them to move unhindered. They had been extremely fortunate Barragan did not end up in the possession of even one fragment. The Hollow's ability was unlike anything Ossan had seen before. Just the thought of what the gem could have caused in the hands of such a deranged soul, was enough to send chills down both their spines.
Having been pulled out from his musing, Ossan realized they were in an old district. There were several destroyed buildings and many more desolate and empty wooden constructions. Ossan wondered just how far away from the shop they were. Another thing which piqued his interest, was the speed in which they reached this zone. Could it be they were using high-speed moves without him even being aware of using Hirenkyaku? Not that it didn't happen on occasions. But, it was always a surprise.
Looking at Shirosaki, he could tell just how difficult the task was. Shirosaki did inform him, his Garganta was special. Not only did he have to make it untraceable at the starting point, but at the end as well. Another peculiarity to Shirosaki's Garganta was the fact that he could re-visit any location, place or space he had been at one point in his life by focusing on microscopic reiatsu residues he left behind. The remains couldn't be felt, sensed or used by any other person regardless of their lineage, save for Shirosaki himself.
At times, such as the present, the Quincy King wondered just how long Shirosaki had been practicing. How many timed did Ichigo help the other upgrade his skills? What was Ichigo thinking when he assisted Shirosaki achieve higher levels and powers? Based on his knowledge, the two were very well balanced and on par.
During their last friendly clash, both were equally matched and the fight ended in a draw. It had been a spectacular display of swordsmanship, skills, experience and knowledge. He himself had overseen the battle, which lasted from sunrise to midnight. And so, he was aware Ichigo did not go all out. Come to think of it, there had been something weird with Ichigo's movements. Simultaneously, he had the inkling that Shirosaki had known what was going on with his grandson. Not for the first time, he questioned if that, too, had been Soren's doing.
An exhale brought him out of his overwhelmed mind. In front of Shirosaki was the gaping maw of a Garganta. Seems like the other made it happen after all. The notion was confirmed as soon as Shirosaki turned to face him, smirk firmly plastered on his features.
"Not going to lie Ossan, it wasn't easy. But, it wasn't impossible either. If you don't mind, I'll let you do all the talking. If I start, I'll just get pissed and we'll never finish. Meh, since the room adapts to our needs, I hope you don't mind if I use and abuse that fact to get some extra sleep, although, food would also be appreciated."
The elder shook his head in exasperation. Leave it to Shirosaki to turn a serious matter into an amusing one within the blink of an eye. Acting in kind, Ossan figured it would be a nice change of pace to retort.
"Of course, you will leave the 'boring' part to me. Although, I confess, I too am looking forward to a strong cup of coffee. Some nutrition won't do me any harm. Nevertheless, I am very familiar with Haschwalth, undoubtedly, he must have already prepared all necessary for our arrival."
Shirosaki was both disappointed and happy with the news. The dissatisfaction was caused by lack of appreciation for his hard work in getting the Garganta exactly inside the funky chamber. That was overshadowed by the joy of being allowed the extra sleep. Thanks to the room's properties, he'll be able to rest unperturbed by their talking. He'd have to make sure to get a similar place, should his King be reborn. He was so engrossed in imagining many scenarios where he could make use of such a space, that he completely overlooked that Ossan had made an attempt at joking. It wasn't every day the Quincy referred to anything as boring, least of all when talking about a meeting.
Ossan could tell the other was lost in translation. For the sake of his sanity, he refused to consider what was going on inside that pale head belonging to Shirosaki. With another shake of the head, he moved forward. Grabbing Shirosaki by his shoulder, he entered the Garganta without worries, leading a now fuming albino along for the ride.
Shiba-Taichou sighed for what must have been the tenth time in less than nine minutes. He couldn't help it. Not with the way the mission had been distributed, nor with the choice of partners he was to work with.
Lying down on two comfortable pillows encased in a ruby case, adorned with silver-white patterns on the porch outside his office, he crossed his arms around his middle and he went through the events which took place mere hours ago.
True, he enjoyed immensely in poking fun at the Taichou of the Sixth. It was his belief, the young Kuchiki should smile more often. The fact that his pranks ended up angering the Noble instead of making him laugh, was an entirely different matter. It wasn't healthy for one to bottle up any and all emotions. If he managed to get under the others skin, just enough to be on the receiving end of the infamous Kuchiki glare, which, he was sure, could kill a man on sight, he was content. At least it was better than complete indifference.
Not that the man had an easy life. Since the day of his birth, little Byakuya was bread to become the Head of the Kuchiki Clan. Of all the possible Clans to be born into, that must have been the strictest when it comes to rules and regulations. He remembered seeing a little Byakuya training day and night. And though he never had a mother figure, he grew to be a fine man.
The poor soul. He lost his mother on the very day he was born. Never to feel what a mother's caress or embrace felt like. Isshin shivered at the mere thought. And if that was not devastating enough, he lost his father and wife around the same time, give or take a decade or so. Blowing out another breath, Isshin really felt for the Taichou. After all, it takes one to know another. He had been lucky though to be born and raised in the Shiba Clan. And no matter how many times he complained or wailed at the duties that came with the title, he was secretly overjoyed at having such a family.
The Shiba's were, certainly, an acquired taste. Not everyone was exuberant and energetic to the point of driving people like the Sōtaichō up a wall. There was nothing like a family reunion where you end up on the floor with bruises before you even said a proper 'Hello'. Another trait solely associated with the Shiba's, is their family ties. Though Isshin had lost both parents at a very early age, he had never felt lonely nor abandoned.
Indeed, he had wondered what kind of people his parents had been or could have been. On the other side, the vast household servants and relatives made it so that he always had someone to talk to, regardless of the subject. Based on photos he found around the manor, he often tried to imagine his mother reigning over his father. For whichever reason, he couldn't picture that scenario, no matter how many times he witnessed other Shiba heiresses have the final say.
He had made an oath to never marry into the family or any close relatives. The Shiba Ladies were scary. Not that he would admit to the later even under threat of prolonged torture. So far, he had been lucky. Being just a branch head and not the Clan Head made all the difference in the world. That reminded him, he would have to pay a visit to his nephew Kaien one of these days.
Speaking of Kaien, didn't he mention something about getting a new recruit recently? Well, as recent as can be, considering his sense of passing time was weird. Right… The adopted Kuchiki. From Kaien's words, the little lady was often lost in space with a frown. He'd have to see what was really going on. Based on what he could find out, he would consider going to a certain noble's house and raise hell in the classical Shiba style. Oh, yes. If Byakuya was misbehaving or not treating the new addition properly, he would find several methods to make his life miserable.
But that would have to wait. Right now, he had a completely different issue at hand. Aizen-Taichou. There was definitely something fishy with that man. He couldn't put his finger on it, but his sixth sense had never been wrong.
Since he first met the other, he had felt something off. At times, when he caught a glimpse into those brown eyes, he felt cold sweat going down his spine for no apparent reason. He had been crazy enough to once fool around and remove those square glasses. The coldness emanating from those orbs would have been enough to freeze hell in a triple layer or ice. How can 'the most loved' Taichou in all Seireitei have such bitter eyes? Isshin wondered if the man had been upset at his joke or if those were his true colors.
Before, actually, more like yesterday, he would have been ready to bet it had been his imagination. Now… not so much. Of all the Taichou in Soul Society, Aizen had been one of three to see his Bankai. The only Taichou he had no dirt on was, again, the Taichou of the Fifth. Combined with the detail that none could remember ever seeing the other upset, resulted in quite a fearsome concoction.
It wouldn't be so bad if it was one thing or the other. But a blend of all these factors? It was more than enough to keep him on his toes, vigilant and wary of the other.
Isshin may have not appeared, but during the captain's meeting, he had been high-strung and searching for each and every single reaction made by those present. Turns out, Aizen had been completely collected and unperturbed. No indications that anything he said was a shock or surprise. Just as if he himself had witnessed the ordeal.
If Isshin had been suspicious before, the assembly was more than enough to reaffirm his concerns. He had never touched Aizen's sword before and he had never gotten a proper read on it either. The lack of response during his recount and even the changes he had to make to the story… it all made him think of an actor, a master manipulator and an incredible instigator with an agenda.
Therein lies one of the many problems. If Aizen was somehow involved in the whole situation with both the missing Shinigami and the strange Hollow case, he will have a hard time proving the man's guilt. He had to give him credit for creating a near perfect façade with an impeccably clean file.
While his brain ran amok with thoughts of treason linked to the Fifth Division Taichou, they were slowly being replaced by visions of kind and tender chocolate eyes.
Yes, another particularity which wouldn't let him rest, was related to the appearance of the enigmatic Quincy girl. Isshin was not by any means into kids, nor did he consider himself a pervert of such a scale. Still, regardless of his inhibitions, he did admire the courage and strength the girl possessed.
There had been no fear when she attacked. No hesitation when she let go of her bow, just pure determination to see the task completed, even at the cost of an injury. That had been both fascinating and terrifying to witness. The childlike nature and satisfaction at having trapped the Hollow with her own body moments before she released an arrow at point blank was superb to say the least.
Isshin felt goosebumps on each occasion he thought about the whole trial. That little stunt took: guts, a fair share of confidence in ones' own abilities and lots of luck. The Hollow could have gone for any other parts of her body and not necessarily the hand. And even then, she could have been critically injured to the point of fainting or falling, risking being devoured.
Isshin was no dupe. He saw her contemplate each step of the way. Realizing she was not fast enough to properly hit the Hollow, she made a conscious choice. That on itself warranted his praise. Such a heavy decision made in the heat of battle… He could count less than fifteen Shinigami who would be capable of rational thought during a fight of such magnitude. Most were reckless, went with the flow or simply ran away scared shitless. He himself was irresponsible and wild when going all out but could control his instincts and think through when needed.
And here he found himself with a Quincy teen, who not only fought admirably well, but used brains and calculations to determine the best course of action. He sure did owe her one.
That too, was unusual. Based on his knowledge and his most recent research, Quincies and Shinigami were not all that chummy with each other. With good reason. The wars and gloom both parties sustained warranted precaution. For Quincies, that rang more so true. Which made him question as to why? Why to jeopardize limbs, safety and whereabouts just to help him, a Shinigami?
'All in all, it is true that some Quincy are still alive… She saved me, a Shinigami… and even proclaimed to be a Quincy. That was really brave of her… She was really something else… I should have asked her more.'
Those were but a few of his reflections on the valiant mini-lady. He may not know her status and she may be young. But there were no questions that she earned the label of 'Lady', at least in his books.
With a last sigh he mumbled to himself.
"Maybe… I could meet her again… to thank her properly."
Arriving to the conclusion he would find pleasure in seeing the girl again had been simple enough. To thank her, was nothing more than an excuse. Yes, he would extend his gratitude, for he truly was indebted, but he couldn't lie that well, not even to himself.
Acting out on his wish, he started preparations to do just that. He would have to leave a message to his Fuku-Taichou without exposing himself to Matsumoto's rage filled punches. Leaving a note would have to do. The hard part was to actually take-off unnoticed. That was going to be a challenge. Mission: 'Evade Matsumoto long enough to slip out of Seireitei' officially began.
Before long, the final school bell rang and a swarm of students leaving the building ensured. Pupils of all classes could be seen roaming around the perimeters of the structure. Some had extracurricular activities, others took advantage of the lawn to rest and get some sun, thugs, who rarely attended classes, were hiding in corners waiting, like predators, for their next victim.
Therefore, it was not uncommon to see groups of students mingling together. Power in numbers was a testament to their drive to reach their respective homes relatively unharmed. Finally, there was the air-headed ones which consisted of mostly females who animatedly spent their walks home in chatter.
Girls were rarely disrupted for various reasons. Any perpetrators would be either ridiculed for going against females or worst yet, forced in a shopping spree with said group. More often than not, boys evaded attempts against girls in fear of retribution from hidden admirers and the humiliation in the even that a girl could best them in a fight.
Among girlish gibberish, Masaki's melodic voice could be heard. The lively new student was having a heated conversation with her friends Kanan and Shiho. Both were just slightly taller than the newest addition to the group.
Kanan was a slender girl with a robust and sun-tanned figure. Her messy blonde shoulder length hair and long fringes encompassed her sharp face. Black eyes and thin eyebrows spoke volume on just how agitated she was at the ongoing topic.
Shiho could be considered her polar opposite. The girl was soft spoken, with long onyx-black hair, short eyebrow length bangs which were cut in a straight line. Her skin was paler compared to her two companions. Her anatomy showcased tenderness and frailness. Not surprising, as the girl tended to be ill more often than not.
Surprisingly, ever since she met Masaki, not once did she get sick. Being an optimistic person and curious in the field of alternate medicine, she was under the impression that Masaki possessed a positive radiance which could influence everything and everyone around her. She was sure, Masaki was not conscious of possessing such a brilliant bio-energy. In her mind, Masaki's helpful spirit felt the need of those around her and subconsciously gave a helping hand without her direct involvement. If only the girl knew half of the story.
The playful banter between Masaki and Kanan was focused on Masaki's private life and living with the Ishida's. It had been a known fact from day one that the new girl came to school with the cool and unattainable Ishida Ryuken. And that was why Kanan was pressing the unfortunate youngling for details.
"I mean it, are you really fine?! You live in the same house as Ishida-senpai. Every single day must be exciting!"
Poor Masaki was smiling at Kanan's antics. Her efforts to make it a normal occurrence were all lost to the excited blonde.
"We are cousins you know! There is nothing between us!"
Sympathetically, Shiho added her two cents in the mix.
"That's true. And even if he wasn't your cousin, you are not that type."
Masaki would have exhaled in appreciation, had she not caught up the full meaning behind Shiho's words.
"See. You really get me Shiho… Though, I don't know why you have to make that comparison. You, sly meanie!"
Not being easily deterred, Kanan went further.
"And how would you know Shiho? Ma, even if Ishida-senpai and I were cousins, he'd still make me wet and horny."
Blushing madly, Masaki nearly screamed out loud at her perverted colleague.
"Kanan! That's dirty! Shiho, scold her, would you?"
None of the girls took notice of what was going in front of them and so missed the casual walking of a most unusual character. Urahara Kisuke would have preferred to be anywhere else at that point in time, rather than casually strolling around Karakura. The fact that he had exchanged his green outfit for a more appropriate green kimono and large black overcoat with white diamonds at the bottom, might or might not have something to do with that feeling. Let alone, the detail that he had swapped his clogs for regular waraji sandals and white socks.
What could have been considered just a walk around was in fact a very carefully planned scout in which he could tag the Quincy girl without raising suspicion. He had observed from a distance, but it was about time to have a better look at his temporary charge. Which brought him in the middle of the street, looking intently at a shop vitrine, while in truth monitoring the Quincy's moves.
Not long after the last exclamation, Masaki's eyes went wide. Urahara could see in slow motion how those same orbs lost focus. If he didn't do anything, the girl would fall unconscious. Acting out of duty and respect, he placed himself in front of the girl's path, releasing a bit of healing Kido in the process. It took no time at all for his ward to regain her senses, but the bump on his person could not be avoided, if he was to pull that move efficiently. And so, he did not evade it.
"Ah! Oh…I'm sorry…"
Going along with his act, he immediately waved her off and responded in kind.
"Oh, no. It's alright, I should have looked where I was going. Are you alright?"
Masaki's response was interrupted by Kanan's yell.
"Are you ok Masaki? Come on, hurry up! Or we'll leave you behind!"
'Saved by a human girl. How lame.' Urahara would have punched himself at the ridiculous notion. He silently swore never to mention this incident to Yoruichi-san.
Having noticed her friends a few steps ahead, Masaki forgot all about the person she collided with and hastened her pace to catch up with Kanan and Shiho. In doing do, she never realized the jolt which passed through the person's frame.
Urahara had been so out of it, he belatedly realized what he had sensed just mere seconds ago. Looking back at the Quincy girl, he suppressed a gasp. There, lying dormant within the recesses of Quincy reiatsu, were near imperceptible Hollow residues. His expression turned from astonished to dead serious in a jiffy.
'That is not good. Not at all. At this point even if treated, the damage is already done. I better get in touch with a certain Kurosaki-sama before he deems it worthy to wring my neck off. Can't blame him if he tries to do just that. There is also the situation with the Tenth Taichou. Maybe…'
Quickly he vanished from sight, opting to continue tailing the girl from a distance. It would do no good if he was to lose track of her now and give the Emperor more reasons to skin him alive. If his presumption was correct, he had additional unexpected work to do.
Waking up from a turbulent and very vivid dream, Haschwalth woke refreshed if a little frantic. Knowing his luck, something huge occurred during his resting hours. Judging from the blinking of his newest gadget connected to his Majesty, he'd say he was right. He had been around for a long time and had been under the service of his Majesty for most of his life. That in turn reminded him of his first encounter with both Bazzard Black and the imposing figure of the Quincy King.
Before meeting the Emperor, he had been shunned by his parents and given away to his uncle for being born as 'damaged' and 'incomplete' Quincy. A most hideous and despicable man who abused him to no ends. Coming from an Echt family, but without the proper skill to form a bow, had been a curse he lived with for several years.
Bazzard Black came out of the blue. During one his Haschwalth's many attempts at hunting and forming a bow, the kid came out of nowhere to the rescue, talking about greatness and cheering a small Haschwalth in not giving up. The prick had been way too arrogant, stating he was a genius, but did his best to be there for Haschwalth. He had been the one to encourage his latent talent at using a regular sword instead of the classic bow and arrows made of Reishi. He had been the first and only friend he had ever had.
He had spent innumerable nights at Bazzard's place, which in turn saved him from several beatings and worse situations. One day, during a spar with Bazzard, the two sensed an unusual vibration in the air. They went their separate ways to their respective residences. What awaited Haschwalth had been an inferno. His uncle's house had been burned to the ground, leaving nothing but ashes. Among the flames, he noticed a corpse wearing a slowly melting silver coat… his uncle's mantle.
Haschwalth may have not liked the male nor his constant manhandling. But he had been the only relative he had known. Even so, he felt no anguish, no hurt at seeing the destruction. Turning away from the scene, he moved forward and never looked back.
He had gone to Bazzard in hopes of receiving shelter. Once there, he had been assaulted by a crying Bazzard. His home too, had been invaded. Contrary to Haschwalth, he bore witness to the carnage that ensured.
It had been a group of bandits with surreal powers. Quincies who wanted to challenge the newly-appointed King. They were forming an army with the goal to usurp the throne. Bazzard swore vengeance upon those who destroyed his land and the nearby village. As well as the supposed King who did nothing to prevent the devastation.
Haschwalth thought it severe to want to harm someone who had nothing to do with the case. In his opinion, it wasn't the unknown King's fault. It wasn't like the man could see the future or prevent any wrongdoings from happening. In his uncle's library, he had found bits and pieces of information related to the Emperor. After all, it had been fairly recent news.
The King was a Quincy unlike any other. Capable of strengthening his followers and bestowing them with gifts and unmatched powers. He wondered, if someday he would get to meet him. How he had longed for the opportunity to be blessed by said man. He would have gladly done nearly anything, just for the chance at becoming a true Quincy. After the fall of his home, he wasn't as eager. At least, he never mentioned it to Bazzard, who was hard strung to decimate any and all those responsible for the annihilation of his household and community.
And so, the two traveled together, hunted their own food and moved around, never knowing that the Emperor had sent a search and rescue unit.
Five years later, tired out form a long training session, the two youngsters, turned adolescents, ended up entering a tavern right before sundown. Their minds on naught but a good meal and comfortable beds. By that time, they had learned to do odd jobs every so often to earn the money for clothes, food and other supplies needed for the long journey.
The inn had been a dingy and dirty place, filled to the brim with all kind of folks. Rumors about a group of deserters circulated vividly among patrons. The gossip had caught both of the newly arrived customers attention. Scanning the drunkards, they easily picked out the one whom they could bribe for intel with extra booze.
The male in question wore bronze ragged trousers and a beige shirt which had seen better days, if the stains and holes adorning it was any indication. Black eyes, grey bushy eyebrows and a thick silvery-gray beard spoke of an unkempt individual who spent his time wasting away. The head was bald, with scars and deep wrinkles at every angle. Drink by drink, Bazzard pried and poked the other for information, to which the other gladly obliged.
By the end of the evening, they ran out of logging money, but had gathered enough to know that the Emperor himself, along with an army was to soon reach town. It was said that the King had been infuriated with the ruin of the Drude* county in Thuringii* and was chasing down those responsible for the inhuman act. That came as a shock to the temperamental Bazzard. For years he pegged the rumored ruler as nothing but a lazy, uncaring, overpowered tyrant, who cared not for meager farmers and lower nobility.
On that occasion, Haschwalth refrained from making any remarks. He was glad the King was not as Bazzard imagined. But he was concerned…his anxiety derived from not knowing if he was suitable enough as a candidate to receive his good grace. No matter the hard exercises he performed, he could not for the love of him, create a Reishi bow to save his life. He had become self-proficient with a sword, yet royal like the Emperor, surely, would not have a need for an inexperienced powerless youth.
The duo decided to stick near the entrance gates and slept on the outskirts. Basically, in the wilderness. It was not a new concept to either one of them after the many nights slept under the starry skies.
The following day had been a hectic one for the tiny town. True to the chatter, a battalion came through. Everyone had anticipated a much larger number of soldiers than the meager handful. The poor peasants, they had no idea just how strong a single man from that group truly was. Not to mention, their leader. The troop was ridding on horses for the sake of appearances and marching with little regards to the folks around time.
Or so they made it believe, as the very moment a playing kid ran amidst the crowd, all paused instantly, including the riders. Which was fortunate, as had they proceeded, it would have ended in a disaster and the death of the curious little tyke who would have startled the horses and become dust under the horses' hooves. Such discipline and prompt reaction had been unseen in the puny citadel.
The child was a scrawny little thing, with old grey trousers and an equally worn-out coffee brown shirt. His short honey-brown straight locks appeared to be of a lighter hue in the blinding sun, than what they truly were. Lime-green eyes were looking at the paused horses in wonder. A tiny nose, small ears hidden by flat hair and pale lips adorned the juvenile chubby face, making him seem younger than what he might be. The overly-tanned skin had numerous bruises and scrapes, speaking of a hard life in a harsh environment. The lack of a parent screaming in panic, too, made everyone present aware of the fact that the boy was, indeed, all alone.
Having taken notice of the change in the air, the youngster moved his eyes from the enormous animals to look around. He soon realized most everyone was looking at him, each with a different expression. Some had been awed, others astonished and frightful. Though, the vast majority gave him glances which clearly stated: 'You are one lucky bastard'.
The later became a clear fact the moment the kid, confused by all the stares, made a few steps backwards and bumped into a jet-black stallion with a creamy-brown mane. Its rider had been none other than the alleged 'Emperor Bach'. Not that the awed youngling had any idea, so focused he was on the beautiful large creature.
Giving the stunned onlookers a heart-attack, instead of getting angry at the child, the King dropped gracefully from the horse and sank on eye-level with the little one. Gasps and murmurs spread like a wild-fire. None had expected for a royal to lower himself to speak with an inferior being. The whispers were, in fact, so loud, the viewers missed the conversation between the two, or the appearance of what could have been a colonel at the Emperors' side.
The black-haired feminine commanding officer, had a somewhat skeptic expression, which was soon replaced by a mortified and humble bow, before he resumed his position on his cinnamon and white colored mare.
Glancing around, reddish-brow eyes settled on two particular spectators, fixing his gaze on a young Haschwalth.
Back then, Haschwalth barely contained his urge to wet his pants. The look had been intense but not dangerous. In fact, he would have sworn, there had been recognition, understanding, sympathy and a dose of interest blended all in one. As the Emperor rose to his full height, so did Haschwalth get a proper look at the other.
Ink-black wavy shoulder-length hair with dark-chocolate highlights seemed alive swaying with the breeze. Thin black eyebrows settled in a frown were the initial curtain leading to reddish-brown almond shaped eyes. The same ones which bore into his soul. A medium long, straight pointy nose, thin stubble's styled in friendly mutton chops, shallow cheeks and thin pink lips framed the sharp face giving of the air of a disheveled, but clean and neat person.
How the two contradictions complimented each other, had been and remained a mystery to Haschwalth. It may have been contributed to the detail that each hair stood exactly where it was supposed to be. Like nothing could ruffle the other's feathers.
The outfit itself was not that much different from what his soldiers wore. Albeit, the material was enough to distinguish the Kings' from the rest. A white shirt opened at the top, had been hidden beneath an equally white knee-length coat with gold buttons. A black belt adorned with a golden buckle kept the outfit firmly in place around the middle. Baggy comfortable-looking pristine white trousers disappeared within black mid-calf travel boots. The most distinguishing difference was the additional black soft looking calf-length overcoat, which was buttoned to the front with two pure white buttons connected with a lengthy rope of the same shade.
All in all, the Emperor was terrifying without trying to be intimidating. No wonder most folks felt both fear and respect. Haschwalth's assessment was interrupted when a large hand caressed his tresses and a deep warm baritone demanded his attention.
"You wouldn't happen to be Jugram Haschwalth and Bazzard Black?
Haschwalth had been so immersed in his evaluation, he did not perceive the others movements nor his approach, let alone the brief exchange of words between the King and the orphan. Sensing his companion's lack of attention, Bazzard was the one to respond.
"Yeah, and what of it?! It's not your business."
The bite in his words may have seemed either courageous or entirely stupid. Even though most watchers were inclined towards the later. The Quincy royal took no offence. In fact, he was mildly amused. Or so, thought Haschwalth. His concerns faded the moment he observed a small change in the male's lips, they had curved upwards in what could have been a minuscule smile.
Turning his head to meet Bazzard's heated glare, the small pleased look soon changed to a sorrowful.
"Ah, I see the notorious Black temper was passed down to you, young one. I am glad to see both of you made it out of Drude relatively unharmed. The troop I sent to reinforce your homeland had been, regrettably, too late to save you, your loved ones or your land. For that you have my deepest apologies and condolences."
Bazzard was speechless. The honest ring of sadness in those words, accompanied by the solemn tone, somehow managed to extinguish the hatred accumulated since that hellish day. He gave the ruler a one-over and quickly made a new decision.
"If you speak the truth, take us with you. We have all the rights to fight to avenge those lives and all we have lost."
The gossiping mob was sure the pink-head kid lost a few screws along the road and were about to shout in disdain, as were several soldiers. They were stopped by the Emperor's nod of the head.
"Indeed. I can, certainly, take you with me and my men to fulfill this request and desire of yours. But let me ask you this: 'What will you do once you extract your vengeance?' I presume, you are aware that spilling the culprits blood will not return your cherished ones back from the afterlife. So, I ask you: 'What next?' Once the deed is done, will you abandon your loathing and move on or will you live a miserable existence in which you will continuously grieve for your loss?"
Bazzard had been taken aback by the sudden questioning. In all honesty he had not thought that far in advance. Hell, he never expected to become strong enough to challenge the King. That realization made him pause. Had he been ready to throw away both his and Jugo's life for the sake of revenge? Worst of all, he had wanted to end the life of the very man who was making him see just how foolish he had been. What had he been thinking, dragging a weak Jugo along for the ride?
"I'd say, you did not think that far in advance. It is not wrong to wish ill towards those who hurt us… it is only human. There is potential in both of you. Would you like to join my ranks and use that power coursing through your veins to help me improve the kingdom? I ask both of you individually, if you are willing to lend me your strength and assist in protecting others with the hope that such tragedy does not happen in the future."
Simultaneously, Bazzard and Jugram looked at each other. And while Bazzard was more inclined to accept, Jugram was unsure. He really wanted to follow Bazz and would likely choose to go along regardless of his personal wishes. At the end of the day, he was all alone, with no family and no other friends besides Bazz. But now, here was a golden chance for Bazzard's true strength to shine. He, himself, on the other hand was useless.
As if reading Haschwalth's mind, the Emperor gazed deeply into arctic blue orbs, letting out a small chuckle.
"It seems you are not aware just how special you are young Haschwalth. Let me guess, you can't form a Reishi arrow, let along a bow and because of that you are insecure in your own abilities."
It wasn't a question, but a statement. Averting his head in shame, he opted to observe the pavement which, suddenly, became very appealing. He hated to admit that the mace hit the nail right home and on his major concern. Had he been more attentive to what was going on, he would have noticed a gentle smile gracing those ruff features. Or, at the very least, that he became the center of attention, not only of the King, but of all those present. Lowering down to meet the teen's face, strong fingers kindly raised a worried chin. Once again reddish-brown met winter blue in a deep stare, full of silent promises.
For the first time in his life, Haschwalth felt safe… Protection and security radiated from the older man in waves, caressing his soul in a loving manner. Never had he felt a bond towards anyone. He did have an agreement and companionship with Bazz, but nothing of such magnitude. The Emperor took a small intake of air and whispered in Haschwalth's ear, to assure the next words went unheard by anyone besides them.
"Want to know a secret? I am exactly like you. Rather, it is you, that is identical to me. Don't let your anxiety cloud your judgement. I did say you are unique. To clarify, you are a Quincy with the power of 'Giving and Sharing', an equal to none but me."
In that instant all else was lost to the young Haschwalth. Nothing existed besides the man and his face. There were no lies, no expectations, no demands just understanding and acceptance. Regardless of the choice he made, he would not be persuaded, forced or coerced. That alone earned his gratitude and respect. His line of sight crossed with a begrudging and irritated Bazz, who, once he perceived the others questioning stare, merely shrugged his shoulders, as if to say 'I know as much as you'.
Silently, they both considered their options. And, though Haschwalth had been indebted to Bazzard for taking care of him, he was contemplating the absurd. Here was the Quincy Sovereign whom he had heard so much about, giving him the opportunity of a lifetime. His sense of duty and friendship, in the end, outweighed the golden chance. He would go with Bazz, regardless of how much he wanted to permanently accompany the King. Maybe, after Bazz satisfies his blood-thirst, he may change his opinion. But until then, he would not desert the fiery teenager.
Contrary to Haschwalth's thoughtful expression, Bazzard was burning with the desire to jump at the presented prospect. If he was to join, he was sure Haschwalth would be allowed to accompany him. He would get to see the end to those miserable fools who murdered his family and was getting a permanent job. He sucked at most mundane work. If he was to become a soldier, he could continue to become more and more powerful, upgrade his skills and attain glory by becoming a hero. Without further ado, he exclaimed.
"Well then, what are we waiting for? I am sure we have some bad guys to capture. They won't apprehend themselves, you know."
The Sovereign closed his eyes and shook his head in amusement. When he opened them again, he received a matching nod from a sky Haschwalth. Turning from the two, he approached the previously agitated sergeant.
"Hubert, we have three new recruits in need of proper attires. Little Rydell with his affinity towards horses, will be trained into becoming a stable boy. On the other hand, Jugram Haschwalth and Bazzard Black will join us in our quest."
Reminiscing about the past always brought forth a smile to his face. It took no time at all for the troublesome duo to be dressed up and ready to march. Within a few days, they caught up to the perpetrators responsible for the annihilation of their home. Bazzard had identified all those who had been present at that time and separated them from those he had not seen on that fateful day. Needless to say, the punishment had been dealt accordingly and the two were officially brought to the palace and taught in the Quincy ways.
Haschwalth had received personalized training from the King himself since he was different from the others and was the sole person who could, if for a moment, share the Emperors' burden. Though, admittedly, after their first encounter, it took quite a long time for Haschwalth to allow any form of skin-on-skin contact. Nonetheless, the Emperor had been patient and understanding. Treating Haschwalth like his very own son.
Bazzard had been ecstatic with his assignments and tasks, feeling like a true champion, fighting bad guys and Hollows alike, saving the day and rescuing those in need.
During a particularly troublesome mission, they encountered Lady Serena. A woman full of life and passion. She was not the usual Greek Goddess in appearance, but her inner spirit was brighter than the Sun and Moon combined.
At 5'6'' nearly 5'7'' with a robust and round structure, she was far different from the twig-like skeletons that threw themselves at the Emperors' feet. Her personality was rowdy, turbulent and bordering on Volcanic, especially when angered.. But her genuine care for others and everyone's well-being, accompanied by a warm smile which could light entire countries, was by far the greatest and most troublesome part of her character. After all, in her efforts to assure everyone's comfort and happiness, more often than not, she would neglect her own needs and desires.
Shoulder length blonde-brown hair with occasional black, blonde and white highlights could be frequently seen tied in various ponytails. On rare occasions, it would be interlaced in a long braid. Long fringes were either tucked behind all-hearing ears or were tied at the back with the rest of her hair. Light brown eyebrows, pitch-black eyelashes, round sea-blue eyes, a medium roman nose and full pink lips encompassed the oval kind face.
Life had abruptly changed with her around. Mind you, it wasn't for the worst, on the contrary, she was able to bring out the best in everyone. She had gone so far as to proclaim Haschwalth as her adoptive son, showering him with attention and love only a mother could express. He had been immensely touched and grateful. His Majesty had often bantered with her, claiming that he had been the first to find him and make him a part of the family.
Back then, Haschwalth felt complete. He had companions, friends, 'pay-mates' and a true loving family who did not reprimand him for being unusual. On the contrary, they made him feel normal. Bazzard would joke around and call him prince from time to time. But it was always in good fun.
For his sixteenth birthday, Haschwalth got a certificate which officially declared him a part of the Kurosaki Household. And though, he had been overjoyed beyond words, he did request for his name to stay the same. Through the years spent at the King and Queen's side, he felt proud of being the only other Quincy with the same power as the Emperor. If he was to replace the name, he felt it would have been presumed he inherited the gift from his Majesty instead of being blessed with it upon birth. Nevertheless, that had been the happiest day of his life. Seconded only by the announcement that he would get brothers or sisters or a combination of the two.
The day Ladies Katagiri and Masaki were born was a benediction and one of the saddest recorded in the history of their kingdom. Two baby girls for the life of their mother. His Majesty had lost all traces of a smile. He never ceased to adore and love his adopted son, nor did he ever felt anguish or hatred towards the two spirited babies, claiming that their mother lived on in each breath they take. And though he loved his children, he was unable to laugh the same way. The Sun and center of his world had been ripped from him and nothing he did could bring his beloved wife back.
The previously warm palace, became tepid but never lost its kind touch. That is, until the Denka had come to the world. The little one closed a void in the King's core and in the hearts of those living under his rule. Haschwalth treated the youngling as a proper big brother should, but never disclosed his official status as uncle. Never had Haschwalth used his documents which proved him to be the 'first son' into the Kurosaki family. There was no need. He was more than happy with being the Second in Command, the Other Half to the Emperor's tremendous and still growing powers.
Nights were never easy, as he would take the blunt of his Majesty's might. But that too, was alleviated and became much more bearable since the birth of the orange menace. Perhaps he was too strict with his description, but the little Denka truly lived to such a picture. Just like his grandmother, he could pull everyone around without efforts.
To think that Soren was the criminal who extinguished the feisty Ray of Sun. Unforgivable. Knowing the Emperor and Shirosaki, he was sure he might be late in calling dibs on the perpetrators' life, but that did not mean he would not get his go at the corrupted demon.
Which brought him back to the present. He should hurry. Based on the message he received from his Majesty they should meet post-haste. There was more trouble than they originally imagined. He pondered on what could have the Emperor meant with a 'House full of rodents'. Surely, it couldn't be what it implied? Traitors within their ranks? He had been surprised at the next part which asked him to bring 'The Black Huron*' along.
Black Huron was a code-name specially created by the Denka for Bazz-B. It had been an internal joke and pay back for the nickname 'Orange Menace'. Only the Emperor, the little Denka, Shirosaki, Bazzard and Haschwalth had known of the moniker.
A new challenge would be to get Bazzard to the Eldritch Chamber without getting caught. Normally, the two avoided being seen talking to each other for more than what was necessary to issue an order. Even then, Soren had been careful and instigated that all were to carry transmitters at all times.
It was a good call on Haschwalth's side to fight fire with fire. The main reason he did design his own technology. Without further delay, he took the device connected to Bazzard and sent him a silent note to meet him at once on the outskirts of the castle near the entrance to Dunkelbaum*. He did not mention it, but from there he would take him to the hidden room. It will be a first for the other. He sincerely hoped Bazzard would be able to control himself. Though, with Shirosaki been part of the equation, it was never a guaranteed assurance.
Exasperatedly, he rose from the bed, did his morning routing and prepared for a long meeting. To reaffirm his deception, he opted to wear a training attire, which would make it even more believable that he and Bazzard would not cross paths. After all, Bazzard will be given the task to roam in the Living World, while Haschwalth will be training outside the palace. Yes, he had to plan every step of the way to guarantee their success in misleading everyone around.
Bazzard Black was not a morning person. In fact, he detested any wake-up calls before at least 9:00 am. Those unfortunate souls who got on his bad early-morning temper were scarce and far in between.
The only one who could get him up any earlier and get away with it, was Haschwalth. The prick enjoyed in tormenting him on every possible occasion and opportunity. Similar to his current predicament. So, here he was, at 8:30 am drinking his shot of pure adrenaline aka black coffee with three spoons of sugar and half a cup of milk. He may like the rush the dark liquid gave, but the taste was a big bummer. He found out the secret to relish in his coffee by the 'Pale (ass) Demon' and the 'Orange Menace'. Mind you, the 'ass' addition was never proclaimed loudly. Where one liked his coffee on the stronger side with the addition of milk, the other preferred to sweeten it.
Chuckling to himself at the appropriate nicknames, he recalled the many reactions he pulled out from the fascinating duo whenever he called out to them. On a good day, he would get Shirosaki to grin and an annoyed face from Denka. God forbid both were irritated.
They were different yet similar. Like day and night, the Moon and the Sun, never separated for long, always ready to back one another. Just as they complemented each other in personality, so did they in their fighting styles. Where the Denka was pensive and tactical, Shirosaki was wild and unpredictable.
In spite of that, there were those moments when the two were in perfect sync. More than anything, that freaked him out. A glance and a smirk were all it required for the two to reverse their roles, change tactics or simply become one in the same and all of that was achieved in a whim. It never ceased to amaze him, how with a look, they simultaneously determined which approach they wanted to use. There were no words, no sings no modifications to the gaze and still they managed to do something new and scare the living daylights out of Bazz.
To think everything went to hell because of Soren. And wasn't that a revelation that pissed him off. If nothing, he had to, reluctantly admit, Soren had a set on him. To think the other plotted against their King, killed their Denka and still have the guts to walk in Wandenreich and assume the rule as Regent.
He couldn't wait for the green light which would give him the freedom he desired and blow Soren to pieces. Beaming at the idea, he quickly finished his morning drink and went to meet Haschwalth. And, as per usual, the was already there waiting for him.
Bazzard was stunned at the attire the other wore. White cargo pants, black tennis-shoes and socks and a navy tank top with a pale accentuation towards the bottom. Darn it! He did not know he was allowed casual clothes. Had he known, he would have gladly exchanged his white uniform and cape for some jeans and t-shirt.
Which would have probably made more than a few heads turn in his direction. Shoot! He was loath to confess, but it had been a smart move from Jugo. With the full suit on, there were no doubts that he was going out on a mission and not roaming around Wandenreich. Oh well, next time they should switch roles. Yeah, right! Like that could happen thanks to a certain pain in the neck named Soren.
The entire area outside the castle was obscured with the occasional white structure or 'plant' made out of Reishi. The Dunkelbaum differs from the rest of their surrounding for being the only black colored item, outside of the sky and their surroundings, of course.
He saw Jugo putting a hand on the tree. Patterns similar to Blut Vene spread slowly through the front bark and were soon replaced by a large door. Without needing to be told, Bazz followed behind the blonde and closed the doors behind on impulse.
Imagine his surprise at seeing a conference room lit by candles which emanated a soft blue light. The white ivory chairs and crimson pillows, around a square white marble table made for four, seemed very comfortable and he promptly made himself relax on the opposite side of Jugo.
If the chamber had astonished him, it paled in comparison to witnessing a Garganta, of all things, opening to his left, Jugo's right. How in the World could Hollows breach such a place? Judging by Jugo's amazed and serious expression, he had not seen that one coming either. As one, they rose from their seats, ready to annihilate any foolish mongrels coming out from the void. Only to be shell-shocked at the two figures that came leisurely strolling out of the black-hole.
"What the…?! You've got to be shitting me!?"
Looking forward to any and all criticism.
*Drude* – in German, they represent a kind of malevolent nocturnal spirit associated with nightmares. The word was later used as the generic term for "witch" in the 16th century. I chose this name for Bazzard's and Haschwalth's home origin because I'd reckon the powerful duo attracted tons of Hollows. Since regular humans can't see them and Hollows do seem to pop-up mostly at night in Bleach, I thought it was appropriate xD (I know they roam during the day too, but they don't let a certain Substitute sleep properly either)
*Thuringii* / Toringi = a Germanic tribe that appeared late during the Völkerwanderung (Migration Period) in the Harz Mountains of central Germany. Later, it became a kingdom, which came into conflict with the Merovingian Franks. Only to come under their influence and Frankish control. The name is still used for a modern German federal state.
*Huron* = Native American Tribe name meaning 'ruffian' or 'head of a boar'. I thought it would be hilarious to give Bazz-B a name that could easily be identified with both his mohawk and temper. 'Ruffian' somehow describes him rather well, but 'head of a boar' even better, especially with his stubbornness and stylish 'mane' xD
Fine, I confess, I'm a meanie, but you love me anyway x3
*Dunkelbaum* - literally translated from German to English it would mean the Dark Tree. I was considering using Schwartzwald here, but did not want to confuse anyone as I do plan to use the real location someday in the future (maybe, it's still too early in the story to know for sure x3). Thank you, "Someone / Strawberry" Guest, for fixing my German error. Got to admit, German is, unfortunately, not my strongest language, but I do like to add a little bit of everything in the story ^ . ^
I really hope that I will need only two or three more chapters to finally have Ichigo born. Sheesh – I know you probably won't believe me, but the story itself, along with Muse-san, took me by surprise. I may have mentioned this before, but my original idea was to have Masaki and Isshin meet by chapter 7 or 8. Then Muse-sama decided to expand the tale, she gave me a delightfully nasty Soren and some other kinks. A tweak here, several jerks around in various directions… and… voila! The whole thing swept me off my feet and dragged me into a new world which is still so remarkably similar to what we know and love about Bleach.
I should probably stop my ranting and start typing chapter 30. With any luck, we'll reach 200,000 words with the next one x3
Reminders: English is still not my mother language. So, if I made any mistakes or errors, please let me know. I am the writer and spellcheck person all in one. I know this is getting old. But better safe than sorry xD
Until next time, have an amazing day/night ahead :D