Chapter Text
One step further.
Sweat glimmered on his brow as he struggled with the situation he was in. The sun beat down mercilessly, the shade from the clouds high above mockingly avoided him.
Just one step! That's all it took! Then... then...
Then he'd be inside. And inside was precisely where he did NOT want to be when he was running over an hour late to work. The alarm hadn't gone off. Hadn't. Gone. Off. If it had, he would be at work right now, ready to start his shift like almost every other day. Almost, of course, being 4 out of 5 days of the week on average.
Ikkaku Madarame was not lazy. No sir! Indeed, he loved his job. The excitement of the stakeout. The thrill of the chase. The glory of the take down. The thrill of the chase. The fulfilment of receiving the bounty. And of course... the thrill of the chase.
That was really what attracted most people to this job – hunting. Chasing. Catching. Being a bounty hunter was not the most glamorous, or even well paid job in the world. But it was exciting and it kept booze in the fridge – and if some people thought that wasn't enough, then some people could go soak their feathery head in a bucket.
Ok. One hour and ten minutes late. No more procrastinating.
Taking a deep breath, and a large gulp – Ikkaku gripped the door handle as though it were his lifeline, and took the plunge into the dimly lit barracks of his life, and eventual death - '11th Hour Bounty Hunters'. Seeing the cold, yellow stare from the back of the beige walled office – he knew... it was going to be a hell of a day.
"Madarame! Where the fuck have you been?" The harsh question was barked at him from the direction of the cold stare. Oh thank all things holy... he might actually live to see tomorrow! Usually, his lateness was met with a sparring session, in which he was sure he would die, every time.
"Sorry, Sir," The captain was always more lenient when they called him 'sir' or 'captain' instead of 'boss', "Blackout in my area. Alarm didn't go off." He knew the excuse was thin. The sheen of sweat on his hairless dome of a head would surely give him away.
Shockingly, the only answer he received was a grunt of acceptance, as the captain turned his gaze back to his softly glowing computer, a snarl on his lips. Goddammit did that man hate technology! There were several separate offices that the captain could use to do his paperwork – but he refused to have a computer anywhere near the area he spent his afternoon nap, and so, with (perfectly dimwitted) common sense, The captain chose to work in the back room. This of course meant, that barely anyone ever stepped foot through the rear entrance of the building. Only Madarame, Yumichika, Yachiru and Kenpachi used the back room – the rest of the men utilized the main hall area in the front of the building.
Giving himself a mental high five – he wasn't genuinely afraid of the Captain, he was far more concerned about his daughter/secretary – and what kind of job was that for an 11 year old anyway? – Ikkaku headed to his desk, avoiding the glare of the dispatch officer and flamboyant roommate, Yumichika Ayasegawa. He dropped off a small plastic shipping bag filled with 'bribes' for the lieutenant - a selection of sweets and cakes, while his eyes zeroed in on the cheap coffee machine near the connecting door to the main hall.
Coffee. He needed coffee. The world could wait...
Kenpachi stood abruptly, snagging his black button down shirt from the back of his chair and filling the small room with his presence. Raising his voice to a battlefield yell, he called "Madarame! Makiyosuke! Get your gear. We got a class two repeat offender spotted in downtown Crewetteberg, five miles outside the city limits, and 5 days off his parole. It's time to suit up."
...Apparently the world was an impatient bitch.
Kenpachi Zaraki.
Some called him the Demon Hunter. Both because of what he was, and of the kinds of scum he hunted. He was fierce, aggressive, fearless and powerful. He had strong intuition, that came in very handy in their profession, and a terrible sense of direction... which made their job more difficult than it needed to be.
Everything, from his physical appearance, reputation, right down to the way he spoke to his subordinates, drove fear into the hearts of men. God knows what it did to everyone else. And yet, though he was feared by all (even the police he handed his scum bag payloads off to) his men loved him. No, not loved. Worshipped him . In him they saw an invincible titan, an unbeatable tyrant, for whom they would willingly lay down their lives. He cared only for battle, and they shared in his glory. Kenpachi ruled over 130 men. He called them his army, and he was their Captain.
As he strode through the large open hall, the men paused their activities and nodded their heads or bowed, as their personalities dictated. The Captain ignored them, heading to the waiting vehicle outside. Without pausing, he curled into the backseat, grimacing at the way he had to curl his large frame into the vehicle. Ikkaku lounged in the passenger seat, griping silently about the lack of coffee in his stomach. Kenpachi sat quietly, reading the file in his large, scarred hands as they exited the city.
Makiyosuke, as the designated driver on this hunt (Kenpachi only had a motorbike and boating license) turned down the stereo as they entered Crewetteberg, and listened to the final debrief points that the boss gave to his number two.
"Ok, you got that Ikkaku? Name: Maki Ichinose. Sentence included: armed robbery, dugs – possession and dealing, and finally... hohoho... check this – manslaughter in the first degree! Looks like we got ourselves a fighter." Kenpachi's maniacal grin widened and he turned to look out the window, his dark glasses hiding the eager gleam in his eyes.
Ikkaku grinned wryly, "That's why you decided to come along, isn't it, sir? You were itching for some action and thought this one might actually get to play a bit rough?"
Kenpachi's infamous smile was all the answer he needed. No wonder the Cap' decided to come along, rather than send the usual five man team – he was looking to get his hands dirty instead of doing all that damned paperwork. Unfortunately, every time he left that to his 'secretary', it mysteriously became mixed in with various Facebook photos, paint doodles and photoshop scraps. That pink haired little pain was, however, incredibly gifted in self defense – and no one – NO ONE – could show her disrespect... unless they thought they could out run Kenpachi's long reach. Recently, she'd been pranking the new recruits, and filming the results for her Tik Tok channel, whatever that was.
That was one thing Ikkaku never quite understood about Yachiru Kusajishi. If she was Kenpachi's adopted daughter – left overs from a bounty hunt gone bad over 10 years ago – why did he let her keep her Criminal Parents' name, instead of giving her his own? Not that the history of the Zaraki name was very appropriate for a young girl – but still. She looked like the polar opposite of her 'Dad', all cute interests and adorable big eyes. He sighed and shook his head – time to stop day dreaming and get in the zone. Kenpachi gave him the rest of the debrief as they pulled up less than a block from the target house.
"This is going to be a playbook snatch and grab. I've had Ayasegawa check the plans on this building – 2 exits, front and back, plus one basement. I can see a single pickup truck in the driveway – but let's not take any chances. Check the truck first, in case he knows we're coming and is waiting till we go inside. While you do that, I'll take the back. I hate playing tag, so I want you to herd him, and anyone he's with, to me like fucking sheep. You got that?"
"Yes, sir – like fucking sheep." He wondered what would happen if this Ichinose fellow tried to jump out one of the windows... well, that's what Makiyosuke was for – stopping party poopers and plugging the leaks.
They exited the car, and strode purposefully down the sidewalk, splitting apart as they approached the property. Their appearance seemed normal… which was strange – seeing as they were doing a raid. Instead of body armor, Kevlar plates and side arms, the two wore their black cotton button up shirts over white tank tops, loose black trousers, sneakers, and they each carried a long wooden instrument. Kenpachi's looked like a battered old sword, notched and scarred. Ikkaku's was more of a spear staff, without the sharp head. Each man had a leather loop hanging off the side of their belt, where the weapons would be stored until needed.
That was the signature of the 11th Hour – hunters had the option of wearing body armor and all of them were trained to use wooden instruments. Not only did it decrease the number of fatalities so they could receive their bounty, rather than a body bag, but it kept their senses sharp – honed for hand to hand combat – and gave the members a strong sense of self respect and ethics. Any maniac could shoot a gun, but not all maniacs could fight or defend with handheld weapons.
Following his instructions, Ikkaku quickly checked the truck in the front drive. It was a pathetic bit of machinery – peeling paint, rusty handles and brackets, chipped windscreen – a lot like the faded blue house they were about to bust into. Finding the truck empty, Ikkaku proceeded quickly to the front door, unshaded on the bare, barely grassed front lawn. He cast a quick glance around, noticing Makiyosuke trailing behind at a safe distance. Raising a fist, he rapped sharply on the door and called out loudly.
"Maki Ichinose! This is the 11th Hour! You are in violation of your parole! Come out, unarmed, with your hands in plain sight!" Ikkaku grinned, knowing the bastard was probably hoofing it to the rear entrance – where Kenpachi waited for him. He knocked again, and repeated the message – this time adding, "Or else we'll come in there and get you." He heard a scrambling, scraping noise from behind the door. What the hell?...
A shot gun fired out through the wood of the door at head height. Ikkaku, instincts trained for years to prepare for this kind of thing, dodged to the side quickly. A flare of pain on his right ear. Shit… the little bastard grazed him! Preparing himself, Ikkaku took a running leap at the door and shoulder barged it inwards, using his not inconsiderable strength to smash through the rotted wood and straight into something soft and screaming and female. Great… another parole jumper who hired an armed hooker. Ikkaku took a second glance at the now unarmed and unconscious woman, and sneered. An ugly hooker.
A flash of movement along the hallway to the back of the house. "Ichinose! Give it up!" Ikkaku ran in pursuit, knowing he was only the herder of the idiot sheep. The fleeing bounty was panicking, he ran to the back door, opened it and sprinted outside…
SMACK!
… well, at least he tried to. He stumbled back in a daze, wondering what he had collided with. Raising his eyes, he saw black… black… and a wooden 'sword' resting on an extremely broad shoulder, next to the carved, scarred face of –
"K..Kenpachi Zaraki!" Maki gurgled the name in fear, and scrambled back, ungracefully falling on his butt. Kenpachi sneered at the mans fear, utterly unamused that this was the prey he had decided to come after. What the hell? With a reasonable rap sheet, 12 years in prison and what looked like an army haircut… he had expected more.
Ichinose suddenly dropped the demeanor of 'Frightened victim', his breath evening out and eyes narrowing. He pulled out the .48 berretta he had been hiding in the back of his faded blue jeans, and scrabbled to his feet. Ikkaku, still herding, stopped in his tracks, eyes wide. This was NOT how it was supposed to go down. Pointing the barrel directly at the bridge of Kenpachi's nose, Ichinose straightened his stance, and rolled his head on his shoulders. Without looking away from his target, he spoke to Ikkaku 10 feet behind him. "Not one move, or I'll blow whatever brains he has through the back of his thick skull." Ikkaku remained silent and still – and Maki grinned malevolently. He had done it – his plan had worked! He was finally - finally - able to get his revenge on this demon!
"Finally…" he said softly to Kenpachi, "Finally I have you right where you belong, at barrel end of my gun. Revenge is so much sweeter, isn't it Zaraki? When a well thought out plan comes together? I've been waiting, rotting in prison for you. 12 year. All for this moment."
"Sorry Kid, can't say you're my type." Kenpachi growled. This kid thought he had the drop on him – well, he'd play along for now – might make the take down last longer.
Ichinose gave a derisive sneer, the curve of his lip barely affecting his calm face, "Cocky bastard, aren't you? Well you won't be once you're dead. Kiganjo always said strength is the tool of justice. But you used yours to put an innocent man on death row!"
Zaraki frowned, his brows furrowing. "Kiganjo..."
Ichinose's eyes blazed with fury, "The man you helped to kill! A man who protected his district-"
"You mean profited from his district?" Ikkaku interrupted with a sneer.
Ichinose turned his head and glared at Ikkaku, eyes wide and maddened with anger. Kenpachi didn't take the opportunity - he was too busy trying to remember...
"Kiganjo... Ki - Oh yeah! Kiganjo the Lady Killer. I remember now. The dude who was rapin' the wokin' girls downtown, then when they complained to their pimps, used the excuse of 'self defense'?"
"Yeah, that's the one," Ikkaku drawled, "Then he took their cut of the profits from the girls pockets."
Ichinose snarled at the two of them, spittle flying, "That's a LIE! Kiganjo was cleaning up the streets, getting rid of pimps and drug dealers! He was a warrior! A protector!-"
"A pervert." Kenpachi grunted, lip curling at the memory.
Ichinose was almost shaking with fury, but he took a deep breath, calming himself. His eyes gleamed, and he sighed with pleasure, "Goodbye Zaraki – I hope this is as painful as possible for you." Ichinose lowered the gun to aim at Zaraki's throat, knowing his hollow point bullets would shred the mans esophagus and send shards into his spinal column causing death, or at least paralysis. He also knew that Ikkaku would take his life the moment the he pulled the trigger.
Taking one last look into Kenpachi's black glasses, Maki sighed that he wouldn't be able to see the look of horror coalesce on the mans face – but still, his death would be worth it.
He squeezed the trigger...
Notes:
Hi, And welcome! If you're enjoying the fic, please feel comfortable to leave a comment!
I hope you enjoy the journey - it's going to get wild <3
Chapter Text
...
Or at least, that's what he was trying to do.
His hand suddenly detached, gun still clenched in it's grasp as it hit the floor with a meaty THUNK. Maki stared in shock at the loss of his hand and upper wrist – what the hell? Blood started pouring – torrenting – out of the open wound, and he felt the effects with shocking clarity.
Clutching his arm to his chest, he collapsed to the floor and curled into a ball, teeth clenched and breath hissing out in a rising sound, until he was screaming at the top of his lungs. He shortly passed into unconsciousness, and it was at that point that Ikkaku bent down and applied a tourniquet from the mans belt. He wouldn't die. Probably.
Kenpachi frowned and turned away, furious that the little scumbag had been so much of a nuisance, and not even much of a fighter! He was unperturbed by the sight of the gun. He had cut off the mans arm at the last possible point, to see if he would finally drop the gun and actually fight. But no – Maki had decided to take the weaklings way out and use a gun. Pussy. It's not like Kenpachi thought he couldn't die – he knew the bullet meant for him was possibly fatal, but it didn't really matter when he could cut faster than a man could move.
He removed the hidden sword out of its battered wooden camouflage for the second time, and checked it for blood. Not even a smear. The slice had been too quick – almost surgical. With a huff, he holstered the weapon and headed back to the car, noting Ikkaku had already called the paramedics to come and clean up their prize. Walking through the house, towards the front entrance, he passed Isane Kotetsu, the second in charge of Sereitei General Hospital. She was hustling into through the front door with a gurney and her small, weary looking assistant. Kenpachi paused at the front step to scan the area. If Isane was here, that meant that Retsu Unohana was having a busy day – she didn't just send out her best paramedic for no reason. Either that… or she was having him followed again, knowing the kind of human destruction he left in his wake.
Kenpachi sighed. He hoped it wasn't the second one. The last time he was followed by Unohana's medics, he had unintentionally (well, almost unintentionally) frightened them into fainting. One of them was committed to a shrink for six months, and under paid 'sick leave' no less. Hmph – weaklings – the whole lot of them. Not that he'd ever say that to Unohana. He had some sense of self preservation outside of a fight.
Folding himself into the backseat of car – Ikkaku would be travelling in the ambulance with the 'patient' – The Captain directed Makiyosuke to drop him off at his favorite bar, just inside the city limits. It was almost one o'clock, and his irritation at today's 'adventure' had not ebbed his growing headache one little bit. He was due for an afternoon nap, but a cold drink would be a nice substitute until Ikkaku could join him and report in on the condition of their bounty. Yachiru was staying over at her 'uncle' Byakuya's penthouse tonight, with her highschool friend Rukia, so no need to think about company. The Kid always seemed to be making friends outside her age group, but as long as she was happy, he didn't care.
Downing his eighth beer in a vicious swig, and heaving his enormous frame off the bar stool, Kenpachi made his way to the bathroom, enjoying the smoky haze and muted rock music playing from the junkyard jukebox in the corner. Ikkaku had joined him an hour ago, and was already three drinks deep and texting Yumichika that they'd be back late. This was his relaxation time, and he was determined to enjoy it. The only thing more relaxing was having a quiet nightcap with the Kid, while she pretended to do her homework – but he was too restless for that kind of relaxation tonight. He needed somewhere violent – somewhere someone would get drunk enough to start a fight, and then he might actually get some of this tension off his back. It had been a burn out of a day, getting his expectations up then squashing them.
The only let down was that most of the drunks in this bar were off duty civil servants – cops, firemen, medics – even the occasional egghead who lived on the dark side. There were also the reformed scumbags – like that Urahara Kisuke. Hmph – everyone knows he only got off because of his connections to the (now retired) Senator Yoruichi Shihoin. She herself probably would have been thrown in with him, if it wasn't for all her family ties to the white house. Bloody rich people.
Kenpachi finished his business, tucked himself in and lumbered his way back to the bar – raising an eyebrow at Matsumoto Rangiku, the bar waitress, to send another beer his way. She gave him her usual pouty grin and slid the bottle down the bar expertly with a wink. He flicked a few coins her way and nodded his thanks, noting not for the first time how the other men in the bar were falling over each other to get her to grin at them like that. Pfft – idiots. She was just a woman – a well filled out, pretty woman, he supposed – but he only care to remembered her name because she was a solid drinker, and a reasonable fighter.
During one memorable session when she was clearing up for the night and her pipsqueak boss was counting the till, some stupid addict decided it would be a good idea to hold up the joint, probably to score cash for a hit. Kenpachi and Ikkaku were having a late evening after a very long day, and realized they were the last patrons in the bar. They had grunted as they realized they'd probably have to do something about the screaming, gun wielding maniac at the counter. But, before either of them could move, they heard the young owner – who hadn't even looked up at the crazy idiot – call out quietly for Matsumoto to 'take care of it'. Ikkaku scoffed loudly, but Kenpachi waited, mind ticking over all the details:
-Firstly, it was a well known fact that the owner, Toshiro Hitsugaya was not only a genius young businessman, for all his 20 years, but was in fact an ex-militia leader in his home country near the Siberian border.
-Secondly, no genius/ex-militia leader would decide to own a bar in a roughneck part of town like this, if he wasn't certain that he had the right kind of staff to protect his interests.
-Thirdly, only an idiot would hire ugly chicks to wait drinks at a bar, unless they thought all the extra booz and promo shit were going to be sold to the rats.
Putting all this together, Kenpachi sat back, a watchful expression on his face as he waited for this little charade to unfold. Ikkaku, taking his lead from his Captain, cast one last confused glance towards the man, then sat back to observe as well.
The drug addled moron, wielding his .38 at the ceiling, barely knew what hit him as Matsumoto came flying over the bar, one hand braced for balance on the counter as she swung her body and legs over to kick him squarely in the temple, before landing gracefully on both feet. The man must have been dosed up on Methamphetamine's, because he had barely hit the ground before he was back up, charging at the woman – eyes wide and screaming insanely.
This time the strawberry blonde set her stance to basic hand to hand combat, and using a few lightning fast flicks of her fingers, hit various pressure points on his body, causing him to stop mid-charge and fall to the ground, groaning in undisguised agony. It was just pure luck that a police lieutenant from the seventh precinct, Iba Tetsuzaimon happened to walk through the door, hoping to score a last minute beer on his way home.
"Lieutenant, would you mind arresting this man? He just attempted an armed robbery of my business." That icy, calm voice belonged to Hitsugaya, who still refused to look up from counting the till. How long did it take to count, anyway? Kenpachi had a thought about that, but he let it slide. Matsumoto calmly walked back behind the bar and continued to clean her area, sneaking in the occasional Jaeger shot.
"If you could sling a beer my way, I'll take him right now," came the amorous reply. Iba wasn't known for his sobriety. A bottle came flying towards his head, but he caught it easily, and bent to the task of handcuffing the groaning man on the floor and collecting his weapon. With a small salute to Kenpachi and Ikkaku at the back of the room, and a cheeky wink towards Matsumoto, he left with his prisoner.
It was times like that which made Kenpachi realize just how much he had put into this city. The amount of security guards, cops, detectives, firemen and assassins he had personally trained over the years was equal to no other. His methods were bizarre – his results, unquestionable. He only allowed the best of the best to obtain a position of value in his city – no unworthy weakling would ever amount to anything but a traffic cop, if they couldn't pass basic training at The 11th Hour. Just like Iba had to.
"Captain!"
Kenpachi turned in his seat to focus on the fire headed man coming his way. He noted the tribal tattoos and crisp business suit, coupled with the extremely trendy sun glasses balanced precariously on his forehead. Renji Abarai, head of security to that Kuchiki princess, Byakua. What the hell was he doing here? Since his transfer from 11th Hour into high society private-protection, he generally stayed away from the lower class locales. Renji nodded in respect to his former boss, then took a seat to his left, raising his hand to get a beer from Rangiku.
"What're you doing here so late, Abarai?" Ikkaku asked, curious.
"Have you heard the news?" Renji asked suddenly, making Kenpachi look at him with narrowed eyes. "They're saying Sosuke Aizen is back in town. Apparently he's already started reforming old bonds and making… new friends." He took a quick swig from his drink and staring straight ahead, continued to tell Kenpachi all the finer details he had heard through his various connections.
The larger man took it all in slowly, absorbing the news with a hint of anger. Aizen was run out of town 3 years ago, by a joint task force of police, special forces and private groups – most of them trained by Kenpachi. A lot of good men died that year. The War (as they all privately called it) was a lot more involved and deadly than anyone actually knew. But that wasn't what made him snarl quietly…
"… and I got a text from Ichigo… apparently he's been asked to investigate the disappearances."
"Disappearances?" Rangiku placed a beer in front of Renji and waited to hear the rest of the news. Hitsugaya had stopped counting, staring at the till, but listening intently.
Fury began to bubble in the Captains stomach – a poison of aggression, frustration, envy and an old grudge. It wasn't just that Ichigo had been brought into this new Aizen problem… it was the fact that Aizen was the one Bounty that Kenpachi never cashed in... or killed. The slippery fuck had managed to evade him at every turn – even travelling illegally into the Sierra desert, to a sheltered location. That little adventure was still a fresh nightmare for him. To this day, he had an aversion to sand.
"Jailbreaks - but with no leads. A few mental asylum escapees. His old secretary - Momo? The tail she had on her from Komamura's division was found dead about three hours ago. She's gone." Hitsugaya noticeably tensed, hands clenching on the till.
But Renji wasn't quite finished, and it was the last note that had Kenpachi rising to his feet quicker than a man his size should have been able to:
"… there was also an attack by his people at Sereitei General today. Trying to get out one of his guys from the psych ward – you know, Gimmjow? Yeah, well apparently, someone was doing night duty on the floor and… Captain… Unohana is in emergency as we speak…"
Notes:
I'm really enjoying writing this story. I can't wait to get into some heavy shit.
Blueprint for the Snowball Bar: https://zaraki-oriented.tumblr.com/post/647674787536240640/the-snowball-bar-ownermanager-toshiro
**Update** The 11th Hour now has it's own play list! These are the songs I listen to that give me inspiration on scenes or characters. If you're keen to hear a song for a specific chapter or scene, please hit me up!***
Chapter Text
"Sir! You can't just – Sir? SIR!"
"Quiet! Don't you know who that is?"
"Isn't that the Demon Hunter?"
"No way!"
"Look at him… he's huge! And all those scars!"
"What's he doing here?"
"Probably heard about the Director…"
"That's right – they have a history don't they?"
"if you call nearly killing each other a 'history'!"
"WHAT?!"
Kenpachi ignored the banter and headed to the emergency recovery ward. There were nurses and interns scurrying left, right and centre – but they pressed themselves against the walls and he strode through. He was usually terrible with directions, and today was no exception - it took him two turns and a dead end before he realised he was lost. Snarling in frustration, he spun around and stalked back to the main hall, where some quivering pipsqueak was sure to tell him where Unohana was located.
"Sir? Mr. Zaraki?"
Ah, Isane, she at least wouldn't shrink overly much when he spoke to her. "Where' Retsu?"
"Uh, she left recovery 20 minutes ago, and is back in her office. Do you know how to get there?"
Even though the question was asked politely, Kenpachi bristled at the implied criticism.
"'Course I know how to get there!" He barked, making the woman flinch, "Been here a dozen times before, ain't I?" Without waiting for an answer, he strode past her, long legs eating up the distance quickly. Within moments, he found himself outside her office door, and opened it without knocking.
The pale woman at the back of the brightly lit room stared at his intrusion - calm, collected and utterly unimpressed. Her long black hair was neatly brushed into a plait down her left side, disappearing below the edge of the dark mahogany desk. She raised her hands from her paperwork and placed them neatly in her lap, appraising Kenpachi. He hadn't changed one bit. He still wore his wild hair shaved at the sides, but long and fastidiously groomed down his back. He still had his wooden staff thrust into the belt at his hip and of course, and he still wore those damn dark glasses that made his eyes all but invisible. They only served to accentuate the scars on his face and neck – specifically the familiar one running down the right side of his face, cutting his eyebrow in half. And of course the arrogance – he wore that like a cloak, billowing around his form to intimidate and ensnare the unwary. He was fully aware of the effect he had on others – he just didn't care.
"Kenpachi. How nice, that you should visit. To what do I owe the honor?" Her voice was calm and controlled. She had no reason to fear that he would act... inappropriately – but she knew from the set of his face that she wasn't about to get out of this without a headache.
Kenpachi for his part, saw her sitting calmly and in control, apparently unharmed, and instantly cursed Renji's name to every god in existence. He lowered his arm from his sword hilt and strode into the room fully, flicking the door closed with the heel of his shoe. If she was going to act like everything was alright, he would do his best to break her demeanour.
"You think this is just a pleasant little visit? What the fuck, Unohana? I get a message that Aizen is back in town, and that his first little pit stop was here. I want information! How many attacked this place? What weapons did they use? What was their objective? C'mon – you must have at least got some information while you were getting your ass handed to you!"
Retsu Unohana was slow to anger, but something in his words stoked the embers in her belly. Nothing outwardly changed, but the feel of the office turned darker. Menacing. "Pardon me, but I didn't get my 'ass handed to me'. I was outnumbered and taken by surprise – as any capable leader could have been. We have both seen war, Zaraki, you know I can look after myself. Had I been more prepared-"
"Then why weren't you?" He snarled, voice rising in anger, "You know that you hold dangerous people in the psych wards – why weren't you more prepared? You should always be ready for an attack – you know that!" He was yelling at her now, walking forward to place his hands on the desk, thrusting his face into hers.
Her eyes glittered strangely. "That's what it really boils down to, doesn't it Kenpachi? You didn't come here for information – you came here to gloat about how I couldn't defend myself. I've got 8 stitches in my head – thank you for asking – because some brute decided to use a blunt instrument on me, rather than shoot me and alert the night watch. They snuck in behind me as I passed a fire exit and knocked me out for over fifteen minutes – taking the inmate. They were well prepared and very organized. Security got no footage, no alarms were activated and the cell door for Grimmjow - 'The Grimm Reaper' - was opened using a duplicate key – meaning they have a spy on my personal staff. Now on top of all of this I have to deal with you barging into my office and yelling at me for your own selfish reasons. Go home, Kenpachi – and take your emotional baggage with you." She stared at him calmly, only the slight rise and fall of her chest betraying her frustration.
Kenpachi shifted back, standing straight and confused. Why was he even here? The woman knew how to protect herself – he didn't care whether she got hurt. He did care for information though – and he was going to get that one way or another.
"Stop playing the bitch, Retsu," He lifted his sunglasses to rest on his forehead and crossed his arms over his chest. "I ain't gloating, I'm here for information – tell me what you know. Were they strong?"
Unohana sighed – she should have known it would be useless trying to make him feel bad – the man was as emotional as a rock. She held his stare. "Yes, they were strong. They were also smart. Whether or not there were 1 or 20, and whether all of those were geniuses remains to be seen – but they have a very able commander, that much is clear. I know Aizen's ways from the last time – he wouldn't have cared for a sneak attack himself – had he wanted Grimmjow, he would have walked straight in the front door on his own, especially if he was on his own. The fact that he had people do this for him stinks of hired hands – and that means he either has new 'friends', or is too weak to attack himself."
"He's not weak. That one has never been weak. He's been a sneaky, lying, backstabbing, traitorous son-of-a-bitch – but never weak." Venom infused Kenpachi's voice as he thought back to all those people that were taken in by Aizen's betrayal - so many of them fighting companions or trainees. To this day, they still hadn't recovered from their losses.
Unohana frowned at his response - the man was still too personally attached to this, regardless of what he said. "That's all I know, Zaraki," she murmured, trying to urge him to leave by returning to her paperwork "If you want more information, go speak with Komamura over at 7th Precinct – his people were the first on the scene, and I think Nemu from Kurotsuchi's CSU Division was the investigating agent. She's thorough," a hint of a grin appeared, "and she's not scared of you."
Kenpachi snorted at Unohana's attempt at humor. Nemu was one of a handful of people, let alone women, who could speak with him straight and look him in the eye. He respected that – even if he hated the way she always acted so weak before her boss. The damn women was abused and everyone knew it – but she was a decent fighter, and made a world of difference during the cleanup after the Aizen incident years ago. She was just so damn creepy. It was as if he could punch her, but she would just get back up and keep fighting – usually that would be highly enjoyable in a battle partner…but with her, she just didn't enjoy it. Creepy.
Mayuri Kurotsuchi on the other hand was a lunatic – a well funded, scientific, genius lunatic. The man brought a whole new meaning to the title 'Mad Professor'. He got results, yes indeed, but his methods were questionable and his tactics were sometimes as bad as the crime he was investigating. Still, the City kept him on as the head of CSURWD Centre (Crime Scene Units, Research and Weapons Development), or as the other civil services called it – Cursed Centre. But everyone knew of his contempt for his predecessor, and the unconventional way he got his position. That was a memory for another day.
Lowering his sunglasses back to the bridge of his nose. Kenpachi turned on his foot and exited the small office, taking one small last glance at the quiet woman working at the desk. She used to be a total enigma to him, but as they grew to seeing each other from time to time, he had learnt how to read the subtle set of her shoulders, the way she wore her hair, the terrifying coldness in her eyes.
And it was in that glance that he saw it - the thing she was hiding from everyone else. She was in pain. Sharp physical pain. She hid it well – but he knew weakness, especially battle weakness, when he saw it. He scowled as he exited the hospital, into the cool night air.
Someone had hurt her, had caused her to seem weak to him. And he didn't like that.
Not one bit.
"Kennyyyy! I'm coming with you to work today, ok? C'mon – let's go!" Yachiru's high pitched, bubbly voice filtered through the bathroom door, where her extremely tall father struggled to pull the brush through his sleep tossed hair. He was bent almost in two trying to look in the short bathroom mirror, and he once again cursed the fact that he didn't pre-empt buying a proper mirror for his bathroom when he bought the house. Finishing his morning routine, he opened the door, ignored the bouncing, pink haired girl (pink – why did she have to dye her hair PINK?) and headed straight to his wardrobe to get dressed. Well, it did suit her.
"Yachiru!" He called out, stopping her bouncing. "Haven't you got an exam today? Miss Ise called me yesterday at work," he emphasized the location – she knew how much he hated being distracted when he was working, "to tell me you'd better be there for it, or she'd put you on suspension." He dressed quietly, waiting for her inevitable response – would she whine, or play dumb today?
"What? No one told me there was an exam today!" (ah, playing dumb it would be) "I haven't studied because I didn't know! Oh, Kenny! You can't expect me to go for an exam I didn't study for! I'll fail for sure! And all because no one told me!" She pouted, shooting him a look of affronted anger that made her both seem adorable and justified. He grinned his shark-like grin and came out of his bedroom to stare down at her – this time around, she had no-one to blame but herself.
"Now ain't that strange? Because your teacher told me that she reminded you three times before you left school yesterday – like she's been remindin' the whole class for the last month. Are you calling her a liar? 'Cause that means I'd have to go down there and fight her for lyin' to me. And I know you like this teacher… so what's it gonna be, Kid?"
Yachiru stuck her bottom lip out, then grinned and scrunched up her nose at him, "Oh, Kenny! You're no fun! I guess I'll have to go to school then, huh?" And without another word, she grabbed her backpack and scooted out the door faster than his eyes could follow. He chuckled, a deep throaty sound.
Little twerp – by the look of that backpack, she knew she was going to have to go to school all along. Well, at least now he could get next door to the barracks and get the training started for all the early risers. Nothing like a good sparring session to get things going. He had a feeling this week was going to be one hell of a week... And it was only Tuesday.
"C'mon Rookie – move your ass! I swear... why do they send me these weaklings?!" Kenpachi swung his battered wooden practice sword up to rest on his shoulder. "They'll never get better if they just crawl in the corner, not engaging!" The comment was directed at Ikkaku, but the glare was directed straight at his visitor trainees from Third Precinct on the other side of town. " I don't care if they're constables, lieutenants or the Old Man himself!" He walked towards the quivering masses, accentuating each word with a solid 'thump' of his sword against his shoulder. "You. Must. Engage. The. Enemy. Or. You. Will. Die. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME, WEAKLINGS?!"
"Sir, yes sir!" Their voices were high pitched in fear, and though there were over 30 men and women, the response sounded more like a group of children. He roared at them, "I said: DO YOU GET ME?!"
"SIR YES SIR!" Came the resounding response. That was more like it. "Now! Our drill instructor Makizo Aramaki is going to show you the basics for weapon to weapon and weapon to hand fighting – seeing as your own Precincts will have schooled you in hand to hand already. I don't wanna hear one peep outta you between now, and when that clock strikes quittin' time – DO YOU HEAR ME?!"
"SIR YES SIR!"
"Carry on." And with that he walked away, signaling Ikkaku to follow him, as the barely competent Aramaki came in barking orders. He may have been 'barely competent' for 11th Hour, but he was more than enough for a group of Rookies from Third Precinct. He headed straight to his desk at the back of the barracks, where the hated computer rested - he needed to get Yumichika up to date. Seating themselves, Kenpachi and Ikkaku divulged their various news from the previous evening – the Captain, about his visit to Unohana, and the re-awakened Aizen threat. And Ikkaku about his cleanup of the Ichinose house.
"I was going to tell you yesterday, after you ran off - but when I tried to call your Cellphone, it didn't go through?" He raised an eyebrow at his Leader, silently questioning the whereabouts of his phone. It was a running joke in the 11th Hour that the Captain had owned as many phones as he had taken in bounty's.
Kenpachi scowled, "Ah shit, I dunno! I had it yesterday... think I may have left it at the bar when I went to Sereitei General." He frowned. "Why didn't you just give me the updates while we were drinking?"
"Because it was boring work shit. Not fun work shit. And 'we don't discuss boring work shit when we're drinking'." Yumichika chorused with Ikkaku, grinning. Kenpachi scoffed, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face.
"There was something else I needed to tell you last night, which will make you happy," Ikkaku really hated being a messenger, but he knew Kenpachi needed the information. "I got a call from Ichigo last night, late. He said he had a lead through his mercenary contacts about Aizen's grand re-emergence into our fair city. Said that he thought you should know, along with every other major player during the last time... the last war. Sounded like he had called everyone, from Urahara right up to the General himself." Ikkaku took a deep breath and held it, watching as the captain narrowed his eyes in that eerie glower that reminded Ikkaku that this man was more than bounty hunter... he was a merciless warrior.
"Sir... he's calling for a Counsel of Chiefs."
Notes:
Oh hey! Thanks for sticking around to chapter 3! Things are about to start getting crazy! Prepare for ALL THE FACES
And if you've enjoyed this chapter, and you're inclined, I hope you feel comfortable to leave a comment <3
Chapter Text
The day seemed to drag on forever.
After Ikkaku's news about Ichigo, Kenpachi threw himself into his work – it was the only way to pass the time until tomorrow, when the Council was being called. The Old Man himself had phoned the 11th Hour, and advised him that the meeting would be held at the Generals Headquarters, in the center of the city. Kenpachi grinned eagerly, earning a scared look from his arms master with whom he was sparring. He was looking forward to seeing some old faces.
He knew he'd have to bring Yachiru – but it would be okay, because her teacher would be there with the school Principal, Shuunsui Kyouraku. The man was a shrewd tactician, with a well deserved combat record. He wondered if they would be able to get the Mercenary group to come – the ones who had helped them the last time. The Vizard were hard to book these days, if his contacts had anything to tell him about it. He was pretty sure Soifon would show – even with her battle injuries, she was a formidable fighter. He wondered if she would bring her doofus lieutenant, or if he had finally gotten himself killed in the line of duty?
Not concentrating on the battle at hand, Kenpachi lowered his weapon in slightly, completely forgetting to block.
CRACK!
The arms masters' wooden sword came smacking down on Kenpachi's left collar bone, connecting with a bone breaking crunch. The poor man blanched deathly white and withdrew his weapon, scampering away and bowing in a submissive pose. "I'm so sorry Sir! I was using full force as instructed, but you didn't block as expected. Sir!" He risked a quick glance up to the Captains' face, wondering why the man wasn't roaring in pain.
Kenpachi grimaced, raised his left arm out to the side and wriggled it slightly, like he had a cramp. Men throughout the barracks had stopped the moment the strike hit home, and were now attempting to pick up their jaws from the floor. They all knew the reputation of the Demon Hunter – of his extreme resistance to pain, of his willingness to fight with injuries, and of his apparent invincibility. For most of them, this was the first example they had seen of that reputation – and it was already far more they had imagined. His collarbone should be shattered!
Ikkaku was sparring with one of the men who had stopped to watch Kenpachi, and gave him a sound rap on the head for his inattention. "When you're facing an enemy, you don't stop to watch everyone else!" The man turned back to him and readied his weapon, trembling slightly. Ikkaku sneered – when would these guys learn to focus! That was the whole point of honing one's skills! Once you learn to focus, things that seemed like luck, or speed, were actually just the training kicking in. Ikkaku jabbed forward with his weapon, and was quickly deflected by his opponent, which made him grin. Although, I think I may be the only one with true luck on my side… He thought to himself, twinkling his toes as he prepared for another strike.
Meanwhile, the poor arms master was still bowed in front of his Captain. "What are you apologizing for, idiot?" Kenpachi bellowed, "That's precisely what I asked you to do! 'Full force', I said! 'No holds barred', I said!" He turned to the rest of the group in the training hall – most of whom had not returned to their practice. "If you've all been watching this, you have learned two things: ONE – When I give a direction – FOLLOW IT!" He flashed a quick grin at the man behind him, who had yet to look up from his bowed position.
"And TWO…" Almost at the speed of light, Kenpachi swung around, lifting his foot at precisely the right time to clip the arms master under the chin, sending the man flying up and back, falling into a dead faint against the rear wall. "…ALWAYS keep you're guard up – regardless of who you're fighting." There was an audible gulp, then a flurry of movement as the sparring partners began striking and blocking with even greater speed and force. Kenpachi grunted in approval and left the floor, heading back to his desk.
He'd barely worked up a sweat.
That evening, the barracks echoed with exhausted and pained groans. The mood was somber, yet content, and the beige walls of the back office were dimly lit by the glow of Kenpachi's hated computer screen, as he attempted to finalize his paperwork on the Maki Ichinose case. Pfft – just because one little hand got chopped off, suddenly the paperwork stack quadrupled. Bullshit.
Night fell and the kid came home, bouncing in the back door as usual, chirping about her day at school (conveniently leaving out mention of her exam) and wanting to know everything that happened while she was spending the afternoon at the candy store. Kenpachi gave her the updates in his short, abrupt fashion – he didn't hide anything to do with the business from his daughter. She grimaced at the news about Aizen, and blanched when she heard about Unohana.
Yachiru had been too young to be by his side last time. She had forgiven him for being left behind, but she hadn't forgotten. Just as she hadn't forgotten the men they'd lost, or the haunted look in the eyes of the survivors. Not everyone was like them, she understood that - but those that were different shouldn't have that look.
"But she's ok? Yes? Should I go visit her? What candy do you think she likes best?" The girl prattled on – her way of coping with bad news. Kenpachi gave her a warm look, which most would mistake as a cold stare. "You 'n me will see her at the Chiefs meeting tomorrow." Yachiru nodded, eyes bright with excitement and anticipation. He hefted himself out of the office chair and left the office through the read door, feeling Yachiru jump onto his back and hang on for the few steps it would take to get them both to their house next door. One of his men would close up for the night, he supposed.
Tomorrow would be the decider… if they would be going to war again…
The sun rose slowly the next morning – too slowly for Kenpachi Zaraki. Today was the 'Council of Chiefs' – and he was anxious to get moving. Running eager fingers through his hair, and hefting the kid on his shoulder, he made his way out the door, stopping for a moment to appreciate how quiet the world was at this time of morning. He wouldn't miss this quiet world – not when there was fighting to be done. The light finally breached the top of the buildings across the wide street in front of his house, touching on his loose black trousers, black button up shirt and a sleeveless white coat with the Japanese symbol for '11' on it's back. He always loved the way that symbol looked – like a grave marker over a fresh kill. The coat was a gift from the Old Man himself, and he was required to wear it to show his position, and loyalty to the city. The purple inner lining, and the symbol on the back were his own additions though – to show he wasn't entirely bought, and that he would make his own rules as he saw fit.
Sliding on his dark wrap around sunglasses, and hefting the kid on his shoulder, he headed towards the black SUV idling on the side of the road – their ride to the General Headquarters. Makiyosuke was their driver again today, and he nodded deferentially as they opened the back door and slid in – Yachiru instantly bouncing into the front passenger seat, much to Makiyosue's concern. He gripped the wheel a bit tighter and pulled out from the curb, heading into the city center.
The drive was easy, as they missed most of the morning traffic – Yachiru kept pointing out her favorite stores to the driver, demanding that he pull over so she could go shopping. Makiyosuke would sweat, and apologize profusely, telling her that their meeting was starting in 15 minutes, and the stores weren't opened yet, anyway. The banter went on like that until they reached the sidewalk in front of General Headquarters, where a very relieved Makiyosuke dropped them off, and a completely uninterested Kenpachi grunted at him to be back at midday.
The Captain let his gaze fall upon the towering white structure ahead of him, the way it took over the entire city block with its sprawling mass of high walls, dark glazed tile roofing and excess of black suited security personnel that looked like secret service wannabe's. The city traffic passed by this building without really recognizing it – to the general populace, this was just another art-deco designed, Government Building. They avoided the block altogether, and instead kept to the sidewalk on the other side of the 8 lane main road, where there was couture and high retail shopping. Indeed, people barely seemed to notice the building, the security – even the amount of high-end cars and their bizarre passengers pulling up into the designated drop off zone.
"Kenpachi!" That voice could only belong to one orange haired person.
Turning his head towards the caller, he stared in open disdain at the small group heading towards him from a long black limousine. Yachiru bounced up and down on his shoulder in obvious excitement.
"Ichi! Rukia! Pineapple!" Yachiru cried out as the group came to a stop about 6 feet from where they were standing. Ichigo Kurosaki slowed with well-deserved caution at the sight of the small lieutenant, and gave them both a smile and a nod. The Kuchiki girl grinned at Yachiru and nodded respectfully towards Kenpachi. Renji gave a sly grin and bowed slightly, showing his respect for his old training master.
"Abarai," Kenpachi growled suddenly, making the red head look up at him in surprise, "You and I are going to have a few words after this is over." Renji audibly gulped and stuttered "Y-yes, sir." His confusion was evident in every tattooed line on his face.
"Shall we head inside, Captain?" Rukia suggested politely, breaking the awkward silence. Rukia always paid her respects to people of seniority, regardless of their social class – a fact that didn't escape Kenpachi's sharp mind. The girl may be nobility, but she wasn't high-born, and she wasn't a coward. He respected that, and, nodding him agreement, the group approached the large glass doors the immediately opened for them. Security guards in the foyer stood to sharper attention as they passed – and so they should. All of them had to pass basic and secondary training with The 11th Hour to even be considered for a role in the 'Big House'. Kenpachi was as much their Captain as Yamamoto. Ichigo led the way, focused entirely on the meeting.
Besides being hidden in plain sight in the center of the city, there were other uniquely strategic design to this tower. The upper floors were all administrative and storage office. The ground floor, however, was where the most important events occurred. The small group walked in a beeline down an elongate corridor. footsteps echoing off the cathedral ceiling that compounded the first three floors. There were several shiny elevators lining the walls, and the usual reception area directly by the entrance, of course - but there was only one meeting room on this floor, and it was infamously known as 'the Hall'. The large, decorative double doors that served as the entrance to the Hall opened for them, pulled by invisible hands. The room itself was wide and empty with piercing white walls and dark paneled wooden floors. The main focus was the huge oaken U-shaped conference table in the center of the room, curving towards the enormous monochrome tapestry that dominated the back wall. Two dozen black leather arm chairs were placed evenly along the length length, with numerous smaller chairs and tables lining the walls for secretaries and subordinates.
The Hall was already filled with a variety of colorful characters. Yachiru instantly grabbed Rukia's hand and dashed off to say hello to her teacher, Ise Nanao, who was there with the school Principal, Kyoraku Shunsui. The man always dressed in such a flowery way. A baby pink suit, which was set off nicely with soft grey shoes and tie, while his long dark hair was tied neatly down his back. In complete contrast to this, Ise Nanao was wearing a strict dark grey and white dress suit and shoes. Her ever-present agenda diary and blackberry were in hand as she smiled politely at Yachiru and Rukia, while throwing sideways glares at her Principal. They had obviously had another spat on the way over - probably over the Principals 'after school agenda'.. which often involved late nights at Hitsugayas bar, and even the odd drink with rowdy crowd at the 11th Hour barracks.
Renji had immediately strode to his employer, Byakuya Kuchiki, who was conversing quietly with Toshiro Hitsugaya. Byakuya glanced at Renji, acknowledging his presence, and murmured something to him. Renji scowled, but nodded quickly and stood to attention a few feet away, his eyes scouring the room. Kenpachi noticed the way he stood, balanced and ready, and gave an internal grunt of approval. Looks like he was stuck on Body Guard duty, but he hadn't forgotten everything that was taught to him. Rangiku Matsumoto was nowhere to be seen – probably looking after the bar while the boss was at the meeting. That, or too hungover to attend.
He saw the Fire Chief, Jyuushiro Ukitake sharing a laugh with the Police Commissioner (and Ex-Bomb Squad Captain), Sajin Komamura. Well, it looked more like Ukitake was the one enjoying the joke, as Komamura's trimmed red beard was tilted in a polite smile. That man had always worn his bomb squad uniform and helmet to almost every meeting, until he realized people accepted him for his skill, not for the way he looked. At a towering 7'2", he capped Kenpachi's 6'7" by over six inches. It wasn't that the Commissioner was ugly, he just had numerous scars along his face which gave him a distinctly… vulpine look. That, and he was a born Scotsman – covered in red hair, rough brogue and filled with a ruthless sense of justice. Which was one of the reasons he had such a bone to pick with bounty hunters like Kenpachi.
His Lieutenant, Iba Tetsuzaimon looked expectantly towards Kenpachi, obviously hoping his best drinking buddy, Ikkaku had joined them. Not seeing his bald head anywhere, Iba frowned, and returned to his conversation with the temporary director of the city's Power Grid, Shuuhei Hisagi, and the well suited gentleman who was the temporary acting chief Editor of the cities' largest Media company, Izuru Kira. Kenpachi raised his lip in disgust – that company was just a cover for organized crime, and everyone knew it. Shuuhei was the real media mogul – running the largest online news website on the eastern seaboard, all the while trying to keep the Power on in an increasingly demanding city.
That boy was a workaholic, and unfortunately, to Kenpachi at least, he was also a weakling and a coward. His boss (that lying sack of shit, Kaname Tosen) had also been a Power plant workaholic, and in his early days had lost his sight and his best friend to an exploding transformer near the edge of the city. He had always said that he would continue to run the company – it was what his friend 'would have wanted' – but now they knew he had planned the sabotage of the plant all along, and it had backfired on him. The guy was a damn arsonist who maintained a pacifist way of life to hide his darker desires. It was one of the reasons he had been so drawn to Komamura – his expertise of explosions whetted the bastard's appetite.
Ichigo had wandered away towards the shadowed back corned, where Kenpachi could clearly see the outline of a well dressed exotic woman, and her mysterious companion. Yoruichi Shihoin and Kisuke Urahara– he wasn't surprised they had shown up – but he was curious as to why they were sticking to the shadows. Seeing Ichigo's shocked look of surprise and happiness, and the way the woman smiled as her dress bulged in the front gave it away for him. They were trying to keep the pregnancy quiet. After all, a lot of people, some of which were in this very room, would love a chance to cause trouble for those two – and a child is the perfect weapon – for the ones who play dirty. He growled low in his throat, earning a sharp glance from Abarai.
As Kenpachi mulled over the ramifications of Yoruichi's pregnancy, he noticed a small dark splotch against the wall behind her, about two meters away. So – Soifon had shown up after all. He couldn't see more than her silhouette, but he could tell she was guarding the senator closely – that woman had a serious honor code when it came to the ex-senator. He couldn't see her second-in-command anywhere, but he hoped the guy was in retirement – working in special forces just didn't suit him – he would have been better under Komamura.
He let his eyes drift over the rest of the crowd, and realized he was the last one to arrive after all. There was Unohana in the far corner, chatting serenely with her number two, Isane Kotetsu. He didn't wait for her to notice him – the contempt in the corner of her eyes was enough for him to realize that she knew he had entered.
Closer towards the entrance, and to his left was his one of least favorite people in the room – Mayuri Kurotsuchi. He was quiet, observing the gathering with his usual wide-eyed 'evil-genius' expression, completely ignoring his smaller companion and subordinate, Nemu. Though she was his daughter, he never failed to openly discuss how she was a test tube baby – brought into this world merely to push the boundaries of science. Just as he never failed to openly criticize and humiliate her at every opportunity. However, the small girl merely took it all in calmly – almost creepily – and acted like a complete android. No expression. No fear. No personality. The two of them were both in their CSURWD white lab coats, with Mayuri wearing a pair of large, blue ear protectors around his neck. Weird.
The room buzzed with activity as people began to head towards seats and settle in. Yachiru came flying towards Kenpachi, who grunted at her to sit down and shut up in the chair against the wall behind him. The girl grinned, settling herself at the smaller desk with a giggle. Only Ichigo refused to be seated – instead choosing to stand near the entrance, as he would be presenting the latest intel, no doubt. The Old Man had yet to make his appearance, so the room was full of quiet whispered conversations and speculation. News was passed in Chinese whispers among the subordinates along the walls, and water was poured into numerous glasses by the small trio of wait-staff that entered the room to attend to the delegates.
Suddenly, the relative quiet was broken by the creak of the large double doors opening. The seated crowd turned as one, questioning who else could possibly be attending – wasn't everyone here? Eyes widened and jaws clenched around the room as one by one, they recognized the new intruders entering into their 'private' meeting. Long legs, short legs, casual and arrogant - the group entered and spread out to cover the entrance, leaving only one to stand before them.
The large, toothy grin of the leader was aggravating to say the least. But it was Mayuri who broke the shocked silence of their entry, with his loud, screech:
"Why are the Vizard attending this meeting?!"
Notes:
How do you make a kitsune into a human? Make him Scottish, clearly.
I know this may not sit well with some, so if it helps, continue picturing him as the adorable Wolf that he is :)
Drop me a comment if you feel comfortable! <3
Chapter Text
You could cut the tension with a sword.
"I said," that screeching voice came from Mayuri Kurotsuchi, "Why are the Vizard attending this meeting?!"
Shinji Hirako, the 'leader' of the famed Mercenary group turned his legendary toothy grin towards the CSURWD director. "What? Saving your butts last time wasn't reason enough to be included?"
Hackles bristled around the table. Kenpachi observed all this with interest – noting that the only ones who were offended seemed to be the people who sustained little to no injury. Ichigo walked towards the table, and opened his mouth to voice his obvious opinion about Mayuri's objections – but he was interrupted before he could begin by a loud and commanding tone:
"They are here at my invitation, Mayuri Kurotsuchi."
Heads turned and bowed in respect to the old man who appeared at the head of the table – as though melting through the back wall itself. He trained a stern eye on the director, who averted his gaze with clenched teeth.
"Do not think to question my judgment on this matter!" He barked, ending any objections. The room fell silent as the general took his seat at the head of the table, wooden cane tapping the floor to announce the beginning of the meeting. He was not alone – his constant companion and lieutenant, Chojiro Sasakibe, was close behind him – his heavily lidded eyes missed nothing in the room as he stayed close to the rear wall, behind his captain.
The main focus of attention, Genryuusai Shigekune Yamamoto (or, as Yachiru called him, Gramps) looked out sternly across the assembled mass. His bright, intelligent eyes were nearly hidden beneath his heavy brow, but not one person in the room would dare to hide from that gaze – the first and oldest of them all.
"As you have all been informed, an old threat has returned." His voice was like heated thunder, rumbling through the room and scorching the ears. "The criminal, Sosuke Aizen, has made moves towards our city – and for better or worse, we are the defending line. You are all here for your contribution in the last war. You skills, courage and knowledge of the enemy and his tactics were successful in ridding him from our city – but were NOT successful in the taking of his freedom... or his life." Bodies shifted nervously at the implied failure of the group as a whole.
"But, Sir – The Division Five Captain was equipped with a weapon - and an army - that we were unprepared to fight. Not to mention, his, and his associates' treachery was completely unsuspected." That voice of reason was Komamura, his eyes were dark and troubled – Kaname Tousen had been his closest friend, after all. "Given those circumstances, you would berate us for not defeating, let alone killing those who were once our comrades?" Jyuushiro was to the left of the big man, and placed a gentle hand on his arm, hoping to calm him. The fire chief was a gentle man, and many people outside these walls thought his physical weakness applied to his mental prowess. Nothing could be further from the truth.
"Ichigo Kurosaki." The old man barked out the name suddenly, bringing the young man up to attention. "Please begin." The strawberry haired man stood tall and addressed the assembled party in the same manner he always did – with no honorific's, but for the Old Mans'.
"Secretary General – sorry," He smiled wryly, and there were a few indulgent grins around the table. "Governor Yamamoto and everyone… uh… else?" The room was such a mix of different professions that to try and group them would be incorrect under any circumstance. "A week ago, I received word that our enemy, Sosuke Aizen, had returned to our home. His strength and goals were unknown – but this much was said: He arrived with old allies." A murmur spread around the outside of the room. Allies? Aizen still had allies? Who would want to be willing to themselves with such a wanted man? Ichigo continued "Yesterday, these allies broke into Seireitei General Hospital and released the criminal psychopath Grimmjow Jaegerjaques. In doing so, they injured Chief Medical Officer, Retsu Unohana and got away without a shred of security footage." The room erupted with angry outcries.
"There is more." They fell silent as Ichigo indicated for Shinji and Urahara to step forward. "Our allies have gained more information since the attack at the hospital. Kisuke and Shinji will take it from here." He left the spotlight and returned his spot against the wall. Urahara stepped forward and began his report. "Through my own sources, I have discovered that Aizen has come here for one reason, and one reason only: Revenge. After his failed attempt to take control of the city, he retreated to an unknown location. We must assume it was there that he reunited with his current 'pals'. They have been identified as the trio of assassins 'Tres Bestias', their leader Tia Halibel, Nnoitra Gilga," Kenpachi twitched, "and… Yammy Riolga."
All eyes in the room shifted towards Kenpachi, then to Byakuya Kuchiki.
Kenpachi's look of surprise, and Byakuya's bored glare, were enough to tell everyone that the two men didn't realize they hadn't killed Yammy two years ago. They had both watched him fall into the sea while they were fighting on Aizen's private yacht. They had both laid killing blows upon him. And they had both immediately turned on each other in a vicious battle for superiority, from a long standing feud. To this day, they had spoken to no-one of the outcome - nor had they discussed it amongst themselves at the rare times they had met for business meetings. Curiosity raged on the topic - but the threat of injury was too great to ask either man.
"And now," Shinji took up from Urahara – all eyes snapped back to him instantly, "There's been some news brewing in the underground. We haven't personally been approached, for obvious reasons, but I know of several other merc Squads in the country that have been offered a pretty hefty sum to join Aizen's little crusade. Mostly, they're just what we call Hollows – empty, but the need for money and blood. But a couple of stronger groups have been contacted – you all know the Arrancars. Looks like a few of them might be against us again."
"I thought Halibel, Gilga and Riolga were members of the Arrancars?" Shuuhei piped up, brows furrowed. His boss had rebelled, but he'd been an information source only - too busy keeping the city running to be involved in any fighting. His work had been essential, though he still held the guilt of not realizing Tosens' true motives.
"They were." Shinji responded, "But the Arrancars are the group as a whole. The Espada - whom those three were members - was the elite division. There were 10 in all, and all of them followed Aizen during the last war. Grimmjow was also an Espada. Three were disposed of-" His eyes flicked to Kurotsuchi, Byakuya and Ichigo "- But that still leaves three unaccounted for. Presumably, they have returned to lead the Arrancar, and if that's the case... well..." He didn't need to continue. Every person in the room understood what it took to fight a single known Espada. Having three wildcards out there was terrifying.
"Division five was disbanded immediately after Aizen's treachery." Komamura interrupted - as the Police commissioner, he had been charge of disintegrating the infamous Vice division. He had taken great care to eliminate every trace of the squad, and the drug they had created. "Kyoka Suigetsu and its formula were destroyed, leaving Aizen with no weapon this time. If he is coming – he is coming unarmed." Soifon scoffed loudly, and the large Scotsman glared at her.
"And what of his secretary - Hinamori?" The question came, surprisingly, from Kira. Hitsugaya scowled at the man, but waited for an answer.
Komamura growled - a surprisingly deep sound. "I had one of my most trusted officers on her tail. We had her place bugged. Eyes on everything she did." Across the table, Hitsugaya clenched his fists, refusing to look at the big man. "He was found in a dumpster with his throat slit, 24 hours ago. The woman is missing." Bodies shifted in chairs as they ramifications of this news rolled through the room. Hinamori had an eidetic memory, and as Aizens secretary, she had covered everything that came through his office - including any references to the formula 'Kyoka Suigetsu'.
"Regardless," Urahara picked up quickly, "You must all be made aware. An attack could come from anywhere at anytime, against any one of us. He wants revenge against us all, for one reason or another. And we need to be prepared until further intelligence come to light of his true motives." The silence was deafening as Shinji and Urahara retook their seats. Mayuri's eyes followed Urahara the entire time.
Ex-Secretary of Defense and Governor of the state, Yamamoto, stood up from his chair and addressed the assembled group. "This is as serious as it gets: I am immediately issuing orders to all here, that we must locate and detain Aizen as soon as possible. Any and all means of capture are approved. Only direct interference with civilians is disallowed. Begin your preparations – we are going to finish this!" His fist came crashing down on the hard table, echoing throughout the room – war was upon them.
Kenpachi's grin as he exited the meeting was maniacal. Any and all means… and Nnoitra has survived... he couldn't be happier. After the general had left the Hall, the various captains, chiefs and higher level personnel had trickled out one by one. Others had stayed to discuss possible security weaknesses and infrastructure liabilities. Yachiru, knowing Kenpachi would want to leave immediately, had already called Makiyosuke to bring the car around earlier than advised.
They were just exiting the building, and heading to the black SUV waiting for them, when Ichigo jogged out and called to Kenpachi, stopping close enough for a private conversation. The big man stopped, turned and raised raised a brow at the younger man. "Whaddaya want?"
Ichigo had that serious look on his face, the one that made Kenpachi itch to pull out his sword and go toe to toe with the guy just one more time...
"You need to be careful."
Kenpachi rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses, scoffing. "Tcha. You think some piss ant on Aizens B-Team could take me out?"
"You thought you'd killed Nnoitra."
Kenpachi stiffened and turned fully to face the brat. He glowered, lips pulled back slightly - Ichigo couldn't miss his sharp canines when he stood this close.
"I did." He growled. Then his expression shifted to something like dark excitement. "But if he came back, then that means I get to have fun with him all over again." Ichigo swallowed, intimidated by the mans pure ecstasy for fighting. Yachiru peeked over one shoulder, grinning hugely. "Kenny had so much fun last time! It's my favorite story!" Ichigo grinned weakly - the small girl was nearly as scary as her father.
Kenpachi stood to his full height, nodded and turned towards the idling SUV. He waved a hand over his shoulder in a casual farewell as Yachiru beamed from her perch, waving merrily. "Bye, Ichi! We can't wait for-"
Her words were cut off, when the SUV was suddenly lifted into the air by a violent explosion, sending a concussion wave that blasted super heated air in every direction. Makiyosuke was a charred, barely recognizable lump in the drivers seat, hunched over the melting wheel. Flaming debris began raining down. Traffic on the main road had come to a screeching halt as several cars had collided from the blast. Kenpachi held his ground, face impassive as he stared at the wreck that was clearly meant for him. Ichigo staggered back, arm over his eyes as Kenpachis body inadvertently shielded him.. Several security guards, however, were thrown back from the force of the explosion and hit the front stairs and walls with dull thuds – knocking them out cold.
The next few minutes happened so quickly - people came rushing out from all exits, yelling inexplicably and shouting into cell phones. Jyuushiro was already arranging fire trucks, while Unohana and her aide, Isane, were attending to the injured. Komamura and Shinji were barking orders, making their people search surrounding cars, civilians and alleyways - was there a trigger? Was there a second bomb?
Ichigo gripped Kenpachi by the arm - was the man in shock? He hadn't moved a muscle - one of his men had just died!
"Kenpachi! Are you OK? What the hell was that?!"
The bigger man stared down through his sunglasses at the young Private Investigator. "Well, that's obvious, ain't it? Someone's tryin' ta kill me."
Taking a cab was no picnic for Kenpachi. Most of the time, they were either too small for his massive frame, or they didn't want to go all the way to the edge of town to the barracks. This particular cabbie happened to be an unfortunate combination of both.
"This'll be far enough. That's $22.50. You'll have to walk the rest of the way."
Kenpachi didn't say a word – he didn't have to. He just stared in the rearview mirror. Yachiru just started to laugh. And laugh. And laugh. "You're are SO funny!" She gasped to the cab driver, trying to catch her breath.
"It's not a joke, girl. Now give me the fare money and get out of my cab – it's too risky to go any further. Besides – four blocks won't kill you." His voice was firm, but there was a slight tremor when he looked into the rear-view mirror at Kenpachi.
Yachiru quieted down and tried again "I know we gave you the address, but we didn't give you the business name, did we? We're going to –"
"-I don't care where you're going-"
"- the 11th Hour. You know that place, right?" Yachiru's cheerful grin, and Kenpachi's ominous silence had the cabdrivers' foot on the gas pedal before he'd realized he'd moved. They arrived with a small squeal of the tires in front of the barracks. The driver didn't say a word, and he didn't ask for the money. He roared away before the door was fully closed.
The captain entered the barracks to joyous cries of welcome – Kenpachi must be the most beloved commander in the city. Thing was, he really didn't care – he just wanted to sit down and discuss the day's events with his men. Which was going to be interesting, as there were a few fresh faces in his squad. He gathered Ikkaku, Yumichika and together with Yachiru, he told them everything that had happened, and was about to happen in their city.
"Ikkaku, address the men – tell 'em about the war on Aizen, about how prepared they need to be – I don't want 'em dying until I say so, you hear me? Then we start training – hard. All bounties barring Aizen and his groupies will be forfeit until I say so." Ikkaku nodded. "After that, I'm going to let them know exactly how 11th is going to prepare this city for war." His lips curved up in a predators grin. Yumichika gulped audibly – he hoped Aizen knew what he was in for.
"Sir - the bomb." Ikkaku paused, not needing to ask after the mans wellbeing, but feeling a need to address the incident - especially because of the death of Makiyosuke. He was a good man. "Any leads? Suspects? Worms to be crushed?" He smirked, keen to be the one to hand out justice for his Captain.
Kenpachi shook his head, uninterested. "Nothing immediate - but Komamura says he'll keep us updated." He snorted in amusement, inviting the men to join in the joke "Bastard says he'll post a few men for... 'protection'." Ikkaku guffawed loudly, Yumichika laughed in his gentle way and Yachiru just grinned, giggling about the silly doggy and his silly offer. "But I'm not gonna worry 'bout it. If someone wants me dead, they gotta try harder."
They all nodded, drinking in silence for several minutes, before Kenpachi raised his beer in a tiny salute and took a sip. Ikkaku and Yumichika lowered their eyes, murmured 'To Makiyosuke' and lifted their own drinks. To die in battle was an honor. To die in service to the captain was an honor.
But the members of 11th Hour did not mourn the dead.
Notes:
Raise a drink to Makiyosuke.
Chapter Text
The following day dawned, but Toshiro Hitsugaya had not slept. He came back from the meeting and had unloaded everything to the one staff member he trusted: Rangiku. The woman didn't flinch as he divulged everything that had ben said, and the aftermath of the explosion intended for Zaraki. The two of them sat in silence for some time, listening to the ticking of the office clock.
"Did they mention Gin?" She whispered.
Toshiro shook his head, sitting back in his office chair, and staring into the distance. He was the only one who knew about her past, her relationship with Gin Ichimaru and the scars she carried because of him. He felt a great well of pity rise up for the two of them - her, for Ichimaru, and him, for...
"I'm sorry about Momo."
Hitsugaya sighed, and raised a hand to his eyes, squeezing the bridge of his nose. He felt a headache coming on.
"It's... fine. She made her choice. If there's a chance of rescuing her, I'll take it - but I will not risk the lives of countless innocents because of her. Not again." His voice trembled slightly, and Rangiku averted her eyes, knowing how displays of emotion were embarrassing for him. The best discourse was to continue working - they could accomplish nothing until they knew more about Aizens plan.
"I'm going to the stockroom. Do you need anything while I'm down there?"
Toshiro shook his head, trusting her. She hesitated, then stood, and reached out a hand placing it gently on his shoulder. He looked at her sternly. She returned it with a look full of understanding, and support, before leaving the office and heading down to the bar.
He sighed - he didn't deserve her support. But he was glad she had his back.
Ikkaku Madarame started the day by assembling the men for a brief history lesson.
"Two years ago, a terrible drug plague overtook the city – it was an aerosol based toxin. Clear, tasteless and non-detectable. The drug was designed as a 'mental reality displacer'. Basically, something that could make you believe anything you were told." The squad listened, but he saw a few confused looks - they had lived in the city their whole lives. Why hadn't they heard about this?
Ikkaku sighed. "If you were told you could fly, you would walk off a building. If you were told you were invincible, you would step out into traffic – see where I'm going with this? This was a drug made by a man who wanted total and complete control. This man was Sosuke Aizen."
He looked around to make sure he had the attention of the room – then took a deep breath and continued.
"Aizen was the Captain of 5th Divison - the Chief of Vice for the whole city, the drug control cops – that was how it began. He already had dreams and aspirations of power long before that, but had no desire for a simple city. No, he wanted the country, and our city was merely his guinea pig. He wanted the Mayors seat first, so he used connections such as Gin Ichimaru, the crime Kingpin, and Kaname Tosen from City Power to disperse the drug via street sales and gas distribution. Pretty soon, this thing was everywhere and we didn't even know we were breathing it in."
Ikkaku paused for a moment, clenching his fists as he remembered those times – how foolish they had all been. They had not questioned a mayoral election with Sosuke as the sole candidate. They had not questioned the rumor's circulating about the socialite Kuchiki girl, or that Private investigators like Kurosaki were suddenly outlawed. It had made no sense, but they hadn't questioned it. They'd believed it.
"We started seeing things and hearing things that made no sense. We began to fight each other for no reason. Our own Captain got into a fistfight with Commissioner Komamura and Kaname Tosen – needless to say – he won" Ikkaku grinned menacingly, and the men cheered, punching each other in the shoulders, and grinning 'well, obviously he did' , 'that's our Captain!'
Ikkaku raised his hands to get their attention, and continued on in a more somber tone, "We didn't realize it was the effect of the drug, combined with the inlaid subliminal messaging in all of Aizen's Campaign posters and ads - he was controlling us, conditioning us. We liked him, because his drug made us believe he was a saint." The men growled. They remembered the campaign, it had seemed so long ago, and now that they thought about it - it was strange. Everything from that time seemed... hazy.
"It was Unohana from Seireitei General and Ichigo Kurosaki from Karakura PI who finally uncovered the plot using her medical expertise, and his contact, Urahara Kisuke." Ikkaku continued. Not many of them knew about Ichigo, and he didn't want to be the one to tell them that the man had bested their Captain in a fight. "Together, with the Secretary General - who is our current Governor - and the entire gathered 'Chiefs' who had also been brought in under various circumstances, they accosted Aizen, Ichimaru and Tosen. Aizen had already planned for this and escaped to the Sierra Desert, via a stealth helicopter owned by the Espada. We didn't hear a word about him for nearly four months." Ikkaku also refused to tell his men how Kenpachi had been furious at the mans escape, lashing out at anyone who came near him for weeks.
"Then, while we were all training, waiting, hoping he wouldn't return – he showed up with an ARMY. We now know that he was using mercenary's and fighters borrowed from a warlord. Needless to say, they were defeated, but it was a close battle. The Espada are a highly specialized division of mercenaries from the Arrancar core. They have an extremely hierarchical structure, and they take their position very seriously. Three of the Espada were killed in battle. One was captured and put in the psych ward at Seireitei general, and three escaped. We now know there are another 3 members that we didn't encounter the first time around. Tia Halibel was one who escaped - she and her three minions took the helicopter with Aizen and flew to parts unknown. The Governor was unable to track them. As for Yammy Riolga – our Captain and Byakuya Kuchiki – yes, the heir to the Kuchiki fortune – fought, and supposedly killed him. We have recently discovered this is not the case."
Surprised murmurs and shushed whispers as the group absorbed this. Ikkaku coughed into his hand and continued the history lesson.
"Aizen has been lost in an undetermined location - until now. He has returned – right when we were starting to rebuild what had been destroyed. We suspect the remaining seven Espada are now with him. And we are convinced it was his people who attacked Seireitei General two days ago to take Grimmjow." Looks of shock and fear spread amongst the men. This is what Ikkaku had been prepared for - the men were not just hesitant of the imposing hospital, they were terrified of Director Unohana. Most of them visited the hospital at least once a month, and they dreaded running into the woman with the terrifying calmness. There was something beyond the pacifism - and their instincts screamed 'DANGER!' every time.
Ikkaku roared at them "We are the 11th Hour – WE are the first line of defense in this city!"
A shaking voice at the back of the room called out timidly. "But what about the police? Aren't they the first-" He never got to finish his sentence, as a large scarred wooden sword came to rest gently on his shoulder. Zaraki's uncovered eyes stared down at the man.
"We are the 11th Hour. When it comes to fighting – we are the first in line. I don't care what those sniveling weaklings in the Police Departments do with themselves. For us, it will always be 11th Hour FIRST!"
He cast his gaze over the assembled squad, filling them with his strength and purpose. The young man in front of him jumped up quickly, eyes ablaze with fervor. "For Captain Zaraki and the 11th Hour!" He screamed pumping his fists in the air
"FOR CAPTAIN ZARAKI AND THE 11TH HOUR!" Came the resounding reply, as every recruit go to their feet and cheered – suddenly eager to train for the oncoming battle. Teeth flashed as every smile in the room became every bit as predatory and insane as their leaders.
Kenpachi stepped back to the middle of the room, relaxing his arm to hold his sword directly in front of him. He lifted his chin, lips pulling back, and curled a finger at the group of men.
"Now, come at me all at once. And let's see how strong you've gotten."
Principal Kyouraku Shuunsui sat in his office, pretending to fill out staff reviews on his computer. Another war was coming. How many would survive this time? Shadows filled his eyes and his grimaced, running a hand over his mouth.
"Principal?"
He instantly perked up, hiding his unease for the lovely face of his right hand woman. Though she knew him, and the truth of what he was, he always did his best to shield her from his darker side.
"If it isn't my lovely Nanao!"
"Please, sir, let's not involve HR this early in the morning." She replied crisply. Closing the door behind her, she took a seat on the other side of his desk, and allowed her own mask to drop.
"Any news?"
He let his gaze wander out the window, following the fluffy clouds outside. "No." He said simply, not looking at her. He couldn't stand to look at her and discuss this at the same time. Not yet. She was both a great weapon and a great weakness for him, so keeping her safe for as long as possible was the best course of action.
"When we know... what will you tell him? The Governor?" The wording was careful, delicate. She knew how close she danced to the knifes edge when he was like this.
He lowly let his eyes drift to her face, and a terrible feeling weighed in the air.
"It will depend on how far Aizen is willing to go."
Unohana Retsu was not a woman who enjoyed sitting still without a purpose. She had known this war was coming - possibly before anyone else had. Her instincts told her to prepare for the worst. The stitches in her head were nothing, but the blow to her pride was painful. Especially since the few people who really knew her had been told.
She had been 'requested' to go home for a day of rest after so much had happened in the past few days. Isane - bless her heart - had been furious with anyone who had doubted her ability to continue. But, the General had been right to send her home. Her spacious bedroom, with its pale blue walls and Japanese aesthetic was calming, and restful. She didn't want calming an restful at that moment - she wanted to sweat. She wanted to remember the feel of being ready for anything that wasn't related to healing.
Taking the remote from her bedside table, she electronically closed all the blinds in her house, leaving the space in near pitch darkness. Pulling her hair free with long, luxurious strokes, she walked without the need for sight, and opened an ornate curio opposite the bed, pulling out a long, sheathed weapon.
In the gloom, her eyes were void of life as she allowed a sinister grin to part her full lips. She whispered in the darkness, and felt nothing but death.
"Minazuki."
Kira Izuru offered a bleak look to his friend and poured two fingers of scotch into a second tumbler. Walking the few steps to the visitors chair, he held out the glass, and leaned a hip against his large desk. Shuuhei accepted with glass with thanks, and took a hefty swallow.
"You know why I'm here?"
Kira knew. It still hurt.
"I do"
"Can we rely on you?" Shuuhei was blunt - but he needed a solid answer. No pretty words or work arounds. Kira didn't hesitate.
"I will do everything in my power to stop them. All of them. Gin included."
Shuuhei read his expression. This was the reason he decided on a face to face visit - words could mean anything, especially when they were discussing his former boss. But there was no disguising the raw fury in Izurus eyes. Shuuhei gulped the last of the scotch and rose, handing back the glass.
"I know you will."
"Ow."
Yachiru tugged on Kenpahi's ear, hard. Dammit, the brat knew exactly where to make him wince. He let her, of course, but it still hurt. Her finger tugged again, and he clenched his jaw. They were having a quiet evening at home, sitting on the back porch and watching the moon. He had a cold beer, while she sipped some sugary concoction that looked noxiously green. His head had been filled with training all day - this was relaxation time. He had showered, and changed into a pair of loose grey sweatpants that hung low on his hips, and an unzippered hoodie that left his chest exposed to the cool air.
Kenpachi was always loathe to wear more than two layers. His body ran hot - hotter than most people could live with - so air conditioning and partial nudity were essentials for him to cope with the summer heat. Yachiru, however was quite comfortable in a full set of eye-smarting fuschia pink pyjamas. He shook his head, dislodging her fingers.
"Yachiru. That's enough. What do ya want?"
"I want to go visit Re-chan!" She said earnestly, those big grey eyes pleading with him.
"Then go? I'm not going to stop you." He took a sip of his beer and kept watching the moon.
"But you should go and check on her too, Kenny!"
He cast her an exaggerated look that said: 'Idiot, why?'
"She got hurt. We should go see if she's better."
"You can do that on your own, brat."
"You like her, Kenny."
Kenpachi choked, staring down at Yachiru in what could only be described as shock horror. Yachiru stared right back at him, then started ticking off her fingers as she continued. "And you like Ichi and Byakki and Shun Shun too. You went to see them when they were hurt."
Kenpachi let out a sigh, relief washing through him. "Yeah, because we fought together. I wanted to see if they were ready to fight again." He scoffed at her, as if this should have been obvious.
"Why don't you go see if Re-Chan wants to fight?"
A chill swept over him. See her fight? Memories bubbled to the surface, he felt his muscles tense and his breathing sped up. Every hair on his body rose like a static charge had hit him. He ruthlessly stamped down the feelings, locking them away. Yachiru waited for his answer, cocking her head.
"Nah. I got better things to do."
Yachiru shrugged her shoulders and continued to sip her drink, gazing at the moon. Her small mind filed away the mans reaction for further thought. There was something between Kenny and Re-Chan - something she didn't understand.
But she'd figure it out.
Notes:
Not gonna lie, I had fun picturing Kenpachi in that evening outfit. Fu fu fu...
If you're enjoying the story so far, I hope you feel comfortable leaving a comment! <3
Chapter Text
2 weeks later
The city remained quiet – businesses continued, concerts were held and sports finals were televised. Beneath the surface, however, a buzz of activity kept criminals on their toes. Led by Commissioner Komamura, police precincts across the city were audited for proficiency, and alerted of a few high level ‘criminals’ who had returned to town. Yamamoto had been hesitant to alert the general public, and instead had declared Aizen and his crew as run-of-the-mill black-listers. Those officers who weren’t up to scratch were immediately send to the 11th Hour for private training, much to Kenpachi’s enjoyment.
Over at Seireitei general, Isane was hurrying behind the director, filling out orders for the staff and assisting in prep for the oncoming casualties they expected. When their people queried about the sudden surge of supplies, the influx of new materials and the triage plans being updated, Unohana merely smiled her calm smile, and let them know that all was well. There were no further questions.
Jyuushiro Ukitake had politely asked each fire house to send him an efficiency report, as part of an annual audit. He received them unnervingly quickly, and when he expressed his surprise to his captains, they gave him their usual intensity. “You asked, and we provided, Chief!” “We will ensure you never have anxiety about such things, Chief!” “Have you rested today, Chief?” “Would you like some tea? GET THE CHIEF SOME TEA!”
Jyuushiro gave a nervous chuckle and retreated to his private offices to asses the reports in private.
Summer break had started, and Rukia was spending her time assisting her elder brother in the family business. Her studies in investing and corporate relations were finally paying off, as she was able to decipher how the Kuchiki fortune was being used to benefit the city and the family. She saw threads of their influence all the way from Governor Yamamotos offices, to the school Yachiru attended. It was fascinating and challenging and she loved every second of it.
Renji was by her side at almost every moment, sharing his bodyguard responsibilities with the rest of his team. His favorite part of each day, however, was training with Rukia. They had been friends as kids, and though he was a few years older, Rukia always managed to keep up. Each moment he spent with her filled him with an electric energy, but he knew it couldn’t last. Her brother was the Head of the Family, and until he could stand on equal footing, he could never hope to be with her as anything more than an employee.
Today, they were in the private gym, practicing hand to hand combat. Rukia engaged him with a flurry of strikes, aiming for his chest and neck. Renji blocked them, impressed by her speed and power – she’d been practicing while at college. He saw an opening, and hooked his foot under her leg to swipe. Rukia predicted the move and shifted her weight to her other leg – which was exactly what Renji had expected. He swung his leg back and swept her feet out from under her. She fell flat on her back, knocking the wind out of herself.
She panted, staring at the ceiling, arms by her sides. He’d got her – again. Was she ever going to be able to beat him? Sure, he was her best friend, but ever since he gone into private security, he’d been so distant, so… cold. Her focus shifted as Renji stood over her left, bent at the waist and offering her a lazy smirk.
“Good footwork, but you’re still not anticipating the follow through.”
Rukia nodded, still panting, then swung her arm out to unlock his knees. Renji yelped and dropped, throwing out his arms to support himself so he didn’t crush her smaller body. He landed hard, clenching his teeth, until he realized the position he was in. His lower body pressed against hers across the waist and hips, while his face was mere inches from her own, arms framing her shoulders. Her breaths were shallow as she stared into his eyes, her face flushing as their proximity. Her lips parted and she swallowed, very aware of the sudden warmth between them. Renji gulped, unwilling to lose this feeling that was gathering - she felt incredible beneath him. His gaze dropped to her lips, they looked soft and full and waiting to be kissed. ‘How soft?’ He mused, boldly dipping his head closer –
“Am I interrupting?”
The two froze, then scrambled away from each other and got to their feet. Byakuya stood inside the gym, holding a slim folder, his face was impassive but for the hard look in his eyes. Renji blanched, averting his gaze and taking another step away from Rukia. She, on the other hand, patted down her training clothes and smiled politely.
“Not at all, brother. Renji was showing me the finer points of Judo today.”
“Strange. I don’t remember that move when I studied.”
Renji turned as red as his hair, staring at the floor and wishing it would open up and swallow him whole. Rukia coughed into her hand as Byakuya gave the two of them a more considering look.
“Were you looking for me?” She asked.
He focused on her again, then turned to leave. “No, I was looking for Renji - I have to go into the office. Are you coming?” The question was directed at the bodyguard. “You’ll need to change. I’ll be seeing several clients, and you can’t be present like… that.” His sweeping look from bare feet to spiky ponytail was full of criticism.
Renji stood to attention. “Yessir.” Renji jogged out of the door, followed by Byakuya.
‘Not even a farewell’, Rukia sighed. She thought the aloof attitude from her brother had been slowly ebbing in the last two years. But interactions like this and seeing how he ordered Renji around just showed her that he still had a long way to go to get to ‘warm’.
And what was… that moment with Renji? They had been together forever, excepting a few years of study, and he had never acted so strangely. She hadn’t failed to notice how he’d grown. His shoulders filled out his black suit very nicely, and his tribal tattoos had extended lower and wider than before – he’d had work done. When he was that close to her, she’d noticed how he smelled: salt and metal, an earthy scent that made her shiver. And he was so warm, pressed against her like that – she’d never noticed during their previous training.
Shaking her head to clear it, Rukia decided to have a cold, bracing shower. That would surely fix everything.
Over at 11th Hour, the barracks shuddered from the yells, screams and general ruckus that was Kenpachi’s training method.
“Come ON!” He roared, shirtless and barely sweating. “You call yourselves ‘protectors of the peace’? I get more protection on my piece from a roll of cling wrap!”
“Is that actually a thing?” Yumichika muttered.
Ikkaku grinned. “Knowing him? Meh… could be.”
Kenpachi continued to beat them mercilessly, deflecting their attacks and demanding more. More. MORE! He swung and hit, his muscled torso flexing and thrusting forward to strike through them all.
Yachiru looked up from her spot on the floor, candy wrappers strewn around her as she played games on Ikkakus phone. She recognized the set of Kenny’s face, and jumped to her feet with a big grin and a hand raised high.
“Kenny! I’m hungry! It’s time for lunch!”
“Not right now, runt.” He called back, eyes flashing, teeth bared.
She stomped her tiny foot. “Yes, now! I’m HUNGRY! And these guys are boring!”
Ikkaku and Yumichika understood what she was doing, and joined in, calling for a lunch break. Kenpachi snarled, scaring the recruits into sprinting outside and towards the tiny strip mall at the end of the block. Yachiru just grinned and ran to him, jumping onto his shoulder and patting his head.
“They weren’t much fun, were they, Kenny?”
He grunted in agreement, and allowed his body to relax, the battle lust he began to feel was fading. He was pent up. Tense. The possibilities of fighting the Espada were seeming further away with each day that passed.
They’d heard very little since the Council meeting: Grimmjow has been spotted lurking in the downtown area. The Tres Beastes were sighted on a surveillance mission, but were spooked into running by Shinji and the Vizard. They had learned the name of one more Espada from an intercepted communication – a man name Aaroniero. Apparently, he was their information specialist. Kenpachi knew what that was code for: Torturer.
“What do ya reckon, Captain? Lunch?” Ikkaku cracked hi neck as he asked, following Yumichika out the door, and expecting them to follow.
“…Yeah.” Kenpachi replied with a shrug. “I’m just gonna grab a shirt. Go with them, Yachiru.”
“’Kay!” She jumped off him and sped after the men.
Kenpachi rubbed his neck as he entered the back office, and snatched his white tank top and sunglasses from the desk. He slipped them on and fitted his sword to the belt loop on his pants. Turning to leave, he noticed the back door was ajar. Shrugging, he left it as it was - he wasn’t worried – anyone stupid enough to enter the building was prey, for all he cared. He walked back through the dojo to the front entrance, feeling ready for a big juicy steak.
The pressure wave hit him first, knocking him fully off his feet and into the concrete wall of the dojo, as the explosion tore the building asunder, ripping the roof away and sending burning debris into the street.
Yachiru was biting Ikkaku’s head outside the diner when they heard the BOOM of the explosion. They whipped around, seeing dark smoke billowing from the direction of the barracks and began sprinting as fast as they could.
They were the first to arrive, frozen at the sight of their home fully ablaze, and spreading to the houses on either side.
“KENNY!” Yachiru screamed, running towards the fire.
“No! Don’t!” Yumichika grabbed her, struggling to hold on as she fought to get inside the crumbling building.
Ikkaku let out a primal scream and sprinted through the broken door, throwing a hand over his mouth in an effort to dispel the smoke. He coughed, eyes stinging as he pushed forward.
“CAPTAIN!” He yelled “ZARAKI!” Coughing and nearly blind, he hissed as a piece of the roof crumbled onto his arm, cutting and burning his skin. As he smacked the flames, he spotted flash of white.
“CAPTAIN!!” He screamed, running over the unconscious man. He hefted his undamaged shoulder under Kenpachi and heaved, dragging him to the entrance. The roof groaned ominously.
“Don’t… even… think about it… you… bitch…” Ikkaku panted, bragging his captain through the doorway. The roof groaned again, then collapsed entirely, spraying ash, sparks and burning soot all over them. Coughing and hacking, Ikkaku raised his head to see Yumichika and Yachiru running towards them, crying. He could hear sirens coming closer as he dropped into blissful darkness.
“Brother?”
Rukia called out from the living area. She heard the door open, she could have sworn…
Rising from her comfortable spot on the couch, where she had been relaxing with a new novel, she headed to the front foyer of the lavish penthouse.
“Yukio? Shu?”
No answer from their home security team. Now that was concerning. Entering the foyer, she saw bloody stars splattered on the walls, and the slumped bodies of her guards. Backing away slowly, she let her senses open up, searching for the slightest noise to alert her to an attack. She didn’t have the chance to scream as an enormous hand covered her mouth and a sharp prick on her neck had her drifting away, even as she was picked up like a lifeless doll.
“What? WHAT!” Shinji swore viciously at his phone, and hurriedly punched in the number for Karakura PI.
“Kurosaki here.”
“Ichigo – the 11th Hour was just attacked. The goddamn barracks are blown to bits!” Shinji began running down the street, heading straight to the hospital.
“You’re… you’re kidding…” His voice was completely hollow.
“I’m heading to the hospital now – I’ve gotta warn Unohana to prioritize any casualties.”
“Do you know who-“
“No word yet!” Shinji panted, sprinting even faster as he heard the sirens approaching. “I’ll call you as soon as I know anything further!” He hung up and shoved the phone in his pocket, rounding a corner, and pumping his arms for greater speed. God, they were prepared, MORE than prepared for a fight. But this was an underhanded tactic – and there was a very short list of people who would use an explosive device. And only ONE person who had that kind of explosive knowledge, and a vendetta against Zaraki, personally.
Aizens people were making their move.
And Kaname Tousen had just flashed his hand.
“This is Kuchiki.”
A pause. The feeling in the rear of the limousine was heavy, and Renji eyed his boss curiously.
“I understand.” Click.
“Sir?” Renji enquired. “Is everything alright?”
Byakuyas hand curled into a fist, and his smooth face twitched as his jaw clenched.
“No. No it isn’t.” He pressed a button on the console to speak directly with the driver.
“Rikichi. Take me Sereitei Public School. Now.”
“Yessir”
Renji felt his shoulders tense – something was very wrong.
“Sir, what’s going on?” Renji wasn’t sure he’d get a reply, but her felt his gut drop when Byakuya gritted out:
“I need to see Kyouraku. The Espada have taken Rukia.”
Notes:
A bit of RenRuki fluff is always a welcome Judo move, BYAKUYA *sigh* So pretty. So dense.
If you've gotten this far, you're in for a treat ;)
Chapter Text
Sajin Komamura examined the smoking wreck that used to be the 11th Hour barracks, and the adjacent Zaraki household. He grimaced as the smoke left a familiar acrid taste in his mouth. Bending down, he used a tool to uncover a few pieces of concrete, and called to Nemu Kurotsuchi to come and collect the small piece of wiring he’d discovered.
The woman used a pair of tongs to place the piece in a ziplocked evidence bag, and disappeared back to the CSU truck. The 33rd precinct was looking after crowd control, and sticking to perfect protocol under the eye of their Commissioner. They seemed… edgy, and Sajin knew that the men had friends in the barracks – friends that could have been killed, if not for pure luck and an early lunch break.
“Anything?”
Lietuenant Iba was grim as he surveyed the wreckage. Komamura eyed him, and shifted his feet.
“Get to the Hospital, Lieutenant.”
Iba looked shocked. “Commissioner?”
Sajin sighed. “I know how close you are to the 11th. There’s nothing more that you can doo here, that couldn’t be done by the thirty other experts handling the scene.” He dropped a hand onto Iba’s shoulder, and gave him a gruff smile. “Besides, I need someone I trust to be there, giving me updates on Kenpachi’s condition. The man may be a barbarian – but he’s needed right now.”
Iba coughed, choking up at the big mans compassion. “Thankyou, Sir.” He turned and jogged away, ducking under the crime scene tape, and appropriated a vehicle, tearing away, lights and siren blaring.
Sajin turned back to the crime scene and frowned. He closed his eyes for a moment, shaking his head at the wanton destruction.
“Kaname… Where is your justice now?”
Ikkaku jerked awake with grunt. He sat up instantly and winced, grabbing for his left bicep and shoulder. Tight bandages were neatly applied, and the scent of disinfectant filled the air. He realized he was lying in a hospital bed, closed off form the world by long white curtains.
“Finally awake?” A gravelly voice to his left.
Ikkaku swung his legs over and gripped the curtain, pulling it aside. He smiled and let out a relieved sigh to see his Captain reclining cross legged in the bed next to him, a sheet over his lower body pulled up to his navel. One bent arm behind his head as he flicked channels on the small ceiling mounted TV. A clear intravenous line ran from a bag above the bed to his elbow.
“Sir.” He nodded at the gauze covering the big mans torso, arms and legs, and the wide bandage around his head. His captain looked like a poorly constructed Halloween mascot. Kenpachi sniffed, turning off the TV and focusing on Ikkaku. The sinking sun that showed through the window told him it had been several hours since the explosion.
“You pulled me out?”
“Yessir.”
Kenpachi stared until Ikkaku began to squirm uncomfortably.
“Thanks.” He said simply.
“Anytime.” Ikkaku replied with a cocky grin.
An awkward moment of silence between them – a feeling weighing in the air. A judgement being passed, and Ikkaku realized a new depth of respect for his Captain. He was willing to take a bullet for the man – but running into a burning building was a new, and different kind of loyalty. And Kenpachi knew it, too.
The curtains flew wide, opening up the area to the private room they’d been assigned, revealing flamboyance and energy.
“Captain! Ikkaku!”
“Kenny!”
A small pink cannonball hit his chest with enough impact to knock the wind out of him momentarily. He breathed through his teeth and grinned at Yachiru. She was looking up at him with bright eyes and a trembling grin.
“I knew you’d be ok! They were silly to take you away in the wambulance!”
“’Ambulance’.” Yumichika corrected, standing close to Ikkaku and poking his bandages, checking on the man in his own way.
Yachiru rolled her eyes. “No, it’s a wambulance. Because that’s the sound babies make – Waa!”
“Well, I don’t know that that’s a fair description.” Isane stepped into the room with a small frown, followed by Unohana. The paramedic was less than pleased to see Ikkaku up and about and expressed her displeasure by gripping him by the ear and forcing him to sit back on the bed.
“OW! That hurt, woman!” He yowled, rubbing his ear with his good hand. Yumichika raised a brow, impressed with her handling of the man.
“I’m here to do my final appraisal to have you discharged – you can go home as soon as I’m done.” She ignored the other patient and focused on Ikkaku’s arm, checking the bandages, and writing a prescription for antibiotics, and another one for pain medication.
“Tch. Don’t need that shit.” Ikkaku scoffed, turning his head away and scowling at the wall. Yumichika hefted a sigh, tapped Isane’s shoulder before she could unload her opinion on Ikkakus head, and indicated that he would get the prescriptions filled for Ikkaku. Isane hesitated, then nodded and handed over the slips of paper.
“You’re good to go.” Isane stepped back allowing Yumichika to escort Ikkaku past Unohana, who was still standing serenely in the middle of the room, eyes averted.
“Kenny, come on – Let’s go!” Yachiru tugged on the sheet covering Kenpachi’s crossed legs. Quick as a flash, he gripped it and pulled it back up to his stomach.
“I’m not wearing any pants, kid.” He grumbled.
“Well hurry up and put some on, so we can go… home…” Yachiru’s brow furrowed, and she looked lost for a second. “No… our home exploded…”
She didn’t seem upset, just confused. Suddenly, she gasped, hands flying to her cheeks, “Oh no! All my candy!” She began bawling, and Kenpachi let out a small chuckle and awkwardly patted her on the back. He didn’t give a shit about the house, or the building where he did business. He was far more interested in finding out who would go this far to kill him – though he had his suspicions.
“I’m afraid Captain Zaraki isn’t going anywhere, just yet.” Unohana said politely, moving to his bedside and checking his chart. Kenpachi sneered but avoided looking directly at the woman as he did so.
“Like hell I’m not. Yachiru – go find me some pants.” The girl bounced off his legs with a happy, ‘Kay!’, and zipped out the door.
“Where exactly does he expect her to find pants that would fit him?” Yumichika murmured.
“You think that girl couldn’t find whatever he asked her to?” Ikkaku grinned. “Shit, if he told her to find Aizen, this would have all been over two years ago!” Yumichika smothered a laugh as Isane glared at them, unamused.
Unohana walked over to Kenpachi and leaned close to murmur something to him. He stiffened, frowned then nodded sharply. The three couldn’t hear what was said, but clearly, he was unhappy about it. At that moment, Yachiru flew into the room, a pair of dark sweatpants waving like a banner behind her. She tossed them to the man and bounced on her toes, happy and excited to get moving.
“Change of plans, runt. I’m staying here overnight. You can stay with Ikkaku and Yumichika till I figure something out.”
The two men at the door made small sounds of distress, but plastered masks of joy on their faces when Yachiru glanced at them.
“But Kenny, Why-? “
“Just do it. I’ll see you tomorrow, ok?” His voice was gruff, dismissive, but Yachiru smiled as if he was the biggest goofball in the world. Those young eyes flashed, and for a moment Kenpachi saw wisdom beyond her years. He knew she understood something more was going on.
“Ok. I’ll be back in the morning.” She skipped out, dragging Yumichika and a loudly complaining Ikkaku. Isane brought up the rear, closing the door behind her and scolding them all for being so loud. A bellowing voice called out Ikkaku’s name, and the man cried back in kind: “Iba! The fuck are you doing here?” The conversation drifted into the distance.
The room was quiet.
Silence was not an option.
“Do you understand how close that rebar came to your spine?” Unohana finally said.
“Close enough.” He shrugged, ignoring the ache of the hidden stitches in his back.
The doctor sighed, shaking her head and turning to the window, staring out into the twilight on the city skyline. Even with his almost superhuman endurance, the explosion had caused several serious injuries. The initial impact where he hit the wall had given him a severe concussion. Seconds later, a section of the burning roof collapsed on him, causing second and third degree burns and blistering. His lungs were filled with smoke, and he had countless abrasions. But more seriously were the short lengths of reinforced rebar that crashed through the ceiling and pierced several inches into his lower back.
She sighed again and turned to look at him. Even like this, his body was a specimen for study – he was incredibly powerful, with a chiseled musculature, and he healed at an accelerated speed. His body temperature was above normal, which should be a concern, but it assisted in burning off any infection that tried to set in.
Seeing her eyes scanning his exposed skin, he grinned humorlessly. “Professional or personal examination there, Restu?” He hoped he could break her calm with crudeness – but she wasn’t falling for it.
“Medical.” She smiled serenely, pulling a syringe out of her pocket and inserting it into his IV line.
“Please understand that while you are under this roof, your life is at our mercy. Don’t’ forget that.”
He froze, staring into her eyes with a hint of fear. Shivers raced from his toes to his hips and back, leaving his legs feeling weak. His heart thudded for a moment, then resumed its steady beat. What had she put in that syringe?
“Got it.” He muttered as politely as possible. She walked back to his chart and began reading again.
“Are you in pain?” She asked, not looking up.
He tried struggling into a sitting position, feeling the stitches on his lower back pull painfully.
“It’s no big deal.” He growled.
“It’s fine to be honest here.” She replied, lifting a page and reading the next sheet. He scoffed, still trying to adjust his seat.
“Honest? It’s nothing-“
She raised her head to give him a pinning gaze – one that demanded total, impersonal honesty, and asked again.
“Are you in pain?”
He swallowed and glanced away.
“A little.” He muttered.
She suppressed a small smile and came around the side of the bed as he almost righted himself. Even sitting like this, he was taller than her by several inches. He still smelled of smoke and burning skin, and she wrinkled her nose delicately.
“I think we need to get you clean.” She murmured, reaching a small hand towards him.
The big man baulked, jerking back, eyes wide. He felt the stitches pull harder and seized himself before he tore them open in front of her.
She raised an eyebrow and let her hand fall on the ‘call’ button behind his shoulder. Retracting her hand, she pressed her lips together and gave him a stern, but friendly glower.
“If I wanted to hurt you, Zaraki…” She stopped, letting the threat hang. His breathing has quickened, and she saw the will to fight in his eyes. Something she recognized and was not pleased to see at that moment.
“Why don’t you try it, then?” He rasped, lip curling.
She decided then, that it was time to remind him exactly why they should not be chatting in such a friendly way. Though it was hard to let down her barriers, just this once, she needed to impress this message upon him. She let the life drain out of her eyes and gave into the void – her face was terrifyingly clear of emotion.
“Because I am not your enemy.”
His breath hitched, and a fierce burning rushed through him – like he was back in the blazing barracks. His mouth went dry at that look, and he licked his bottom lip, unable to turn away. This sensation. She was…
“Are you sure?” He rumbled.
Something shifted between them. An enmity that had always been there with him was suddenly… less. She felt the heat from his burned body and decided enough was enough. She needed to get away from him.
She turned her back on the bed and schooled her features into a mask of pleasantries as the elderly nurse bustled in, ready to help the big man get clean. She listened as he snarled at the woman, demanding to take care of himself, and stop trying to ‘grab at him’.
As she exited, she pushed away the memories, not realizing she was gently rubbing her aching chest.
A few minutes later, the elderly nurse stumbled out of the private room, and leaned back against the closed door, puffing. Isane, passing in the corridor, hurried over to check on her, placing a gentle hand under elbow to assist her to a nearby chair.
“Mako! Are you alright? Did he do anything-?”
The woman puffed and chuckled, sitting down and accepting a cup of water from an orderly.
“I’m fine, dear, I’m fine! He’s just a big man, and a proud one at that.” She sipped the water and calmed down. Isane gave her a tight lipped smile.
“Yes, Cap-… Mr. Zaraki… is quite a large man. If he gives you any trouble, please let me know immediately.”
Mako nodded, aged fingers fixing up the tight grey bun on her head. Standing up, she gave Isane a cheeky grin.
“Large – that’s a bit of an understatement I’d say, dear.” Isane cocked her head, confused.
“...You weren’t there when I finally wrestled that sheet away from him.”
Notes:
Unf.
If you haven't seen it, please check out this phenomenal scene from the Bleach Live Action musical. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=24CwlmocQEA&
This scene was written by Tite Kubo, hinting at the Kenpachi connection YEARS before manga released the truth! I couldn't resist appropriating 6 lines of dialogue into the story, and I beg your forgiveness. It just felt so... perfect <3
Thanks again for reading! Let me know your thoughts!
Chapter Text
Byakuya didn’t pace – he was too proud to pace. But the repetitive walking back and forth across Kyouraku’s office carpet certainly looked like pacing. Shunsui hadn’t said a word since the noble had entered his office unannounced and in that precisely cold fashion, had detailed everything he was told on the phone call, and the subsequent information he’d received from Renji’s backup squad at the apartment.
The penthouse security footage was untouched, and clearly showed the blacklisted Espada Yammy “Roid Rage” Llargo, circumventing the elevators by jumping across to the roof of their building from the adjacent tower. A move that should have left him with at least a broken leg. From there, he had swung into the elevator shaft and entered the private foyer, dispatching the two bodyguards with silenced rounds.
Kyouraku studied the man, his tacticians mind going over all the angles, the risks, the potential cause for this seemingly random attack. Why the Kuchiki girl? She was involved indirectly last time – a media scapegoat that Aizen had used to draw attention as part of his campaign platform. But this abduction was so… irregular. Combined with the text alert he’d received from Jyuushiro about the 11th … it was all too disconnected.
Kyouraku leaned forward to prop his elbows on his desk, and tent his hands, pressing his lips to them in thought. Byakuya finished not-pacing and sank gracefully in the visitor’s chair. His face was porcelain, but there was a chip in his armor from this event, and Shunsui could feel the fear slipping through.
“Revenge. Yammy is out for revenge on me, clearly. I should never have allowed that barbarian to survive the day.”
“Are you talking about Yammy, or Kenpachi?” The tiniest of smiles on the Principals lips.
Byakuya glared at the man and didn’t answer. Shunsui let his mind tick over the variables and realized they still didn’t have enough information. He was going to have to do something he really didn’t want to do. But in the meantime, he needed to calm down the Kuchiki prince before the man did something stupid, like hunt down Aizen himself.
“They won’t hurt her. She’s too well connected – and Aizen doesn’t want the entire country on his tail. Not yet anyway.”
The noble sighed, his shoulders relaxing slightly.
“I know. But she’s valuable as an informant, too. She’s been assisting me, preparing for her role in family affairs. She’s privy to information that few but the Council know of. And she’s aware of the existence of the ‘ingredient’.”
Kyouraku sat up, sleepy eyes suddenly wide in alarm. Byakuya raised an elegant hand in quiet protest.
“It wasn’t intentional, she’s… curious. Thorough. And since she’s been inducted to privy Council meetings, I didn’t feel the need to advise anyone else that she knows of the item.”
Shunsui let out a frustrated breath. This man. His arrogance and pride were going to be his downfall, certainly. It was one of the reasons Yamamoto often paired him up with Zaraki on Chief level missions. The two managed to balance each other, when they weren’t at each other’s throats.
“Have you informed the General?”
Byakuya shook his head. “Not yet, I needed to know what you’d be advising him before I found out his decision after the fact.” His gaze held an inner fire. “I’m not going to abandon her without a fight, Kyouraku.”
The principal nodded slowly, seeing the determination in his face. His mind had played out the various scenarios, and he had finalized the moves. It was time to set up his plans. Standing, he reached across to the desk to shake Byakuyas hand.
“I will inform the General, and we will get Rukia back.”
Byakuya stood, clasping the man’s hand, still looking troubled. Then the man bit out three words that eased all worry he had about his sister and had him raising a brow in surprise.
“I’m sending Nanao.”
Renji was cold, cold, cold. He felt a jagged slice of something twist in his gut, and the pain tore him apart. Rukia was drugged and abducted. That ESPADA had laid hands on her and carried her off like a goddamn sack of flour. He wanted to pull out his katana and slice and rip and tear! He felt the cold ebb, and his blood boiled as shock gave way to fury. How dare they. Those fucking puppets would pay.
Ichigo Kurosaki was the first person to hear about Rukias abduction after Byakuya’s meeting with Kyouraku. Not that the noble would have deemed it urgent to tell Kurosaki, but Renji felt it was important to inform the guy who had cleared her name and become one of their closest friends since the last war.
At first, Renji had been incredibly jealous of Ichigo. This idiot had inserted himself in Rukia’s life, like he was just another rich fucker, and not a common dog like himself. But through their struggles, arguments and outright fights, Renji realized that Ichigo’s relationship with Rukia wasn’t more important to her, it was just different to his own. Ichigo felt like a brother to her, sure, and there were a few heated moments of tension that had Renji’s hackles rising – but it was clear that Rukia was too oblivious to follow through on that tension and Ichigo didn’t want anything more than what they already had. Renji had breathed an inner sigh of relief – but he had still felt that the two were closer than friends usually were. He was dense about love, but even he felt the weird connection Kurosaki seemed to have with nearly everyone he interacted with.
And then Ichigo had finally agreed to take his long-time friend Orihime on a date. Renji had nearly cried. When the relationship had progressed to the two moving in together a month ago, Renji knew that whatever signals he was picking up on between the man and Rukia was merely respect and affection. Nothing more.
Ichigo raved at Renji until he had to pull the phone away from his ear. He couldn’t blame him – he had reacted the same way, yelling at Byakuya and reaching out to shake him, until the noble had given him that look. The look that told him to shuttup and follow. He’d gritted his teeth, seething, but knew from the set of Byakuya’s shoulders that he was just as furious.
“What are you guys going to do? I can be there in fifteen-“
“We went to see the Principal. He’s sending… someone. Yamamoto has been informed. He’ll let us know if there’s anything further to be done.” He hated that – having to wait to be called.
“Kyouraku’s sending someone?” A pause. “I’m going to Shinji. The Vizard can track better than almost anyone.”
“No, Ichigo! He has his best agent on this one. The Vizard will just get in the way!”
Neither Renji nor Ichigo knew exactly who the Principal was sending, but it seemed to be someone that Yamamoto and Byakuya didn’t object to. That in itself was reason enough to stop and think. The man’s cover as a school Principal was flawless, allowing him to stay under the radar in times like these. Ichigo was quite for a moment.
“I’m still going to ask them to keep an eye out. They’re the best in the business, Renj. They know how to avoid stepping on another agent.”
Renji said nothing for several minutes.
“Fine. But not a word to anyone else. We’re in lock down right now, and if my boss finds out you’ve gone off on some half-baked rescue plan – again – I… we might never see her again.”
Ichigo assured him that everything would be kept close to the chest.
Then he asked, “Have you heard about the 11th.”
Renji frowned, confused.
“The 11th?”
Shuuhei read the message from Kira for the third time that afternoon, clenching his jaw.
He knew exactly who had blown up the 11th. He wanted to get his hands around the man’s neck and shake him until all the truths spilled out. He wanted to slap his so hard that the once honest and kind boss he remembered came back to him. But it was all a lie. There was no honesty, no kindness. Tousen had a warped sense of justice, and it had manifested itself into targeting one man in particular, regardless of the collateral damage. And with Aizens help, the way he enabled and twisted the man… well Kaname was infinitely more dangerous than last time.
His phone rang, and he answered without looking at the caller ID. Hearing Renji’s tight voice, he fell into his living room couch and prepared for bad news.
“Rukia’s been abducted.”
Damn.
“How long ago?” He asked, keeping a tight rein on his emotions.
“Mid-morning. About an hour after we left the penthouse. He killed my men, Shuuhei. MY men. I handpicked them for my squad. Had Zaraki and Ikkaku train ‘em personally.”
He heard Renji’s voice crack under the strain.
“Who?” He asked simply.
“Yammy.”
Double damn.
“Are you supposed to be telling me this?”
“Yeah. The General’s been informed, and steps have been taken. But I’m calling to ask for your help.”
Shuuhei sat up, his body was aching to move – desperate to put himself in the fight. “Anything. Whatever you need.”
“We need you to help keep a lid on this. Kira already got a call from the old man – the News outlets are locked. But the online stuff… that’s where you come in.”
Shuuhei ran to his computer, logging in, and immediately typing in search coding to find related articles. “Renji, don’t worry – I’m on it.”
“Thanks, man.”
Before he hung up, Shuuhei blurted out: “They’re going to get her back. It’s going to be ok.”
A crackling silence on the line, and he wondered if he’d said the wrong thing. Then –
“I know.”
Click.
No one dared question the ‘fru-fru’ name of the bar at the edge of town. They didn’t smirk at the diminutive owner, or sneer at the rough, but clean décor. And they certainly didn’t snicker at the range of watermelon and peach flavored cocktails advertised on the blackboard over the bar.
Not if they wanted to keep the use of their legs.
Toshiro Histugaya’s ‘Snowball’ bar was one of several he owned across this city. But this was his favorite, and the only one he managed personally. He had people taking care of his interests at his flash, inner city night spots. He didn’t care for the ruckus, but he understood the benefits of owning such a place in a city like this.
Information flowed to him like warm honey – sweet, and heavy.
By the time the sun had set, he knew about the explosion at the 11th, and he knew about the Kuchiki girl. As his regulars began to file in, he noticed somber attitudes and quite a few scorched pieces of clothing. Matsumoto did her job, flitting and flirting with the men and women who called this place their ‘home away from home’. She was a bee in his hive, collecting all the snippets of conversation and delivering them to him in his upstairs office.
Around ten o’clock, she swished in, handing him a large glass filled with something pink and frosty. He eyed her suspiciously. A frozen virgin watermelon daiquiri – his (extremely personal) secret weakness.
“What do you want, Rangiku?”
She pouted at him, playing her game of ‘air-headed bimbo waitress.’
“What do you mean? I’m just bringing my adorable boss a special treat.”
But he was an impatient man, and glared at her, letting her know he wasn’t in the mood for playing. She huffed and cocked a fist on her jutting hip.
“Fine. We need to do make a place for the big guy and his kid.”
There was only one ‘Big Guy’ she could mean. Toshiro rocked back, surprised and alarmed.
“Why?” He asked, trying to understand where this idea had come from.
“Because his home just burned to the ground, and so did his business. His men are downstairs trying to drink themselves into the ground. And most importantly, sir,” She only used that title when trying to get him to agree with her, “he’d do the same for us.”
Toshiro snorted at that, grinning, but Rangiku was deadly serious. He eyed her closely.
“You really think that brute would do anything to help anyone? He only cares about fighting, Rangiku.’
“He cares about Yachiru.” She retorted.
Toshiro paused, considering this. Then shook his head.
“He’s got an entire squadron of men who he can stay with. Hell, I’m sure he’d be comfortable on a park bench somewhere.”
“You’d let a nine-year-old girl sleep on a park bench?” Rangiku’s voice was soft, and the look she gave him crushed his resistance. Disappointment and disgust. She couldn’t believe he’d consider that with what he knew of her own history. He hated seeing that look her eyes.
“Of course I wouldn’t. Never.” He responded quickly, opening a drawer, and pulling out a small set of keys. He threw them to her, and she caught them one handed, still eyeing him.
“They can have the spare apartment. But you’ll need to go air it and give it a clean. I don’t think anyone has been in there since Ichigo moved out.”
He turned his head back to his paperwork, and ignored her, hoping she’d leave, and he wouldn’t have to feel her disappointed look on him anymore.
Soft footsteps, a quick kiss against his cheek. He swatted her away, blushing furiously as she paused in the doorway and gave him a warm smile, full of pride.
“You’re a good man, Toshiro Hitsugaya.”
And then she was gone, back to the bar to continue playing her bimbo waitress game for the patrons.
He swiped a hand across his cheek and smiled despite himself. Rangiku was like family, and one of the few people whom he had ever trusted. But she had earned that trust, time and time again – and he would put himself in whatever position necessary to avoid that disappointed look in her eyes.
Glancing at the door to ensure he was alone, his picked up the frozen drink, and sipped delicately.
Fucking. Delicious.
That older nurse had finally left after he gave her an eyeful, and understood that he wanted to shower alone, thank you very much. He had his pride, and he was perfectly capable of standing on his own two feet to give himself a thorough scrub and wash. Who did they think they were dealing with, anyway?
Kenpachi Zaraki was not a subtle man. Nor was he a man who had any sense of self-consciousness or embarrassment. He fought and bit, he stabbed and slashed, he punched things hard enough to make them shatter. He didn’t give a shit about people too weak to fight, and his sense of loyalty to the city was only tempered by his grudging respect for the Old Man. Despite his brutish demeanor, he was incredibly perceptive, and tactically brilliant. Peoples’ opinions of him were meaningless – he couldn’t give a fuck.
But he wasn’t deaf, and he wasn’t blind.
So, when the fifth Nurse in two hours stopped in to check if he needed anything, he began to sense there was something odd going on amongst the staff at the hospital. He was reclining on the bed, covered once again by the thin hospital sheet, his upper body still bare, but for the gauze and bandages. He grunted at her, and turned the TV off, bored beyond words. She scuttled away, and he heard giggling in the corridor.
Whatever.
Most women were one of two ways around him: Scared shitless or giggling children. Although it was weird to see women older than Yachiru giggling at him, especially since he knew that the staff were afraid of him only two weeks ago. Even the few women who passed through the barracks had looked at him with caution bordering on fear. He flicked off the light and closed his eyes, attempting to get some sleep.
He’d prefer getting blown up again than deal with a group of giggling women.
Notes:
I don't know about you, but I think I'd be ogling - not giggling.
Chapter 10: Tres Bestias
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Several Days Later
When Kyouraku had called her to his office earlier that week, Nanao had not been ready for his orders. Sending her after Rukia? Possibly to Aizens hideout? She was more than capable, and eager to get back in the field, but it was still a shock. The Principal, for all his flirting and flowery words to her, was always hesitant to send her on solo missions. She often wondered if he doubted her skills but had come to realize he didn’t want to waste them unnecessarily. At least, that’s what she chose to accept.
Ise Nanao may not have been as stealthy as Soifon from Shihoin Special Forces, nor as proficient in infiltration. But she was the pinnacle of expertise when it came to tracking a paper trail or an electronic signature. She was able to use the tiniest slivers of information to locate her target, something that even Mayuri Kurotsuchi admired, albeit grudgingly. However, tracking in the real world was so different to the movies, and involved inserting herself into crimes scenes, playing closely with signal strength near dangerous locations, and even interrogation. She was quite skilled at interrogation.
And twenty-four hours ago, she had traced a coded message from a burner phone to a communications hub in Singapore. She’d spent the next 22 hours hunched over a military grade laptop in a dingy room, tracking the bouncing signal all the way back to a dockside warehouse at the southern end of the city. She should have called it in. Should have waited for back up. Should have rested. But Rukia was a friend, and her orders were clear. She needed proof of life and a location for an assault force.
She’d decided on a calculated risk – being a math expert, after all. But when she perched on the roof of an adjacent warehouse and pointed her telescopic lens through the dusty window of the building, the sun had reflected off the glass, alerting the guards inside. She hadn’t realized they knew her position and had continued to snap photos of Yammy Llargo getting into a black Humvee, and speeding away…
No sign of Rukia, though.
In the small two-bedroom apartment above the Snowball bar, Kenpachi was just waking up from his afternoon nap to loud knocking on the front door. He lumbered to his feet and lurched to the hallway. Rubbing his bed hair with one arm, he hitched up his loose sweatpants and swung the door open.
Rangiku stood in the doorway and opened her mouth to speak. She stuttered, giving him a thorough scan. The big guy was absolutely cut. She knew he was strong, but that hadn’t quite translated to her mental image of what was under his clothes. He had the kind of body women would want to climb like a tree and hang onto for dear life. She wasn’t remotely interested - but even she enjoyed going to the gallery just to look at the art on the walls.
“What?” He asked rudely, oblivious to her casual inspection. His voice was a sleepy grumble.
She cleared her throat. “Ichigo is at the bar looking for you. The boss doesn’t want anyone knowing where you’re staying, so hurry up and come down.”
“I don’t give a shit if people know where I am.” He yawned, sharp teeth flashing.
“But if you get blown up again, the bar goes with you. And we can’t have that, can we?” She smiled threateningly and trotted down the enclosed staircase to the private door that opened up in the back alley behind the bar.
Kenpachi yawned again, grabbed a black shirt off the back of the couch and ducking his head, made his way down to see Ichigo.
The younger man was sitting on a stool at the counter, waving him over, signaling Rangiku for two more beers.
“Kenpachi. How’re you holding up?” He asked, knowing the answer he’d get.
“Ready for a fight, if that’s what you’re askin’?” His expectant grin had Ichigo laughing nervously. Rangiku dropped two bottles in front of them, then returned to drying glasses and pretending not to eavesdrop.
“No, not today. I came to let you know we’re getting close. Grimmjow popped back up on the radar, and we’re hoping if we can catch him, he might give up more info.”
“Well, that sounds like a whole lot o’ nothing.” Kenpachi growled, sucking on his beer and finishing it in one swing.
Ichigo sighed – the man had no patience.
“I’m meeting up with Grimmjow tonight.” He said, and the captain felt like he was hearing two conversations in one. What was Ichigo really saying?
“What, did he ask ya out?” Kenpachi chuckled but watched Ichigo carefully.
“Fuck off, Zaraki.” He snapped, embarrassed. “He sent a message to Karakura PI with a time and place – he want’s to negotiate for the warrant on his head.”
“Trap?”
“Trap. But at least if I meet him, we might have the opportunity to grab him.”
“Sounds about right.” Kenpachi replied. “But I’m not interested. Call me when you have a fight for me, not a worthless bounty.”
Ichigo shrugged. “Just thought I’d ask – I know your guys aren’t back up and running, yet. But once we have him, we’ll squeeze him till he gives us what we want.”
Rangiku coughed out a laugh but didn’t look up. Kenpachi lost interest. It was fun to tease the kid – but he didn’t give a shit about the blue haired psycho. If Ichigo could beat him, then he wasn’t worth the effort.
“You couldn’t have just called me with this? You had ta come all the way down here to tell me?” His eyes glinted. “You sure I can’t convince you to fight me, Ichigo?”
“Do you even know where your phone is, Zaraki?” Ichigo retorted. “How about I just text you next time I’m in the mood.” (Another snort from Rangiku) “Maybe then you’d hold onto your phone, and I wouldn’t have to make this trip to give you good intel.”
“Tch – like I care.” He groused. “Fuckin’ thing just kept annoyin’ me anyway.” He leaned on the bar and rested his chin on one hand with an aggrieved sigh. Didn’t look like he was going to have any fun today.
Ichigo rolled his eyes but stood and gave Kenpachi a lazy two fingered salute, before sauntering out of the bar. Ikkaku swiftly came over and filled the chair. It seemed the entire 11th Hour had relocated to Snowball, much to Histugayas disdain. Yumichika sat on his other side, and the two subordinates stared at him intently.
“What?” He snapped, trying to break their attention.
“Why did you say no?” Ikkaku demanded.
“Cos I’m not about to go chase someone that isn’t worth the fight.” Kenpachi replied, rolling his shoulders with a wince. He was nearly fully healed, but the wounds from the rebar were still a bit sore.
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Captain?” Yumichika said, exhasperated. Kenpachi lifted a brow in question.
“Huh?”
Two sets of rolled eyes.
“We’re bounty hunters. Grimmjow is a bounty. Why not let us go and collect his head? It would cheer up Yachiru, I’m sure of it.” Yumichika gushed.
Kenpachi shrugged – a sign that was as good as an order for the two men, and they raced out the door after Ichigo.
“Another drink, Captain?” Rangiku queried.
He shook his head and turned in his seat to look out at the bar. His squad was just… sitting there. Lazily drinking and flirting with the other waitress, or watching sports on TV and giving halfhearted cheers for teams they didn’t care about. He sat straighter and ignored the pain in his back with years of practice. He should have been out there since the morning Isane had discharged him.
It was time to get back to work.
Rukia woke with a start, breathing heavily as she shivered in the cold, steel lined room. A surgical room. A surgical bench. Tiled floor, and the coppery smell of blood.
Oh god.
She had been in an out of consciousness since Yammy had jabbed her, the last few days seeming like a movie with scenes missing. She had been moved several times and was pretty sure a muscle in her right arm was torn. She surveyed her surroundings, taking note of any identifiable items, or any escape routes.
Nothing.
A single ceiling mounted light illuminated the creepy chamber, and a large, insulated door dominated the far wall. She spotted several air ducts, but they were far too small for her to fit through. The surgical table she was tied to had several restraints, but only her wrists were bound. She instantly got to work using skills she’d learned from Renji, and soon had herself released and rubbing her sore wrists.
Her legs nearly refused to take her weight, but after a few minutes, she was walking the room, using fingertips to search the walls for weaknesses.
Nothing! Dammit!
A lough banging and scraping noise came from beyond the door, and she crouched, putting the table between herself and whoever was about to enter. The door thudded, then began sliding open horizontally like a walk-in freezer. She gripped the edge, ready make a run for it…
“Rukia?”
Her heart skipped a beat at the familiar voice, and she peeked over the top of the table.
“Kaien?” She whispered.
Putting the camera into her backpack, Nanao was turning to leave when she was heavily tackled through the glass skylight of the warehouse she had been perched on. The drop was several meters, though a tarp covered stack of boxes had arrested her fall – painfully. She took a moment to catch her breath, before struggling to her feet, and extricating herself from the mess. She coughed, senses on high alert for whoever had attacked her.
Something came flying towards her from the left and she crossed her arms defensively. She felt a hard shove and a searing pain against her hip. She gasped, grabbing herself and feeling blood run through her fingers. She attempted to dash to the right, but barreled fully into a tall, solid body.
“Careful, doll face.”
She focused in as the dust cleared.
“You’re…”
“Franceska.” Said the tall woman with shark like grin.
“And Emilou!” Came the voice behind her. She glanced back and saw woman with the sharp blade, dripping her blood.
“I am Cyan.” Came the quiet voice to her left.
“Tres Bestias.” Nanao muttered, furious at herself for being discovered.
“Naw, she knows us! We’re famous!” Franceska laughed, hands on her hips.
Nanao dodged and darted trying to find an escape, but they had successfully surrounded her. Deciding that now wasn’t the time for morals, she whipped out her stun gun and shot Emilou in the chest.
“Argh!” The woman dropped, shuddering violently.
Nanao was too slow to block the punch to her sternum from Franceska, and she dropped to her knees, retching.
“That’s not very nice, you know.” Cyan whispered in her ear. She hadn’t even heard the small woman approach. Nanao gritted her teeth as Cyan pulled out a sharp knife and help it up to her left eye, the tip scratching her glasses.
“We don’t have orders for someone like you. Would you like a souvenir, Lady Halibel?”
Nanao felt her heart seize when Tia Halibel emerged calmly from the shadows. This was one of the Espada, the one that flew the helicopter that Aizen had escaped in. The one that led the Tres Bestias. She was beautiful… and terrifying.
“I don’t know why Lord Aizen asked us to protect Yammy. But I am guessing it was because of insects like you. Crawling out from the cracks to watch and report and cause trouble.” She crossed her arms over her ample breasts. “I don’t care what you do with this one. I don’t know her – and I don’t want her running back to her superiors.”
“Yes, Lady Halibel.” Cyan murmured, pressing forward with the knife. Nanao refused to give them the satisfaction of her fear. The blade tip cracked the glass.
“Four on One doesn’t seem very sporting, don’t you think, Hiyori?”
“Shaddup, dumbass.”
Nano felt the women disengage, and yell back at the echoing voices. She heard metal clashing, and several loud bangs. Gunshots. Screaming. Yelling. Cursing. A piercing howl. Silence.
She struggled to her feet, trying to understand what was happening. A very, VERY large man was suddenly in front of her, holding out a hand, and making polite enquiries. Was she alright? Would she mind if he applied first aid? Could she please accompany him outside?
Nanao followed in a daze, holding onto the offered hand like a lifeline. She recognized Hachi – he was hard to forget – and started to come back to herself as he cleaned and bandaged her hip. It seemed like hours later when Shinji, Hiyori, Kensei, Mashiro and Lisa joined them. Kensei has the bound form on Tia Halibel slung across his shoulder.
Nanao gaped. She was still in shock, but this seemed – unreal. Had the Mercenary group just caught one of the Espada? How? What kind of freaking strength did they possess?
Lisa crouched in front of her.
“Are you ok, Nanao?” She asked, as though it was just another day at the office.
Having them all this close, Nanao noticed that they weren’t nearly as calm as she thought. There was blood on Shinji’s teeth, Mashiro was limping slightly, and Kensei, though carrying the body, had what looked like a gunshot wound in his side.
Nanao nodded to Lisa, anxiety flooding her. This was Lisa Yadomaru, the Principal’s former right-hand woman… and lover. She and Lisa had been friends, but that was long in the past, and when Nanao had stepped up to her old position, she felt a deep sense of guilt that still haunted her. Even with everything that had just happened, she felt that guilt.
“I-I’m fine. I wasn’t prepared for an ambush.”
Shinji grinned broadly, his trademark toothy smile, now smeared with blood, creeping her out just a little.
“Don’t worry, young’un – we took care of ‘em.” He drawled.
Nanao jerked when Hachi gently injected her with… something. She glared at him.
“Just a mild sedative for the pain, dear. “He said calmly.
She felt her eyelids droop, and Hachis big arms caught her as she passed out.
“Ah man, Shusui is going ta murder us.” Shinji groaned as Hachi collected Nano and gently placed her in the idling BMW.
“No, he won’t.” Lisa replied sternly. “Not when we hand over this one.” She jerked a thumb at the espada being tossed into the trunk. Then she looked thoughtful. “But we should probably avoid him for a while.”
An awkward silence as the Vizard drove away, hearing ambulances approach the warehouse and the mangled bodies of the Tres Beastias they left in their wake.
Grrimmjow was in a great mood. Hands in his pockets, he strolled down the wide industrial road, enjoying the feeling of walking in a straight line without hitting a padded wall. Three weeks on and he was still in the white pants and jacket that they made him wear in the psych ward. He’d torn the sleeves off, but the white was starting to look distinctly… filthy. And though he kept himself clean, he admitted to himself that he was a little ripe.
When Aizen had organized his release, he’d expected to be welcomed back into the Espada. However, he soon found out that was not the case. He was told, with no small amount of contempt, that he’d been released as a distraction. A diversion. He was told to continue to be an annoyance and a bother.
But what about killing a few? He had asked. He could make their path to revenge smoother.
“Do what makes you… you.” Gin has said in that creepy, slithery way.
Grimmjow shuddered – he may possibly be mad, but that silver haired bastard was terrifying. But Grim has his number – he had a sweet spot for that pretty little waitress, and everyone knew it. But he wasn’t about to mess with a woman, not when Kurosaki was so wonderfully close.
He had been playing with the man for weeks since his release. Sending cryptic messages and allowing his face to be seen in security cameras. He was batting Ichigo around the city like a cat plays with a mouse. But tonight, at the end of this street, he had said he would finally meet with the man.
Of course, Ichigo expected a trap – so Grimmjow would provide one. But what he was really looking forward to, was getting his hands around the man’s throat and squeezing the life out of those pretty eyes. He wanted to shove his hand inside his ribcage and crush the heart. He wanted to lick his face while he bled out in the street.
He began grinning maniacally. Depraved thoughts spinning further and further out of control.
He hoped Ichigo hadn’t changed one damn bit, because he was going to wring every ounce of pain from the man, and finally – finally – have his freedom!
Notes:
Thanks for making it this far! We're going to be getting into the good shit next chapter. Leave a comment if you're loving it!
Chapter 11: Grow Up
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Doing the rounds, Ma’am?”
“Good morning, Director!”
“Pardon me, Ma’am! Coming through!”
Unohana moved to the side of the corridor and smiled as the orderlies wheeled the crash cart at high speed. Turning to the administration wing, she kept her ears open to the floating gossip that kept the hospital running.
“… well, I didn’t account for the effects on…”
“… I want to ask him out, but he’s so… quiet!”
“Hanatarou? Yeah, but he’s…”
“… remember the big guy?”
Unohana slowed her pace, focusing in on that conversation.
“From last week? Oh yea. He was enormous!”
“Well, his brother is in surgery – kidney stones…”
Unohana sped up, ignoring the conversation. Kenpachi didn’t have a brother.
Wait.
She needed to stop thinking about him. Obsessive thought patterns were a bad sign. She needed to focus on work. Reaching her office, she opened her agenda and realized she had a few hours free in the afternoon before assisting in a surgery that evening. It was the perfect time to catch up on a research paper sent to her from Kurotsuchi.
Her mind wandered as she read, absorbing the words, but letting her thoughts free. She rubbed her chest absently, fingers tracing the jagged scar below her clavicle. It felt warm, and sensitive to her touch, and her breaths began to shallow. She couldn’t resist the memory – the feel of steel piercing her skin. The delicious sensation of flesh parting and metal scraping on bone. She remembered the ache she felt in her arms as she swung and connected. Bloodlust. That was the feeling – and she craved…
“Director, are you free?”
Unohana jerked her hand away from her chest and smiled politely.
“Of course, please come in, Isane.”
Her second in charge entered the office and handed over several files and a clipboard.
“Ma’am… is everything alright? You’ve skipped lunch every day this week.”
Her smile didn’t change, but her head tilted to the side slightly. The kind, caring director.
“Everything is fine, Isane. Or as fine as it can be at this time.”
Isane coughed and bowed her head slightly – of course. They were still in a state of emergency, after all.
Unohana considered the timing of everything. This war, the attacks, the fear seeping into the city. It was all coming back, scratching at the walls she’d erected, and leaving her raw. How much longer could she hold onto her new life with everything that was happening? How much longer before she gave into temptation, and returned to what she once was? There would be no joy in it, no excitement or thrill – not anymore. But the urges were there, below the surface.
Unohana stood abruptly and began to walk out.
“I’m heading out for the afternoon. I’ll be back in time for surgery. Hold my messages?”
“O-of course, ma’am!” Isane said, surprised. The woman rarely took time to herself, let alone left the hospital in the middle of a workday.
The 11th Hour trotted the circumference of the abandoned lot, panting and exhausted. Yachiru cheered them on, bouncing on Kenpachi’s bare shoulder as he called out instructions.
He didn’t care overly much if his men lazed about – as long as they put their everything into getting stronger. Seeing them in the bar after several days of nothing, well, it had pissed him off. He had dragged the entire squad to the eastern trainyards to work up a sweat for the last five days.
After the lot of them had attacked him as a unit, and he had beaten them down without blinking – he bellowed at them for getting weaker. They cringed, but he saw the determination flicker in their eyes. They didn’t want to be weak – they wanted to live up to their captain and their reputation. They were fighters, warriors! Their own shame had them sparring against each other until Yachiru mentioned that they were starting to look a little… soft.
So, obviously, Kenpachi ordered them to run laps until they threw up. Then to run some more. He sat on a low concrete shelf, watching them. Knees spread and wooden sword laid across his lap, shaded by a broken wall. Yachiru got bored after a while and bounced off into the trainyard to do… whatever it was she felt like doing. He wasn’t worried – she’d be back in an hour or so. Probably filthy and dragging appropriated food stuffs.
He lay back on the concrete shelf, putting his hands behind his head and watching the clouds. His back didn’t even sting anymore – he was a fast healer, he supposed. The gentle breeze tempted him to close his eyes, and he gave in, letting his mind go peacefully blank.
If I wanted to hurt you…
His eyes flew open, staring at the sky. Her threatening words echoed in his mind. He wanted to meet that threat – wanted to rise to the killing edge and slake his bloodlust. He wanted to let loose and really give his full strength to the fight. She could take it. She could take it all .
Because I am not your enemy.
He frowned at that. She may have said those words, but the look in her eyes was… cold. Deadly. Another threat. She may not be his enemy right now , b ut that hadn’t always been the case. Thinking back to the way she’d let her polite – fake – mask drop away, he felt his toes curl and swallowed heavily. Something about the pitiless void in her eyes, the absolute belief that she would kill him given the chance – it made his body react, strongly.
He growled and sat up, shaking his head to clear the troublesome thoughts away. Glaring at his pants, he stubbornly ignored the half hard member trying to get his attention. He wasn’t interested in her like that, obviously. She was a goddamn doctor, now. A healer . His mind provided infinite scorn to the word.
But she wasn’t always.
Leaning forward to place his elbows on his knees, he reached one hand to lightly touch the prominent scar running down the left side of his face. He never gave thought to any of the scars he received – they were mementos of battles with (mostly) unworthy enemies… except this one. It felt hot – hotter than usual, and tight, pulling at his lips and brow. He grunted in discomfort and dropped his hand, watching the men continue to struggle around the lot.
Tch. Weaklings. None of them had ever given him a scar - not like she had. It was so many years ago, and he barely remembered anything from those days – except her. She was the Knife in the Dark, and he had worshipped her, respected her power. Meeting her had given him his first taste of true fear – and he became an addict for her sword.
But she had changed… into some worthless pacifist. Very few people were aware of her past and her true identity , and the Old Man had seen fit to assist her in keeping it that way. Allowing her to create a new identity and follow this new path in medicine – a path she stepped onto the moment she’d crossed blades with him.
When he finally saw her again, nearly a decade later, he had been shot through the shoulder by a bail jumper and was silently allowing a doctor at Seiretei General to cut out the bullet and suture the wound without any anesthetic. She had flowed past him like a ghost from his past, and he had unconsciously stood up, knocking the doctor aside and ignoring the scalpel that was now jutting from his shoulder like an arrow. Unohana had turned and given him a smile that was everything he hated in life. Polite, sweet, GENTLE. She was... gone. He saw it in her eyes. The shock had cut him deeper than any sword every could.
He had stormed out of the building without a word, blood still trickling down his arm and two nurses ineffectually trying to stop him. Grasping the scalpel, he had ripped it out of his shoulder, thrown it to the ground and walked in a straight line until he hit the edge of town. It was there that he’d discovered Hitsugayas bar, where he’d drowned the memory of her for the next several days.
When Ikkaku and Yumichika finally found him, he was too drunk to recognize them. He abruptly threw a punch that knocked Yumi out cold, then swung his other fist at Ikkaku. The bald man captured his wrist in a deadlock, gritting his teeth, and swung his own fist into Kenpachi’s jaw. It was the first and only time Ikkaku had landed hit on his Captain that had actually made an impact.
Kenpachi fell into the bar, knocking over several stools, before righting himself, and running a hand over his split lip. He licked the blood lasciviously, eyes wide and glazed with bloodlust. Ikkaku knew that look, and he took a step back, keeping Kenpachi focused on him and away from his fallen friend.
“You’re strong.” Kenpachi said, his voice deep and hoarse. The grin he gave Ikkaku scared the man down to his bones.
“Captain. You need to sober up. We haven’t seen you in days-“ Ikkaku dodged the fist that flew at his temple, and continued to dodge as Kenpachi drove him across the open floor, swinging wildly. If he hadn’t been so intoxicated, Ikkaku might have been seriously injured – the man had lost his ability to balance, but not the power behind the punches.
Rangiku had alerted her boss the moment the first fist went flying, knowing that this fight was just a little wild for her. Toshiro had allowed Zaraki to stay in his establishment, even allowed him to cause a bit of trouble, provided there was no bloodshed. It kept people polite and quiet to have a berserker like him drinking at the bar. He ran into the open area, noticing the other patrons ducking for cover.
“Get out!” Hitsugaya yelled “We’re closed for the next hour!”
People scattered.
“Zaraki. Stop this idiocy.” He demanded, reaching into his pocket for the set of handcuffs he’d grabbed from the office.
Kenpachi snarled like a wild animal and turned from Ikkaku to charge at the much shorter man. But Toshiro was ready for him. Holding steady, he slipped out one open cuff and slapped it on Kenpachis wrist as he side stepped to the right, avoiding the barreling man. Allowing himself to be pulled along, he held onto the free end of the cuffs, swung around Kenpachis back, and yanked as hard as he could.
Zaraki lost his balance and fell hard, his free arm taking the weight. Toshiro quickly bent down and with a strength that seemed at odds with his small frame, hoisted kenpachis other arm until he could slap the open cuff on him, effectively pinning his hands behind his back while he lay on the floor.
“That’s not gonna stop him.” Ikkaku panted, helping up a dazed Yumichika
“They’re military grade cuffs,” Toshiro drawled, “So unless he can pick the lock…”
He trailed off as Kenpachi snuffled and grunted, face down against the bar floor, before taking a deep breath and letting loose a hair-raising roar. He flexed, muscles straining as he pulled against the cuffs.
“Idiot! You’re going to injure yourself!” Toshiro cried, running forward to knock the man out with a kick to the head.
The links holding the cuffs together slowly bent out, then snapped altogether. Kenpachi lifted his head to avoid the kick and hauled himself to his feet, teeth bared and laughing like a madman.
“Who’s next?” He snarled, absolutely joyous. “Come at me – all together! I want it!” No one moved – they didn’t dare. He crooked a finger at Ikkaku, daring him to attack.
“Kenny?”
Kenpachi froze, swaying on his feet as he dropped his gaze down to the tiny pink girl being carried into the bar on Unohanas hip. His eyes blazed seeing the woman, and an unintelligible yell tore from his throat.
“Get back, woman!” Ikkaku cried out, racing towards her.
Unohana met Ikkaku and plopped Yachiru in his open arms, surprising him – he instantly retreated and dumped the girl on Yumichika. Then she turned to a nearby pool table and picked up a cue with calm, gentle fingers and turned back to face the Captain. Seeing the weapon in her hand, all traces of reason left him, and he flew at her.
Holding the cue with two hands, she stepped forward and swiped the wood at head height, perfectly striking his temple and cracking the cue in half. Kenpachi went flying past, bleeding from his hairline and careened into the wall by the exit. She lowered the broken pool cue and calmly waited.
“Do you know where you are, now?” She asked quietly.
He didn’t turn, he just leaned his forehead on the wall, breathing heavily. The room was dead silent, everyone waiting for his response.
“Get out, bitch.” He rasped. “Before I start taking this seriously.”
Unohana nodded her head and dropped the broken cue on a table as she gracefully flowed to the door. Pausing at the precipice, she looked at him from the corner of her eyes, and murmured a message only he could hear, before disappearing into the night.
Ikkaku gaped, unsure how to decipher what had just happened. Toshiro looked thoughtful, and Matsumoto had an evil grin on her face – she clearly loved what had just happened.
Yachiru, still only a toddler, had struggled in Yumichikas arms, desperately trying to get to her adoptive father. Yumichika walked over carefully, deftly holding onto the squalling child, and stopped a few feet from Kenpachi’s back.
“Sir?” He asked carefully, ready to step back to safety.
Kenpachi turned, placing a large, calloused hand gently on Yachirus head. The girl reached for him, eyes wide, tiny fingers grasping the air. He reached down and took her from Yumichika, settling her into crook of his arm and tilting his head to avoid bleeding on her.
“You smell bad, Kenny!” Yachiru said, her adorable words barely making sense. He quirked a grin at the girl, and joggled his arm to make her giggle. “Yeah, I know, little one. Let’s go home.”
He looked at the people in the room, and huffed.
“Thanks.”
Then he was gone, heading for the nearest cab that could get him out of there.
Once home, he settled Yachiru in bed and headed for the shower, washing himself until his skin felt raw. Staggering to his enormous bed, he collapsed onto his stomach and attempted drift away. But before sleep overtook him, he heard her words again, loud and clear.
I am not what I was. Grow up, Kenpachi Zaraki.
His trip down memory lane ended suddenly and he was flung back to the present train yard, when a shiny dark sedan pulled up at the lot, drawing his attention. The passenger window rolled down, and he saw her, waiting for him. He eased up, tossing on his black button down shirt and strolled over to her car.
“I was just thinkin' about ya.” He grumbled, then scowled when he realized how that sounded. Rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, he squinted at Unohana suspiciously.
“What are ya doin' here?”
“I came to see you.” She replied, trying to gauge his reaction.
“It's time. We need to talk.”
Notes:
I'm really happy that all the plot points are coming together slowly, and I'm pleased with the subtle easter egg's I'm placing here and there.
What are your thoughts on KenUno at this stage? Who's your fave couple so far?
I can't wait for you to read the next chapter! <3
Chapter 12: The Madman
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Rukia didn’t know how long she’d been screaming, but the pain just kept going on and on.
“What is the coding sequence?”
“I DON’T KNOW!” She cried, unconscious tears streaking her face. Her voice was hoarse from days of precise and varied torture. Her body ached and trembled, nerves on fire that burned and burned and didn’t let up. She was tied to the table again by her wrists and ankles. Her head thrashed as she screamed out, praying for an end to the agony.
“How do we access the building? SPEAK!!”
She screamed again, the sound bouncing off the walls as the torturer’s hands did nothing more than squeeze her arms. A heavy sigh. The pain receded to a mild ache in her joints.
“You’re either very smart, or very stupid, Miss Kuchiki.”
The tall, balding man in the green doctors’ scrubs removed his spotless gloves and strolled to the door, sliding it open.
“Ill be back in one hour. Then we will up the dosage.”
The door slammed behind him, leaving a deafening silence in the cold room.
Three days of torture through persuasion, starving, coercion, mental manipulation – but this morning… the pain had started. He has pulled a syringe full of a clear yellow liquid and plunged it into her neck. What followed was an agony that spread through her body like wildfire, aggravated by the slightest touch on her skin. He had given her a nerve agent, a cruel torture device that left no permanent damage on the body but would scar her memories forever.
Rukia panted, her breaths transforming into heavy sobs. She refused to cry in front of that… that man.
When Kaien had walked into the room on her first day awake, her shock gave way to disbelief. There was no way this man could be her former teacher – Kaien had died during the last war – a victim of Aizens drug. She had attended the funeral, she had mourned. But he came towards her and spoke in that kind, familiar voice.
“Rukia – It’s so good to finally see you again.” He’d come at her with arms wide open, like he had in the past.
Rukia had backed away, shaking.
“You’re not Kaien Shiba. Kaien died – I was there. I saw his body at the funeral. He’s dead – You’re dead!” she began to hyperventilate.
He came towards her with words of comfort and solace, using his kindness to convince her that he was truly alive, and all would be well. She didn’t buy it for a second. After several minutes, the man stood and sighed with disappointment.
“It would have been so painless for you, if you had just accepted this form.”
He reached a hand up to his ear and peeled his face away, stretching his jaw and holding up the silicone mask with disinterest. He tossed it to her, and she caught it instinctively, before crying out and dropping the thing on the tiled floor. The man was balding, with stringy brown hair clinging futilely to his crown. His face was deeply pockmarked with jagged surgical scars, giving him a permanent sneer. His eyes were icy green, and they seemed filled with morbid amusement.
The shock of seeing Kaiens face peeled away like a band aid slowed her breathing, and she stood her ground, ready for an attack.
“Who are you?” She demanded. “Why am I here?”
He grinned at her, and turned back to the silver table, patting it with one hand.
“Why don’t you come back and sit here, Miss Kuchiki, and we’ll have a little chat.”
She didn’t move, just continued to glare at him.
“My dear, this will go a lot easier for you if follow instructions. That noble pride isn’t going to get you anywhere, here.”
“I can hear whatever you have to say from right where I am.” She snapped.
“Fine. To answer your first question, my name is Aaroniero Arruruerie.”
What a mouthful…
“And you are here for two reasons. The first is because your brother will do nearly anything to get you back.” He smirked as if that was highly amusing to him.
“And the second?” She felt a shiver of dread curl up her spine.
“The second is for the answers you’re going to give us, about your family’s connection to Mayuri Kurotsuchi and where he’s hiding the final ingredient.”
Rukia stopped breathing, her heart fluttered.
Oh god, her mind whispered, they know about the alloy.
Ichigo stood beneath the streetlight on the corner of the block, hands in the pockets of his tan overcoat. His dark jeans and shirt gave him a relaxed, uncaring façade, but his eyes were bright and watchful, searching for the man he was about to meet
“Ichigo, I got movement at the end of the block.” The voice in his earpiece whispered. He stood a little straighter, preparing for anything.
“It’s him. We’re standing by.” A different voice, excited.
Ichigo flicked his eyes to the low two-story building on his left, then back to the larger warehouse on his right. His partner Chad, as well and Ikkaku and Yumichika had his back, ready for whatever trap Grimmjow would try to spring on them.
Ichigo heard slow, deliberate footsteps approaching, and felt cold anger wash over him. When Grimmjow finally eased into the spotlight surrounding Ichigo, he had a feral grin and a feeling of madness that hadn’t been there before. His hand left his pockets and he spread his arms wide, like a Rockstar cheering a crowd.
Ichigo watched him carefully – he looked wilder than the last time they had met. His clothes were tattered and torn, there were sweat stains and dark blotches that he suspected was dried blood. When Grimmjow raised his chin in challenge, Ichigo saw the familiar tattoo across his face and jaw, a perfect set of sharp teeth and bone, clenched tightly into a rictus grin. He may have been filthy and a few steps past insane, but he was still one of the best-looking men Ichigo has ever met.
“Ichigo!” Grimmjow howled delightedly “You came!”
A snort of laughter came through his earpiece. He ignored it.
“Grimmjow. I got your letter.” Ichigo replied steadily, not giving anything away.
Grimmjow came closer, arms still out wide as if showing he was unarmed. Ichigo knew better than to trust the man – his own fists were weapons enough.
“If you wanted to turn yourself in, why not call the police?” Ichigo asked, attempting to keep the man talking until he was close enough to grab. Grimmjow rolled his eyes and sneered in disappointment.
“Because I can’t do this with cops.”
He struck fast, driving a small knife towards Ichigos chest. The man dodged nearly as fast, earning only a small gash through is t-shirt. Grimmjow grinned delightedly and swung again, a second hidden blade hacking towards Ichigos neck.
“You’re just as quick as before,” He panted, “maybe even quicker! Now stand still!” He slashed and jabbed, aiming for maximum damage. Ichigo dodged and ducked, coming up between the man’s arms with a swift uppercut, knocking him back several feet.
Grimmjow dropped the knives and raised his fists as a crazed laugh escaped from deep in his chest. He ran his tongue over his teeth and winked – winked.
“We’re still standing by.” Chad whispered in his ear.
Ichigo had had enough of this. He put a hand on the gun in his side holster making the movement clear and obvious for the madman.
“Grimmjow – Are you turning yourself in or not?”
Grimmjow dropped his fists and frowned. “I thought we could play a little longer. But if you just want get straight to the good stuff…”
He shoved his hand into one pocket and pulled out a tiny transceiver.
“…Then let’s start banging!”
Everything moved in slow motion. Ichigo pulled the gun from its holster, swinging the barrel as Grimmjow pressed the small red button with a thumb. He laughed – a sound that held no sanity – and waited for the boom.
And waited.
Any second now…
Grimmjow frowned and began tapping the transceiver with a forefinger, getting more and more frustrated. Ichigo breathed a sigh of relief – Ikkaku and Yumichika had done well. After their own experience, they had been extra cautious for explosives, and had asked Chad to set up a signal jammer for a two-block radius. Looks like it worked, Ichigo thought.
“What the fuck happened to the bang? There was supposed to be a BANG!” Grimmjow screamed and threw the small device on the ground as hard as he could. Ichigo had his gun pointed squarely at the man, his stance perfect – he couldn’t miss if he tried. Grimmjow just glared at him.
“A gun? Really, Ichigo? What happened to you, man?”
Ichigo ignored the jab.
“I grew up. Can’t go running around town with nothing but my fists and an illegal sword.”
“You used to be cool, man.” Grimmjow pouted.
“Ah well,” He shook out his hands and arms, and bounced from one foot to the other, like a boxer preparing to fight. “Plan B!” He charged.
“Grimmjow, don’t!” Ichigo cried and squeezed the trigger. Grimmjow took the hit and kept coming. A movement to the right – Ikkaku and Yumichika sprinting across the road to intercept. Chad, yelling in his year to look out. He squeezed the trigger again, but the bullet went wide. Grimmjow grinned and turned his arm – another blade! A hunting knife designed for a killing blow. It was all happening too fast, way too fast!
Suddenly, a blue feathered arrow sprouted from Grimmjows collarbone, knocking him to the ground. Ikkaku and Yumichika rushed in to apply restraints, yelling at Grimmjow to stay down, even as he fought and bit like a wild animal. A sigh of relief came through the earpiece, and Ichigo felt it too. They got him, finally.
Ichigo swung his head around, searching – he knew that arrow. He knew exactly who could have made that shot. He finally spotted a man walking in the opposite direction, a large bow slung over his shoulder. He should have known Ishida would show up. No matter how far they went to get away from each other, when it came to having each other’s backs, he always showed up at the most convenient moment.
“Uryuu!” Ichigo called. The man slowed but didn’t stop. Ichigo smiled bitterly – he hadn’t expected him to. He gave a cheeky grin and called out one last time:
“Nice shot!”
“I’m fine, Sir, really.”
Ise Nanao was ready to go home. She had been stuck in a private room in the hospital for two days, and she was about to start knocking heads together to be allowed to leave.
The wound she had received – a reasonable sized gash, and some blood loss – wasn’t the problem. The problem was the toxin that had coated the blade. Her body had started rejecting antibiotics, so Unohana had sent her for several tests, which had discovered the infection. She was there for one more day of observation before being allowed to go home.
But leaving wasn’t going to be easy, when her boss could fill an entire room with nothing but menace and concern in equal measure. Shunsui Kyouraku had not taken the news of her abduction well. When Isane had called to advise Kyouraku that the Vizard had dropped off an unconscious Nanao to Serireitei General, the man had – as Isane described it – ‘scared the living shit out of her’. Something Nanao could believe but would never choose to witness.
And now he was here, arms crossed and silently watching her, making her tremble under the thin sheet. Her hands were clenched, and she gave him her most ‘I am capable of anything, don’t underestimate me’ look.
He approached the bed, his face unreadable. When he raised a hand to her face, she flinched. A gentle palm cupped her cheek, pulling her to look him in the eyes.
“You idiot.” He said quietly, but there was no anger in the words.
Tears stung her eyes, and she blinked them clear.
“You were careless, Nanao. It’s the first time I’ve ever known you to be so careless.” There was mild rebuke in his voice as he moved away to sit in the visitor’s chair.
She sniffled and pressed her lips together. She wasn’t going to to deny it – she should have known better. Any form of reconnaissance had risks, but she had chosen to proceed without notifying him. It was careless.
But she wasn’t about to admit it.
“Regardless, sir, I found Llargo. I send you the shot of the number plates, and the passenger he was with. The dark-haired man with the shark tooth necklace. I didn’t recognize him, but I would suggest reaching out to our other contacts for further information. The Vizard, for example.”
She watched the storm or anger gathering around him, and added quickly, “They were able to extricate me, as well as detain Tia Halibel. That’s a huge strike against Aizen. She might have information about the man.”
“They took their sweet time on that ‘extrication’.” He growled quietly.
“Without them, sir… you wouldn’t have gotten those photos.”
Silence.
The two sat quietly for some time, neither willing to break the silence, until a nurse came in with a lunch tray. Giving Nanao a smile, and a lingering glance on the Principal, she left, closing the door behind her.
Nanao lifted the lid and eyed the roast beef sandwich, leafy salad and fresh cut melon in front of her. Picking up the sandwich, she took a small bite and chewed thoughtfully. The food at Serireitei general was surprisingly good, not the bland nutritious paste that everyone believed was standard hospital fare.
She swallowed and put the sandwich back on the plate.
“Sir?”
He looked at her, hadn’t stopped looking at her.
“I’m not a porcelain doll. I have skills that no one else has, and I know how to defend myself. This mission was…” she waved a hand, searching for the right phrase, “… an aberration. Please, don’t take me out of the field – not again.”
He blinked at her. She pressed on, determined to make her point.
“I love being a teacher, sir, truly! But only as a cover. I love what I do – and what I do is necessary for this battle. I know it and you know it. So please,” she begged, “Please don’t take me off active duty.”
Shunsui watched her closely. He saw the rise and fall of her chest, and the determination in her eyes. He gave a huff of impatience, shaking his head.
“I never intended to take you out of the field.”
Her eyes widened and she gave him a heartfelt smile.
“Thankyou, sir.” She husked, not trusting her own voice.
He hesitated then stood and took the few steps to her bedside, before sitting lightly on the edge. She shifted at the closeness, eyes travelling up the light grey shirt that stretched enticingly over his chest. She struggled to remain stoic.
She hadn’t intended to walk in on him changing in the office that day, but it had been her first week, and she was eager to complete her assignments. When he had turned at the intrusion, eyebrows raised in question, she had blushed from her collar to her hairline and scurried out, apologising profusely.
But the sight of him like that had played in her fantasies for several nights – long, toned legs, covered by pale trousers pulled up to a muscular waist. The buttons had been undone and spread wide, revealing a hint of what was hidden. His broad chest and stomach were sculpted and shadowed by hard muscle and a generous dusting of soft hair. His shoulders and arms were large and well defined – the kind that could hold a lover steady or crush them tight against that chest. And his back - so much smooth skin and rippling muscle, it had her wanting to scratch it like a cat.
Now, he was so close – closer than she’d usually allow, and he was watching her with eyes that held nothing but trouble and broken promises. She felt her breathing shallow and pressed her knees together to stop the shivering she felt coursing over her body. She couldn’t – wouldn’t – look him in the eye. She’d already been careless on her mission, so there was no need to compound that with carelessness in other aspects of her life.
Kyouraku watched his Nanao struggle to keep herself distant. When he’d heard of her fall, he hadn’t just felt enraged, he’d been seized with a violent grief that left him reeling. He loved her, of course, but in a platonic, edging on flirtatious way. He loved to have her swatting him in rebuke, getting her riled enough to break her strict demeanor. But he had not realized how deep his own feelings for her had run – until this mission.
Lisa, the Vizard who was previously his best agent, had been his closest friend. And at one time, they had shared too many drinks, and a night in bed that had him shaking with sated exhaustion. But it had been just that – one night. Lisa was friendly and clear about her expectations, and after being with her, he realized that he preferred their relationship exactly as she did. Colleagues, not lovers. That didn’t stop the gossips spreading the rumor of their affair.
And now, here he was, heart aching at the sight of her, wanting to touch her so badly, to feel her skin and know that she was safe. He was a confident man when it came to women, laughing and flirting to get what he wanted, and he had enough experience to know how to have them longing for him. But Nanao was different, she made himfeel different. She had no idea of course - their age difference probably made her believe he was a skeevy old pervert. And he knew in his heart, he couldn't change who he was - but for her, he would change the world to suit her. He didn’t want to use tricks on her, or to charm her with tired old lines – he wanted so much more than bed sport. He wanted her - all of her. And he was not going to wait for this war to kill him before he could show her.
Holding his breath and his heart, he reached a hand across the bed, caging her.
“Nanao,” her name was a gentle rumble “Look at me.”
She shook her head, clenching her eyes shut and fisting the sheet in her hands.
“Why not, sweet Nanao?” He rumbled again. Gently, he though, gently.
“Because whatever you’re thinking… it’s a bad idea.” She said sharply, quietly.
Lifting one hand off the bed, while still leaning over her, he put his fingers under her chin and gently raised her face to his. His lips curling at her tightly shut eyes.
“Look at me.” He whispered, pleading.
Nanao felt her resolve tremble when his fingers touched her chin, and she was determined not to fall for any of his wiles. But when she opened her eyes and saw the smoldering heat and yearning in his gaze, her resolve turned to ashes.
Oh, that’s a dirty trick, she thought, as he lowered his head to brush his lips softly against hers.
Notes:
Unph - I couldn't resist making it a little warm in that hospital room.
So many pairings are coming, this SLOW burn is going to HURT.
Keen to know more? Stay tuned!
Chapter 13: The Mistake
Notes:
Hi All! As we're getting further along, I thought I'd provide a bit of a summary on the Espada, in case things seem a little strange:
0 - Still alive, and they know who he is
1 - Alive, but they don't know his name
2 - Alive, but they don't know his name or what he looks like
3 - Alive, and captured by the Vizard
4 - Killed by Ichigo in the last war
5 - Alive and they know who he is
6 - Alive, and captured by Ichigo, Ikkaku, Yumichika and Chad
7 - Killed by Byakuya in the last war
8 - Killed by Kurotsuchi in the last war
9 - Alive, and currently torturing RukiaWill Nel and Luppi show up? You'll just have to keep reading to find out ;)
Be warned, this chapter gets a little... steamy.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Somewhere, at an Undisclosed location:
Shadowy figures sat around a large conference table. Fourteen chairs, but only six were occupied. Soft voices filled the chamber – controlled venom in the words.
“Do we have the access codes?”
“Not yet, sir. It shouldn’t be much longer.”
“I’ve waited two years for this – And I’m running out of patience.”
A deadly silence.
“Where are we at with phase two?”
“We have the site plans, and Tousen has arranged the necessary packages.”
“Good.”
“Sir, how do you want to deal with the Kuchiki girl, when we’ve finished with her?”
A menacing silence.
“If she doesn’t give us what we need, we’ll use her against the Brother. I will not accept failure on this matter. Everything – everything – depends on the alloy. I have risked more than any of you, and there will be. No. Mistakes.” He punctuated each word with gentle menace.
“Well then,” one of the figures stood, rising to an incredible height, “If ya don’t need me until go time, I’m gonna go take a nap. Sir.” He added with insolent respect.
“Very well, Nnoitra.” Sosuke Aizen leaned forward into the light. “We will need you at your peak, especially if he shows up.”
Nnoitra gritted his teeth but didn’t allow Aizen to see his irritation. Instead, with control he didn’t know he had, he bowed his head, and exited the hall. His rage swelled as he walked away, grateful Aizen couldn’t read his thoughts.
If Kenpachi shows up, I’ll take his head… then yours… Bastard.
Byakuya walked the length of the white illuminated underground corridor. The sound of his polished black shoes echoed off the walls. Renji followed closely behind, expressionless. The massive underground structure was several floors below street level, hidden within the heart of Mayuri Kurostsuchi’s Cursed Division. This far down, the air was recirculated and cold as ice. They made a left turn, and an imposing door appeared in front of them, flanked by a familiar duo.
“Good to see you again, Byakuya.” Yoruichi smiled mischievously. She had one hand protectively over her swollen belly, and one stretched out to shake his. Renji openly stared.
When had THAT happened?
Yoruichi’s shadow, Soifon, eyed them both carefully. He protectiveness over the Shihoin heir had increased tenfold since the pregnancy. Byakuya nodded his head and shook Yoruichi’s hand warmly, giving her the respect he rarely afforded anyone but the Old Man. He glanced down at the protective hand on her stomach.
“Congratulations are in order.” He said simply. “I will arrange a gift.”
Yoruichi laughed and shook her head “No gifts – but we expect you to visit your Godchild.”
His eyes widened to comic proportions, lips parting in a surprised stutter. Yoruichi laughed again and motioned Soifon forward, “Kisuke and I insist. But enough about that – we need to reset the coding sequence, which is why I brought along Godmother here.”
Soifon nodded respectfully, “It’s an honour, Lady Yoruichi.”
When Byakuya looked confused, Yoruichi explained. “I am not in a position to safely protect my half of the sequence. I trust Soifon with my life – and with the sequence. I am logging her in as the second half of our joint code.”
Byakuya accepted this immediately. “I understand.”
Turning to the large door, the man pressed a small button, and two digital panels flipped out on either side. Yoruichi and Byakuya each reached out and tapped in a sequence of keys.
“Ok, Soifon – come over here.” Yoruichi beckoned her to the panel, and indicated she tap in her own sequence. When she was finished, the two women looked to Byakuya and nodded.
“Alright, together in 3… 2… 1…”
Soifon and Byakuya pressed a key together, and a large metallic clanking began. The enormous, panelled door began to split down the middle, pulling aside to reveal a small, dimly lit chamber. Square, white walls, low ceiling – it was… boring. But the rectangular pedestal in the centre demanded attention.
“Renji, wait here.” Byakuya ordered. Renji nodded and stood his ground.
Byakuya and the two women entered, approaching the pedestal. The bullet proof glass protected a thin strip of displayed metal. Looking closer, Soifon realised exactly what she was looking at – several inches of a broken sword tip, rusted from age.
“Do you understand how important this is?” Byakuya said suddenly, drawing her attention from the blade.
Soifon nodded, her eyes like flint. “I understand.” She paused, then asked the question she needed an answer to. “But why is it here, below Kurotsuchi’s division? That’s like putting crack in front of an addict.”
Yoruichi looked to Byakuya to answer. He raised a brow, impressed at her perception.
“The Shihoin and Kuchiki families are two of the most powerful in the country. While our assets may be broadly dispersed, and fiercely guarded, we believe in – what was the phrase? – ‘not putting our eggs in one basket.’ I do not keep dangerous items in my home, nor around my other assets. As for why here,” Byakuya had something mischievous in his own look as he said, “The Kuchiki family fully funds this division – it seems only reasonable that an item of this chemical composition be securely held in a facility that could handle any… mishaps.”
If Soifon was a less composed woman, she would have gaped at his statement. She knew the Kuchiki’s were rich – but to fund the entire research and development department for a whole city? That was an incredible boast. Byakua studied her for a moment, then turned, indicating it was time of them to leave.
Soifon let out a deep breath and felt the weight of every life in the city fall on her shoulders. She and Byakuya were now the only ones who could access this place, leaving Lady Yoruichi and her baby safely out of harms way.
She turned her back on the room and the doors rumbled closed on the ancient sword made from the alloy known as… Kanzen Saimin.
They didn’t go far – just a few streets away, before Unohana pulled into an open concrete lot facing the water. She turned off the car, and stared out the windshield, allowing the tension to fill the space up to breaking point. She felt his energy beside her, close and tickling her senses. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed his hands resting on his knees, relaxed, despite the way he had to curl to fit into the car.
“So, talk.” He said abruptly, breaking the silence between them. She took a breath, maintaining her calm, while preparing for a verbal battle. He was also staring at the water, dark sunglasses hiding his eyes. Quirking a brow, she decided to start light.
“Your squad was looking… enthusiastic, back there.” She offered.
He snorted a laugh and crossed his arms over his chest – well, attempted to. The car interior was too small for his movements. He shifted, bounced a leg – then finally growled and threw open the door, standing to his full height outside the car. Leaving the door open, he walked around the front of the vehicle and faced the water again, arms by his sides.
She watched him for a moment, then left the car and joined him, standing quietly by his side, watching the lapping waves, and drifting on the sounds that were brought in by the salt air. They stood in silence, enjoying the quiet before the storm.
“Why…” he started, his voice quiet. “Why did ya do it?”
She had said it was time to talk – she wasn’t about to offer him pretty lies.
“Which part?” She replied, though she knew what he meant. He turned to her, and she was suddenly glad his eyes were hidden.
“You changed… everything. You changed your look, your path… your whole self.” He waved a hand up and down, in a way that made her think he was assessing used car. His voice deepened – letting his grief show through. “You weren’t… you anymore. You changed everything.”
She looked away, tyring to find the right words as he spoke again.
“You changed me.”
She swung her face up to look at him, eyebrows raised. “Kenpachi, I think you could fight the devil himself and you still wouldn’t change. You are the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
“You were the Devil, woman.”
Silence.
“I was a monster.” She began, “Not the Devil. And that person - that part of me - I needed to shut it away.”
He spun, glaring down at her. “But WHY?!” He roared, letting his frustration out. “You were so… strong! You were the first person I’d ever met who could fight me! Who could beat me! To meet you was a dream and a nightmare and a memory I begged for! I needed to fight you. I needed you!”
For a moment, she thought she heard desperation in his voice.
“I mourned you.”
She clenched her teeth, refusing to allow herself to lose her calm.
“You didn’t need me – you needed an opponent.”
Kenpachi jerked back as if slapped. He didn’t understand – he didn’t get why after that day she had to disappear. He had no idea how hard it was, changing everything about herself. No idea the struggle she still lived with, every day.
She pressed forward, stepping into his space and raising a finger to poke him firmly in the chest as she spoke, her worlds soft and clear.
“You were a boy, Zaraki. You were a barely literate, filthy child from the gutter who had nothing but the joy of cutting things down. You wanted a strong opponent to slake your lust of fighting. And once you did – you thought you could only feel that with me.”
She said the words to insult him, to hurt him, to push him away and cauterize the wound. She resisted the urge to vomit from the poison she spat at him.
He bared his teeth and growled deep in his chest. He gripped her wrist, squeezing. She stifled a wince.
“I was nearly 17,” He snarled, “Not some whelp. And you lusted like I did.”
His hand squeezed again, but it felt different… intimate.
“You didn’t answer my question. Why did ya do it?”
Damn him. He had grown so perceptive, so able to cut through her words. She bit her tongue and refused to answer. He raised his other hand and ripped off the sunglasses, tossing them aside in anger. He need to look in her eyes and know she if she spoke the truth.
Years of anger, doubt and remorse. Years of not knowing where the catalyst of his life had gone – then finding her and being unable to accept her. The frustration of unfought battles between them. It all came bubbling to the surface.
“Dammit, woman! Answer me!” He bellowed.
Why did you abandon me?
His eyes were chips of green onyx and filled with an almost inhuman rage, and she stared back, unafraid. Her barriers began to crack, and she felt a stirring of emotion within her. Bitterness and guilt. He wouldn’t understand her guilt – but she snapped out the one answer that could satisfy him.
“Because you held back!”
He stared at her in disbelief for a moment, then threw his head back and groaned in exasperation. He let go of her wrist and began to walk away, back to the training yard, his long legs eating up the distance. Damn her. Damn her lies and her fake life and her false faces. His head was too full, and the feeling of betrayal in his gut churned and churned. His scar ached and his lungs felt too small for the air he was breathing.
He heard footsteps behind him and felt a sharp tug as his legs were pulled out from under him. He fell forward, followed the momentum and turned onto his back. Bracing for an attack in such a vulnerable position, he waited for her to strike. To kill him where he lay, like she should have all those years ago.
A shadow fell over his face – her head blocked the sun, making a halo around her hair. His heart stopped, waiting for this death goddess to make her move.
“If you think I’m lying, you would have felt that coming.” She said, a hint of anger in her voice. “You’re still holding back.”
Bracing himself on his elbows, he tucked his knees under and pulled himself up, towering over her. The churning feeling was gone, replaced by that same electric energy he’d felt earlier. It coiled in his stomach and reached tendrils down his arms and legs, making his fingers tingle, and his chest burn.
Was she right? Was he holding back when he fought? Had he held back when he fought her?
She watched him carefully as he absorbed her words. What was going on in that sharp mind of his?
“Hit me.” He said suddenly.
“No.”
He growled, displeased. “I won’t know if you’re stronger unless you hit me with everything you’ve got. Now come on!” He thumped a fist to his chest, challenging her. Something was different, she realised, this was not hatred and loathing. She answered with deadly calm.
“I’m not going to hit you."
He bared his teeth at her.
"But if you push me, I will hurt you.”
Oh fuck, yes.
He moved like lighting, and she gasped as he snatched her around the waist and pulled her roughly up to his chest. She glared up at him trying to ignore the firm biceps around her, and the hard planes of muscle that flexed under his shirt and pressed against her. He looked down, his eyes filled with a voracious hunger, and she felt her knees go weak.
“Then hurt me.” He purred deep in throat.
“I’ll kill you.” She hissed, but her eyes had turned dark and hungry for blood.
He swallowed, mouth gone dry at her words. She was so small – his arms held her effortlessly, and the sensation of her pressed to him from soft breast to firm thigh had his shaft swelling for the second time that day. He had never grabbed a woman like this, never been interested enough to chase one down and hold onto like they meant something. This felt right, but it also felt wrong.
The couple of women who had been in his life for a few hours of sex had been attracted to him for reasons he didn’t understand. They were fulfilling a physical need, something his body desired, but his mind felt numb to. The act left him bored, and cold, and more frustrated than sated - so he hadn’t engaged in it since he'd adopted Yachiru - he was too busy to care.
Kenpachi relaxed his arms, and Unohana felt herself slowly sliding down his body, her thighs rubbing against the hardest part him. She swallowed, colour rising to her cheeks at the feel of his rigid shaft. Her feet touched the ground, but she didn’t pull away from the large, calloused hands gently resting gently on her hips.
They stared at each other.
“I’ll kill you.” She whispered, unable to look him in the eye and admit how his body made her react.
Her mind was in turmoil, she had a connection to him that lasted nearly fifteen years, but that didn’t mean she thought of him like that… did it? Her clinical mind told her that hormones were flushing through her body from close contact with an aroused, primal male. The attraction was merely physical. Completely. Overwhelmingly. Physical. This sudden reaction was due to the high intensity of emotion as they discussed their past. That’s all.
“Please, try… I’m beggin’ ya.” He growled, his voice was deep and gravelly with heat, she felt her nipples harden.
Without thinking, she placed her hands on his stomach, and slowly slid them up his torso, fingernails catching on the fabric as it creased and curved over his sculpted body. He held perfectly still, unwilling to stop her. She watched her own hands, wondering what the hell she was doing, as she heard him groan, and his hands squeezed her hips.
Physiological reaction. She thought, hands reaching the back of his neck.
Primal Male. She mused, lacing her fingers together and tugging him down urgently.
Just Hormones. She sighed, closing her eyes as he covered her mouth, pressing a bruising kiss that had her gasping, and licking his lips to demand entrance.
He groaned again, pulling her hips hard against him as he took her mouth, ravaging her with his deft tongue. She felt his sharp teeth and shuddered in delight. She pulled back and sucked on the scar running through his bottom lip, biting it just hard enough to have him snarl at her. He responded by lifting a hand to her the back of her head and leaning her back to make her more vulnerable to his kiss.
She moaned into his mouth and he responded by gently grinding himself against her stomach, a delicious friction that had him snarling again, this time in frustration that there was so much clothing between them. Her breasts felt overly hot, trapped in her white blouse, and she ached for his hands, his mouth, his anything to touch her there.
Feeling his frustration, she pressed back harder, one hand moving to his shoulder, and the other reaching up to his wild hair, dragging it roughly and forcing him pull from her lips, and to let go of his restraint. Her mind was fuzzy, but the idea of him losing control in this way made her wet and aching.
He took one look at her, lips bruised from his kiss, hair tangled in his fist and he nearly lost what little mind he had left.
She looked destroyed. By him.
His cock pulsed and he knew with absolute certainty, that he would never be able to stop at just a taste of her.
“…’Hana…” He said, voice so low she felt it rumble through her core.
A car horn honked nearby, and an engine roared loudly in response. Retsu jolted in his arms, the glazed look of pleasure leaving her eyes as she struggled to right herself. He didn’t want this to be over, but he thought she was kind of woman who would desire romance, who deserved to be worshipped over hours – not pinned down and fucked like an animal in an empty lot at midday. He didn’t want to hurt her… like that.
He let her go, reluctantly, licking his lips to hold onto the taste of her.
Her mouth opened like she had something to say, but no sound came out. She avoided his gaze, and he followed her as she walked stiffly back to her car, pulling his door closed from the inside, effectively telling him he could walk back to his men.
Before closing her door, she finally spoke, avoiding eye contact.
“This was a mistake.”
She shut the car door and burned out of the lot, tyres squealing. Kenpachi just stood passively, face unreadable as he watched her run from him. Then he turned and began walking the few blocks back to his men.
A mistake? He thought, confused.
He wasn’t offended, but he was a little baffled. She clearly wanted him - her lithe little body had moved against him in a clear signal that she needed so much more than his kiss.
He shrugged.
If this was the new lie she had to tell herself to get through the work day, then so be it.
As he walked, he continually adjusted himself, gritting his teeth as he waited for his painfully hard cock to calm down. He wasn’t about to whip it out and jerk off in the middle of the street, but he was sorely tempted.
Goddamn woman gave him the worst case of blue balls he’d ever had.
Unohana drove recklessly fast, trembling all over, before she calmed herself enough to slow the car to a reasonable speed. Her head was in turmoil – her past and present selves screamed to be heard, and over the noise of it all, was one voice:
Then hurt me…
She pressed her thighs together and let out a breathy gasp of pleasure. She couldn’t believe what had happened – the whole reason she had gone to speak with him was to clear the air between them. To get a bit of closure. Instead, she had been one horn honk away from allowing him to rail her in the back of her car like a horny teenager.
What the fuck was going on? She had thought about him during the years she had disappeared, but more like a memory. And when they met again, and she had knocked some sense into him at that bar, she had felt something shift when he threatened her. During the last war, they had gotten close – but like comrades. Working together as part of a larger group.
But now…
For the last two year he had seen her sparingly, and always with Yachiru in tow. They had spoken rarely, but always with politeness on her end, and gruff respect on his. She had watched for him, healed him and had considered their current relationship and what it meant to her multiple times, but she hadn’t considered… this.
He had pulled out that hidden part of her, that dangerous, murderous self – and had challenged it head on. The elation of having him meet her threats and rise above it all to conquer her body had her melting all over again. She licked her lips, tasting him on her tongue, and swallowed roughly. Would he accept her excuse – that it was just a mistake?
He has hunters’ instincts…
She pulled into the hospital car park, turned off the car and dropped her forehead to the steering wheel with a groan of despair.
I am in so much trouble
Notes:
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It only took TWELVE OTHERS TO FINALLY GET THERE.
Ugh.
But the main plot, and several other relationships will still be emerging. The timeline and plot course are moving right along.
Please leave a comment, dear reader! <3
Chapter 14: One Night at Snowballs
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“Another, for the handsome principal?” Rangiku coaxed, leaning over the table enough to share her view of the world.
He gave her his signature curling smile, but she raised an eyebrow at his less-than-lecherous reply.
“Thank you, Matsumoto.”
She swished away, swinging her hips for maximum effect. Kyouraku barely noticed.
It was early Saturday evening, one week since Rukia Kuchiki’s abduction and the 11th Hour attack, three days since they had captured Halibel, two days since they had apprehended Grimmjow and only one more night until Ise Nanao was allowed to leave the Hospital.
Shunsui was enjoying a quiet drink at a private table at the Snowball bar, allowing his mind to drift around the smoky, boisterous air filled with the cheers and rowdy cries of its patrons. He spotted Iba Tetsuzaemon in an arm wrestle with Ikkaku, as Yumichika and several 11th Hour men yelled insults.
His eyes drifted to one of booths against the far wall, and he raised a brow to see Renji Abarai arguing quietly with Ichigo Kurosaki. There was a lot of hand jabbing and scowling involved, and Shunsui suspected they were chomping at the bit to go off on their own after Rukia.
He felt uneasy at that. Nanao’s photo of the car had revealed that it was owned by a private corporation that had reported it stolen weeks ago. If anything, he was still waiting for the Vizard to release their report from Tia Halibel – he was certain the woman knew more about the Aizens organization and Rukia’s disappearance than Grimmjow did. But that was just speculation at this stage, as Grimmjow had yet to give them anything useful.
A bit of brightness entered the doors, when his best friend and (notoriously handsome) fellow Captain entered the bar, to surprised cheers and greetings of welcome. Even the little manager, Toshiro looked up from pouring drinks and flashed the man a rare smile.
Jushiro Ukitake, the white-haired angel with the chronic illness that was as loved by his division as Kenpachi Zaraki was by his own men. Few people could claim to have such hard working and loyal subordinates, but Jushiro was kind, firm, disciplined and perceptive. He had a moral compass that always pointed true, and Shunsui trusted him with his life.
The man stopped quickly at the bar, chatting with Toshiro for a minute, before pulling a small packet of chocolate from his pocket, and handing it over with a smile. Toshiro’s face was frozen as he walked away – ‘Really?’.
Shunsui pulled out a chair for his friend, and gave him a big smile, offering to buy him a drink.
“Just one, I have to get back tonight. I’ve got several reports to finish.” He replied.
“You’re always working so diligently. When was the last time the two of us just sat down, had a few drinks and relaxed?” He had a hint of a whine in his voice, which made Ukitake chuckle.
Rangiku brought over Kyourakus’ drink, and took Ulitake’s order, her smile for him a lot more friendly than sugary-sweet. Ukitake watched Shunsui sip his drink and stare into the middle distance. He lifted and arm and rested his chin on his fist, letting out a small sigh.
The Fire Chief began piecing together everything he knew about the last few days and hid a small smile. His friend had it bad.
“So, I heard about Nanao,” He began, watching the man’s eyes snap to him at the mention of her name. “How is she doing?”
Shunsui didn’t lift his head as sipped his drink again and answered in a bored tone. “Oh, she’s fine. Just fine. Perfectly alright for someone who faced off against- “
He cut himself off, unwilling to name names, even in this bar.
“She gets out in the morning.”
“And you’re picking her up?”
Kyouraku snorted. “Not likely. She said she’d grab a cab.” It was subtle, but Ukitake noticed the longing in his features, the tight set of his mouth.
“You could always surprise her? Show up with a car?” He suggested, putting a gentle hand on the bigger man’s shoulder.
“I’m fairly sure our little Nanao would make me eat it, exhaust an all. She’s not a fan of the unexpected.” He grumped.
Ah, so that’s it. Ukitake thought, consoling his friend with gentle pats. He finally pushed her too far with his games.
“I nearly lost her, Jushiro.” He murmured, holding his drink with both hands, and staring into the clear liquid. “I nearly lost her before I… before we could…” He lifted the glass and drained it.
Ukitake’s hand stopped, and he goggled at his long-time friend. Had he finally realized his true feelings for the woman? It seemed everyone and their dog thought him a terrible flirt, a lecherous man who chased anything with a skirt – and he wasn’t about to correct their opinions. If anything, he enhanced them, always hiding the darker part of his nature with playful, saucy words.
But Kyouraku, with all his wiles, and flirtatious mannerisms, had been so oblivious to his own deep-seated feelings for Nanao. It was almost funny, in how he pretended to chase her, as a cover to protecting her, as yet another cover for protecting his own heart. Had he figured it out? Had she figured it out? Jushiro didn’t know her nearly as well as his old friend, but the way she eyed him when she thought no one was watching was very telling.
“You mean, before you could tell her how you feel?” He prompted.
Kyouraku let his head fall to the table with a loud bang. The men of the 11th saw him go down and they cheered heartily, thinking he’d drunk himself unconscious.
“She knows.” He said, words slurred by the table pressed against his cheek.
“So, you told her?” The hand Jushiro had on his back whacked him to get his attention. Kyouraku sat back up and gave his friend a goofy grin.
“Not exactly.”
Ukitake squinted at him, face scrunching up in suspicion. “What did you do?”
“I may have… shown her.” He confessed, swarthy complexion growing a shade darker.
A beat of time... Then:
“Oh my GOD! Shunsui! That’s DISGUSTING! The poor woman is in hospital for pete’s sake!” He slammed his hands on the table, fully ready to leap on the man and beat him to a pulp for being so vulgar. Kyouraku made frantic shushing motions with his hands.
“For fucks sake, lower your voice, idiot! I didn’t show her… THAT!”
Jushiro let out an gusty sigh of relief. He was glad for the verbal reassurance, though he wouldn’t put it past the man to try something like that. He knew about young people and the lewd things they texted each other. He thought for a moment and couldn’t quite figure out what Shunsui was trying to say.
“In that case, what did you show her?” he asked, bewildered.
Long, dextrous fingers played with a napkin on the table, pleating it and re-pleating it, until it fell apart in his hands. Jushiro just waited, he was always the more patient of the two.
“I kissed her.”
The white-haired man raised a brow, impressed but not overly surprised.
“That’s quite forward, but I’m sure it wasn’t- “
“I kissed her.” He repeated, putting emphasis on the words.
“Oh… Oh…”
Jushiro suddenly understood what he meant. This wasn’t some ‘hey, I think I like you, let’s take this back to my place’ kiss. It was an ‘I love you, and I want you’ kiss. Kyouraku had kissed her in a way that made it clear he was serious about her. Would Nanao understand the difference?
“Yeah.” Shunsui raised his empty glass and signalled Rangiku for another drink. She brought it over quickl,y dropping off Jushiro’s previous order simultaneously, and trotted back to the busy bar.
“How did she react?” He asked, sipping slowly and watching his friend sigh and shake his head.
“She… didn’t. She didn’t kiss me back. She just… lay there. It was over in seconds. I never want it to be like that, ever.” He swallowed half his glass. “I thought she might feel something, but she just looked so fragile.” He looked at Ukitake, his eyes glistening with tears.
“What if I scared her? What if I hurt her?”
Jushiro was not one to resist offering a needed ug to his friend, he pulled his chair over, and threw his arms around the man, holding onto him as he silently took comfort. He patted his back and murmured soothing words, hiding the situation from the other patrons with a few well practiced smiles. This was a mess. His best friend was in love, and afraid - and far too old to be getting this drunk and emotional about the fact - and there was nothing he could do to help.
Well, almost nothing.
When he felt Shunsui regain some composure, he lifted his arms and leaned back in his chair, catching Rangiku’s attention and holding up four fingers, while pointing at the large chalkboard with the promotional pink cocktail. She grinned and nodded at him, pulling out four glasses.
Kyouraku looked miserable, and the only person who could soothe his heart was currently at Seireitei General. But he wouldn’t be a best friend if he didn’t do everything in his power to get rid of the self-loathing the man was feeling. He cleared his throat for attention, and leaned in with deadly seriousness.
“Now I know for a fact that Shunsui Kyouraku is not a man who would ever force himself on a woman.” He began. Kyouraku sniffed and gave him a warning look.
“And I also know that his right-hand woman can easily clobber him when he gets too boisterous.” Kyouraku said nothing, but his lips curled slightly. Jushiro pushed on.
“But the most important thing I know about Shunsui Kyouraku, is that when the woman he loves finally realizes what she’s been missing out on,” he cleared his throat, flushing at the words he was about to say, “that he won’t be allowed to leave the bedroom for at least a month!”
“Here, here!” Rangiku cheered, balancing four very large and very pink frozen cocktails on a small tray. She dropped them on the table and gave them both a hearty wink.
“Don’t give up, fellas – whoever she is, I’m sure she’s hot and bothered over you both by now!” She sauntered away, ignoring Jushiros emphatic protests about the insinuated menage `a trois.
Shunsui let out a small chuckle, that turned into a hearty belly laugh. He grabbed one of the drinks and bottomed it, chugging and nearly gagging at the sweet watermelon flavour.
Jushiro just smiled in resignation and also took a pink concoction. Shunsui was his best friend, and he would do nearly anything for the man.
But by god, was he going to regret this hangover.
A few hours later, a familiar imposing figure entered the Snowball, to the joyous cries from the remaining inebriated men of the 11th.
Kenpachi jutted a chin at his men at his men in greeting and pulled up his usual chair towards the corner of the bar. Toshiro had retired to his office, but Rangiku floated over and placed a beer in front of him without a word. The man had a look in his eye that made her think it wasn’t smart to tease him just yet.
He lifted the beer and took a hefty swig, blanking his mind and watching the large TV in the far corner. Some action flick, lots of dramatic turns to camera and overly large guns. He had little interest, but it was mind numbing - and that was good.
He had returned to his men that afternoon after becoming horrendously lost for close to 45 minutes. Thanks to a passing cab, he got back to find them hunched over and panting with exhaustion. He’d then decided to release his pent-up sexual frustration by pulling out his weapon and charging at them, sparring furiously. Yachiru had shown up moments later from her foraging adventure and cheered him on as he mercilessly beat the men into submission. That was how Ikkaku and Yumichika found him, surrounded by their fallen co-workers.
“How goes the Grimmjow interrogation?” Kenpachi had asked.
“He’s still holding out.” Ikkaku spat, clearly furious at their progress.
“Ichigo handed him over to Komamura. He said something about ‘rights’ and ‘legal responsibilities.” Yumichika said scornfully.
Kenpachi snorted at that.
“But Iba is giving us the inside lane if anything comes out. Currently, the freak only wants to talk to Ichigo. It’s creepy, Sir.” Ikkaku said, giving a little shudder.
Yumichika inspected his captain, noticing the subtle differences in his posture, the tight lines in his face, and decided to keep his opinions to himself. Clearly, something was bothering the big man, but it seemed like whatever it was, he was still working it out of his system.
The sun began it to sink below the horizon, and the bruised and exhausted men of the 11th had tottered into their various vehicles and driven away, with plans to meet up at the Snowball later that evening.
Kenpachi and Yachiru welcomed a lift from Yumichika and Ikkaku, who dropped them at the bar, promising to return after a shower. The two had gone upstairs and had dinner while Yachiru excitedly described all the new places she’d discovered, friends she’d made and pranks she had pulled in the short time she had run off that day.
Kenpachi listened as he always did, allowing her chatter to wash over him, easing the last of his sharp-edged temper. He didn’t understand everything she told him, and he didn’t necessarily look her in the eye as she chatted, but when she stopped to see if he was still listening, he would turn to her with and expectant look and a gruff, “And then what happened?”
Before sending her to bed, the two watched the latest episode of her favorite show – some cartoon with brightly coloured animals resembling ponies, and lots of singing. It was at that time that he would zone out, disinterested and bored. But she was content – and that made him relax into the couch.
After changing into a pair of jeans and a dark t-shirt that Ikkaku had loaned him (why was it so tight?!) and making sure her light was off, he headed down to the bar, looking for a drink to nurse and an environment he could tolerate. He had barely put his bottle down when Kyouraku staggered over to him and fell hard into the bar.
“Ow..” He muttered, then turned his head and seemed to notice the Captain sitting beside him,
“Zaraki!” He bellowed, clapping a hand on the large mans back and ignoring the growl of annoyance. “I haven’t seen you in weeks! How the hell are you? Can I get you a drink?” He planted himself on the stool to Kenpachis right and hailed Matsumoto, ordering another pink fruity cocktail.
“And put one of those little umbrellas in it!” He called as she walked away, shaking her head with a smile.
“So, Zaraki,” He said, turning to face the man, “Have you got a new shop yet?”
“Barracks. Not a shop.” He growled, beginning to feel annoyed at his usually perfectly tolerable drinking buddy.
“Yeah, that – have you got one of those, yet? Cos Jushiro over there can do the fire inspection for ya,” He waved a hand to his table, where the white-haired man was face down, surrounded by nearly a dozen empty glasses.
“Ah, he’ll wake up soon. OI! JUSHIRO!” Nothing “Yeah I should probably get him home.” He smacked Kenpachi on the back again and felt the solidness of his tight muscles. Without thinking, he laughed and blurted out:
“So tense, man! You need to get laid!”
Kenpachi stiffened and his head craned around to stare at Kyouraku. If the man had been less inebriated, he might have understood how much danger he was in. Instead, he just offered the captain a goofy smile and a two fingered salute before wobbling his way back to Jushiro. He collected the groaning man under one shoulder and together, they stumbled out the door to the jeering of the 11th hour men.
Rangiku returned at that point, looked around for the now absent Shunsui, then shrugged and slid the pink drink over to Kenpachi, who looked at it with disgust. Rangiku just laughed at him, and leaned on the bar, pushing her breasts together and raising a brow flirtatiously.
“It’s really good, Captain – I promise.”
Kenpachi ignored her, eyes back on the action film.
“Then you drink it.” He said.
She sighed, unused to being ignored so openly, and went to answer a call for drinks at the other end of the bar.
She had rarely met a man that wasn’t at least happy to eye the goods she presented, let alone when she openly flirted. Was the big man asexual? Gay? She’d never seen him with a woman, and none of the gossip mentioned him being in a relationship. His adoption of Yachiru was common knowledge – perhaps he was blocking his own libido, like some single dads were wont to do?
“He’s not interested.”
Yumichika leaned gracefully on the bar in front of her, casually stealing maraschino cherries from the garnish tray. She chuffed at him scornfully.
“Obviously. And for the record, neither am I.” she said, plucking an olive and chewing on it thoughtfully.
“Is he-”
“Gay?”
She nodded. Yumichika shook his head with a chuckle.
“Hell no.”
“You would know.”
Rangiku instantly regretted her words – she had as good as outed Yumichika, though no one was around to hear it. His eyes flashed dangerously.
“I’m Sorry.” She said, reaching out to touch his hand.
He relaxed slowly. Rangiku was a friend, and someone he could trust. But he couldn’t allow her to forget that the open secret of his sexual identity didn’t just affect him.
Kenpachi had no interest who his men were sleeping with, as long they continued to fight hard and get stronger. But there have been a few incidents with previous bigoted members of the 11th that had seen him as a weakling, simply because he preferred men in his bed. Those members were summarily fired – after Yumichika had explained that intolerance was against the 11th Hour code.
He’d heard those men had ended up in the emergency room several days later. He never figured out exactly who had heard them insulting him, but all the standing members of the 11th were proud to have him as one of their strongest members, and friends. He had led them on successful hunts, and in battle, together with Ikkaku. They were unanimous in their refusal to admit anything when he asked about the men, and he loved every one of them with the same fierce loyalty he held for his captain.
“You’re forgiven.” He finally said and patted her hand. Then he gave her a mischievous grin. “As for the matter of the captain, however-”
He plucked the last cherry from the tray and popped it in his mouth. Then, with exaggerated elegance, he flipped his hair, and batted his lashes at her over one shoulder.
“If he were… Do you think he could have resisted all of this?”
Rangiku laughed, and got back to work, considering the kind of man Yumichika would find attractive. She heard a loud shout and squinted at a beam of light reflecting off a shiny bald head.
Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. She thought, smiling to herself.
Renji had tried patience. He’d begged his boss to have five minutes alone with one of the captured Espada. He was losing his mind, concern for Rukia was becoming a physical sickness. He was barely eating, his skin pale and clammy, his hands shook on the steering wheel as he drove home from the bar.
Ichigo was useless. He had Grimmjow but had handed him over to the police before they’d given Renji a crack at the madman. He could have gotten him to talk.
He would have made him talk.
Pulling over in front of his small apartment building, he clenched his fists over the wheel, and let out sob of distress.
Rukia…
He looked up to his apartment – there would be no sleep for him. And he couldn’t spend another night pacing and training to pass the time. He couldn’t give into fear, not when there was a chance that she would be alright.
Making his choice, he put the car into gear and pulled out from the curb, pushing the car to go faster as he headed towards the seventh precinct. He was about to break the rules, and the consequences were enormous – but he couldn’t keep doing nothing.
Focussing on his destination, he didn’t see inconspicuous grey car pull out from a side street and follow him.
Notes:
Whelp! There was supposed to be a lot more this bar scene, but it will be rolled over into a following chapter soon.
I hope you like where this is going! Remember, all love it beautiful <3 I am a fan of nearly ALL pairings in Bleach - these are simply the ones I ship the hardest <3
Huge thank you to @Kxnpachi for the running commentary :D
For those of you who haven't seen it, this is the blue print for the Snowball bar: https://zaraki-oriented.tumblr.com/post/647674787536240640/the-snowball-bar-ownermanager-toshiro
Chapter 15: Chimera
Notes:
If you're enjoying the story so far, please leave a comment! I'd love to know your thoughts :)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Renji pulled up a block away from the 7th Precinct and went straight to the trunk of his car. Opening it, he removed the hidden panel across the underside of the lid and perused his ‘tools’ – a pair of 10 Gauge shot guns, a rifle, several small blades and fighting tools and in pride of place: a tightly sheathed Katana.
Picking a pair of battered brass knuckles, he grinned like a school kid – these had been by his side since he was a teenager. He ran his fingers over the sharp engraving on the side: Chimera.
“Renji!”
He jumped, and spun around, ready to knock out whoever had snuck up on him. A familiar figure climbed out of an unmarked grey car across the street.
“Ichigo?”
He relaxed for moment, then felt anger bubble up like lava as Ichigo approached.
“Don’t try to stop me. I’m going to get some answers out of Grimmjow.”
“I wasn’t coming to stop you. I’m coming with you.”
Renji eyed him suspiciously.
“WHY? You were very clear at the bar tonight – ‘He’s not one of the Espada anymore, Renji’, ‘They wouldn’t have let him loose if he knew anything, Renji’.” He made his imitation of his friend’s voice as insulting as possible.
Ichigo’s eyes bulged, and he leaned in to knock his forehead against Renjis, trying to press him back.
“Listen, you! I know what I said, and I changed my mind! A man can change his mind! I’m worried about Rukia too – and until Shinji breaks Halibel, Grimmjow is the only lead we have!”
Renji pushed back against Ichigo’s forehead, just as forcefully, jutting out his jaw like an angry ape.
“Well, that’s exactly what I was thinking!”
“Well, I’m glad we’re in agreement!”
The two men growled at each other for a moment longer, before Renji lost patience and backed off rubbing his neck with one hand. He grinned self-consciously.
“Thanks, man.”
Ichigo just held up an access pass with Iba Tetsuzaemons face on it. Renji nearly cracked up laughing at the balls on the man – pick pocketing a police lieutenant! Iba was going to be out for blood! Ichigo sent him a shit eating grin.
“Anytime.”
The two men made their way into the precinct, smiling at familiar faces, and pretending for all the world like they were meant to be there. When they made their way to the holding cells, Renji was surprised to find no guard on the door. Had the place been cleared out? Why?
“He scares them.” Ichigo muttered in explanation.
Renji swiped them in, and they walked down ranks of empty cells until they came to the end, and found Grimmjow sitting up on his cot, eyes glittering in delight at seeing Ichigo.
“I knew you couldn’t resist coming to see me.” Grimmjow breathed, standing up to meet them at the bars. Ichigo gagged a little, and let his partner step up to talk first.
Renji wasted no time in pleasantries. Quick as a snake, he reached through the bars, grabbed Grimmjow by the throat and slammed him forward into the bars, bringing them nose to nose.
“I don’t care what you’ve done.” Renji said, his quiet words filled with venom. “I will gladly kill you and use your skin as a vacuum bag if you don’t give me what I want.”
Grimmjow focused on Renji now, and he looked positively delighted.
“You’re an interesting one, fire hair. What’s your name?”
Renji slammed him forward into the bars a second time, splitting open an eyebrow. He let the blood flow and felt a chilling peace over come him as he hurt the man who was the obstacle between him and Rukia.
“Where does Aizen take prisoners?”
Grimmjow seemed dazed, but he glanced past Renji and grinned at Ichigo, licking the blood from his cheek.
“He’s a hot head, hey Ichigo?” He focused back on Renji, “I think I like you!”
At that Grimmjow whipped his arms up and grabbed Renji’s forearm, attempting to pressure the bones in opposite directions, forcing a compound fracture. Renji didn’t even flinch, he pulled back his other fist and let fly with his ‘Chimera’ knuckle dusters.
Grimmjow’s nose crunched under the blow, and Renji let him go entirely, allowing him to stumble back and sit on the cot, blood gushing from his nose.
The madman began laughing uproariously – a disgusting, gurgling sound from the blood in his sinus and throat. He eventually calmed and shook his head in admiration of the two men still waiting quietly outside the cell.
“You know, these cops have no idea how to have a good time. Not a fucking clue.” He raised his hands, placed a thumb on either side of his nose and – CRUNCH – rest the cartilage with a tiny wince. Ichigo gagged again. Grimmjow chuckled and gave Renji a feral grin.
“Alright, Hot-Head. You’re pretty fun.” Renji just stared at him coldly. Grimmjow’s smile widened, and he ran a tongue over his teeth.
“What do you wanna know?”
Rukia held her breath, listening closely for the telltale footsteps beyond her cell door. She didn’t know how long she’d been a prisoner, but it felt like years. Hope was waning, and she was beginning to give into despair.
Until an hour ago.
After they had taken her from the surgical room and carried her back to her cell, one of the assistants had not noticed as she carefully plucked a binder clip and a pen from his pocket. She was barely conscious after the nerve agent dosage had been increased, and though everything shook, she willed her fingers to remain steady enough to pickpocket the man.
She knew there was a long period of time between sessions, something Aaroniero allowed to ensure her body healed enough to continue causing it pain all over again. The lights were lowered, and the security camera that watched her was a problem, but she wasn’t afraid.
Under the thin blanket they provided, she forced her shaking fingers to manipulate the metal on the clips. The simple pressure she applied had her gasping in pain as the last traces of the nerve agent left her system. She palmed the pen like a weapon, and stood, walking calmly to the plain white door – the only entrance or exit in her small white box of a room.
She sweated when the wires jammed, and nearly cried out when she heard the tumblers roll and click, releasing the mechanism. This particular skillset was something she had learned from Ichigo, not Renji, and she knew for a fact that her brother disapproved. She hoped she would survive long enough to rub this in his face.
The cameras were still watching, but she heard no sounds outside the door. Would they be waiting for her further along the wide green corridors? Ready to ambush her and steal her hope all over again? No. She couldn’t think like that. She had to keep pushing forward.
She slipped out, dropping the blanket around her bare feet, and checking every angle. She shivered in the thin white yukata they had given her, but she was over being scared. She was past pain. Setting her jaw stubbornly, she began trotting down the corridors, trying to find a sign, an exit – anything that looked different to never ending dusty green.
She felt like she had been walking in circles for hours, when she came across a set of shiny elevator doors. Pressing the call button, she waited, shifting from foot to foot as her anxiety ramped up.
Ding!
The doors opened…
Empty.
She breathed a sigh of relief, and entered, staring at the panel, and suddenly understanding what kind of building she was being held in: The dusty green corridors, the surgical suite, the small white ‘cell’ – and now this spacious elevator, with its very descriptive buttons?
She was in an abandoned hospital.
Her mind raced. How many of those could there possibly be in the area? If she was still in the area. She could be on the other side of the country for all she knew.
She punched the button for the ground floor and waited as the humming box descended.
Ding!
Walking out of the elevator, she rounded the corner and saw streetlights reflecting through old, broken glass doors. A way out! Hope surged, and then:
“I thought you’d never get here.”
Rukia froze as Aaroniero floated across the foyer, standing directly between her, and her freedom.
Renji and Ichigo walked out of the precinct straightening their hair and wondering how on earth the staff on duty had allowed them to leave with the blood splatters on their clothes and bruises on their faces.
Grimmjow had a weird sense of ‘fun’, but at least he’d told them what they needed to know. It had taken several more hits on both sides of the bars, and his behavior had turned increasingly sexual with each strike.
“There’s a man called Starrk.” He had said, grinning through blood-stained teeth. “He’s strong. Stronger than any of you – but he’s lazy.” He gave them a brief physical description, then struck again, kicking a leg through the bars in an attempt to break Renji’s ankle. But he merely stepped back, avoiding the strike.
“I don’t care about-“
“Renji – let him speak. We need whatever he can give us.” Ichigo had interrupted, the voice of reason. There was still a war to fight.
“Ichigo if you wanted to come at me instead of the hot-head, I’ll definitely give it to you.” Grimmjow leered. Renji reached through the bars and shoved him back.
“Keep talking.” He said.
Grimmjow grinned and played with them for several more minutes, taunting and teasing, coming close to the bars to strike before getting beaten back down.
“Then there’s Barrigan – a crusty old fart who should have retired twenty years ago.” Grimmjow said “But he’s the money. He’s funding the whole operation, and he’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.”
Ichigo filed this information away, mind racing that they were getting this much out of the madman. Renji rewarded him with a sharp strike to his tattooed jaw. Grimmjow staggered back, spitting blood and laughing deep in his chest.
“Oh, I really like you, hot head.” He rasped, finally sitting still on the cot. Renji walked forward, gripping the bars and staring at the man with hollow eyes.
“Where. Did they take. Rukia.” He said, punctuating each word with deadly threat. Ichigo came closer, holding his breath for an answer. Grimmjow rubbed his jaw, and let out satisfied sigh of pleasure.
“If this Rukia was taken for information, they would have given her to Aaroniero. The Softener. He has a way of making people talk.”
Ichigo’s heart stuttered and he glanced at Renji. The man was shaking, the hands holding the bars had turned white as bone.
“Where?”
Grimmjow just grinned.
“WHERE?!” Renji roared, desperation seeping from him like a wound.
He had told them, eventually. Ichigo had ended up having to tear Renji off the man, but not before he had pulled one filthy arm through bars and used his Chimera knuckle dusters to crack it like a twig.
The two of them reached the street, and Ichigo pulled out his phone, searching for buildings and locations like the one Grimmjows described. He had no reason to lie to them – they had give him the ‘fun’ he craved. Renji slid his Chimera into his pocket, opened the trunk of the car, and pulled out a spare white shirt, stripping off the soiled one and dumping it inside.
“What’ve you found?” He asked, pulling on the shirt and doing up the buttons calmly.
“Based on this information, there are two places that could fit within driving distance. If we split up, we should reach them at the same time, in about two hours.” He tapped the phone a few times, sending Renji the information.
“I’m surprised you would suggest splitting up.” Renji muttered.
“If it helps us find Rukia, it’s worth the risk.” Ichigo replied. “Besides, I’ve also sent this information to Byakuya, Kyouraku, Toshiro and the Vizard… on a two-hour delay, of course.”
“Of course.” Renji’s mouth twitched in what could have been a smile.
Byakuya deserved to know about Rukia, Kyouraku needed the tactical descriptions, Toshiro was able to disperse the information to those who needed it, and the Vizard were the trump card.
“We can’t have them stopping us when we’re so close.” Ichigo said.
“Then let’s get going.” Renji got in the car.
“Renji – wait.” Ichigo stopped him, making him growl with impatience.
“What?”
“Call me when you get there. If I don’t hear from you in two hours – I’m calling in the cavalry.” Ichigo was serious. Renji nodded, grateful to have this man as his friend and ally.
“Same for you, Kurosaki.” He closed the door and pulled into the street, tires squealing.
She was out there, and he would be the one to find her.
Matsumoto put the chain around the double doors of the bar and snapped the padlock shut. It was nearly 1:00am, but she had told the other waitress to leave early, offering to finish cleaning by herself, to have time to think.
Stupid.
She’d kicked out the last few stragglers, who had whined about having to finish up, but got very quiet very quickly when Kenpachi had heaved himself up and looked down at them, silent and threatening. The men had tripped over each other in their haste to leave.
She had tried to thank him, but he had just walked out the door with an awkward wave. She smiled at that – he could be sweet, sometimes. Even considerate and kind, if Yachiru was anything to go by. It didn’t’ seem like he was afraid to be seen in that light, either. But then, she didn’t think he knew what fear felt like.
Putting her keys between her fingers as she walked to car was a habit. Although, knowing that Zaraki was in the spare hidden apartment above the bar and well within yelling distance, made her feel slightly more comfortable. As she got in her car in the empty lot, she played with the key ring hanging from the ignition.
A little plastic fox, its points covered in scuff marks, and the paint nearly rubbed off with age.
Her eyes softened as she recalled receiving the little gift from Gin all those years ago. He had been her one friend, the boy who had rescued her, cared for her and helped her to heal and rebuild some semblance of a life. She remembered the warmth of his hands on her hips, her grip on his shoulders and his gentle breath against her lips the night he disappeared, betraying the city. Betraying her.
… I would have liked to be held by you a little longer…
She angrily wiped away a tear that threatened to escape, before turning the key and pulling out of the parking lot towards her home. If she hadn’t been so immersed in memory, she might have noticed the figure in the shadows, watching her with icy blue eyes.
Ding!
Toshiro woke up groggily and reached for the phone at his bedside table. He looked at the time – 2:30am. Who the fuck was drunk texting him at 2:30am?
Then he saw who the message was from and sat up, opening the file. Eyes scanning the message, he cursed and flung himself out of bed, turning on the lamp.
Those idiots! How could they be so reckless – so selfish! If they went directly after one of Aizen’s bases without backup, they could lose the element of surprise! The information would be worthless! And they would never find Aizens other location!
Opening a drawer, he pulled out a prepaid burner phone and called the only number in the registry. A deep voice answered, speaking in a strong Serbian dialect.
“It’s Toshiro.” He responded in kind. “I need you here – Delta squad only. I have a mission for you.”
“We haven’t heard from you for several months.” The voice responded. There was a small scuffling sound on the other end and the phone was snatched away, then a second, feminine voice came on the line, and he heard the sound of people moving in the background.
“We’ll be there in the morning, Šefe.”
Byakuya nearly crushed the phone in his hand. How dare they…
The phone buzzed and he looked at Kyouraku’s number on the screen. He was tempted to crush the phone entirely, and blame the missed call on a broken device, but the man was one of the few people he respected enough to tolerate.
“You got it too?” Kyourakus voice sounded a little slurred.
“I did.”
“They’re too far gone to stop. Even if we took your helicopter.”
“I know that.”
They both paused, one unwilling to ask for help, the other waiting for the request. The silence stretched. And stretched. And stretched.
“I will-“
“Shuttup, Kuchiki. Just… shuttup” Kyouraku said sharply, done with the man’s stubborn pride.
“Pardon me?” His voice was chilly.
“You are proud to a damaging degree, my friend.” Kyouraku attempted to soothe. “I have faith in those two idiots to bring her back. This isn’t the first time they’ve risen to the occasion, where Rukia is concerned.”
Byakuka said nothing.
“I messaged Shinji Hirako – the Vizard has sent two teams after them. We will have to let this play out, Byakuya, and put our trust in Abarai and Kurosaki.” A pause. “Are you there?”
Byakuya ended the call without saying anything.
He had faith in Renjis abilities, and he trusted Ichigo to fight to his last breath to protect Rukia. But the situation was so precarious – one wrong move, and she could be hurt, or killed. And those boys – no, those men- well, he would be displeased if they got themselves killed. He was loathed to admit it, but he liked Kurosaki, regardless all his pedestrian ways and casual talk. But Renji…
He just hoped Renji’s personal feelings for Rukia didn’t blind the man to his own peril.
Notes:
Whelp... Grimmjow certainly has a ... I wanna say kink - but it doesn't quite fit.
Why is Toshiro calling in old friends? And who (WINK) was watching (WINK WINK) Matsumoto in the parting lot? (WINk FUCKING WINK)
Leave a girl some love, y'all! And thankyou for your support!
Chapter 16: Howling at the Moon
Notes:
Woot! Surpassing that 40K slow burn barrier! Get on it, and leave your girl a comment ;)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Did you think I’d just let you walk out?”
Aaroniero stood between her and the only exit in existence – the only one she cared about.
Rukia gripped the pen in her right hand and tensed. If this was going to come down to a fight, she would win. She had to win. She might not have Renji’s strength, but she had speed and cunning. A predatory grin spread across the mans face.
“Oh, please. Do try to escape. I haven’t had a challenge in a long time.”
His hands stayed firmly by his sides, but Rukia hesitated at his words, calculating. If he was trying to bait her, it was possible he had martial training. She was willing to work under the assumption that the man was just a doctor, an artist for pain. But she wasn’t about to underestimate anyone on Aizen’s payroll.
Changing her stance, she held the pen backhanded and took a few careful steps towards him. Aaroniero noticed her caution and leered at her.
“Very good, Miss Kuchiki. Never underestimate your enemy.”
He struck without warning, twisting his body to roundhouse kick her midriff. She anticipated the attack and blocked. He followed up with a haymaker, connecting solidly with her left cheek. She felt it split open and used the force of the hit to fall forward into a somersault, rolling away from him.
..Good footwork, but you’re still not anticipating the follow through…
Renji’s words seared into her mind, and she pushed her roll another meter, avoiding the axe kick that Aaroniero had attempted to plant on her back. She jumped to her feet and spun to face him, muscles screaming in pain.
She shuddered, her body exhausted from days of stress and agony. She wasn’t even remotely prepared for an extended fight. The man just smiled and offered his hand, like a gentleman from an old movie.
“Come, Rukia – you’ve over-exerted yourself. Allow me to escort you back to your cell.”
She swayed, and Aaroniero was pleased to see her defiance waver. He waited, knowing he’d won. She took a halting step, and placed her left hand on his, head bowed. He smirked in triumph.
Rukia suddenly gripped his hand tightly, and he felt himself falling forward as she yanked with all her strength, swinging her right hand up and thrusting the pen through his eye.
He screamed and staggered away, grasping at his face and clawing the skin of his cheeks and forehead as he avoided touching the protruding shaft. Blood spurted and droplets fell unnoticed on Rukias face and neck.
She slowed her breathing and stalked after him, her simmering rage growing as she closed in. This man had imprisoned her, tortured her and emotionally compromised her. She had no pity left.
“You are a disgusting excuse for a lifeform, you piece of shit.” She raised her voice over his screams. “And no one is going to miss you.”
In a move that would define her future, she crouched low and swept his feet out from under him. As he fell towards the floor, she grabbed him by the back of the head and shoved him face first onto the tiles, planting him there as the protruding pen shoved through his eye socket and into his brain, killing him gruesomely. His body spasmed several times under her hand, before laying still.
Rukia didn’t move for several minutes. Then, she felt her stomach lurch, and scrambled away from the body, retching until she couldn’t stand anymore. Wiping an arm across her mouth and chin, she wobbled to her feet and slowly moved to the exit.
Where are the assistants? There were three. They should be here…
Everything felt numb. She knew her foot was bleeding from a piece of broken tile, and her hands and face were covered in blood, but she couldn’t care. She knew she was cold, but the shivering had stopped – that wasn’t good.
She came to the dusty glass door and pushed, expecting it to shatter to pieces, but it groaned loudly, and opened to a covered parking zone. She looked left, then right, unsure of which direction she needed to go. She had no phone. No food. No shoes. She had no idea where she was.
But anywhere was better than here.
Taking one step, then another, she began to walk towards the main road A few minutes passed, and she began to hear a roaring in her ears, when a bright set of headlights rounded the corner, capturing her like a stunned deer. The car screeched to a halt, fishtailing.
The door opened, and a tall figure stood at the door. She squinted, unable to see who had come to stop her, but she raised her fists, ready to fight until there was nothing left. She would not go back. Perhaps being numb was a good thing? There was no fear.
“Rukia?” A familiar voice. A male voice. Full of emotion. He rushed to her, the headlights shining on him like a motif.
“Renji?” She whispered.
He reached, and she heard him call her name again, distant and panicked as everything went dark.
“We’re sorry to call you in so early, Ma’am, but she’s a Kuchiki- “
“Director? This way – we’ve put her in a private room- “
“Have you checked her medical history? Her allergies to- “
“Yes ma’am, it’s been taken care of. We’re more concerned about the people in the room…”
Unohana reached the door and stared at the number of bodies crowding the hospital bed. Everyone was dressed in a ragtag assortment of sleep wear and coats, eyes bleary from the early hour. They had all received the same message, apparently: Rukia Kuchiki had been recovered.
As one, they turned to her. Fear was a scent in the air, as Unohana offered he calmest, kindest smile.
“If you could all please wait outside? I would like to observe Miss Kuchiki privately.”
Nervous coughs from Kyouraku, Shinji, Komamura, Iba and (surprisingly) Chojiro Saskibe as Ichigo, and Orihime helped to usher everyone out.
Byakuya stood by the bed, unflinching. Renji was bent over in the visitor’s chair, head bowed, hands clasped. She couldn’t bring herself to ask them to leave as she checked Rukias vitals, adjusted a few things and wrote notes in her cart.
As she adjusted the blanket on the unconscious girl, Rukias eyes slowly opened. Byakuya leaned forward, his hand reaching out to touch the bed by her arm. Unohana smiled again, a healer’ smile of comfort and warmth.
“Good Morning Rukia. Do you know where you are?”
Renji’s head whipped up and he surged from the chair towards her, hands grasping the panel at the foot of the bed.
“Rukia!”
She looked at him drowsily, the pain medication making her blink.
“Renji…” She muttered, giving him a tiny smile, comforted to see him. He looked… wrung. Like washing that had been on spin cycle for too long. His face was tight with anxiety, and the relief coming off him was almost too intense for her to bear.
Her eyes drifted over to her brother. He gave her a small nod, face soft and caring – a side he would never have shown in front of so many people. Her eyes filled as she reached out and grasped his fingers. He gave her a tiny squeeze of comfort.
“Brother… I’m so sorry.”
He squeezed her fingers again – a silent command. She shuttup.
“I am glad you are safe, Rukia.” He said quietly.
Unohana gave them time, a private moment between siblings that had too much distance between them. She glanced at Renji to get his attention, and gracefully waved an arm to the door – an order to leave.
He opened his mouth to protest, but her smile sharpened, and he ground his teeth, letting go of the bed. He stalked out like an angry cat.
Unohana turned to the bed began asking standard questions – How was she feeling? Was there any pain? What did she remember?
Rukia answered slowly, exhaustion in every word. Her pain had ebbed, and they would know what nerve agent was used when the blood work came back. She was hungry and tired, but otherwise stable. When is came to her memory however, she gripped Byakuya’s hand, and stared at him with wild eyes.
“I didn’t tell them, brother! I gave them nothing, I swear! They tried so many things…” Her voice stuttered, “…so many…” she pushed on, “… but I said nothing!” She felt tears on her cheeks, and realised she was crying.
“I would die before betraying you!”
Byakuya let her speak, then surprised both of them when he swooped down and wrapped his arms around her tightly, whispering in her ear.
“I know you would. I am so proud of you.”
Rukia gripped his coat and cried into his shoulder. Unohana slipped away, closing the door behind her to allow them some privacy.
The waiting area, however, was filled with tension. Conversations were going in several directions, with varying levels of relief, anger, concern and practicality. Renji spotted her first, but she held up a hand to stop him and cleared her throat to address the room.
“While I am sure Miss Kuchiki is pleased you all came to visit, this is not the place to have a casual catchup.” Her words were coded, hiding the real reason for their presence – she still had an unknown traitor amongst her own staff - she had the scar on her head to prove it.
“Why don’t you all follow me to Recovery Ward 4? It’s currently empty, and we can avoid disturbing other patients.”
The group murmured their agreement and offered apologies as they followed her to the northern wing of the hospital.
Once there, she closed the doors and stood before them, blocking the entrance. All eyes were on her, so she gave them the information they came for.
“Rukia Kuchiki is going to be perfectly fine after some rest and recovery.”
Several heavy sighs of relief. Ichigo had one arm around Orihimes’ shoulder, giving her a comforting squeeze.
“She hasn’t said much, but as her primary physician, I recommend interrogating her after she sleeps.” She raised her hand again to cut off Iba’s objection. “I know that procedure dictates otherwise, but I can personally guarantee that the important information will not be mis-remembered.” She watched them absorb her words. “I am also right to remind you that discussing Miss Kuchikis condition publicly – like you were about to, in the waiting area – would be… ill-advised.”
No one moved. No on spoke. Her gentle words were more than a threat, they were a reminder of their own vulnerabilities.
“Now, I have nothing more to share at this time, but I would like a word alone with Mr. Sasakibe.” She waited for the man to come forward then escorted him out of the room, leaving the group to continue their discussions.
They walked until they were alone, then she turned to Chojiro.
“She gave them nothing. The Kuchiki code is safe.” Her voice was quiet and firm, allowing no argument,
He bowed, respectfully.
“I will inform the Governor. Thank you, Director Unohana. He will be relieved to hear it.”
She watched him walk away and admired his loyalty. Yamamoto was lucky to have such a man looking out for his affairs.
“Well, this has been fun and all, but if y’all don’t need me, I’m gonna be off.” Shinji said, stretching his arms over his head. “Need a lift, Shunsui?”
Kyouraku waved in refusal. “I still need to speak to Unohana about another matter. But I’ll follow you out.” The two men exited the room.
“He needs to be arrested!” Iba burst out, pointing at Ichigo. “He stole my access pass and beat a prisoner in police custody!”
Ichigo pushed Orihime behind him and faced Iba, pulling the access card out of his pocket and tossing it to the man.
“I was going to return it! And without it, we wouldn’t have the information we have now!” Ichigo yelled in reply.
“That doesn’t make it alright!” Iba roared back.
Komamura stepped forward and put a heavy hand on Iba’s shoulder, silencing him. The big Commissioner looked down at Ichigo, then over at Renji, who was staring blankly at the floor. Sajin was a man who understood loyalty above all things – and despite being good friends, their loyalty for Rukia outstripped their loyalty to the police.
“Grimmjow Jaegerjaques is currently nursing a broken arm, nose and two ribs. He has cuts and bruises, and a loose molar. When asked about his injuries, he won’t tell us anything.” Komamura said in that booming voice. Ichigo suppressed a smirk and Komamura growled at him.
“However, I have yet to receive the security footage from the cell block to prove what happened.” All colour drained from Ichigos face, and he darted a glance at Renji. The man was now glaring straight at the big man, unashamed and unafraid.
“So, until that time, Lieutenant Testuzaemon,” he gave Iba’s shoulder a firm pat, “I think we can overlook a drunken pick pocketing prank amongst friends, don’t you?”
Iba looked furious but didn’t contradict his commander. He stood up straight and forced his face to relax into a wry smile.
“Sure thing, sir. Just a prank.”
Komamura nodded, then turned his fierce stare back on the two ‘pranksters’.
“But once that footage does come across my desk, the responsible parties for Grimmjows injures will be punished to the full extent of the Law!” Komamura barked, startling them all.
The two men now understood had been given a small window of time to check on Rukia, put their affairs in order, and prepare for whatever punishment would be allotted to them.
“Now, it’s morning, and I hear a breakfast steak calling my name. Come along, Lieutenant.” Komamura tapped Iba, and the two of them walked out of the room without another word.
Ichigo heaved a sigh of relief and turned to Orihime. She gave him a worried smile and cupped his cheek with one delicate hand. He leaned his face into her, accepting her comfort.
“I’m going to go home and get ready for work.” She murmured. “Now we know Rukia is going to be ok, I feel like I can finally focus again.” She stood on her tiptoes and gave him a light kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“Wait for me outside, I’ll join you. There’s nothing much more I can do here.” He replied.
She nodded, glanced at Renji before walking out. Alone, Ichigo and Renji avoided eye contact, struggling to speak.
“She’s ok.” Ichigo finally said, trying to prompt a reaction.
“Yeah.”
“She’s going to recover.” He tried again.
“Yeah.”
Renji was too far in his own head to hear the words being spoken. Ichigo understood that the man held feelings for Rukia that were a lot more complicated than the ones he did, but his patience was running out after being awake all night with nerves fried from anxiety.
“Renji, don’t make me punch you.”
Hi head flew up, and he goggled at Ichigo.
“Huh? What’d you say, you tangerine?”
Ichigo just grinned and headed for the door. There was the prickly attitude he was looking for.
“Go sit with her. She’ll be happy to see you.”
Renji stared at the empty doorway for a moment. Would she be happy to see him?
He was tasked with protecting her family, and she had been violently kidnapped on his watch. He was supposed to look out for her, and she had been held and supposedly tortured for six days. He was her friend, and he had nearly run her over, barely avoiding stopping when her blood covered body staggered onto the road. He was worse that scum.
There’s no way she would want to see him.
His feet carried him to the basement floor, through the car park, and into his car.
She deserved better than him. Better care than what he could provide. She was so far beyond his reach, and now he was sure that whatever affection had built between them was burning away.
His limbs felt cold as he drove away, struggling to keep his eyes open. He barely made it back to his apartment in one piece, before staggering inside and falling heavily on the couch, too tired to remove even his shoes. Within seconds he had passed into a deep, restless sleep.
He dreamed of an open grassy plain, stretching for miles and dotted with dead trees, their gnarled branches reaching for the sky. The moon was full and bright and large.
He sat below, yearning, and baying, wishing he could reach out and touch it. But it was so very bright, and so very far away that his heart caught in his throat, and he choked. There was no way he could touch that moon.
Easier to just give up hope.
Unohana smiled as Shunsui approached her. She had known the principal for many years, back when they had both been trying to fit into the new mould they were given. He was a brilliant, ruthless tactical genius, but right now, all she could see was the bumbling, slightly drunk flirt that he showed the world.
“Principal. It’s nice to see you again so soon.” She said smoothly, guessing his reasons was wanting to see her.
He gave her a lopsided grin, eyes still bloodshot from what she suspected was a heavy night of drinking.
“I just wanted to check in, and make sure- “
She cut him off.
“Ise Nanao will be discharged today. Before I left last night, I checked in on her – she’s ready to go home.”
He let out a breath, and she smelled the liquor wafting around him like a perfume.
“However, I think a shower and bed would be best before you see her again, don’t you?”
He gave her a warm smile and shook his head in admiration.
“You’re going to make a good man very happy someday.”
Unohana gave him her calmest most terrifying smile. He tried not shudder and remembered that - like himself – this woman should never be taken lightly.
When she answered, he felt his throat tighten, and an uncomfortable awareness of her as not just a talented healer, but a striking woman.
“What makes you think I like good men?”
The sun was barely warming the horizon when Kenpachi sat up and sneezed explosively for several seconds. He growled in annoyance and flopped back down, pulling the sheet over his naked body.
“What the fuck.”
Notes:
Rukia is a BAMF. A strong, self respecting, confident, loyal and compassionate person. I like representing her, and the other women I write about as such :)
Yes. Kenpachi sleeps in the nude.
***Upon some reflection, I'm becoming concerned that the character profiles are staring to drift.
chapter 17 forward will have more effort to ensure IN character representation.***
Chapter 17: New Digs and Old Enemies
Notes:
Thankyou to all the readers, the kudos leavers, the commenters and the fans. You make this journey so much more exciting <3
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Undisclosed Location
The shadowy figures around the table avoided shifting nervously as they relayed the news to Lord Aizen. The man didn’t seem to react, but there was a small furrow in his brow.
“And he got nothing from her?” Aizen asked again, almost casually.
Starrk shook his head and looked at the empty chairs around the tables. This was becoming concerning. Too many of them were captured or dead. In their line of business, this was a fairly standard risk, however the speed of the occurrences was problematic.
“Lord Aizen,” Barrigan began, “Now that we can’t utilize the Kuchiki girl, perhaps we should… regroup. Our key informants are captured or dead, and we aren’t any closer to obtaining the alloy - outside of a frontal assault on enemy territory.”
Starrk looked at the old General, impressed. Though age certainly brought wisdom, it has also carried along impatience – the man was eager to finish this ‘phase one’ mission. Hearing him talk about tactical retreats was a surprising welcome.
“I agree.” Starrk chipped in, glancing at Nnoitra. The lanky espada was picking his teeth, clearly bored, but seeing Starrk, he spoke up.
“I don’t care about when – as long as there’s a good fight in it for me. Getting’ caught because they’re aware of us will just take all the fun out of it.”
Yammy sneered, contributing nothing.
Gin and Tosen stayed quiet, deferring to Aizens judgement. The man was a genius, but arrogance had a way of growing on people, like a cancer. Would he listen to his men, or proceed to take ill-advised action?
“We will relocate to our Hueco Mundo base for now. I had a suspicion that we would get nothing from the Girl and have already sent Luppi ahead with Momo. They are preparing the chemical base for Kyouka Suigetsu. I would like to look into their progress.”
Barrigan grunted, embarrassed to have suggested a retreat when Aizen had planned for this, all along.
Gin spoke up, “Do you need me to stay here and keep a tab on our informants, now that Halibel is no longer… available?”
“Yes, I think that is appropriate. Tosen, you’re too invested in killing Zaraki to be left to your own devices, here.” Aizen murmured with a glance.
“I think the bombing was extremely helpful as a distraction for appropriating the Kuchiki girl.” Tosen replied, his voice respectful and not offering a hint of disagreement.
“Yes, but adding the car bombing to that number, and I have a feeling that it was more… personal than tactical, don’t you?” Aizen said, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “No more attempts, Tosen. At least for now. That’s an order.”
Tosen bowed politely, his face revealing nothing.
“What’s our next step, sir?” Starrk enquired.
Aizen had shared that the chemical base for Kyouka Suigetsu could take nearly two months to properly create. Once it was set, they needed the alloy to catalyse a reaction, activating the secret formula that he had created. The secretary, Momo, had remembered everything, and had willingly shared it with Aizen weeks ago, believing him to be a good man who was simply misguided by men like Gin and Tosen.
What a fool. She’d be dead the moment the drug was successfully tested.
Aizen leaned on his wrist and smiled at the five men surrounding the table, showing off angelic features that were so at odds with his demonic disposition.
“Once the chemical is ready, we will proceed as Lord Barrigan suggested, and begin a frontal assault.”
Four weeks until I have what should have been in my possession all along. And then… my new world.
Delta squad arrived and had been sent out without any objections from the Old Man. Toshiro was taking matters into his own, very capable hands. Kyouraku may be a brilliant tactician, and more cunning than all of them combined, but he was preoccupied – that much was obvious.
So, the young man had called in one of his Militia groups from his days running the border. Delta squad specialised in reconnaissance and recovery, both skills that we more than needed at the current time. He had avoided contact with them for months, unhappy about their new choice of leader. He felt there was too much of a conflict of interest to have her involved, but they were running blind where Aizen was concerned, so it was time to use what resources they had.
The day after Rukia’s rescue they had casually showed up to the bar in ones and twos, avoiding being seen as a group by pedestrians or police. Rangiku had walked in to start her lunch shift, seen the leader and instantly recognized the woman as a threat. Though her instincts screamed at her not to turn her back on the small party, she bolted up the stairs to Toshiros office and warned him of the people waiting downstairs.
He had given her a very brief explanation, then gone down to greet the squad. There were five altogether, led by their new commander – the one with the scar across her nose and cheekbones. The one was still hesitant to fully trust.
“Séfe, we were happy to hear from you.” Nelliel Tu Odelschwanck greeted him with a firm handshake, and respectful nod.
“Nelliel.” Toshiro replied, then looked at the rest of the squad. He nodded politely to Kokochiro, the squad’s technician, and to Pesche and Dondo – men who transferred with Nel wherever she went. They considered themselves her brothers and took the role of her personal protection very seriously. He recognised his old training master, Shūtetsu and gave the man a traditional salute, which was swiftly returned.
Rangiku stood by the front doors, ensuring that the meeting would go undisturbed. Toshiro didn’t offer them a seat – they wouldn’t be there very long.
“The mission I need you for is dangerous, and personal.” His words were crisp and clear.
“You want us to track Aizen.” Nel replied, unfazed.
Toshiro hid his surprise, then realised how blind he was. He had been off the front lines for far too long, if he was expecting to explain a situation like this, to agents who lived their lives in a world where ignorance meant death.
“Yes.” He said simply. “I want you to find his base. Last night, one of their sub-locations was identified – an old hospital about two hours west. But the idiots that discovered it may have spoiled the trail. I need you track Aizen, figure out who is helping him… and who he’s keeping against their will.”
Rangiku looked at him sharply, jaw clenching as she realised who he meant. Momo. He still wanted to save her.
“I want updates only – no unnecessary comms. I have no doubt that he is prepared for reconnaissance, so expect to be tested.” He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. “This is all the information I have to get you started.”
Nel scanned the paper. Something moved behind her eyes as she read the information.
“So, Nnoitra is still with him...” She murmured. Dondo and Pesche exchanged a glance.
Nel pocketed the note and ushered the men to leave. Rangiku moved to flank Toshiro, watching them carefully.
“Nelliel,” Toshiro called as she was about to leave. “You don’t have to call me Séfe. I’m not in charge anymore.”
Nel smiled at him, and Rangiku inhaled a sharp breath of admiration – the woman was stunning when she smiled.
“You may not be in charge anymore, but you are still our Séfe.”
The door closed, and Toshiro shook from memories of men and women dying, crying, bleeding, demanding that the ‘Séfe’ help them. Save them. Kill them. Avenge them.
He stalked back to his office, head aching and wishing he could find relief in alcohol. But the memories always got so much worse with liquor involved. He knew the squad would find Aizen, and that they would do it quickly.
But had he just sent yet more of his people to their deaths?
Two days later
Urahaha Kisuke was standing outside Ikkaku and Yumichika’s apartment, rapping on the door with his cane. He waited for a moment, dipping his trademark striped hat to shield his eyes from the early sunlight.
He rapped again, hearing an annoyed voice, followed by an equally annoyed reply. The door opened, and Ikkaku glowered at Kisuke, promising pain.
“Whaddaya want? It’s early as fuck – Oh.” His brain caught up with his mouth, and he recognised who he was speaking to.
Kisuke grinned.
“I got some news that your boss needs to hear. But he’s not answering texts. I thought you two might like to pass on a message?”
Ikkaku just stared, until Yumichika yelled from somewhere inside.
“Stop being a bad host and let the man in, Ikkaku! I’ll just be five more minutes!”
Ikkaku dropped his head and his hand with a heavy sigh, waving the man inside.
“Five minutes, he says – yeah, right. You better get comfortable – he won’t see anyone until after his ‘beauty routine’. You want coffee?”
Two days since that ‘mistake’, and she’s still on my mind. The fuck is wrong with me?
Zaraki rolled onto his stomach, then quickly turned back, inhaling sharply. Having his morning wood rubbing against the mattress did not help.
“Kenny! I’m having breakfast! Do you want some?” He heard small feet walking towards his door, threw himself out of bed, shoving his legs into a pair of jeans on the floor and nearly catching himself on the zipper. He winced at the irritation of the heavy fabric and snagged a shirt, putting it over his head when Yachiru opened his door wide.
“Kenny? Did you want breakfast?” She repeated, cocking her head.
He pulled down the shirt, and gave her an easy grin.
“Yeah, I’m starvin’.”
The small girl was light and joy and all the things he knew he wasn’t. She bounced out of the room, leading him to the kitchen and pouring a bowl of the sugary cereal he couldn’t stomach. Yumichika had dropped off a bag of basic food items the morning they’d shacked up at this place, but he watched Yachiru pour the last of the milk over her heaped bowl, and realised he needed to figure out something more permanent.
He looked in the fridge and took out the only thing left – two pieces of cold pizza. A perfectly balanced breakfast.
“I saw Byakki yesterday.” Yachiru said around a mouth full.
“Hmm?” Kennpachi rumbled in query.
“He says Rukia is coming home tomorrow. I wanna go see her.”
“Sure.”
He didn’t ask how she expected to get there, and she didn’t tell him she’d already raided his wallet for cab fare. Though he knew she could take care of herself, even against an adult man of Ikkaku’s build, the two of them had an unwritten code: If she was going somewhere, she always told him when she left, and she was always back to his side before sun set.
There had been an incident shortly after she’d started school that had set up that particular rule. The few kids who’d invited her to play at the arcade had lost track of time, and gone home in a rush, leaving her alone and without enough cash to catch a bus back to the barracks.
She was quite happy to hop and skip her way home but became confused when she started seeing familiar 11th Hour faces at every corner. Apparently, her Kenny had not been happy that she hadn’t told him about her after school plans. He had roared and the men had scattered in every direction, searching for her.
That was one of only a few times he’d actually scolded her. He was her whole world and having him get angry was like an earthquake crumbling her reality. She had not cried – she never cried, but when she stood there in front of his towering frame, head down and eyes so filled with sadness, he couldn’t maintain the ‘fatherly’ attitude. A hand came down on her head, heavy but comforting.
“Little one... don’t do it again.”
She would never cause her Kenny to worry – he was the best man in the whole wide world. And anyone who said differently was probably just a weakling.
Yachiru smiled at Kenpachi, her bulging cheeks reminded him of a fat chipmunk. So, he leaned forward to poke one with a finger. Yachiru choked and nearly spat out the cereal, glaring at him. His eyes softened and he laughed deep in his chest, knowing the image of her outraged face would be with him for the rest of the day.
“Kenny, we need some new clothes.”
Kenpachi looked down at the shirt Ikkaku had given him – one of four – and realized the seams were barely holding together. His arms, shoulders, torso – everything – was bigger than Ikkaku’s, and the jeans he’d picked up at the secondhand store were nearly threadbare as it was.
Looking at her, in her oversized shirt that she’d cinched to turn into a sun dress, he felt uncomfortable. Was he not providing? When the house burned, they had lost almost everything. Their insurance was top tier, but no payout had come through yet, so the members of the 11th had helped by donating what they could. Few of them had families, let alone little girls that they could spare clothes for.
Kenpachi wasn’t a poor man, in fact, because of his disinterest in material possessions, Yumichika had said his accounts were substantial. He was able to give his men a slightly smaller pay check for at least a few more weeks before they needed to start bringing in bounties again.
He turned his head to look at his surroundings. He didn’t mind sleeping on the street, but he’d be damned if he’d allow Yachiru to feel even slightly cold or dirty. What were they still doing in this dump, when he could afford to buy a small property for them until a new barracks could be found?
Oh yeah, he remembered, death threats.
“I’ll get Yumichika to take ya into town. Buy whatever ya want. Go nuts.”
She gave him her ‘you big dummy’ smile, and reached over to wrap her hand around one of his scarred fingers.
“I want you to come with me!”
There were very few things that could make a man as large and powerful as Zaraki back down. But the idea of spending an entire day shopping was his tipping point.
“No way in hell.”
“Are you sure? You could get some clothes that actually fit you right, so you’re not always… wriggling.”
Kenpachi scowled at her.
“I don’t wriggle.”
She just shrugged, clearly not believing him. He snarled, a sound that terrified grown men, let alone little pink haired girls. She just gave him a sceptical look and silently mouthed: ‘YOU WRIGGLE’.
There was a beat of silence before he leapt at hear, grabbing for her arm. She squealed in laughter and bolted form the room, cackling like a madwoman.
He sat back on his chair and smothered a smile with the last of his pizza, twitching in his seat, trying to adjust his pants to a more comfortable position. He aborted the action, realizing what he was doing and glared towards her room.
Little brat.
“Here we are!” Ikkaku paid the driver and he and Kenpachi stepped out to face a large two-story building about fifteen minutes from the bar.
They were still in the south west part of the city, but the streets were cleaner, and the buildings each had a small strip of parking between them. The one they were facing was built like a traditional dojo, with whitewashed walls and swooping eaves of decorated cherry wood. There was a definite sense of age to the structure – cobwebs drifted under the awnings - but the wooden shutters and doors looked new, and well cared for. It was also a lot bigger than any other building on the street, clearly meant as a business or training ground for large occupancy.
Kenpachi stood with his hands in his pockets, taking it all in. So, this was the building Urahara had arranged for them?
When Ikkaku and Yumichika had shown up at his ‘hidden’ apartment (where more and more people seemed to know about) he had dumped the kid with Yumichika for her desired shopping trip, then followed Ikkaku down to the street to catch a cab. He thought they were heading to the train yard again, to meet the men of the 11th, but Ikkaku gave the driver a different address, then explained about Urahara’s visit that morning.
“He said that Yoruichi’s family owned the building, and they were going to ‘liquidate the asset’ – or whatever rich people speak he was sayin’. But it’s got a space for the 11the to train in, and living quarters upstairs. He said that it was time they ‘did something for us’, after…. Well, everything.”
Kenpachi sneered at that – he wasn’t looking for a handout from Shihoin. He had money. Earned every dame cent with the sweat on his back. Ikkaku held out business card, with handwriting on the back, he took it, and raised his brows. Then nodded – this was acceptable.
The card said: Hogu & Bugu Real Estate. And on the back, a large figure: the asking price for the property. It would sting his pocket, but it was affordable. And it would get them out of that apartment and back in business.
Ikkaku took a key out of his pocket and opened the door. They entered, taking in the dusty tatami mats and spartan feel of the place. There was a large, framed sketch on the far wall, and a raised dais – clearly meant for the instructor. Behind a sliding door in the rear wall, the found a small office for two people, a single bathroom and a set of wooden stairs to the upper level.
Kenpachi climbed the stairs, noticing the creak on the third and seventh – he liked that. The upper floor had a small landing, and another key, like a separate apartment. Ikkaku unlocked that one, and they inspected the more modern quarters.
Three bedrooms, a decent kitchen and living space, a laundry area hidden behind a panelled wall, and one bathroom with an enormous bath - that had Kenpachi grinning like a shark. There was also a balcony off the living area that overlooked the front entrance of the dojo, and another one off kitchen that faced the rear parking lot.
Heading back downstairs to the large open training area, he surveyed his new territory with a predatory gleam in his eyes.
“It’s good. We’ll stay here.” He stated, but Ikkaku could tell his captain was very pleased with his new digs. Kenpachi would never admit it but losing the barracks had hurt. He didn’t care about the house, but the dojo had meant something to him.
“I’ll tell the men.” He responded but didn’t budge when Kenpachi moved to walk past him.
“Something else?”
“Urahara had another message for you.” Ikkaku said slowly. “I don’t know how he knows, but he does: Aizen has retreated.”
Three… Two… One…
“WHAT?!” Kenpachi roared, making dust fall from the ceiling.
“Apparently Rukia’s escape disrupted their plans. It seems he’s taken all his people back to Hueco Mundo – which means you can come into the open again. Not that you were hiding.” He added in a rush.
Kenpachi began to pace furiously, fists clenching. Ikkaku was very glad he hadn’t divulged this information earlier. If he had to calm his captain by throwing down with the man, what better place than a dojo?
“But he said to tell you that this wasn’t the end of it. It looks like they’re making a tactical retreat – but will be back. Soon.”
Kenpachi stopped in front of the dais, breathing through clenched teeth.
“How soon?” He growled.
“They’re not sure. But Kisuke thinks only a few weeks.” And how the hell does even he know this shit?
Ikkaku held back his surprise when Kenpachi began to chuckle deep in his throat – the sound put him on edge, as there was no humour in it.
“That’s perfect.” The big man said, turning to face Ikkaku and licking a canine. He felt the familiar weight of expectation fall over him like wave.
This gave them weeks to train and get stronger. Weeks to sharpen their skills on all the bounties they had foregone while Aizen had been a threat. This month was going to go by so quickly – he could barely wait.
He hoped there was a hunting list as long as his arm, because he was eager to get back to fighting.
Notes:
I am a sucker for adorable Kenpachi and Yachiru moments. Fuck I love writing this story.
With Aizens tactical retreat, there leaves a breathing space for the Chiefs. Space is the last thing they need.
Find out what happens next!
And leave your girl some Comment-y love if you enjoyed this chapter! <3 xx
The Blueprints for the New Digs can be found here: https://zaraki-oriented.tumblr.com/post/647958930163679232/the-new-barracks
Chapter 18: The Elegant Lady in his Blood-Soaked World
Notes:
This chapter really hit hard for my KenUno heart.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
“Could you repeat that, please?”
Komamura sounded polite, but there was a definite growl to the words. Iba gulped, stared at the wall behind the man, and straightened his shoulders.
“The footage that you requested has been erased, Sir.”
Komamura squinted at his Lieutenant, trying to figure out if he was involved to protect those two idiots, like so many other would do. But no, Iba may be a little rough around the edges, but he was solid to the core when it came to loyalty for his captain.
“Do you have any suspects?” Komamura asked, more curious than angry. If the footage was gone, there wasn’t anything to be done – but justice was about being fair, reasonable and adhering to the law - in his mind.
The two men had performed aggravated assault on a prisoner, who in turn refused to say anything about his injuries. Then the footage from the cells for that block of time had been ‘mysteriously’ erased? This was starting to feel like a setup.
“There was one small clue, sir.” Iba said, hesitating to reveal his findings. “The files were erased, but another one was uploaded as a place holder.”
He held out a small device and pressed play on the video file. Komamura watched for a moment, then comprehended what he was seeing, and groaned in exasperation, rolling his eyes in absolutely disbelief.
The balls on that woman!
On the screen was a video of a velvety black cat, luxuriously washing itself.
Kyouraku listened carefully to his phone as Shinji described the small amount of information that they had finally squeezed out of Halibel.
“It was the reason that there were so many of ‘em in warehouse district to begin with.” Shinji said, sounding like he was revealing the spoiler to a major movie. “Starrk had been on protection detail for Momo, when a chopper flew in ta take her back to the Hueco Mundo base. He had driven in ta pick up Yammy after the big guy had dumped Rukia on Aaroniero. Halibel and her ‘Beasties’ were tailing Yammy as a rear-guard in case the Kuchiki brother came after him. It was just bad luck that ya girl got caught up in all that.”
Kyouraku didn’t take the bait of responding to the ‘his girl´ comment.
“And now, we know for certain that Momo does remember the formula, and the Old Man was right ta have a protection detail on her all along.”
“Then I believe I owe you a proper thankyou after all.” Shunsui said jovially, as if the thought didn’t make him gag. He still hadn’t forgiven the Vizard for being too slow to prevent Nanao getting injured.
“Don’t worry about it.” Shinji replied in that nonchalant way. “We’re going to hand over Halibel to the 7th Precinct soon. Did you want to … pop by for a visit, before we get there?”
Shinji was offering him a chance to get his hands on the Espada. A cruel, but thoughtful gesture.
“No, thank you. I’ve got staff requests to check, and a new curriculum to peruse.”
Shinji laughed hard and loud.
“I don’t think I’ll ever get used ta hearing ya talk like a teacher, Shunsui. It’s a crack up! We’ll be in touch.”
Kyouraku listened to the dial tone for a moment, realising the man had hung up on him. He let himself relax back into his office chair and took a moment to stare out the window.
School would be resuming next week. All those eager faces, bright and hungry to learn…
The clock ticked loudly.
Yeah, who was he kidding. The kids were coming back to study prison after two weeks of freedom. He didn’t begrudge them their youth. If anything, he felt a connection with them because of it. And with school returning, so would teachers. Like Ise Nanao.
He still hadn’t seen her since the hospital, too concerned with spies and war and casualties. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.
He’d texted her twice, one polite ”Home Safe?” and another, more formal one about Rukias recovery. She’d sent a short “Yes.” But nothing further. That didn’t bode well.
He rubbed his forehead and chuckled in a self-deprecating way. Nanao may be occupying a large portion of his brain at the moment, but he wasn’t about to forget his responsibilities to the city.
Pushing himself away from the desk and the work and the worry, he made his way out to his car determined to avoid spending the evening alone and miserable.
He was going to enjoy a drink or seven at the Snowball and have a little information exchange.
Yumichika and Yachiru returned to the apartment above the bar with arms absolutely loaded with shopping. Her cheeks were even pinker than usual, and he was absolutely glowing with satisfaction.
“We did good, huh, Yun-Yun?”
“We did beautifully!” He replied, almost giddy as he pulled item after item out of the shopping bags. “And I think we beat them home?” He said, cocking an ear to heavy footfalls coming up the stairs.
Brows hit the ceiling all around as the two groups studied each other:
Yachiru and Yumichika: Manicured, hair styled, and covering the kitchen table in a small mountain of clothes.
And Kenpachi and Ikkaku: Dusty, sweaty, and shirtless.
Yumichika just pointed to the bathroom, an order to wash that Kenpachi didn’t even bother to growl about being given. He was too tired. He shut the door behind him without a word.
Ikkaku fell onto the couch, head lolling back and watching the two as they stared at him curiously.
“What?!” He snapped.
“Nothing.” Yumichika answered promptly, knowing exactly where they had been, and correctly guessed that their appearance was from hours of cleaning the new barracks and apartment, alongside the entire 11th Hour crew. Clearly, their captain wanted to move in immediately, and had used the men’s training time to prepare the building.
“You’re dirty, Baldy.” Yachiru stated. Then she focused on the clothing, grabbed a large pair of artfully ripped jeans and a black hoodie, and rapped on the bathroom door. A yell of annoyance over the sound of the running shower.
“Kenny! I got you some clothes to wear! They’re on your bed!”
This was followed by a yell of agreement, and Yachiru ran into the man’s room and dumped the items. She came back out with a few pieces of torn material and handed them to Ikkaku. He looked at the scraps in his hands, then at her.
“What are these supposed to be? Dishrags?”
She shook her head, and gave him a bright, innocent grin. “They’re your shirts! Thanks for letting Kenny borrow them!”
When Kenpachi had finally scrubbed the last of the cobwebs and grime from his skin, he turned off the shower and found the apartment empty, but for Yachiru happily watching the TV. He didn’t ask after his two men, but he thought he had heard some kind of shouting over the spray of water on his chest.
That was one thing he hated about showers – they just weren’t designed for men as tall as him. He was always crouching to wash his face and hair. Baths were so much better.
He donned the clothes Yachiru had put out for him but felt restricted by the long sleeves on the hoodie. With a loud rrrrriiiipppp! He tore the arms off at the shoulder seams. Much better. The pants were a lot more comfortable that the threadbare ones he’d nearly destroyed that day, and the material didn’t irritate him nearly as much. The only thing missing was underwear – but he hadn’t expected Yachiru to get that.
Joining the girl on the couch, he waited for her to tell him about her day. She prattled on, excited and high on some sugary treat that Yumichika had purchased for her. He listened, nodding at the right times and raising his brows when she went into detail about this or that. She had eaten late, so he wouldn’t have to feed her tonight, and with the way her yawns were starting to pile on, she was sugar-crashing, and would need an early night.
“Those clothes look good on you, Kenny.” She finished with a smile, blinking at him slowly.
“Yeah. Thanks, Kid.”
“So, what did you do today?” She asked, then cacked another jaw breaking yawn.
Without answering, he picked her up in his arms like he had in the old days - she didn’t protest, even as he walked to her room and deposited her in bed. As she drifted off, he switched off her light, locked their front door and made his way down to the bar.
It was much emptier tonight, with the 11th Hour regulars heading straight home after cleaning their new business all day. Some of them were merely exhausted, but most had been keen to get back to work tomorrow and were looking forward to having the new barracks up and running so quickly.
Ikkaku had sent off a squad to rent a truck and purchase beds, tables, couches and other ‘household shit’ for their captain. Another squad was sent for office equipment – desks, computers and chairs for two people, and the basics for the single bathroom the crew could utilise. They had spent the entire day traversing the city to get all the items needed, and the last thing the 11th Hour had done was come together as a team to haul the goods up the stairs to the newly cleaned living quarters.
Kenpachi was not one for overt gestures of gratitude, but as the sun had set, and the new location was ready for business and living, he had gathered them together, and gruffly said ‘Thanks.”
Some of the men openly began to weep, brought to tears of joy by that word from their Captain. Others were dramatically holding their fists to chests, as if they’d just been given a great gift. It was all a little too much sap and drama for Kenpachi, so he stalked away, Ikkaku grumbling after him.
The big man took his usual seat at the bar and waited for Rangiku to bring him a beer. He needed to let her know they’d be leaving tomorrow. Instead of the waitress, Toshiro handed a bottle to Kenpachi, clearly wanting to speak with him.
“We’ll be out tomorrow.” Kenpachi said, not wanting to mince words. He took a sip of his beer and narrowed his eyes at Toshiro. “But you already knew?”
“How do you think Urahara knew what he did?” Toshiro just gave his customary glower. “I’ve got… people I can trust in places I can’t go.”
Kenpachi chuffed at the careful wording. So Hitsugaya finally had his little militia buddies running recon on Aizen? Very clever. The pieces clicked – Toshiro had told Urahara about Aizens retreat. And Urahahara had decided help get Kenpachi back to work, publicly.
He watched the little owner – something was off with his movements. Probably constipated from always worrying about every little thing.
A hand landed on Kenpachi’s shoulder with enough force to have him growling.
“Captain!” Kyouraku greeted. “I’m glad you’re here – did you see the moon tonight?”
Kenpachi nodded. A full moon – beautiful. “It is nice tonight.” He admitted.
“We should go out and drink to the moon.” Kyouraku said solemnly, like it was the most serious thing in the world. He strode to the door, glass in hand. Kenpachi shrugged and followed – drinking was always better under a full moon.
The two men sat on a bench between the parking lot and the front entrance, sipping in silence and enjoying the quiet company.
“I hear you’re back in public view tomorrow.” Shunsui murmured.
“I was never hiding.” Kenpachi replied, unfazed.
“You heard about Aizen?”
A vibration in the air, a killing intent that was there and gone again.
“Yeah. Urahara reckons we got about four weeks.” Kenpachi replied.
“I agree.”
They drank in silence until their glasses were empty and their minds were calm from the still night air.
“Well, I’m heading in.” Shunsui said and left without waiting for him. Kenpachi stood and began to walk back to the bar. Then he felt the hairs on the back on his neck stand up straight. Something was out there, watching him – had been watching him since he sat down.
His head swivelled in a slow motion, eyes scanning the open parking area, the low buildings and the distant highway. He knew there someone there. Someone dangerous. But he could see nothing. Baring his teeth in annoyance, he stomped back inside. If whoever it was wanted him, they could have attacked right then.
Clearly, this predator was after a different kind of prey.
Gin watched the tall figure stalk away and grinned wider, pleased to have set the mans instincts alight. Such a simple thing, but infinitely amusing.
The fact that he was still staying in that ridiculously obvious apartment above the bar meant that Gin couldn’t make any moves.
He melted back into the shadows and disappeared, hoping to return soon.
Hours later, Rangiku locked up the bar and Kenpachi was the last to leave. Again. But he got up without a word and walked back to his apartment. He watched from the alley as she padlocked the doors, got into her car, driving away. He’d been keeping in eye on the place since their first night there. And tonight, there was that strange presence… gone now, but it had him on edge.
Heading inside, he checked on the kid – sprawled over the bead and drooling – then closed the door and stripped down to sleep. He didn’t know how long he lay there, arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling before his thoughts circled back around to Unohana.
He wanted to see her again. Wanted to fight her. Wanted to rip off her mask and drink in the glorious battle they could have. He wanted to touch her skin and feel it burn his hand like acid.
There was that kiss, and his body had responded so readily to hers – something he had suspected would happen after their hospital chat. The way she had threatened him. That bloodlust and deadly intent in her eyes. The challenge she offered to his mind and body. How could he not react? It was the hottest damn thing he’d ever seen.
There was history between them, and he was a man in his prime – but getting hot over a woman wasn’t the same as getting hot over a good fight. He had trained and moulded his body to battle, to have restraint so he could enjoy each cut and slash. He wasn’t about to forgo that restraint because she had kissed him in the heat of the moment. Even if he had been the one to grab her first.
I’ll go see her tomorrow. He decided. And prove she’s the same hidden monster she always has been. The ultimate battle she’ll always deny me. Nothing more than an opponent. That’s all.
He began drifting off at that thought, happy to get things back to the way they were.
Yeah. Good. This’ll be good.
Back to work. Back to fighting. Back to forgetting about soft lips, deadly words and delicate hands that tugged at him, demanding more.
His eyes flew open, and he stared angrily into the dark.
Fuck.
The next day
Unohana quietly yawned and began her morning routine, padding around her dark apartment without needing to see every corner and angle. Braiding her hair over her shoulder, she collected her purse and left for work, her crisp black and white business suit not daring to wrinkle as she drove.
Rukia Kuchiki would be discharged today, which meant exchanging pleasantries with her brother and ensuring the staff didn’t tip off the media to cause a paparazzi storm. Although, she was fairly sure Kira and Shuuhei were already tightening those leads, just in case.
She settled into her office and reviewed her calendar, noting that one of her meetings had been cancelled, giving her an early finish that afternoon. She smiled – a chance to have some time to herself and practice her Ikebana – lovely.
The day flew by, the Kuchiki girl left via limousine and no snapping cameras, and the hospital returned to it’s buzzing hive of activity.
Hanatarou Yamada was found passed out in the supplies closet for the third time, after a particularly large man had been admitted for a dislocated shoulder. When Hanatarou had attempted to treat the man, he had threatened to knock the small doctor into next week.
Unohana had overheard the disturbance and had gracefully floated in to offer her assistance. She had closed the curtain around the bed, leaving her alone with the man. Hanatarou and the nurse had looked on curiously.
A moment later, the curtain parted and Unohana walked out, all placid smiles and gentle words, while the man with the relocated shoulder had fainted into the bed, drooling with obvious horror. She returned to her office, intending to finish her emails, and enjoy her afternoon. But when she opened the door, she was greeted by a rough, unwelcome visitor.
“Oi.”
Kenpachi was relaxing on her couch, arms sprawled across the head rests and knees spread wide. With his new clothes – the black suit pants, leather jacket and white tank top – combined with the dark glasses and battered wooden sword, he looked like a gangster coming to shake her down.
“Hello, Kenpachi.” She responded politely, obviously keeping this impersonal.
She considered leaving the door open, then closed it and walked around to sit behind her desk. If the man had come to bring up their mistaken encounter the other day, she didn’t want the whole staff overhearing.
He stayed where he was, quietly watching her type away on the computer. Was she going to ignore him, or what?
“What are you doing here, Captain?” She finally said, folding her hands on the desk and offering nothing but polite curiosity. “Also, it’s a little dark in here for sunglasses, don’t you agree?”
Kenpachi slid the shades to his forehead, but maintained his position, covering nearly her entire couch with his large body.
“What, a man can’t visit a hospital without a good reason?”
“Well, that’s usually the case, yes.” She replied.
“Tch. I thought you might wanna fight? Push the limits and see exactly where I’m ‘holding back’.” He patted the hilt of his sword beside him. “That is, if I hold back.”
She eyed, giving nothing away.
He grinned at her. “We can try to kill each other and really see who comes out on top!”
“At the rate you restrain yourself, I would definitely come on top.” She said politely. Then internally cursed herself. You want him gone – stop flirting!
Had he noticed the double entendre? She hoped not.
“Whatever.” He scoffed, shifting in his seat. “But now I finally know that the real you is in there – “
“The current me, is the real me, Zaraki” She interrupted, but he spoke over her.
“ – I’m not going to let this lie.” He stood up slowly, pushed the glasses back onto his nose and loomed over her desk. “We’re going to fight, Retsu. If I have to get in both of your faces every day, I will.”
She looked up at him, utterly unafraid and showing only the calm, pacifist healer that angered him so much.
“I look forward to disappointing you.”
His skin warmed the room with the fury he contained as he stalked out of the room, slamming the door behind him. She waited, holding herself perfectly still for several minutes, before letting out a breath. What the hell was he thinking? How did he get into her office with one noticing? The man was over six and a half feet of leather jacketed attitude!
…Who was an elite fighter and master strategist.
She sighed again. If he wanted to get in her way, there wasn’t a lot she could do to stop him besides intervening with the Old Man. But that felt like… tattling. It was against the rules of this little game - which she would refuse to play and would not cheat to win.
She collected her things and made her way home without any further interruptions. Having a quick shower, she poured herself a mug of tea and curled into her favourite armchair, tucking in her feet and watching the sunset through the balcony doors.
What was Kenpachi to her?
She had avoided thinking about him for days, avoided memories of their fight, their reunion and that… moment, three days ago.
He was such a brute of a man, hurling himself into every conflict, always chasing the high that bloodlust gave him. He was utterly unafraid of everything. She had made him feel fear for the first time, but since that taste he had been addicted, and constantly starved. She understood the feeling, but her new life had become a part of who was, now.
It’s not as simple as having ‘two faces’. She thought, feeling a seed of anger at his words. I am both of those women now, and neither. I am killer and healer. I am warrior and pacifist. I am guilty of making you less, and more.
She considered the man she currently knew as ‘Kenpachi Zaraki’. If she hadn’t transformed herself, would he have become the crazy, yet honourable man he was today? Or the bloodthirsty psychopath he had been turning into? She had had her fill of bloodletting on the day she fought him, knowing she had met her match, and beyond.
On that empty street, she had found him, covered in dirt and standing over a dead man. He had looked at her with an animals naivete, curious and drawn to the elegant lady in his blood-soaked world. Then he saw her bared sword, and attacked without warning, his face lighting up with happiness when she blocked and pushed him back.
She had engaged him fully, sparing no effort, and enjoying the challenge of a powerful opponent. The smell of fear in the air as he dodged her lightning-fast strikes. Fear turning into a fierce joy, and the boy laughed wildly – a broken sound from a voice that barely spoke. The flow of the fight ebbed and swayed, and she realised he was stronger – far stronger – than her.
He pushed forward and struck a blow, piercing her chest below her clavicle. She pulled back without a sound, allowing him a moment to repose as she felt the blood flowing between her breasts. Not life threatening, but not insignificant.
His grin began to fade – was this it? Was she finished? No, no – he wanted it to last longer – this feeling, this joy and pain and lust. He hadn’t had this before – it was everything! He began to unconsciously restrain his movements, wanting to savour the time with her.
They clashed, sparks flying, swords singing in the cold night air when she backed off for a second time, eyeing him. Why was he holding back, now? Was it pity? Did he think her weak? Rage boiled in her chest and flowed from the stab wound.
She launched herself towards him, pushing herself to her limit, flying in and striking with a speed he would have been quick to dodge only moments before, if he hadn’t been holding back.
He sword tip came slashing down, carving a fine vertical line from scalp to chin, through his left eyelid and lips. She followed through with a closed punch that contained the entirety of her strength.
The boy crumpled onto his side, unconscious and bleeding.
She considered him, lifting her sword for the sweet, fatal blow… but she couldn’t do it. This boy was only a couple of years younger than she was, and already so much stronger than she could ever be. She recognised his spirit as kindred but knew from his reactions that this was the first time he had ever felt fear – that delicious drug. Such a naive boy. He would always hold himself back because of it, hoping to have someone get close to a killing blow, and make him afraid all over again.
She couldn’t be a beacon for a boy like this. He would always hunt for her, and always hold back – bever reaching his full potential. He would never survive – but he deserved to. This world needed people like him, not just ruthless killers like her. It needed strong fighters with instincts that would protect and hunt even stronger prey. A world without predators was a world destined to die.
Sheathing her sword, she made her choice walked out of the street. She knew the boy would survive and would make this experience a lesson to grow from. Would he hate her, for being the cause of his own unconscious restrictions? Most likely. And that was her burden to bear. She pressed speed dial Number One on her phone and waited for the gruff voice to answer.
“It’s time. I need to stop.”
Retsu sipped the tea and found it lukewarm. How long had she been reminiscing?
She had told Kenpachi as much truth as he was willing to accept, and it had only created an entirely new difficulty between them.
Zaraki filled her thoughts, her memories of that bloody night colliding with the more recent memories of his arm around her, holding her tightly and teasing her with delicious promises of pleasure and hints pain. He had grown into a man, whole in mind and body, but not in heart.
How could she have allowed that to happen – and why had it felt so natural? She had been kissed before, had a lover for a night or two. But none of them had hit her adrenaline like that or had made her predatory side come out purring like a kitten and melting where she stood.
She felt the ice around her heart thaw just a little. He had certainly backed off readily enough and had seemed to ignore what had happened between them. Would he pursue her?
Did she want him to?
The memory surged - the feel of his hips rocking against her, his scarred lips making her melt into him as his tongue tasted every inch-
She shook her head, absolutely disgusted with her own self-control.
I am in SO much trouble. She thought, as a tiny spark defrosted her heart a little more.
Kenpachi was rattled. Angry, frustrated and confused. He walked from the hospital, aiming for his new home, and becoming hopelessly lost in minutes. But the walk was helping clear his head.
That woman.
Oh, he’d heard her double entendre, alright, and had felt heat pool in his groin at the image it put in his head.
Why was she doing this? He wanted the monster to fight – the thrill of letting loose on someone he believed could beat him.
But she refused, infuriating him with that pasty excuse of pacifism. And then had simultaneously convinced him she would win, if they did fight. Why wave a red flag in front of a raging bull?
There was a moment where he considered asking her about the kiss – considered speaking to her crudely and suggesting they fuck it out of their system and get back to the real fun of fighting. She had wanted him badly enough at the time, and he’d been following his baser instincts. That’s all it was.
Clearly.
Then why can’t I stop thinking about her?
Notes:
This chapter is a wee bit longer than the rest, but it was just flowing so well! I needed to build this setup for them, or the following would just make no sense.
Now you know what she believes she'd guilty for. They're so stupid for each other and they can't even - ARGH. They frustrate me. But it's alllllll coming together (Insert Dr. Evil Laugh here)
Gin is BACK! <3 Next chapter will be getting some RENRUKI love! <3 Enjoy!
And as always, if you liked this chapter, please leave your girl some comment-y love!
Chapter 19: A Whisper to No One
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
She’s here. Right through that door. And I can’t even touch the fucking handle.
Renji passed the door, answering Byakuya’s call for the first time in days. He had taken some ‘personal leave’, allowing Rikichi to step up and look after the daily schedule, security roster and basic tasks that Renji usually performed on duty.
He knew he looked like shit, with dark circles under bloodshot eyes, two days of stubble and clothing just this side of ripe. But Byakuya had insisted he come to the Penthouse NOW.
Knocking on the door to the private office, he waited for the soft call to come in and entered, walking straight to the desk. Byakuya continued to tap away at his laptop, ignoring him. Renji fidgeted, then cleared his throat softly.
Byakuya continued tapping but waved a magnanimous had towards one of the visitors chairs, inviting him to sit.
“No, thank you sir.” Renji croaked, his voice raw from days of waking nightmares.
Byakuya stopped typing and lifted his gaze. He just looked at the man. Renji sat quickly, attempting to flatten his hair into some semblance of style.
“Did you complete your personal leave, Renji?”
The question was a trap. There was only one answer that would avoid being given that look again.
“Yes, Sir. Today is my last day off. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Very good. I am having you reassigned.”
Renji blinked, brain trying to catchup with what he’d just heard. Reassigned? He was Byakuya’s personal bodyguard and chief of security. Where on earth was he sending him? To the Kuchiki Family compound on the eastern seaboard?
“U-understood, sir.” Renji choked out. Byakuya raised one perfectly sculpted brow, surprised that his best – and most argumentative – employee wasn’t causing a fuss. For a common born, he had a surprising amount of pride, it seemed.
“I am assigning you to Rukia. It is beyond time she had her own personal body guard, and –“
“NO! Sir, please, don’t do that!” Renji interrupted rudely. Byakuya just waited.
“You will accept this assignment. Or you can leave.”
Renji panted, head spinning, this wasn’t right. None of this was right. He couldn’t accept this position. He couldn’t leave. The room made a lazy spin around chair he was sitting on.
“She has been home for two days. I wanted to have you with her, but I deemed your …leave… a priority.”
Byakuyas words were distant and echoey. They drifted around the room playing with shafts of light. Renji watched them, the dust motes making them dance.
“…Renji…”
He tried to lift a hand to touch the dancing words. They fluttered away from him, making the room spin and spin and spin.
“…Renji…”
His name was so distant, but he heard someone calling over the cacophony of rushing water. He leaned forward to hear better and felt himself falling into a deep well, the inky blackness swallowing him whole.
“He fainted?” Rukia cried.
“He collapsed during a meeting.” Byakuya said stonily.
“Is he ok? Did he get hurt?” Her eyes were wide with fear for her friend.
“He is perfectly alright – though Aoga said he is dehydrated, and sleep deprived.” The family physician had been staying in one of the spare suites since Rukia’s return. “He’s resting in the sitting room.”
Rukia held a hand to her chest and sighed in relief. Byakuya studied her reaction, taking note of the depth of her relief and the way she touched her chest. He turned to leave. “He will begin his new assignment at your side, tomorrow.”
Alone again, Rukia stared out her bedroom window, her thoughts spinning. Renji was her oldest and best friend, her trainer, her confidant, the man who had brought her home. He knew her better than anyone, and she him. There was a bond between them, or so she thought. They were friends that had been through hell, and through small troubles, too. Friends who had laughed and cried and screamed at each other. Friends who shared sorrows and secrets – who depended on each other. He held a special place in her heart, he always would – and his absence had made it ache so sharply, she wanted to cry.
Why haven’t you come to see me? Everyone has sent their well wishes… except my best friend.
“I miss you…” she whispered to no one.
Delta squad had reached out twice now.
The first time was to pass on the information about Aizens retreat. How they did it, Toshiro didn’t ask, but they had managed to plant a listening app on Yammy’s phone.
The second contact had been with the location of the base in Heuco Mundo. It was a ten-hour flight, but Nel and the team were already in position for full reconnaissance of the place.
Toshiro looked at his special phone again, checking for messages. He couldn’t afford to worry. He had the location, and had passed on the information to Kyouraku, Urahara and the Old Man. But he really wanted to know about Momo – was she alive? Was she safe?
He dropped the phone and rubbed his hands over his face, trying to wipe away the worry. He was late for work but hoped that Rangiku would open up the bar – she may be flighty, but she had been by his side since he’d first arrived it the country and had been the second person he’d trusted to know about his life.
She in turn, had told him about her own past, and the two of them had bonded over heartbreak, loss, duty and loyalty. They were an odd pair to most – her bright, carefree, sensuous personality with daring outfits over sex kitten attitude. And his cold, calculating brilliance and unwavering work ethic. But there was a darkness to her that he had offered to walk into, and a loneliness in him that she had invaded with her company.
He had taught her not to fear the dark, and she had taught him how smile again.
She understood about Momo – it was… complicated, what they had. He was a leader in the militia, organizing forces for hit and run operations on Government Convoys during the worst of the famine that hit during the war in his country.
Momo’s Father was a doctor from somewhere Toshiro had never heard of, and his initial suspicion of the man was deflated by the easygoing and earnest daughter he allowed to follow him. The girl had been a few years older than Toshiro, but had thought he was adorable, giving him nicknames and patting his head like a little boy.
He had hated it at first, but had grown to have a strong friendship with the her, eventually confiding his real name and occupation in the militia. She had been shocked, of course, and he expected her to turn away from him. But she had been awed by him, star struck, and pelted him with bizarre questions and scenarios about spies and secret missions, like he was an action film hero. Her studies where in chemistry and chemical engineering – to her, his reality was so much more real.
After a time, she had earned his trust to a point that he wanted to introduce her to the village her father had been assigned to. Most of them had been cautious and wary of the foreigners, but with Toshiro’s approval, they had begun opening up, and welcoming the father/daughter team into their homes.
His own grandmother had tugged on his ear that she hadn’t been the first to meet his new friend. The woman had shared a meal with them, complimenting Momo’s cute antics and regaling them with stories of the war before the war. Had their land ever been peaceful? He wasn’t sure that he could survive in a place that had no conflict.
Months passed, and Toshiro had spent the time coming and going, learning more about her country as he continued to lead and succeed in his effort to save his people. Their friendship had deepened, to the point that when she returned home with her father, they had promised to stay pen pals – writing in their own hidden code to avoid his enemies detecting them. He learned she had taken an apprenticeship and eventual job under a respected man – Sosuke something-or-other.
Then one day, it was over. His war had ended. The people he had fought against had located his village, and thinking it was their base of operations, had arrange a military strike – wiping it from the earth in an unholy blast of fire. It was all gone. Everything he had worked for. Everything he wanted to protect.
He had just turned sixteen.
Toshiro had handed over his sash and his last living will, strapped his sword across his back, a pistol to his thigh, and began walking into the tundra, expecting to end his life that way, a frozen nomad.
Instead, he came across a tiny airfield with shutters closed tight against the snow and sleet. The large, faded painting on the side of the tower caught his attention for its bizarre coincidence – a peach. Momo’s favorite food. He had nothing and no one to go back to – but Momo had kept him going through some of his darkest missions, her cheerful messages had kept the ice at bay.
Making his choice, he’d chartered a plane and headed to her.
Her shock at seeing him on her doorstep a few days later nearly had him turning around and heading back. But she had grabbed him in the biggest hug he’d felt since his Grandmother had held him on his birthday. He felt her shake as she cried into his shoulder, cheeks red from the scratchy material he wore. She had heard about the bombing and had thought he was dead.
He was… cold. Changed in a way that he couldn’t quite understand. But she took him in, demanding that he stay with her until he could get on his feet. Her father had been reluctant to have a militant in the house, but she hadn’t taken no for an answer – from either of them.
For the next several months, he rested, healed and studied the ways of this new world. It was during those first few weeks that he’d met Rangiku, accidentally knocking a coffee from her hands as he walked and read. She had berated him in the middle of the street, calling him a moron and other insulting words he had only just begun to learn.
But in that moment, instead of defensiveness, he’d felt laughter bubble up from inside him. Momo had given him hope and kindness. Her father had given him pity. But this strange, enigmatic woman was cussing him out in the street, not afraid to get in his face and comically threaten to die his hair blue if he didn’t get her a new beverage. She reminded him of the women in his village.
His throat felt tight and he lit it out, laughing long and hard - the first time in what felt like years - feeling the sadness shed from him like an old coat. She gaped like a stunned fish, then smiled and found her sense of humor. They had begun having coffee together twice a week, and he suspected she’d initially thought of him like a younger brother. He wasn’t any warmer with her after that first interaction, and continued treating her with a seriousness that she found endearing.
He was a genius though, and before the year was out, had bought his first bar and moved into his own apartment.
A few days later, Momo and Rangiku had reminded him that he turned seventeen, and he had replied that back home, the first snows would be falling around this time. The women smiled, eyes glossy with tears, and together they presented him with his gift: A hand crafted snow globe, depicting a tiny frozen village in a faraway land.
His village. His home.
The Snowball Bar opened the following week, and Aizen had tried to take it all away from him less than a month later.
Toshiro’s business phone buzzed, and he grabbed it to read the messages coming in from Rangiku, clearing his head of the past.
Hey where are u?
I’m here – are u far away?
I’m going to open up.
He felt his chest warm up, and smiled, appreciating her and all she did. She could be a little too carefree at times – but he wouldn’t replace her for all the money in the world.
If you’re not here in an hour, I’m raiding the top shelf for shots.
She was a dead woman.
Yachiru had been over the moon about their new home. Two nights sleeping above the new barracks, and Yun-Yun and Baldy had joined them for drinks and pizza, ‘breaking it in’ they’d said – but she didn’t see anything being broken?
On that first day, when her Kenny had told her pack everything they had and join him downstairs, she didn’t question it, just stuffed all their new clothes into a few clean garbage bags ran to the cab. She bounced, battering him with questions, but he had stayed mysterious, until they pulled up in front of their new home.
The building was BIG. The front step had been swept; the doors were wide open. Inside, she could see the men of the 11th Hour going through training drills with Baldy.
“Whaddaya think?” He asked, smirking.
She had let out a squeak of happiness and zipped inside, inspecting every inch of the lower level, while the men attempted to avoid stepping her (not as easy as it sounded). She found the stairs in the back and called out to have him show her the stop level. When he had opened the door, and she ran through the apartment, inspecting the spacious rooms, her mouth had dropped open at the one with the hot pink bedspread and pillows.
“This one is mine!” She cried and flung herself inside.
Kenpachi had chuffed at her and leaned against the doorway, happy to see her happy. He left her to her own devices, already claiming the corner room for himself, and headed downstairs to join the men as they sparred. He watched them for several minutes, before shedding off his black t-shirt and yelling at them – today was their last day of slacking. Yumichika was in the new office right now, printing lists of bounties that needed to be tracked and brought in, starting tomorrow.
He threw himself into the middle of the room, sparring heavily, deflecting two and three wooden weapons at a time, spinning and kicking, pushing back, sometimes biting towards vulnerable wrists and arms that got too close. This was his new territory – it was time to spill a little blood to christen it properly!
An hour later and he was once again damp with perspiration and donning his shirt, muttering about the lack of a real challenge. At least they had managed to entertain him longer than last week – that was an improvement. Ikkaku grinned evilly.
“Don’t worry, Captain – they’ll be ready to go tomorrow. Or else we’ll set the Lieutenant on them.” He said in a loud voice.
The men groaned pitifully and struggled to their feet. Kenpachi nodded to Ikkaku, put on his sunglasses and walked out the front doors.
“I got an errand to run. See you in a few.”
He began walking down the street, and Ikkaku opened his mouth to ask where he was trying to go, but the man hailed cab, got in and disappeared. Ikkaku blinked and went to share this news with Yumichika – that was the third day in a row he had to run an errand right around lunchtime.
Yumichika listened to his words, giving him a considering look, but became distracted by broad shoulders the sheen of sweat across tense biceps. Ikkaku didn’t notice. He just rubbed his chin, thinking out loud:
“Maybe he’s found a new ramen joint or something?”
Renji woke up to the sound of paper being handled – the subtle schftt as a page was turned. He groggily saw the arched ceiling high above him, the soft muted light giving it a dreamy feel. Then he realized where he was and sat up with a start, heart pounding.
“You’re finally awake.” Byakuya said blandly, sitting adjacent to him in a black leather armchair while he read from a large binder.
“How long was I out?” He croaked.
“A few hours. Would you like something to eat?”
Renji blinked, trying to take in everything. He’d been asleep for hours? Here? And Byakuya had let him? Not just that, but now he was offering lunch. This all seemed a little surreal.
How hard had he hit the floor?
“No thank you, sir. I should get out of your hair-“ He began to get up.
“Renji.”
That commanding tone hand him swiftly sitting back down. He waited – would he get a reprimand? Would he get fired?
“You need to take better care of yourself.”
Well, that was unexpected.
“Sir?”
Byakuya closed the binder, crossed his hands on his knees and made a sound that would have been called a sigh in someone less dignified.
“You are dehydrated and unwell from lack of sleep.” Renji didn’t deny it. “If that is how you enjoy your personal time, I do not care. However, I am concerned how your behavior will affect your new assignment.”
He gulped. That’s right, he thought, stomach sinking, Rukia…
When Renji didn’t reply, Byakuya calmly stood up, collected the binder and walked to the archway separating the rooms.
“Sir?” Renji stopped him, standing to face the man as solidly as he could. “I’m not sure I’m the best choice for this assignment.”
Byakuya tilted his head slightly, taking him in with those serene, apathetic eyes. He seemed to be weighing him, judging him – but Renji couldn’t decipher what he was thinking.
“I told you to protect her. I would not assign someone I thought was unworthy.”
Renji stood rooted to the spot for several minutes, alone in the large sitting room. Byakuyas words had stuck his core.
He thinks I’m worthy of protecting Rukia.
Renji looked at his hand and made a fist. A second chance. He wouldn’t give up – he would fight and die to protect her. He would stay by her side.
I won’t let you down.
Unohana nearly sighed out loud as Kenpachi entered her office, disrupting yet another lunch with his challenge to fight her. Today he had literally disturbed her lunch – barging in so hard the door bounced off the wall and slammed shut behind him.
“Come on, let’s do this.” He drawled, one hand on his sword.
She put down her chopsticks, delicately dabbed her mouth with a napkin, giving him a serene smile that made him grit his teeth.
“Kenpachi. What a surprise – however, I am in the middle of eating lunch right now. Perhaps we can reschedule my refusal to this afternoon?”
He rolled his head on his neck, releasing several loud crunches. She didn’t move, just continued to watch him take up her space, without losing an inch of poise.
Kenpachi surprised her when he came towards the desk and sat in the visitor’s chair opposite her without invitation. He lifted the sunglasses to his forehead, then leaned over the desk towards her.
Her heart skipped a beat, before realizing he had grabbed her chopsticks, stuck them into the bowl of richly coated noodles she was trying to enjoy, and lifted a good-sized portion.
She opened her mouth to protest but was too slow as he brought the offering to his mouth, tilted his head and chomped down on her chopsticks rudely, sucking the noodles with a loud slurp. Eating her lunch. Keeping the chopsticks on his lips, he chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, then returned the utensils to her plate.
“Not bad.” He said, a hint of surprise in his voice.
She wanted to glare. She wanted to shout at him and push him off that chair onto his entitled ass for eating from her plate without asking. But that’s exactly what he wanted: Her reaction.
“I’m glad you think so.” Her smile became even more polite – the perfect hostess. He scowled.
She picked up the chopsticks without wiping them off, lifted a small amount of the noodles and ate, not breaking eye contact as she did. Swallowing, she kept the chopsticks to her own lips, mirroring his move.
His jaw slackened and his mouth went dry at that.
“They’re my favourite.” She murmured.
“Oh, yeah?” His voice a little husky.
“Mmm. I like bold… flavours.”
He swallowed hard and she nearly laughed out loud. He’s fun to tease She realised.
Kenpachi abruptly stood and walked quickly to the door, hair brushing the lintel as he turned to leave. “I- I’ve got to get back to work.” He said – a lame excuse if ever she’d heard one.
“Of course.” The expected reply. “Oh, and Captain? Bring your own chopsticks, next time.”
He hesitated, and she saw him struggle to find a reply. Finally, he said ‘Tch!’ and stormed away.
Retsu allowed herself a small chuckle and picked up her utensils. She licked her lips, thinking about the look in his eyes when he had realised she was tasting him on the chopsticks.
She really did like bold flavours, and todays meal was delicious.
Notes:
Bringing some ToMo, Some RenRuki and a bit flirty KenUno to your day! ...and a tiny hint of IkkaYumi ;)
In my head right now is a gif of Kronk going 'oh yeah. it's all coming together.'
If you enjoyed this chapter, drop a comment and lemme know - I'd love to hear your thoughts <3
Peace!
Chapter 20: Our Future Is Not Our Own
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“I know it’s crowded. It’s a popular store.”
Rukia had been looking forward to having Renji as her bodyguard. It meant they’d finally be able to spend some time together – in a different capacity than when they were kids, of course.
But this was getting ridiculous.
For the last week and a half, Renji had stuck to her like Velcro: Itchy, annoying aggravating Velcro. At first, she thought everything was back to normal for them – she was back to morning training and looked forward to becoming even stronger after the incident. But Renji had shifted his teaching style – now he was aggressive, using full pressure in his holds and blocks. If she missed a sweep, or didn’t put her whole body behind a strike, he reprimanded her like an army drill instructor.
While she was at university (now that classes had started back earlier in the week) he would wait for her patiently in the hallway, earning curious, admiring glances from the co-eds. As a tall, heavily tattooed man in his prime, wearing a black security suit on campus, he stuck out like a sore thumb. She didn’t mind that he wanted to be closer to her at school – but the giggling whispers from the some of the other female students were starting to irritate her.
In public, like today - as she spent her Saturday looking for a new pair of running shoes – he was a few feet behind her, moving like a magnet as he followed her every step. It was comforting, but unnerving – especially when the perfectly polite salesclerk needed to measure her feet and calves for the boots she had spotted. Renji had loomed behind her like a dragon, face in shadow and eyes nearly glowing as the clerks’ measuring tape brushed over her legs and feet. The poor man nearly wet himself.
“Did you learn that move from Zaraki?” She snapped at him, after the clerk had scuttled away to the safety of the stock room.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied, eyes watching everything but her. Rukia blew out her cheeks and narrowed her eyes.
She’d had enough. Enough of this ‘close but distant’ Renji. Enough of this ‘threatening everyone who came near her’ Renji. Enough of this ‘I’m ignoring you, but not really’ Renji. This Renji could suck a lemon. If this was some kind of punishment for being kidnapped and not escaping sooner, well, she had had enough.
She stood abruptly and grabbed his hand in firm, unforgiving fingers. He looked down at her, startled – the first real expression he’d shown her in weeks.
“Rukia! Wha-?”
“Just shuttup and come on.”
She dragged him to the rear of the store, ignoring the glances from other shoppers. He baulked when they walked into the changing area, trying to pull her back without hurting her – but she wasn’t stopping. She shoved aside a curtain, pushed him into the small, mirrored room, squeezed in after him and closed the curtain behind her.
“Rukia! What the f-“
“Shut it, you!”
She breathed heavily, teeth gritted and face pink with days of built-up frustration. Renji had pressed himself into one corner, hands up and eyes wide. Did he think she was going to mug him? He was still able to dump her on her ass every morning in training!
She stared into his eyes, brows pulled together and poked him in the chest to emphasize just how pissed off she was.
“I don’t care if you’re a bodyguard, and I don’t care if you’re still mad at me about what happened. I have had enough of your emotional stick up the ass, Renji!”
He looked at her, flabbergasted.
“I thought you were my best friend. But you won’t speak to me like you used to – you don’t even look at me like I’m your friend, ever since you found me and brought me home.”
His shoulders relaxed a little, and that familiar stubborn expression began to take over his features. She pressed on.
“Is that all I am now? Just a security assignment? With everything we’ve been through – I thought we would be together forever. Friends through thick and thin.”
He winced, and looked away, clenching his jaw. Rukia stopped, and let the silence hang. The small room felt like an auditorium – there was so much distance between them. When had that even happened?
“I am your friend.” Renji spat the words bitterly. “And that’s why I can’t let it happen again. I can’t lose focus.”
He looked down at her, eyes filled with fiery emotion. He grabbed her shoulders, trying to make her understand.
“I’m not mad at you, I’m mad at me. I thought I lost you, and it was my fault for not being there. But you got hurt, badly, and for what happened to you on my watch… I can’t forgive myself.”
His fingers tightened painfully, and she suppressed a wince.
“So, you’re never going to speak to me again? You’re just going to pretend I don’t exist?”
“I won’t be distracted. You’re too important-” To me.
He let go of her, and they shared an awkward silence. Finally, she turned her head, unable to leave but unable to look at him.
“If you’re going to act like an idiot, then I’ll treat you like one, Abarai.”
“Whatever you need, Lady Kuchiki.”
Anger swirled around them, straining, straining.
“Fine!”
“FINE!”
“Fine.”
Rukia stormed out, whipping the curtain aside and pushing past the small crowd that had gathered to snoop on the couple in the changing room.
Renji stepped out after her, all black suited aggression and attitude. One of the women actually swooned as he passed by.
Rukia continued her shopping, ignoring him for the rest of the afternoon. He managed to convey both hypervigilance and neglect in the way he watched over her – an impressive feat, she had to admit – if she wasn’t made enough to bite someone.
They drove back to the penthouse, sitting together silence in the back of the limousine. Renji’s arms were crossed, and he refused to look at her. She watched him from the corner of her eyes, thinking, and as the light began to fade, so did her anger as she considered his words.
I thought I lost you… I can’t forgive myself… You’re too important.
She cared about him, and it was obvious he still cared for her. But this blame he was putting on himself was ridiculous. Two of his men had been killed.
Rukia sat up straight, eyes wide at the thought.
The two men at the apartment were killed. If Renji had been there… he would have been…
“Renji.”
He ignored her.
She scooted over in her seat, until they were knee to knee. He shifted, trying to fold himself in to the corner. When that didn’t work, he swung his head around and glared at her.
“What?”
“On the day Yammy took me, two of your best guys died.” His face turned to stone, and she realized that might have not been the best thing to say. She hurried on.
“What I meant was, if you had been there, you would have died instead.” He didn’t move, didn’t breathe. Had she pushed too far? Finally, he said:
“I would have died protecting you. I could’ve lived with that.”
There was a pause as they both thought about the words.
“Renji… that made no sense.”
He pressed his lips together. “You know what I meant!” She began to chuckle, then laugh out loud as he became comically furious.
“It makes sense if you think about it! Rukia! Stop laughing! I’m serious!” His bumbling frustration just made her laugh harder, holding her sides until she nearly cried.
She let out a last breath and wiped a tear from her eye, smiling at him. It was the first times he had made her laugh since before she was taken. He looked mulish, unwilling to admit the dark humor of the moment.
“Renji... “She said, a faint blush from laughing still on her face “…do you remember that morning?”
He threw his hands up and shook his head in disbelief. Seriously? How was she making these emotional jumps?
“Of course, I do! We got the call, and-”
“No,” she interrupted, the pink on her cheeks getting darker “No. Before that. When we were training.”
He froze.
Of course, he remembered. He had burned that memory into his brain, thinking it was the last time he was ever going to see her. The way they’d sparred, knocked each other playfully, laughed together – and that moment, on the mat.
“Yeah.”
She glanced down at her hands.
“You were acting… different.” She said quietly.
He didn’t respond, but he felt his neck and face flush. How was he supposed to explain that? Rukia was his friend, and oblivious to him as anything more than that. He had been just as dense about his own feelings towards her for years, only coming to realize the truth during the last war, in a moment of shocking clarity. He’d kept those feelings locked away, hidden deep inside where he wouldn’t have to worry about confusing himself, or her.
But with everything coming back – Aizen, the conflicts, the preparations – that lock had snapped, and he’d acted on emotions long denied.
“I had a lot of time think, while I was in that place.” She said, breaking the tension. “I would escape into my memory, and live out moments that kept me calm, made me feel hopeful.”
He waited, almost afraid to breathe.
“I thought about you a lot. About the fun we had as kids, then as teens and the pranks we pulled on Ichigo. About your weird eyebrows and your crazy tattoos...”
“Hey!” It was hard to sound indignant when she spoke like this.
“…And that morning when you almost kissed me.”
Her skin felt hot. Admitting these things out loud was a lot more embarrassing than just thinking about them. She couldn’t look him in the eye but could see his fists clenched on his knees. Was he mad that she mentioned the kiss? She glanced up to check.
His lips were parted, and there was a question in his eyes that she wasn’t sure she had an answer for. He looked… hopeful, and there was something she wanted to know.
“Renji…”
“Rukia.”
She shivered, something in his voice had stuck a chord deep inside her. It was new and scary and dangerously alluring. She gave him a smile that promised pain.
“What time are we training tomorrow?”
He’d been patient, watching and biding his time. He knew every face that entered the bar, every car that pulled into the parking lot, and every scheduled movement of the staff.
Halibel’s information network was fairly tame and held little challenge from someone like Gin Ichimaru. So, he spent his days tending his little spy garden, and his nights watching for her.
There were so many opportunities to speak with her – she was always alone, always playing the part of the friendly, personable waitress. But he knew her well and wanted to give her time to recognize his presence before he made his move – it would be so much more fun if she was anticipating him.
The moon waned, and the last few drunks left the bar, swaying and staggering towards the main road. His smile widened at the last three men who left – Zaraki and his two offsiders, again. The big man had been the last one to leave a few times since he’d suspected someone was watching the bar. The way those wide shoulders tensed, and that brutish head swiveled, hunting for something… Gin nearly chuckled.
The three weren’t nearly as intoxicated as they pretended to be, as they waited for Matsumoto to close the bar and padlock the doors. They waved farewell to each other, and she headed for the parking lot, unlocking her car, her mind clearly elsewhere.
He shifted in the shadows, just enough to allow the movement to be seen.
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing a warning. Suddenly, the busty, ditzy waitress looked like a sleek, dangerous predator. He grinned, happy that her senses were still sharp. But she didn’t seem to suspect it was him.
Ah, well – surprises can be as fun as anticipation, I suppose.
“Who’s there?” She called loudly, a challenge.
Gin stepped into the light, a few yards from her. He lifted his head and his smile widened at her reaction to seeing him after nearly two years. Shock. Fear. Anger. Sadness. The elements of betrayal. She took in his tailored alabaster suit and the dark shirt unbuttoned almost to the waist.
“Gin!” Breathless, accusing.
“Rangiku. You’re looking well.” His voice was smooth and sibilant, easing around her.
He stalked closer, taking advantage of her shock until he was close enough to touch. She backed up, pressing herself against the driver’s side door. Her hands gripped her keys, raising them like a weapon, so he gently put his hand on her wrist, lowering it without resistance. She didn’t even seem to notice.
“Why are you here?”
He took a step closer, closing the distance between them, and tilted his head as he looked down at her.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
He watched the emotions play across her face – fear that he was going to kill her, anger that he would even try, sadness that is meant he no longer cared, and a familiar one, something he had hoped was still there. Warmth, care…
…Love.
Still holding her wrist in the softest grasp, he moved his other hand around her waist sliding down slowly to her hip as he leaned towards her. She gasped as his lips softly brushed against her temple, her cheekbone and down to her jaw.
He was gentle, cool to the touch and still knew every spot on her skin that had her heart beating faster. He didn’t rush, didn’t change his pace as those lips travelled down, caressing her face like so many times before. Soft, slow, sensual – torture.
He left small butterfly kisses along her jaw, teasing her skin and making her breaths hitch. His smile widened and his head dipped further, delicately nipping at her neck, licking and tasting, remembering…
“Gin… stop…” Breathless, helpless.
He pulled his head away, but his hands stayed in place. His smile dipped, and he opened his eyes wider, a look she remembered as ‘who, me?’.
“Why are you really here, Gin?”
He wanted to tease her, but it had been so long since he’d been this close to that mellow honey scent of her shampoo. He wanted to do many things – but she had told him to stop. He knew her limits better than anyone… Rangiku had never told him to ‘stop’, before.
“I came for the watermelon and peach cocktail?”
She stared at him.
“A dog stole my homework and I chased it here?”
She stared at him.
“I wanted to see you. Isn’t that enough?”
Rangiku sighed, pulling out of the light hold he had on her wrist and placing a small hand on his chest, gently pushing him back a step.
“It’s not enough. You have a warrant on your head. You’re intelligent enough to understand who’s nearby to cash that bounty if I scream, yes?”
Gin grinned at that.
“You think the Demon Hunter could catch me? I’d wrap him up and leave him in bandages.”
“Just stop, Gin. Stop. I can’t do this with you. I can’t keep waiting for you to show up and tell me it was all a game. You made your choice – you chose Aizen.” Over me.
He looked away, one hand moving to rub his forehead, brows furrowed.
“You don’t know everything, love.”
Really? Was she right all along? Had it all been a stupid game that went too far? She felt a spark of hope and grabbed his jacket, pulling on him.
“Then tell me! You owe me that much!”
He hesitated. He did want to tell her. He wanted to tell her everything, to let the words tumble from his lips and the truth about his actions be known. But to keep her safe, to keep her alive he simply couldn’t. She was looking up at him with tortured eyes, eyes that pleading for the truth, hands gripping him, and he realized there was one thing he could give her.
Watching for the slightest hint of refusal, he slowly lowered his head until his lips were millimeters from her own. He held there, feeling her tremble and breathing in that delicious, honeyed scent. Waiting, he allowed her to make the choice.
Her eyelids slid shut, and she closed the distance between them, her soft, full lips pushing against his.
She let out a small, strangled moan and leaned into his body as he enveloped her in his arms, holding her tightly. He tilted his head and depend the kiss, gently caressing her tongue with his own, delicious tugs that had her hands fluttering down to grab at his narrow hips and pull them against her.
Rangiku knew this was wrong. She knew the moment he had stepped into the light that she should have screamed or got into her car and run. But she couldn’t deny him the opportunity to come clean and tell her why he had done it. Her skin felt tight and tingled deliciously everywhere their bodies connected, and that was her curse. She was a sucker for this man – she always had been.
He pulled away from her mouth, only to drag his teeth along her neck to bite lightly and then suck hard on her skin. She cried out at the pleasurable pain, fingernails digging into his hips and pulling him ever harder against her. She felt wetness in her jeans and her knees were shaking – how did he always know exactly how where to put his lips?
When one of his hands slid under her blouse to cup her breast, she shifted her own hand pressing it to the front of his trousers and caressing him in firm, languid strokes. Still biting down on her neck, he groaned and thrust softly into her grip, his erection large and hard against her.
“Is this what you came for?” Rangiku whispered, her lips hot against his ear.
“I-“
His words were cut off by a loud roar:
“ICHIMARUUU!”
It all stopped so suddenly that Rangiku was rooted to the spot for a moment before she realised what was happening. Gin whispered to her, a message for her ears only, then turned to the bald man running towards him at full speed.
“Madarame! Sorry, can’t stay – I’ve left the oven on.”
Gin took a few running steps towards the shadows behind the bar and disappeared. Ikkaku was hot on his tail, speeding around the corner and calling for him to come out and fight. Rangiku swallowed, pulled her blouse back into place, and quickly got into her car, turning over the engine, hoping to flee before Ikkaku returned.
She looked up from the steering wheel: no such luck. He was right there, staring at her furiously.
She rolled down her window and gave him a shaky smile when he came around to lean one arm on the hood and glare at her.
“Evening officer. Anything wrong?”
Ikkaku played along, rage making him slightly insane.
“Evening miss. Been hearing reports about a suspicious character in these parts, harassing young women such as yourself. Public indecency, that kind of thing. He’s also known for acts of treason against the city.”
“Oh! That sounds so scary – I better get home right away!” She attempted to drive off, but Ikkaku slapped the hood of her car hard enough to make her jump. His eyes were blown out – this was a man far beyond angry.
“What the fuck were you doing, Rangiku? Don’t you know who you were tongue banging back there?!”
She cringed at his words but held her chin up.
“I didn’t know you were such a prude, Ikkaku?”
He glared at her, growling through clenched teeth.
“Cut the bullshit. That man is a traitor, woman. How long has he been coming around for a little late-night nookie, huh? You turning traitor too, Matsumoto?!”
“Never! Fuck YOU, Madarame!” She yelled at him, insulted that he’d even suggest her betrayal. She stomped on the gas, leaving him coughing in the dust and cursing after her.
She’d fucked up. She’d fucked up bigtime. But she could fix it – she would call Toshiro and tell him everything, right now. He’d understand – he knew about Gin, and he would have her back.
She drove for a few more minutes then pulled over to the side of the road and picked up her phone, selecting the number for ‘Frost Boss’.
While she waited for him to answer, she thought about the last words Gin spoke to her and swallowed, not willing to share those with Toshiro.
“Hello?” The voice was grumpy and cracked with sleep.
“Histugaya – You need to hear this from me before you hear it from anyone else.”
Instantly awake, he answered, “What? Are you ok? Is the bar ok?”
His concern for her wellbeing was comforting, and she knew he’d take her side on this. As long as she was honest and told him everything.
Our futures aren’t our own anymore, but my need for you is eternal.
Mostly everything.
Notes:
Welp, I did it. I committed to the bit and I set up GinRan.
We've had some flirting, some kissing and some hot make out sessions in this fic so far, but I am warning you: From here on out - There Be Monsters. The SMUT is getting close. Our key relationships are set, with a few side hookups, and there is still a war going on, but hey - people still have needs. And I'm gonna give the people what they want!
I'd love to hear your thoughts! Please drop a comment, and give your girl some loooove! <3
Laters!
Chapter 21: The Yarrow Flower
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kenpachi wasn’t willing to wait for Ikkaku when the man ran back to the bar for his phone – why didn’t he just get another one? He was hoping Matsumoto was still at her car, so he had asked them to wait for five minutes. They had a cab waiting for them nearby and the driver, while terrified of abandoning Kenpachi’s fare, was also making tiny rolling movements to get away.
That had been ten minutes ago, and the Captain was not a patient man.
Then Ikkaku had come stalking around the corner, storm brewing over his head, as Kenpachi yelled at him to hurry up and stop dawdling. That’s when Ikkaku had snarled about the interaction he had witnessed.
“I just saw Gin Ichimaru.”
There was a beat of silence as the words started an avalanche of reactions within the men.
“WHAT?!” Kenpachi leaped forward, but Ikkaku blocked him, scowling.
“He’s gone, Captain. He did his sneaky disappearing act that he’s so good at.”
“What exactly did you see?” Yumichika queried.
Ikkaku pulled a disgusted face as he recalled the way the two had been crushed together against the car, hands all over each other, rubbing and grasping. Rangiku was a comrade and had a killer figure – but the image of her all over that fox faced bastard had soured his opinion of her severely.
“I was running to parking lot, and I saw a man in a white suit struggling with Matsumoto. At first, I thought it was a mugger, but then I realized she could kick a mugger’s ass and steal hit wallet too. Then I saw what they were actually doing, and I was about to back off…”
A raised brow from Yumichika, and a blank look from Kenpachi.
“… when I noticed the silver hair. I called out, but the bastard bolted, and I lost him.”
“What were they doin’?” Kenpachi asked.
Yumichika jerked and gave his captain a look that screamed ‘really?’ Ikkaku pressed his lips together and shifted, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his chin like he was preparing for a fight.
“They were making out, sir.”
Kenpachi’s eyes rolled, his disinterest clear.
“We need to report this.” Ikkaku snapped. “If Ichimaru is in town, then maybe the information about Aizens retreat was bogus. Perhaps they’re back early-“
“Aizens not here, Ikkaku.” Kenpachi turned and began walking to towards the cab. “Ichimaru is alone on this one.”
Ikkaku and Yumichika shared a look and watched as their captain folded himself into the back of the cab, then indicated they hurry up, or he was leaving without them. They got in, Yumichika taking the front passenger seat as they gave the addresses to the driver, and he pulled away from the curb.
“What do you mean he’s alone?” Yumichika asked.
Kenpachi folded his arms across his chest and frowned at them – hadn’t he told them this? He could have sworn they knew about Gin and Rangiku.
“Those two were livin’ together - until about two years ago.”
Ikkaku exclaimed so loudly that the cabbie swerved, shocked. Yumichika took a moment to let the words sink in, biting his thumb and thinking through everything he knew about the woman.
“It’s not a big deal.” Kenpachi said, not saying names while they were within earshot of a civilian, “when shit hit the fan, she chose sides. The Kid backed her up, and that was that.” He could only mean one ‘Kid’ – Hitsugaya.
Kenpachi looked at them, confused – why were they so shocked by this? There were all kinds of relationships between Aizens gang and the Chiefs before the last war.
“I mean, hell – I was on friendly terms with the bastard before everything went down, remember?”
Ikkaku coughed, that was true enough. Kenpachi was often a part of Gins’ pranks when it came to setting up the high and mighty, like the Kuchiki prince. There was that time they’d spray painted flower petals all over his limousine – but the noble had ignored it, driving around in the blossom bedazzled vehicle for weeks. It was a strange time for everyone.
Ikkaku tried again, “But, sir – this was-“
“None of our business.” Kenpachi said, cutting him off.
They were silent for the car ride back, dropping the big man at the barracks before continuing on to their shared apartment.
Once home, Yumichika unlocked the door while Ikkaku paid the fare. The two men kicked off their shoes and went inside, but Ikkaku paused and turned to his housemate in frustration.
“He needs to tell someone about this.”
“He will.”
Ikkaku glared at the man, who was gracefully shedding his jacket and heading for the bathroom, seemingly unconcerned.
“Why doesn’t he care? He’d usually be itching to fight Gin.”
Silence from the hallway, and Ikkaku wondered if the other man had heard him. He turned to check.
Yumichika was right there, a tiny towel around his waist, pale chest bare and pleasantly defined. He cocked a hand on his hip and gave a coy smile.
“The captain isn’t interested in couples’ affairs.”
Ikkaku scoffed, “You got that right.”
Then he grinned, moving closer to the man. He crossed his arms over the hem of his shirt and pulled it up over his chest and head, revealing tanned skin, tight over hard packed muscle. Standing close enough to ruffle the feathers on his brows, Ikkaku dipped his fingers to his belt and undid it with a snap. He watched Yumichika’s eyes go dark and smirked, loving how responsive the man was. Unable to help himself, he tucked his thumbs into the front of his pants, pulled the material forward and asked boldly:
“You wanna help me with the zipper?”
The following morning dawned bright and humid – a warning of storms to come.
Sunday, a perfect morning to shop the flower market.
Unohana walked the small open stalls, basket in one hand, holding a broad brimmed straw hat on her head with the other. She had abandoned her work suit and doctors coat for an ankle length flowing skirt made of the lightest cotton, and a long sleeve pale blue blouse, covering her from wrist to neck.
She enjoyed her Sundays here, hunting for out of season lilies and rare orchids. She had already found a selection of rare blossoms from an out-of-town horticulturalist and had spent nearly an hour discussing the cross genetics to grow them in this climate.
Her stomach growled, and she realized that in her hurry to get to the stalls, she had forgotten to have breakfast. Glancing at the high sun, she understood that she had already spent her morning hours, and it was time to head back and grab some lunch. She turned to leave but couldn’t help stopping at the last stall on the street after spotting her favorite bloom. She bent over the blossom, enjoying its simple beauty.
A large shadow eased over her, blocking the sun and the shopkeeper backed away from her, sweating. She didn’t need to turn to know who had found her, again, on her day off.
“Hello, Zaraki.” She greeted, not turning from the flower. “How much is this?” She asked the shop keeper, who blanched and stammered out the price. She smiled, reached into her wallet and paid the man, then plucked the thin sheath of plastic around the stem and placed the flower with her others.
Finally looking up, she caught the brim of her hat with one hand and tilted her head up to smile politely at the big man. She had to squint a little against the light, making him scowl. With a jerk of his head to indicate they should walk together, he led her away from the market, along a quiet street that ended in a park.
He didn’t say a word, and she was enjoying the quiet presence he brought. There was something very calming about having him there, which was strangely ironic, as he continually challenged her to fight (supposedly to the death). But here they were, with him walking a few feet ahead of her, which was a terrible idea, really – the man had no sense of direction.
They entered a small park: A few well-spaced trees and hedges, jungle gym for children and several green benches. Her stomach growled again, louder, and she blushed trying to ignore it. But Kenpachi stopped and glanced at her over his shoulder.
“You hungry?” He sounded… curious. Not angry or frustrated, just curious.
“I was about to head home to eat, yes.” She replied calmly.
He seemed to consider that, then shrugged as if it didn’t matter. “You can eat after we fight.”
“We won’t be fighting, Captain.”
He spun to face her, and she realized he wasn’t wearing his weapon, anyway. She eyed the leather shoes, loose jeans and sunglasses he always wore. The sleeveless black hoodie was a little short for him, revealing a hint of toned flesh as he shifted, and she felt her face heat.
Every day for almost two weeks, he’d been coming to her office around lunch time. She worked six days, only having Sundays for herself, so when he had tracked her down last weekend to knock on her apartment door, he’d barely been able to offer the challenge before she was slamming it in his face, upset enough about being interrupted at home that she’d momentarily lost her cool.
That hadn’t deterred him from coming back to her office on Monday for the same challenge again. Taking up her couch and annoying her for several minutes. Wandering the small office as she attempted to work, touching the few items she kept on the bookcase and turning them just so, to annoy her. Interrupting her senses with the scent of him on everything in the room.
It had started to become so regular that when he hadn’t shown up yesterday, she had been a little worried. At first, she relaxed, thinking he had finally gotten bored of this little battle of wills. But then her instincts kicked in, and she had a suspicion for his whereabouts. Leaving her office, she had very casually passed by the clinic, and found him sitting on a bed, awaiting several stitches across his right thigh.
He noticed her, jutting his chin in challenge. She just shook her head, lifting a brow to silently ask the question. He chuffed at her.
“Bounty thought they could set a trap that’d stop me.” He grinned, showing off those sharp canines of his. “They thought wrong.”
She had tried to give him her standard polite smile, but it felt forced. His pants were around his ankles, knees spread and a thin medical sheet over his lap. His hands were behind him on the bed, propping him up as he waited for the doctor. It wasn’t like he was trying to pose or exhibition his body, he was just naturally laid back, uncaring and unafraid of nudity or pain.
And she had felt a strange flutter at the sight of him like that. There was the fun expectation of seeing him each day, watching him posture and challenge, trying to get under her skin, and failing. It reminded her that beneath the body of a grown man in this prime and the mind of a brutal warrior was a heart that was much less experienced. She didn’t want to admit it, but she was growing to enjoy his intrusions – it was becoming a part of her routine.
She hadn’t felt that ravenous hunger towards him since that day by the water, but the memory of it was haunting. Now, there was a seed of tenderness, growing stronger every day.
Not lust, she told to herself, something… warmer. Care? He makes me feel… wild. Free. She frowned at that and turned away from him. I gave up wild the day I met him.
Now, he was looking at her, hands in his pockets, scarred face hidden beneath those damn glasses. The wind picked up, tossing his hair this way and that, and she heard a faint chiming sound. Looking at his clothing, she spotted the two brass bells sewn onto the tassels of his hoodie, and she lifted one hand to hide a smile.
He looked down, then back at her with rueful eyes. His face said it all: Yachiru. And he wasn’t about to remove them for fear of retribution.
The moment caught Kenpachi off guard.
Yachiru had put the bells on that morning, telling him now people would hear him coming, and be ready for a fight. He’d liked that idea, but seeing Retsu’s face filled with humor, the soft warmth in her eyes, he realized he liked that, too.
It’s not the face I wanted to see, but it’s… nice. Seeing her laugh, for a change.
He didn’t like where his thoughts were at these days. Every moment that wasn’t filled with hunting, slicing or Yachiru was filled with thoughts of her. He found himself looking forward to the daily trip to the hospital, even learning the right turns to take to avoid getting lost if he wanted to take his motorbike.
She still frustrated him, refusing his challenges and calmly asking him to leave. He never left until he felt like it, just to irk her. But every day he found himself staying a little longer, pushing her buttons and lounging on her couch to take up as much space as possible.
And now here he was, standing in public with her, her basket full of flowers and her hair demurely plaited down her back. She was playing the part of the soft, gentle healer. A delicate female.
Shit.
He had no idea how to act it this situation. There wasn’t a manual about interacting with women like her. And like many things Kenpachi did when he didn’t know what to do, he shrugged his shoulders and began walking away, leaving her there with her silly flowers and her stupid hat and her hungry belly.
Wait…
He turned back to her; hands shoved in his pockets and brows pulled together.
“Wanna eat some food?” He asked, the question coming out like snarled threat, rather than a kind gesture.
She smiled up at him, and it had that same warmth from before. He felt something unwind in his shoulders, and a tension that he hadn’t known he was holding onto began to ease. His throat tightened at her smile, and he was sure he was supposed to respond somehow. He suddenly hoped she would refuse, then he could avoid the whole string of scenarios that included interacting socially with a woman. From everything the men of the 11th had told him, it sounded like chewing glass.
“That would be lovely.”
Shit.
Fifteen minutes later they were sitting at a small diner, listening to terrible off brand song covers and ordering rib eye steaks.
Kenpachi shouldn’t have been surprised by her choice of meal, she was a predator at heart. But the thought of her biting into a bloody steak just didn’t fit the persona she was trying to pull off today.
Damn woman was all kinds of confusing.
He lifted his sunglasses to look at her, but as he watched her remove the sun hat and carefully place the basket of flowers next to it in their small booth, he decided to just accept her as she was today, and not thinking too hard on her many faces.
“So how did you find me at the market?” She asked, genuinely curious.
“Ya have a friendly doorman. Ballsy, but nice enough.”
Her face fell – had he threatened the man?
He gave her a shark like grin and chuckled, a gravelly sound that was scarier than the smile.
“I’m serious. He’s got a nephew who trained with us a few years back before entering the 7th with Komamura. He let me know where to find ya. Even threatened me.”
Unohana breathed a sigh of relief, then sucked it back in, eyes widening in alarm. He had known who Kenpachi was, and had threatened him? The Captains grin widened, turning the slightest bit feral.
“Yeah, he said I shouldn’t ‘take advantage of the nice doctor’.”
Unohana sat up straight, offended, and glared at him as he let out a bark of laughter, scaring the other patrons surrounding them. Several couples decided it was time to leave, but Zaraki didn’t seem to notice.
Kenpachi got control of himself as the waitress came over, cautiously dropping off their steaks, fries and salad. Without waiting, he dug into his meal, his manners closer to an army den than a civilian restaurant. She didn’t even blink, just started eating her own steak, enjoying the heavy flavor of rare meat, rich gravy and crunchy summer vegetables.
They ate in silence, enjoying the comfort of sharing a meal with someone who knew their inner selves, and didn’t judge them for their public faces.
This is ok. They each thought. It’s different, but… Nice.
They finished eating and sat back in repose, plates empty and bellies full.
“So did ya get some good ones?” Kenpachi felt relaxed enough to ask, nodding to the basket.
She nodded happily, and lifted the blooms, showing off one after the other and telling him their names, their color variations, and their meaning. He listened, surprised to find himself enjoying the sound of her voice and the simple pleasure on her face at the bright little bits of green.
Suddenly, she stopped, her cheeks flushing pink.
“Apologies, this must be boring for you. It was the first diversion I picked up after… when I started working at the hospital. I forget that not everyone is as excited about Ikebana as I am.”
He waved away her apology like it was nothing.
“Keep going. It makes ya happy.” He murmured.
The gentle look she gave him was one he’d never seen before, but it was confusing, and it made his heartbeat faster.
“What about that bunch of white ones?” He asked, shifting her attention back to the flowers.
She smiled and picked up the small floret. Caressing it gently, she brought it to her lips, and raised her eyes to him.
“This is yarrow.” She hummed, “It’s primary meaning is ‘Fight’.”
He grinned at that. “Then I like that one!”
She pressed a tiny kiss to the flower, and stood, leaning over the table towards him. He sat perfectly still, watching her come closer. Her arm reached up, and she tucked the flower stem carefully behind his ear, gifting him the yarrow.
She sat back down, tilting her head to admire the flower on him. They looked absurd. But she quite enjoyed the absurdity of seeing this big, barbarian with the bells on his tassels, and the flowers in his hair. It all just fit, thought she couldn’t say why.
He was watching her carefully, unsure if she was pulling a prank on him – but he decided to let it slide. Yachiru would like the flowers as a gift.
As they waited for the bill, Kenpachi told her about the new barracks and apartment he’d moved into. She indicated an interest in seeing it sometime, and he – of course – said she was welcome to come around for a sparring session at any time. He’d be there, ready for the challenge.
Time passed quickly, and within minutes they were outside on the street and storm clouds had started rolling in.
“The weather forecast said it’s going to be storming all week. I’ll be treating slips and falls till my next day off.” She said with a sigh.
He looked down at her from his height and took into account how much closer she was standing to him now, than she was earlier. He was a tall man, but he had never considered her as ‘short’ until right at that moment.
“Don’t think you can get out of a challenge just because of some rain.” He growled.
She looked up at him, with his sunglasses back in place and his crossed arms, making his biceps and chest bulge and flex under the sleeveless material. She felt lava moving through her, making everything warm.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of denying you your daily disappointment.” She purred.
His gaze sharpened at her tone and a muscle twitched in his jaw. He raised one arm to his neck, rubbing it – a nervous gesture, she had come to realize, and accidently dislodged the yarrow flower. It fluttered to the ground, and she let out a sound of dismay.
Quickly bending to retrieve it, she held it out to him. He looked at the flower, then back at her - but instead of taking it, he leaned down, bringing his face to her eyeline, and waited.
He was so close, she could see his eyes watching her through the glasses, could define the edges of the scar on his face – her scar. She stared at his lips, slim and hard, carved from stone and so hot he could brand her. She remembered the taste of him and felt that boiling lava flow up her spine. Her breathing sped up as he waited for her to move.
“Can ya put it back?” He asked softly, breaking her concentration on his lips.
She fumbled with the flower, gently putting it back in place, and allowing her fingertips to trace the curve of his ear and the beginning of his jawline, caressing without thinking.
A soft, low rumble began in his chest, and he swallowed, trying to hold it in, but the sound reverberated around them.
She was doing it again – that confusing looking and touching. The thing that made him twitch and tense, unsure of his standing with her. When she looked at him like this, his mind would whiplash back to the feel of her tongue in his mouth, her breasts pressed against his chest, and he would get distracted, mixing up the past, the present and whatever the hell kind of future he couldn’t see.
She leaned back, breaking the spell she was casting on him, and hurriedly arranged the flowers in her basket, though there was no need. She gripped the sunhat and plopped it on her head as he stood up fully, still trying to clear the fog she’d put in his brain.
“I’d best be heading off; I need to get these in water.” She said, recollecting her composure, and putting on that blasted polite smile.
“Oi.” He said, stopping her, his mind still playing catchup to his mouth. What to say?
“We should eat again. Together.”
She looked surprised but hid it quickly behind the smile. “Perhaps dinner, next time?”
“Yeah.” He grunted the reply, then glared at the set of teenagers who stared at him as they entered the diner.
When he looked back, she was already walking away, skirt flowing in the wind.
He turned and began making his way back to the barracks, getting lost within minutes. As he walked, he let his mind go over the events of what had happened, considering a much-needed nap when he eventually found his way back.
Huh. He thought, trying to stay disinterested, and failing miserably.
I’ve got a date.
Notes:
IkkaYumi is delightful.
KenUno fluff is my CRACK.Thankyou for reading! xxx
Leave a comment if you liked this chapter!
Props to Kxnpachi for your support <3
Chapter 22: Call Me By My Name
Summary:
Yes, this song did go through my head for about 3 seconds as I was planning this chapter: https://open.spotify.com/track/0TxXEbxn52XsuAhxb6VFZw?si=65a946c993994e03
"This Kiss" - Faith Hill
"All I wanted was a white knight, with a good heart, soft touch, fast horse."
Also Norah Jones?
**EDIT** Massive thankyou to Dogblessya For the EPIC Shunsui art for this chapter! Loaded 23DEC2022*** https://at.tumblr.com/dogblessyoutascha/shunsui-lineart-commission-to-go-with-chapter-22/fdgzrt9xh2rr
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Monday
Shunsui stood at his window, listening to the rain and the fading sounds of voices drifting through the corridors, the heavy clanging of the front doors swinging shut, and the murmurs of various teachers making their way home to begin prep for tomorrow.
He had spent the last two weeks working on plans and tactical reports given to him by the Vizard, Hitsugaya’s information, Soifon, Urahara’s network and his own experience. His preparation was in constant flux, planning for every eventuality.
If Aizen got his hands on the alloy, they needed an antidote ready for immediate rollout – that was Kurotsuchi’s department. Aizen would need to be able to access the gas and water mains to spread the drug, so Kyouraku had been working with Shuuhei to increase security and add additional power contingencies. If Aizen was going to come in slowly, and actually infiltrate the city with an army, they needed the 11th, the 7th and anyone else they could spare to hold them off until the governor could call in reinforcements. It was an enormous task.
He was starting to get a headache, but it helped to distract him from his thoughts of Nanao. When the temporary retreat had been made known, Nanao had stepped up, taking on most of his Principal duties and reporting along with her own work. He trusted her to do everything perfectly but having her so close and so distant was a kind of slow torture.
She only spoke to him when spoken to, ignoring his regular flirtations like she always did, but not scolding him like she used to. He had tried to get her alone, to discuss the situation like adults, but she had continually found reasons to include other staff members or students in those ‘discussions’, effectively neutering any talk of them.
He pressed his fingers to the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pressure. He needed an aspirin and a nap, but he’d settle for a drink and gazing at the clouds.
Removing his dark grey jacket and pink tie, he draped them over the back of his chair and undid the top four buttons on his shirt, then unbuttoned his cuffs and rolled his sleeves up to the elbow, feeling more relaxed with a bit of air flow on his skin. We walked back to the window and propped one forearm above the frame staring out at the last school busses pulling away. He noticed several teachers running to their cars, folders over their heads to stay dry, and considered heading home himself – the rain was soothing.
He heard the click of his door opening and turned his head to see who was intruding without knocking.
Nanao didn’t notice him at first, but she had already taken a step into the room when she caught sight of him leaning against the window, shirt unbuttoned and looking like the cover model for a romance novel.
What would that even be called? She wondered, ‘A Study in Love’? Oh god, I’m starting to sound like Lisa.
Her guilt returned. Lisa, that kiss - It was all such a mess. One that he created.
“I’m sorry, Sir, I thought you’d left for the day. I’ll just leave these here.” She said quickly and stepped into the room, dropping the files on the corner of his desk. He didn’t say anything about her intrusion, but she heard a sad sigh and her gut clenched.
“Thank you.” He said quietly, turning back to the window.
Nanao wasn’t a woman who acted on impulse. She was thoughtful, careful and serious about everything she did. Having a superior like Kyouraku Shunsui was both a challenge and an education. Every day brought new learning, a new way to view the world and a new appreciation of him as the multifaceted man he was.
She knew he cared for her. But even with all the silly flirtations and innuendo, she had firmly believed it was all for play – his way of showing affection without any serious intent. She enjoyed knocking him with her fan, pushing back that little bit and maintaining that comfortable boundary between them.
So, when he had crossed that border, and come at her with genuine desire, she panicked. It wasn’t like she hadn’t had the odd daydream or two about him, about how he would smell and taste and feel. When he had leaned down, she thought she could talk herself through it, but then he had pressed that kiss to her lips, the lightest contact - seeking without demanding – and she froze.
Every fibre of her being screamed at her, her fight or flight response going into meltdown. She was so wrapped in anxiety, that before she could make a decision about how to respond, he was pulling away, eyes filled with embarrassment and hurt.
Please don’t look at me like that! She wanted to cry, but she just lay there, staring at him as her throat worked to make a sound.
He had raised a hand to his forehead, and he seemed to be flustered, eyes darting and sweat forming on his brow.
“I- I’m so sorry, Nanao. I don’t know what came over me.”
In the blink of an eye, he had been out the door, closing it behind him before she could utter a word.
After several minutes, she finally shifted, bringing a hand to her mouth and brushing her fingers over her lips. Her tongue flicked out, but there was nothing to taste. The smell of his cologne was still faintly there – a gentle scent of oak and sake. She tried to remember the feel of his lips on hers, but her mind had erased it, and she cursed her childish reaction.
It’s not the first time you’ve been kissed, you silly girl! She reprimanded herself harshly. But it was the one she most wanted to remember.
He had sent her a few texts to check in on her, and she had responded curtly, not wanting to engage him further, until she could figure out exactly where they stood in their relationship. A border jump could be a onetime thing – a mistake that he didn’t wish to pursue and instantly regretted. And he had looked regretful when he walked away.
She felt sick.
Then the school term had resumed, and she had busied herself in the task of teaching her class. She enjoyed working with the younger children, and though it wasn’t as exciting as her digital espionage career, she found a sense of fulfillment. Yachiru had caught her one afternoon to check on her and ask if she wanted to join a new club with a few other women and girls. Nanao had laughed it off but had said, jokingly, that she would happily be the vice chair for such a group.
Shunsui had called her in for a few meetings, but she had always managed to find a colleague or student as a buffer that she just had to have there for one reason or another. And finally, he had stopped seeking her out altogether – allowing her to take the school side of his workload without objection.
And now she was alone with him in his office, in an empty school with nothing but time and strained emotions between them.
Just ask him. Hear him say the words: ‘It was a mistake. Spur of the moment’.
She nodded to herself, walked over to the office door and closed it, standing quietly in the room, waiting for him to notice her.
But… I don’t want it to be a mistake…
He turned, brows shooting up that she was still in the room. He glanced around the office, searching for a reason.
“Was there anything else?” He asked nervously.
She took a deep, steadying breath. No reason to beat around the bush, she needed to be firm and direct:
“Why did you kiss me in the hospital?”
Time slowed.
Nanao studied him, searching for the slightest hint of flippancy or silliness to cover the truth. He seemed to be stunned, rooted to the spot - even his breathing had halted. She was always respectful, always careful to treat him with esteem and deference – but this was personal, and she needed him to respond to her as an equal.
“Shunsui.” She prompted, wanting his answer.
He shuddered, putting a shaking hand to him mouth and stroking his bottom lip, eyes dark.
“Don’t do that.” His voice was a rumble from deep in his chest.
“Do what?”
“Don’t call me by my name.”
Nanao pressed her lips together and ducked her head – she wasn’t sorry, but she couldn’t refuse an order.
“You didn’t answer my question. Sir.” She said, adding a tiny bit of sass to the title.
“I don’t think you want to know my answer, Lieutenant.”
She sucked in a breath. He never called her by her rank! She felt put on trial - when had she lost control of this conversation? She considered his words: was he trying to protect her? Did he think she couldn’t handle something a stupid as a momentary lapse of control by a superior? She felt anger bubble up inside her.
“I think I deserve to know, sir, as I was the one who was kissed.”
His face shifted, and she knew she had messed up. He took a step towards her, then another until he was in her space, filling her senses and making her quiver, but she refused to look away. He couldn’t make her back down just because he was bigger and stronger than her. She refused to be afraid of whatever he would say.
“Do you really want to know? Or do you just want a pretty lie?” He asked.
He was looking at her with eyes made of melted chocolate, warming her cheeks pleasantly.
“I-“ She stopped, unsure for a moment. She took in his proximity, the way he was looking at her, the warmth of his chest and the soft breaths tickling her hair. He was her leader, her friend and her confidant. She felt more for him that she wanted to admit. Was she ready to know?
“I don’t want it to be a mistake…” she thought out loud, then clapped her hands over her mouth, eyes wide in shock. She hadn’t meant to speak.
But the gentle smile that curved on his lips, and the way his eyes closed, as if answering a prayer, made her lower her hands and swallow heavily. He wasn’t upset by her confession, he was… happy?
He opened his eyes, looking down at her with a heat that had her legs quaking, but she needed to know – her mind would never be satisfied with just looks and innuendo. She needed him to say the words.
“Tell me.” She demanded, feeling her control slipping.
“I kissed you,” he murmured, tilting his head and leaning down, “because I am not a good man.”
He leaned closer. “And also…”
She watched him, eyes glistening with uncertainty and hope.
“…Because I want to be yours, alone.”
Nanao let out a choked sob and lifted her face, shoving her lips against his as everything else disappeared. The fear of the unknown, the anxiety of losing him – it was all melting away, all being evaporated in the heat she could feel growing and burning between them.
She felt his arms gently curl around her, pulling her closer and she reached up to put her hands on his face, keeping him with her as the world shattered and reformed. She felt his tongue on her lower lip and she eased open, allowing him to slowly enter, tasting him as he learned her. She was lost, her mind whirling from the sensation of his hands lazily roaming her back and sides, his stubble tickling her cheek and his clever tongue, teasing and pleasuring her.
Suddenly, she felt him squeeze her tightly and gasped at the sensation of being effortlessly lifted off the ground by strong arms. He swallowed her reaction, grinning against her lips as he took a small step and placed her rear gently on the desk.
Shunsui pressed against her firmly, hands now travelling down her sides, touching and caressing her shoulders, her hips her thighs. Gods, she felt so good against him, her little arms wrapping around his neck to pull him closer, pressing her mouth to him desperately, wanting everything he could give her. He would give her everything she demanded, and more.
Without parting from her, he placed one hand behind her shoulders and gently bore her down to the desk, feeling her tense then relax as he followed her, careful not to put his full weight on her small body. He felt her legs wrap around his waist and he groaned deep in his throat, her hips pressed tight against his hardening shaft.
His mind was swiftly being swamped by lustful images of taking her on his desk, hard and deep, making her moan for him, making her beg him for release with wild abandon. But he had to control himself – he loved her, and that meant considering what was best for her needs, too. Not just his lusts.
Nanao was in raptures. She’d never been devoured like this. Shunsui was a wicked man, making every nerve in her body burn with delicious need. Her legs had magically wrapped around his firm waist, and she could feel him gently rocking against her, stimulating and pushing against her core. She had no regret, no fear – just the feeling of his body pressing against her, the heat of his bared chest making her moan with want.
She felt him ease back and she followed, tyring to recapture his mouth, eyes closed, and face flushed with desire. He was watching her with a smile on his lips, hips still gently rocking against her, as if they had a mind of their own.
“Is this what you want, Nanao?” He asked, his voice deep and rough.
He watched for her response, calling on every ounce of his considerable control.
She lay there, arms now thrown above her head, legs around his waist and chest heaving from his attentions. Her white shirt had lost a button somewhere, revealing a hit of taught flesh and the edge of the scar on her hip. Her practical business skirt ware carelessly pushed up to give those legs more movement and he caught a tantalizing glimpse of white lace.
Restraining himself has never been such a challenge.
“I- I want you.” She stuttered, but there was a flash of uncertainty. Shunsui frowned and stopped his movements. He wasn’t about to use purely his body to persuade her, he wanted her to want him. All of her – not just her body and the heat of the moment.
No matter how incredible it feels. He could feel the heat of her even through the fabric of his trousers, and he groaned in agony.
Nanao squirmed, but she didn’t unwrap her legs from his. He was waiting for her response – her honest response. Her pragmatic mind tapped at her mental window, asking to be let in. She considered what he was asking: Did she want him? He said he wanted to be hers alone – he clearly wanted a relationship with her. Did she want a relationship with this man?
She realised the stupidity of her own thoughts.
Of course I do. She admitted to herself, feeling the chains on her heart falling away. I’ve wanted him forever.
“I want you.” She said more firmly, then added when he began that delicious rocking again, “but I want to take it slow. I still need time to get my head around this.” She raised a brow at him, movement making him grin at her and lick his bottom lip.
“We can go as slow as you need.” He replied, hips still gently rocking. A small sound escaped her.
“But perhaps, just for now-“ He thrust forward slow and hard, pressing against those delicate panties. Her mouth opened and she moaned loudly, feeling the outline of his cock through his trousers. “-I can help ease a bit of this tension we have between us.”
Before she could respond, he leaned back down pressing his body to hers, crushing her against the desk and giving into his restrained desire. He kissed her hard, then shifted his mouth to her neck, sucking the supple flesh and groaning deeply, his thrusts steady but increasing in strength as he enjoyed the feast of small gasps she was giving him.
“S-sir…” She gasped, hands flying to his back and neck, pulling him even as he ground again her. Her heart was beating wildly, and she felt one of his big hands ease under her blouse, delicately travelling to cup one breast and pull aside the silk of her bra with the ease of experience.
She cried out when his large, calloused thumb began slowly strumming her nipple, creating delicious ripples of pleasure that travelled down to the growing pool of liquid heat at her core. She clawed at him, feeling the shirt rip under her nails as she scored his back. The noises he was making on her neck were obscene, but they just added to the frenzy she felt. He rocked and thrust against her, his shaft was like hot iron, searing and pushing her closer to her peak.
“Gods, you taste better than I ever dreamed...” He whispered against her skin, fingers pinching her nipple just hard enough that she let out a choked scream. She felt herself moving, rolling her hips up into his, chasing her release.
“And the sounds you make… wicked…” He groaned as her movements had him biting his lip to hold onto himself. How was she doing that? The way flexed her ass to move her hips on him, legs wrapping tighter, pulling him closer, harder against her. The clothing between them felt like sandpaper over his engorged cock, but it was so good, he couldn’t stop.
The coil of pleasure she felt was tightening, pulling her down into its depths faster and faster with each roll of his hips. Her heart was racing, beaths coming in tiny hiccupping gasps.
“Sir… please-“ She gasped, eyes clenched shut as she writhed under him desperately.
“Shunsui.” He uttered, all his attention on trying to hold onto his seed before she came. “Say my name.”
Nearly out of control, she pulled him back down and whispered in his ear, putting every ounce of her unbridled heat into the words as she began to crest.
“Please… Shunsui…”
He came with a loud, groaning yell, bucking so hard that the desk shifted, tottering across the floor and spilling files left and right. She was right there with him, falling over her peak and crashing hard, crying out as his thrusting movement hit her just right over and over again. It felt like it went on forever, their motions sending waves of pleasure rolling over her one after another, until there was nothing but blissful emptiness.
Eventually, he eased and fell forward, bracing himself on his elbows over her and bowing his head, a single lock of hair falling forward to tickle her face as they both caught their breath. The room was hot, the air thick with scent of sweat and arousal, and Nanao felt a moment of panic.
Then Shunsui dipped his head and proceeded to kiss her with slow, lazy passion. The kind of kiss reserved for long afternoons and romantic evenings when dawn was still hours away. She relaxed into the kiss, hands moving to capture his face, and pull him away for a moment.
She didn’t know what he saw in her eyes, but she knew what she could see in his, and she realised she had made the right choice with this silly, honourable man.
This wasn’t what she would call sex, but the trailer for their feature presentation was certainly whetting her appetite. She would hold him to her rules, though – she wanted to try things slow. A few dates, a dinner or two, to see if they were compatible beyond their current relationship.
Her logical and pragmatic mind adjusted its glasses and applauded her decision. She wouldn’t be overcome by this man and his sinful body.
Yes, slow and steady.
She smiled seductively as she pulled him back down for another one of those addictive kisses.
Notes:
Is it hot in here? It feels a little steamy.
Yes! This was the first Shun/Nanao only chapter! I know that's not to everyone's tastes, and hey! That is totally ok :) I am open to almost all pairings in the fandom, I love them all! <3
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, dear reader! Please leave a comment, I'd love to know your thoughts!
<3
Chapter 23: Fighting the Frozen Dragon
Notes:
Song feels for this chapter - https://open.spotify.com/track/7iyIleLfoTXbUVlch3CVFw?si=0299a8588dad49bc
"Immortals" - Fall Out Boy
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tuesday
It’s going to be a busy night, Toshiro thought, watching yet another group of people enter, calling out greetings to familiar faces.
He leaned down and flicked on several switches under the counter, illuminating the outside of the building with it’s bright blue and white lights, the large LED dragon head with the white snowball in its mouth both fearsome and beckoning.
He had been working longer hours during the midweek shifts, trying to distract himself from the anxiety of hearing next to nothing from Delta squad for over two weeks. Their last communique had been yesterday, a simple ‘No movement within the workshop. The kids are getting restless.’ It was coded for him to understand: They were still waiting for the chemical base to reach full potency, but there was movement among the Arrancar.
But the message that had him cracking the glass under his hand with quiet frustration had come last Friday: ‘Saw a Peach blossom today – it looked dull, but still pretty.’
Momo. She was alive.
He threw the cracked glass into the recycling bin, allowing the shattering glass to release some of his tension. The few patrons sitting at the bar looked at him cautiously, uneasy with his attitude. There weren’t many folks who came to this bar and didn’t know the kind of people who patronized here, but every now and again the odd rowdy biker crew or city thug gang would wander in, thinking this would be the perfect place to establish new territory.
Toshiro was hoping, praying for a scenario to play out like that tonight, so he could finally release some of his pent-up aggression. His movements were sharp and strained, frustration and anger in every line of his body, though his face was relatively calm. He needed to cool down, he was getting too worked up, too hot.
Grabbing a handful of ice from the well, he popped one piece in his mouth suck on, and held the cold chips to his neck, shivering pleasantly as the melt water dribbled down his back and soaked his blue collared shirt.
Rangiku watched him carefully, knowing full well her little boss was one small push from attacking someone and causing yet another lawsuit. She scanned the growing crowd, hoping to spot a friend that could help Toshiro, talk to him as an equal or get him to hit something, to get some of that anger out.
She saw Kyouraku at his usual table, having a quiet chat with Jushiro. She raised a brow at that – the white harried man was not one for rowdy places like this – especially not twice in the same month. Kyouraku must have convinced him, she thought, watching the way they spoke, heads close together, sharing what must be a very private conversation. She grinned – it’s no wonder people often raised a brow at the two of them being ‘just friends’. They had been very close bachelors for a long time.
She kept scanning, seeing Iba Tetsuzaemon having a darts competition with Ikkaku while a few men of the 11th played pool. Yumichika was absolutely schooling the men, calling out each pocket as he sank the balls and grinning in victory when they moaned that he shouldn’t take advantage of his subordinates. Her grin widened – she loved the rowdy boys of the 11th.
The doors to the bar opened again, and she was pleasantly surprised to see Renji, Ichigo and Chad walk in, heading for a booth in the corner that had just emptied. She caught their eye and nodded, quickly putting three bottles on the counter and letting out a piercing whistle. One of the young men who was helping wait tables ran over and grabbed the drinks, taking them straight over the booth at her direction. The first round was on the house for those three – as long as the boss didn’t find out.
She glanced back at Toshiro and grimaced – the ice had melted, and he wasn’t looking any cooler. If anything, the way he was glaring at the people of the main floor, as if daring something to happen, was starting to become concerning.
Then, he walked in, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
If there was one person who could allow you to attempt to beat the crap out of them, and not even feel the hit, it was the Captain of the 11th Hour. He was still in his ‘work uniform’ – black trousers and button-down shirt over a white tank top, wooden ‘weapon’ hanging from his belt and dark shoes - though the sunglasses were missing.
Kenpachi strolled in to delighted greetings from his men and raised glasses from the back of the room. As he made his way to his regular spot, Rangiku flounced over to him, all flirtations and bubbly personality. He eyed her suspiciously – she only pulled those kinds of moves on him when she wanted something.
He hadn’t forgotten the information Ikkaku had given him about her meetup in the carpark with Gin, but he had decided to let it go. Kenpachi had spoken to Toshiro and Kyouraku in that blunt, easy way, letting them know about Ichimaru. Toshiro had immediately defended her, convincing them that she would never betray them, and in fact could be a lead to getting information out of Gin if he continued to pursue her, which seemed likely.
Kenpachi didn’t really give a shit, he just knew that he needed to report this kind of thing. Kyouraku on the other hand had been silent, listening to Toshiro’s vehemence in her defense, and had replied that this kind of thing had a way of getting out, and that it might be better to let the other chiefs know that she would be acting as a double agent on this, to prevent any misunderstandings. Toshiro had been hesitant, clearly not wanting to put her in that position, but in the end, he agreed it was the prudent decision.
And now here she was in front of him, bouncing and jiggling like that shit was attractive to him. He saw other men in the vicinity look away from their own conversations, eyes following her, silly grins on their faces as she turned out all the charm for him. Tch. He lifted his chin, narrowed his eyes and looked down at her trying to figure it out.
“Whaddaya want, Matsumoto?” He drawled.
She pouted at him and leaned her chest on the bar, flaunting her very impressive cleavage, trying to get his attention. She saw his eyes flick down, then back to her face.
Ha! She thought triumphantly, Got him!
Kenpachi wasn’t oblivious to breasts, or women for that matter. He just didn’t give a shit about most of them. Rangiku had an incredible rack, he supposed, but that was just a factual statement in his head, like ‘Yachiru’s hair is incredibly pink.’
“I said, whaddaya want?” Impatient now, he let a hint of a growl enter his voice. She scoffed and pulled away, grabbing him a beer. He nodded, drinking deep, and waiting. If it was important enough to interrupt his drinking time, she would get to the point.
“The boss is… tense.” She said, her words only loud enough to be picked up by his ears.
The Boss?
Kenpachi swung his eyes to the end of the bar near the rear door. Toshiro was stacking bottles in the upright fridge, every movement a clear sign to him that the man was looking for a fight.
“Is that so?” The Captain was grinning widely, never taking his eyes off the man.
Rangiku gulped at the excited, crazy gleam in his eyes and wondered if she’d accidentally dammed the Suez Canal, instead of just rocking Toshiro’s boat, like she’d meant to.
“Yeah...” She said slowly, trying to convince herself she was doing the right thing, “… I was thinking you might take him out for a chat – Captain to Captain. I’ve got to watch the bar, so…”
Kenpachi was out of his seat and striding towards Toshiro before she could finish the sentence. Men of the 11th, seeing their Captain coming towards them with a hand on his hilt and that crazed, shark-like grin, began shoving people out of the way to clear a path.
The music was still blaring, but conversations came to a halt in an ever-widening ripple of silence as the big man approached the owner.
“Oi, Hitsugaya.” Kenpachi bellowed, using that battlefield voice that made men quake.
Toshiro merely put the last two bottles on the shelf, closed the fridge door and glanced over his shoulder, looking only mildly annoyed at the man causing an ruckus in his busy establishment.
“What is it, Zaraki?” Cold response. Kenpachi’s grin widened.
People who had remained nearby began retreating behind the open tables and into the gaming side of the bar. But they strained their ears, not wanting to miss a word. Ikkaku and Yumichika held their darts and pool cue, stepping forward to help or hinder as their captain saw fit.
Kyouraku and Jushiro seemed to be ignoring the entire affair, more concerned about all the bodies crowding their area and interrupting their conversation. However, Rangiku noted their sharp eyes watching every moment of this little drama.
Toshiro saw all this and frowned, disliking the scene the man was causing simply by getting excited in a small space. He didn’t realize his own expression was just as deadly, freezing anyone who caught his eye.
“How’s about ya grab that ice pick of yours, and we head outside for a bit?” Zaraki purred, tongue darting out to lick one canine.
Renji and Ichigo shot out of their seats at that, having been willing to adopt a ‘wait and see’ attitude up till that point. But challenging Hitsugaya to bring out his sword, the infamous Serbian militia relic, Hyoinmaru? That was going too far. Two ‘captains’ willing to fight each other was one thing, but Kenpachi issuing a challenge to Toshiro was on an entirely different level.
“Why would I dirty my blade with your barbarian blood?” The little owner drawled, eyes flashing in anger.
Kenpachi threw his head back and laughed, making the men of the 11th shiver – they feared that sound - it meant pain. Kenpachi focused back on Toshiro and stepped up the edge of bar, forcing the smaller man to crane his neck up to look at him.
“You think you can actually cut me?” He rasped; eyes wild.
The entire bar held its breath, only the juke box still blaring out its classic rock.
Toshiro shifted first, squatting down to reach under the bar. For a panicked moment, Rangiku thought he was going for the shotgun, but when he stood he was gripping a long, sheathed katana with a star burst hilt.
Kenpachi didn’t wait, just turned on his foot and marched out the exit, bursting through the door so hard that everyone jumped at the sound. Toshiro waited for a moment, looking at the sword, gently gripping the handle and pulling it a few inches from the sheath to allow the metal to reflect the lights above.
He grimaced, refusing to consider the last time he had taken Hyoinmaru out for anything other than maintenance and cleaning. Shoving it back in its sheath, he walked around the counter, and strode to the doors, exiting with far less furor than the big captain.
There was a beat of silence before every single man in the bar rushed for the doors, shoving, and pulling at each other to be first out.
“Madarame! Abarai! Tetsuzaemon!”
The deep commanding voice had the men flying to stop the gang rush before they could recognize who had spoken. Yumichika and Ikkaku got there first, standing in front of the doors with arms crossed, grinning evilly.
“I think we should let the Captains have their privacy, don’t you?” Yumichika queried delicately, making several men drop their eyes at his challenge.
“Fairly sure this is none of your business, folks.” Iba yelled from the far side of the room, making everyone remember that the man was a police lieutenant after all.
“And do you honestly want to irritate either of them, at this point?” Renji quipped from behind the mob, arms crossed and flanked by Ichigo and a very large Chad.
The swarm dispersed, the few civilians among them confused and caught up in the excitement just sitting back down and resuming their evening.
As things settled back down and everyone took their seats, Rangiku and the other waiter scurried around, arranging complimentary refills for everyone to get them back to a comfortable place. As she moved back behind the bar, however, she looked over to the table occupied by Kyouraku and Jushiro. She had wanted to jump at the command in that voice, had the instinctive drive to obey and fight for that voice. It was made for giving orders and expecting them to be followed, unto death.
Glancing at Shunsui, she saw past his exterior to the battlefield commander he was born to be, and wondered how long he could keep up this persona with the way their world was changing.
Kenpachi felt the blood rushing through his veins like liquid metal. He tasted the breeze and let out a harsh breath at the anticipation of fighting with someone who might actually be worth breaking a sweat for. He walked until he reached an open space within the parking lot, and turned, waiting for Hitsugaya to join him.
He watched the Toshiro approach, and grinned when he slowly released Hyoinmaru, placing the sheath carefully on the roof a nearby car. He swung the blade, flipping it around his hand, relaxing his wrists and unwinding his arm muscles. Stretching his neck from side to side, he gripped the sword in his right hand, tip lowered to an inch above the ground.
Kenpachi’s lips peeled back from his teeth and he gripped the hilt of his wooden sword, tugging the long blade free from its hidden sheath, revealing his ōdachi to its full extent. He held it in his right hand, tossing the battered wooden sheath to the ground. Lifting the sword, he pointed it directly at Toshiro, then swung it down, cutting at an angle, to rest behind him.
“Not that I really care right now, but why are we doing this?” Hitsugaya asked, eyes hooded, watching every movement. The big man seemed to be vibrating with energy, his face in shadow as he grinned menacingly. The air rumbled with his growling laugh.
“Are you stupid? We’re doing this because I said so – because fighting is all there is. There’s nothing better than testing your strength by cutting up an opponent.”
Toshiro just scoffed, disgusted at the man’s obvious bloodlust.
“Fighting is used to protect, to save. You’re a monster, Zaraki, if you get your rocks off by slicing people up all day.”
Kenpachi just chuckled deep in his throat and glared at Toshiro, mind going pleasantly clear of distractions.
“Ain’t nothing wrong with bein’ a monster.” He said in a gravelly voice. “Enough talk – first one to draw blood, wins. I’m not looking to kill ya just yet.”
Toshiro gritted his teeth at that, and rushed in, bringing his blade up and to the left, aiming for a chest slice. Zaraki also stepped forward and brough his sword up, catching the blade on and deflecting the strike.
Toshiro disengaged and jumped back, knowing he couldn’t overpower the man if it came to a close combat battle. He was a foot shorter and significantly weaker that the Demon, but he was fast, and his sword was sharp – sharper than Zaraki’s. He just needed to make one cut.
Zaraki swung without warning, coming down in an overhead chop, designed to cleave the crown. Toshiro raised his sword with both hands and stepped the right, deflecting the blade and allowing it to slide screeching away, showering him with sparks.
“Good reflexes.” Kenpachi said with enthusiasm. “You might actually be able to keep up.”
Toshiro bared his teeth and let out a cry, jabbing forward again and again, only to be deflected as Zaraki’s footwork kept them shifting and dancing.
His heart sped up, and he began to feel warm – no, hot. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he stood back in repose, watching for the next strike from the longer blade. His heart was pounding, but the endorphins running through him were making him giddy – happy, even.
He only had a moment to take a breath before he was dodging a lightning-fast jab, swiping Hyoinmaru across his body and pivoting away. He was light, remembering the feel of this – the movements of fighting with a bared blade - the scent of sweat and the tang of metal. It was invigorating.
“Ya can feel it, can’t ya?” Kenpachi grinned, pressing forward with another slice, aiming for his torso and being met yet again by the shorter sword.
“The freedom of it, the ecstasy of fighting a strong opponent. It’s glorious!” He roared, pushing hard against Toshiros blade until the younger man had to pull out a move he hadn’t used in years.
Sliding his hand to the base of the hilt, he suddenly ducked low, allowing Hyoinmaru to be pressed flat along his back as Kenpachi followed the movement, the ōdachi flying over his bowed head and throwing the big captain slightly off balance.
Toshiro immediately used his grip on the base of the sword to flip it back up as he stood and attempted to drive it into through Captain’s shoulder.
But he had underestimated the big man.
Faster than the eye could follow, Kenpachi regained his footing and swung his sword up to deflect the jab, slicing across the back of Toshiro’s hand as he did so.
The blood flowed, and Hitsugaya grimaced as he felt the icy cold of parting skin quickly replaced by sharp pain. Zaraki had cut him. He’d lost. Again.
His stomach suddenly swooped, and he placed a hand to his head, falling forward to take a knee and using Hyoinmaru keeping him steady. What just happened?
“You’re still holding onto shit. It’s making you weak.”
Zaraki’s voice rumbling over his head like thunder. Zaraki’s shoes, standing directly in his line of sight as he struggled not to throw up.
“You call yourself a Captain?” The scorn in Kenpachi’s voice had Toshiro whipping his head up to glare at him. He had the sudden driving urge to stab this man through the chest, to slice him into tiny, unrecognizable pieces. To hack at his ugly scarred face until that sneering judgement fell away, and he was finally able to sleep through the night again.
“That’s the face of a Captain.” Kenpachi said approvingly, eyes glimmering at the murderous intent on Hitsugaya’s face.
“What would you know?” Toshiro hissed, struggling to his feet and wobbling over to retrieve his sheath. “You didn’t live a life of fear, trying to protect something. You didn’t see your loved ones burned alive in the freezing snow or dying on a battlefield you sent them to. You never fought for anything!”
Kenpachi just studied him, watching as he put his katana away and turned, leaning his back on the car and swallowing hard, face still filled with unresolved ager and pain. This kid really did hold onto some shit.
He rubbed his chin, looking thoughtful. “Never had any loved ones.” He said simply. “Didn’t have anything to protect. Didn’t understand much of anything until I was around your age.”
The casual way he said it, like he was answering a query about the weather, made pity well up in Toshiros heart for this sad, tragic man. He had nothing and had therefore never felt the burden of loss. Was that better, or worse than his own experience? At least Toshiro had been loved, been cared for and cherished. He had friends, a family with his Grandmother and comrades in arms.
Zaraki had… nothing.
“How do you do it?” Hitsugaya asked quietly, refusing to insult the man by showing him pity. “Let go of shit?”
Kenpachi snorted a laugh and picked up his battered wooden sheath, putting his blade away. “I never hold onto it long enough to be a burden.”
Toshiro gave him a skeptical look, which was promptly ignored. But as he stood, feeling the strength returning to his legs, he studied the big man more thoroughly.
He had no idea what Kenpachi’s life had been – he’d made a lot of assumptions, and listened to a lot of gossip, but he knew nothing about this giant, who was potentially strongest man he’d ever fought. Perhaps they had more in common than he’d thought.
He too, had a platoon of men at the 11th ready to fight to the death on his orders. He had friends he would have to send into this coming war, with no guarantee of survival. And if the timing had been slightly different, he would have seen his family burn to death in that explosion.
He had a daughter that he would protect to his last breath and would kill anyone who mentioned it.
Hitsugaya felt dread begin to melt from him like ice water. The anxiety over Delta squad, Momo – all of it was uncoiling from his chest and drifting away. He was finding comfort in solidarity – with Kenpachi Zaraki of all people.
Tucking away a grin, he jerked his head towards the bar.
“C’mon, next round is on me.” He paused, considering, “But nothing from the top shelf.”
“Dick.” Kenpachi grumped, stomping along behind him.
As they walked to entrance, Toshiro realized what Zaraki had done tonight; how he had been able to solve Toshiro’s worries and heartache, all by doing the thing that brought him the most joy. Had he planned it to end this way?
He flicked the man a sideways glance as his hand landed on the door.
“You know, you’re smarter than people give you credit for, Demon.”
Kenpachi gave him a wry grin, accepting the back handed compliment and held up a hand, showing him the tiniest bloody scratch on the side of one knuckle.
“And you’re stronger than you pretend to be, Dragon.”
Notes:
Phew!
Do you know, I can't find a single reference of Kenpachi and Hitsugaya actually crossing swords in Bleach? If anyone has a link, I'd love to know more!
I hurt myself, writing this - the absolute absence of anything in Zaraki's life. I just. It hurt.
If you liked this chapter, leave some comment-y love! I adore hearing your thoughts! <3
Chapter 24: Our Version of Events
Notes:
This song really hit home as I was writing parts of the last scene. Gin, Rangiku. Love you guys.
https://open.spotify.com/track/1NrDot6zcivIjCVMFoe7uV?si=f30d4f6b446846c1"Read All About It, Pt. III" - Emeli Sande
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
When the door to the bar door opened, and Toshiro and Kenpachi walked through together, conversation stopped. The two men ignored each other, casting bored looks at the usually rowdy crowd.
“The fuck ya lookin’ at?” Kenpachi bellowed.
Instant activity followed as folks resumed heated discussions, playing pool and throwing darts. Toshiro walked the length of the bar and exited to his office, presumably to clean his sword and bandage his hand.
Kenpachi just stomped over to slouch on his regular stool, one hand propping up his chin. As Matsumoto came over, dropping off a fresh beer and smile filled with genuine thanks, he chuffed and used his free hand to undo the last few buttons on his black shirt, giving some air to his sweaty chest.
Rangiku gave that chiseled chest a lingering look, admiring the display, before bustling back to fill another order. She admired Kenpachi as a warrior, thought his body was built like a god of war, but was quite happy to keep to casual flirting. She pitied the woman who had to deal with a man that unhinged in the bedroom.
Still, seeing the relaxed way Toshiro had entered the bar, even with is hand dripping blood, had proved her intuition correct: Her boss had needed to bash something, and Kenpachi was the perfect partner for such a bashing. He might be a blood crazed brute, but he wouldn’t kill a comrade in the middle of a war.
On purpose.
“So that’s one problem sorted.” Jushiro sighed, letting his shoulders relax as he watched the two captains stroll back in.
Shunsui just chuckled, “What, you thought you’d have to go and have a little chat with the kid?”
“I was seriously considering it. I have chocolate. Though he would have tried to bite me, I think.”
The men chuckled together and took a drink, then glanced to the hulking figure at the bar, sipping a beer and lazily watching the TV.
“He’s a better man than we give him credit for.” Jushiro said quietly.
Shunsui grinned, “He’s not a criminal, let’s settle for that.”
Jushiro glared at him. “That’s not what I meant. He’s brutal, but kind in his own way. A good man.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
The men agreed on that and settled back into their drinks. They had met this evening to discuss something that was both difficult, but necessary – Jushiros health.
“So how are the treatments going?” Shunsui asked gently, breaking his own heart with the question.
Jushiro gave him a bright smile, “Great! Unohana says I’ve been responding really well to this new course of medication. I still have to take it easy-“
“You need to let your subordinates take over some of your duties.” Shunsui growled.
“What, like you do with Nanao?”
A deep, crimson flush filled Shunsui’s cheeks at her name, shocking Jushiro enough to bobble the hand holding his drink, splashing some on the table.
“What’s happened between you two, now?” He asked quickly, not knowing what to expect. Shunsui coughed into his hand and a silly grin spread across his face.
“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell.” He replied in a cracked voice.
“Oh, horse shit!” Jushiro said, loud enough to have several people raising their brows and craning their heads around.
The soft-spoken fire chief? Swearing like… one of them?
Kyouraku chuckled at him as he ducked his head, embarrassed at the attention, taking a drink to regain his composure.
“Hosre shit!” He hissed again, driving his point home, “You’re one of the most boastful men I’ve ever met. I have to cover my ears, just to hear what you had for lunch!”
“This is different.” His friend said quietly, and Jushiro let it drop, seeing the gentle fire in the man’s eyes.
“Ok, ok. I just wanted to check that everything is ok between you two. I’ll stay out of it.”
Shunsui couldn’t help poking a bit of fun in retaliation.
“And what about you and the good doctor? Any late-night checkups I should know about?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Jushiro choked and coughed, a deep throaty cough that instantly had the man regretting he’d said anything at all. Rangiku hurried over with a glass of water, glaring at anyone who dared to stare at the coughing man.
“Here you go, Chief.”
Jushiro drank deeply, emptying the glass and taking a deep, steady breath. Then he glared at Shunsui, who raised his hands in an appeasing gesture.
“I am not having any ‘late night checkups’, thank you very much.” Jushiro rasped. “We went on two dates over three years ago. You need to drop it.”
Rangiku walked away, hearing the defensiveness in Jushiros voice, and storing that surprising little tidbit of information for later.
“So have you heard from Shinji?”
Ichigo shook his head.
“Not much, since they brought Rukia back, they’ve been on assignment for the Governor. Some black ops stuff preparing for… well, you know.”
Renji nodded. He did know – the Aizen threat wasn’t going away. Every day they were getting closer and closer to his return. The chiefs had filtered the information to their people, and now everyone was just trying to live as anxiety free as possible until the next strike happened. They weren’t in a position to send an army after the man, so they were stuck on the defensive.
“Speaking of Rukia, I haven’t seen much of her since she got home. Been keeping busy?”
The question was innocent enough, but Renji felt his ears heat up, and had to tamp down the instinctive reaction of snapping at Ichigo to keep his mouth shut. He cleared his throat, adopting as calm an attitude as he could.
“Oh, yeah, she’s got a tight schedule, between school, training and learning about the Kuchiki family business.”
“That must be hard.” The quiet comment came, surprisingly, from Chad. “Being so busy, you two don’t get a lot of time to be alone.”
Renji and Ichigo both choked, spitting their drinks across the table, before leaping at Chad, yelling in his face.
“You don’t just say something like that to a man!”
“Whaddaya mean alone time? Why would I need that?!”
“Chad, you don’t understand subtlety, do you?”
Chad just stared at them with wide yes, unsure why his words would cause such a strong reaction. It was clear enough to him that Renji was in love with Rukia, and the girl returned his feelings, if unconsciously. Why were they making such a fuss?
“Well, you love her, don’t you?”
Ichiog’s jaw dropped at Chad’s blunt question and he cranked his head over to look at Renji.
It was like someone had pressed pause during the most intense moment of a movie, and the face on screen had frozen into a hilarious motif of shock. A thin, reedy wheeze was escaping from his mouth, and his eyes had retracted to pinpoints.
The moment seemed to stretch on forever, until Ichigo reached out a hand and pushed him, nearly tipping him out of the booth. Renji snapped, flinging himself away from the men and heading for the bathroom, flipping them both the bird.
Ichigo watched him go, then turned to give Chad an accusing glare. “That was a little full on, don’t you think?”
Chad just shrugged. “You both love Rukia. But he’s in love with her. If he can’t admit it to himself and his friends, how is he ever going to say it to her?”
Ichigo nursed his drink, listening the rowdy sounds of the bar, the music and the televisions blaring random channels. Even over all that noise, Chads words rang clear. He gave him a look filled with appreciation and a hint of a smile.
“You’re pretty wise, you know that?”
Chad just nodded, stoic face giving nothing away.
Renji came back a few moments later, standing in front of the booth, ignoring Ichigo and staring Chad dead in the eyes. Shoulders back, chin high, and blushing as red as his hair, he blurted out one word.
“Yes.”
Then he stiffly turned his back on them and strode away to the pool tables, raising a hand and calling out a challenge to Yumichika.
Chad turned to Ichigo and grinned.
“Told ya.”
Rangiku left early that night, to the unhappy yells from the drunk men that enjoyed her company until closing. She left with a grin and a wave, blowing a cheeky kiss to Ikkaku, who scowled at her. The men of the 11th howled and punched his arms, yelling about how lucky he was.
Toshiro had pulled her aside and let her know she was doing a ‘good job’ – his way of thanking her for intervening with Zaraki. She had gushed and hugged him, crying that he could always talk to her if he needed to, and unintentionally suffocated him with her cleavage until he had escaped and told her to have an early night.
She walked to her car, eyes watching the shadows, still on the lookout for any movement. She was being watched by more than just Gin, she was sure of that. Toshiro had told her about the call with Kenpachi and Kyouraku, about how the other chiefs were likely to be keeping an eye on her.
It all felt like a setup.
Clutching her bag, she got into her car and pulled away from the parking lot, driving towards the small apartment she called home in the inner fringe of the city. The wide streets were lined with trees the closer she got to the high-rises, bright streetlights illuminating the empty roads.
A few turns from her street, she stopped at a red light, and checked her lip in the mirror – was that a blemish?
Icy blue eyes stared back at her. She let out a scream, foot stomping on the pedal and shooting the car forward through the intersection, thankfully free of traffic.
“You’re gonna get a ticket, that way.” That drawling voice, filled with humor.
“Gin?!” She tried to spin in her seat, but he pointed out the front window, telling her to keep her eyes on the road.
“How long have you been back there?” She gasped, heart still racing from shock, as he uncurled from the back seat and sat up straight, settling into the rear passenger’s side.
“Oh, a little while after the two ‘angries’ finished whacking at each other.”
Gin had watched the fight and had taken notice of how Toshiro moved – he had been on the end of that sword once before: He still had the scars on his wrist to prove it. Zaraki still moved like a beast, but something about him had caught Gin’s attention. He was a little faster, more instinctive in the way he deflected each jab. And he was definitely more powerful than the last time.
That was something he’d have to report to Lord Aizen.
Kenpachi was a bit of a wild card in their plans – and they didn’t need any surprises where he was concerned. His terrible sense of direction made him show up where he was least expected, and with his strength smashing everything in his path was something they needed to take into careful account. Tosen in particular had a vendetta against Zaraki – a personal grudge that was becoming a pain.
Rangiku kept driving in tense silence. She pulled into the underground parking garage below her apartment, and turned off the ignition, not moving to get out. Gin waited, curious as to what she would do next.
“They’ve probably bugged my place by now.” She said softly.
“Mmm.” He hummed in agreement.
“It wasn’t very smart – coming to see me after all this time, out in the open like that.”
“I must be an idiot, then.”
She’d forgotten his sarcastic sense of humor, but not what he had done. How he had broken her heart.
“You left me there-“
“Ikkaku was coming at me with a rage fueled hard-on, of course I-“ He interrupted, but she cut him off.
“You left me there. On the sidewalk. Two years ago!” Her voice rose, filling the small space with angry sobs. “How could you do it?” She was crying, hot tears streaming down her face as she continued staring through the windscreen at the concrete wall in front of them. She wasn’t one for crying so easily, but he was her emotional trigger.
Gin sighed letting his head fall back against the seat.
“It’s complicated, Rangiku.”
She whirled on him, spinning in her seat to sit on her knees and look at him through the gap. “So un-complicate it! How could you follow a man like Aizen? You had your own business, your own people – you were in a powerful position – how could you give that all up for… for…” She waved her hand, looking for the right words “… for a guy who was no better than a drug kingpin!”
He lashed forward, grabbing her waving hand and using his other to hold a finger to his lips, silencing her. He reached into the front passenger seat, snatched her purse and deposited it outside the car, then closed his door.
She looked at him with angry confusion “Wha-?!”
“Love, if they’ve bugged your apartment, they’ve definitely done your bag.”
She pressed her lips together, not denying the accusation. She suspected that either the Vizard, Kyouraku or even Toshiro had arranged that, hoping to catch every word should Gin show up again.
He reached for her, long fingers gently wrapping around her wrist and tugging. She relaxed her arm to him, and he brought her hand to his mouth, eyes never leaving hers as he pressed a soft lingering kiss to her palm.
She wouldn’t be distracted – not again.
“Tell me.” She said in a steely voice, unyielding, even as his fingers gently traced her hand and wrist.
“Do you think I didn’t know about the murders?” She said quietly.
He stopped teasing her, and his ever-present smirk dipped. Those cold eyes stared into her, testing her resolve on that question.
“I knew exactly what you were, Gin. I knew about the late night ‘business trips’, I knew about the money, I knew about your entire crime network – It seems the only thing you didn’t have your hand in was the News outlet you pretended to own.”
He pulled away from her, and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. His face was blank, hands gently laid in his lap. The pale ivory suit he wore made him seem like a ghost, barely even a breath to prove he was alive.
“You knew… some.” He admitted.
She nodded, trying to put together all the pieces she had been given. For over two years she had been puzzling, trying to fit it together and see the whole picture, but every time she thought she had something, she was reminded of his betrayal.
“If you knew, why did you stay?” He murmured, almost like he was talking to himself.
She watched him carefully, then got of the car, closed her door, and got into the back seat beside him. He didn’t seem to notice when she slipped her hand into is, squeezing gently.
“I stayed because I loved you.” He didn’t miss the past tense. “I loved all of you, even with the reservations I had about some of your actions. Perhaps I was naïve, but I only cared about you. Not the bodies, not the bank accounts, and certainly not the pushers.”
He wouldn’t look at her, just continued to stare at his hands, silvery hair concealing his eyes.
“But you never said it back. The only words I wanted to hear from you. Not when we were kids, not when we were in bed, and not when you left. That was the lynch pin for me.”
He turned his head towards her.
“Love-“
“That’s just an endearment, Gin. It’s not what I needed to hear.” She squeezed his hand “and I don’t need to hear it now.”
He heard it in her voice, in the gentle, comforting way she held his cold hand – she was pulling away. Saying goodbye.
No. NO.
Not after everything he’d done, everything he’d given up to gift her a peaceful future. She couldn’t think that he didn’t love her.
He gripped her hand, raising his head to look into her eyes, letting everything show. Everything he’d hidden, everything he’d kept from her – he didn’t care if she moved on, or lived the rest of her life without him, but he wouldn’t let her believe that his actions were selfish. He’d done everything – all of it, to give her the happy ending she deserved.
He opened his mouth to speak – words always came so easily to him – but he found his throat closing over, unable to make a sound. She watched him struggle, giving him nothing, and offering only a sliver of her heart for him to hold. He gripped her hand, trying to convey everything in him with nothing but silence. Could she see it?
“You’re so good at talking your way out of anything, Gin.” She said softly, pulling her hand from his. “It’s kind of funny that you’ve managed to end us with no words at all.”
Rangiku opened her door and stepped out. Walking around the rear of the car, she picked up her purse, opened the rear passenger door and stood to the side.
“It’s time for you to go.” She said softly. “We’re not fighting for the same cause, and I’m tired of whatever this is.”
He didn’t move, just kept staring at his hands like a lost child. She gritted her teeth, hardening her heart, and stepped forward to grab his arm.
She’d forgotten how quick he was, how strong he was.
Gripping her forearm, he yanked her into the backseat using his other hand to pull her head down and into the cabin. Her knees hit the edge of the door frame, and she tried to push away and find purchase to get some balance. But he let go of her arm, snagged her legs and swung them in, closing the door behind her, once again leaving her purse on the ground outside.
She felt him shifting, and instantly kicked out, knee connecting with his sternum as she scrabbled at the door handle on the other side.
Gin coughed, voice rough from the hit, “Rangiku – stop! I’m not about to do anything to you! I would never. I just want to be here with you. Please.”
She looked over her shoulder, he was still sitting, though hunched over, holding a hand to his chest – the one she had just attempted to crack open with her knee. Keeping one hand on the doorhandle, she cautiously sat up, feet still in his lap, her slip-on shoes having fallen into the footwell during the scuffle.
“You better give me something good if you want me stay, after grabbing me like that.” Even unintentionally, she was a flirt.
Gin ignored the comment, then looked up at her with all the honesty he had, all pretences gone. All yearning, all silent needs – gone. This was Gin Ichimaru, bared to the soul.
“I can’t tell you what you need to hear.” He began, praying that she wouldn’t leave at those words. “Because the moment I do – he has me, fully. I might not be able to stay away from you, but he can’t control me if he doesn’t know how I truly feel about you.”
Rangiku froze, lips parting. She could hear her heartbeat, the sound filling her ears. Gin looked so fragile, and she suddenly realised just how young they both were – time had been hard on their hearts.
“I… want you.” he said, face pulling at the words he wanted desperately to say. “I need you – I always have, and I always will. But I can save you if I leave you. I don’t care what the papers say – the only person I want reading our version of events, is you.”
Tears filled her eyes again, and she let out a small sob.
“I’m fearful of telling you, because I‘m fearful for you. Even here, now – in a space that is probably safe and purely our own. I can’t betray him. Not until-”
I kill him.
He didn’t say the words out loud, but he hoped the sentiment was clear enough for her to hear. His eyes stung and his chest felt strained and constricted.
A single tear broke free and tracked down Rangikus face, and before he could say another word, she lunged forward, her lips crashing against him as she clambered across the seat and into his lap.
His hands flew to her hips, hold her still as she kissed him deeply, passionately, letting go of the pain and loss and holding on to the hope he had shown her like a lifeline. He felt tears on his cheeks, and he didn’t know anymore, whether they were hers, or his.
She was touching his face, fingers gently caressing as she tried to mould herself to his body, pressing so hard that they could both barely breath. Her hair was a curtain around them, the soft tendrils tickling his cheeks and sending him to a place that was only peaceful memories.
She became desperate, her hands moving from his face to his chest, ripping apart the shirt, sending buttons flying as his own hands hurriedly lifted her blouse, a demand that had her pulling away from him and sliding it over her head. He had a moment to appreciate her luscious breasts and the mouth-watering expanse of skin she offered, before she fell upon him, latching her mouth onto his lean chest, and sucking hard on his nipples.
Gin threw his head back with a cry, loving her aggressive behaviour. She had always been a confident lover but had preferred for him to take the lead – now… she was on him like a wild animal. He understood her wildness, he had been plagued with dreams of her for over two years, giving into his urges and stroking himself to release nightly, or more.
But she had initiated this, wanted this, and he could play out this dream exactly as he had been wishing to for far too long.
He gripped her chin, pulling her face down to his and crushing his lips against hers, tongue delving into her sweet, waiting mouth. Gods, she even tasted how he had dreamed: Honey, sake and sex. His free hand dipped to her thighs, fingers gripping and leaving red marks as they travelled north. Her short black work skirt was rucked up around her waist, revealing her pink cotton underwear.
He raised a mental brow, she usually wore lacy numbers, little pieces of black silk and satin that had his cock jerking at the mere thought. These practical panties were perfect though, as she wouldn’t mind if he did this.
With a sharp yank, he tore the fabric away, jerking her hips from him for a moment at the force of the pull.
“Ow.” She muttered, before returning to lavishing his tongue with her own. He hands had quickly migrated south, deftly tugging down his zipper and reaching inside.
He hissed out a breath as her soft little hands made contact with his achingly hard cock. Rangiku was careful though, watching herself as she gently pulled him free and gulped, mouth-watering. His cock was just as she remembered: slender, but long, the shiny head red and twitching as she fondled him.
“I’ve missed you.” She whispered, looking into Gins eyes. He didn’t answer, just grabbed the back of her head with one hand, and pulled her into his kiss as his long fingers swiftly found their target.
She moaned into his mouth as he used two digits to spread her, and a third to slide along the length of her opening, shuddering at how slick and hot she had become.
“You’re so wet.” He breathed, trying to regain some of his usual bedroom swagger, but failing in the face of their frantic pace.
She licked her lips, giving him a firm stroke that made him groan like a wounded animal. “And you’re so hard.”
He wouldn’t last much longer is she did that again, so he made his choice and pressed two fingers inside her, sinking them deep into her slick little sheath as she let out a shocked noise, her hips rocking. Her walls grasped at him, trying to pull him in deeper and he felt his balls tighten in response.
Too much. Too Much!
She was so aroused, so hot for him - and his fingers were curling, pressing against that sweet spot that was a fuse for her orgasm.
“Gin… Stop…” She panted, her building pleasure coming on almost too fast. He froze instantly, breaths coming had, cock still twitching and leaking with precum.
“I want to come… while you’re inside me.” Her face was flushed, breasts trembling with need and her hand stroking him so perfectly. He had never been so hard-up for her as right at that moment.
“Fuck me...” He swore, choking on his own need.
He removed his fingers, and she lifted her hips, using her hands to guide him to her entrance. When he felt her wetness encase the tip of his cock, he cried out at the pleasure and prayed he could hold on. She was so tight, and the feel of her sliding down his length inch by inch had him choking out tiny gasps, desperate to thrust up into her.
Rangiku lowered herself until she could feel his rigid cock twitching just inside her. He breathing was unsteady and she winced slightly at the full, stretching sensation. Removing her hand from its guidance, she put both her arms on either side of Gins headrest and gave his her most sultry, bedroom smile.
Then she sank onto him fully.
She let out a wanton cry and he swore, gripping her hips with bruising force. She felt him deep inside her, hard and long. The fullness he gave had her rocking on him, holding onto the headrest as she began to ride him in long, fast strokes.
“It feels so good.” She moaned, whipping her hips, breasts bouncing and slapping against his chest.
“Fuck…” Gin gritted out, desperate to hold on as she rode him hard, her pelvis grinding against his hips as she drove him into her, deeper and deeper. He began thrusting up to meet her, head falling back at the sensation of pumping into her tight little pussy.
The car rocked and bounced from their movements, the windows fogged and sweated as they let years of not knowing, years of frustration take them to new heights of pleasure.
“You’re going to finish me, like this.” He gasped out, trying to still her with his grip, but she kept rolling her hips, ignoring his pleas.
“Rangiku… I’m gonna-“
“Not yet!” She cried hands flying to her hair and crossing over her head as she kept sliding up and down on his rock-hard cock. She looked like a goddess, like Aphrodite sent to pleasure him – mouth open, hair fanned out, breasts bouncing with every movement.
Enough! He thought and moved his hand to her mound, flingers slipping where their bodies connected as he began pushing hard little circles around her clitoris, wanting to see her come before he did.
Her eyes flew open, and she arched, mouth going slack as the pleasure hit her like an avalanche. She gripped her breasts as he fucked into her and sped his fingers up, knowing she was on the cusp.
“Gin – Oh god...I’m –" Her hips began slamming on him, and he felt his balls pull up as his own release mounted. "Oh god, Oh GOD!”
Rangiku came in a rush, her orgasm hitting her like an avalanche, screaming out as his clever fingers were a blur on her little bud.
He felt her walls squeeze his length like a fist, and it was all over for him. He gripped the back of her neck and pulled her down into a wet, desperate kiss as he bucked uncontrollably, groaning into her mouth as he spilled inside her, thrusting until he had nothing left.
His kiss went on and on, long after their bodies had stopped moving. She loved him for it, for how he made her body sing, and for all the things that been had taken from them.
He might not be able to say the words, but she could hear them loud and clear as their heartbeats filled the silence.
I love you, too.
Notes:
Naw, Renji - ya did it, bud. Ya said it out loud... NOW GO TELL HER, MORON!
Interesting hints with Jushiro...
This story has FINALLY had it's first sex scene. (Is that correct? Or do we call it a lemon, or smut or something?) I surprisingly enjoyed writing this. Originally I had planned something a bit different, but this interaction - the 'almost confessions', the frantic needy sex - it really works for where the story is going.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Let me know your thoughts, and please leave come comment-y love!
<3
Chapter 25: Less Gabbing, More Stabbing
Notes:
Thankyou for waiting three days for this chapter! I had a very busy weekend, with little time to myself! But as soon as I got home, I was tapping away - sleep be damned!
Song for KenUno at this stage of the story is: https://open.spotify.com/track/77asYwewm0lXvz76inosJm?si=e9ee2e80b70c40da
"Growing on Me" - The Darkness
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Thursday
“How is everything progressing today?”
Aizen slid into the large steel lined lab and smiled politely at Momo Hinamori.
The lab was large, tiled white, with halogen lights casting a sickly green aura over everything. Several assistants in head to toe white lab uniforms scurried to and fro, carry trays, beakers and files, tapping at computers and generally ensuring all plans were progressing for the chemical base.
The girl turned, pulled down her cloth mask and gave him a weary smile. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her skin was pale and clammy.
“Very well, thank you, sir.” Voice strained, cracking with exhaustion.
He hadn’t pushed her – he didn’t need to. Her blind devotion and obsession had been the whip that drove her. She was absolutely enamored with him and doted on his every word like a child at church.
He hated her for it.
She shifted on her feet, putting down her tray of samples, and turning to face him. She desperately wanted to get him alone, to ask the questions that had plagued her to the point of illness and to reassure herself that she was still doing the right thing.
“Sir…” She began, but felt her throat close over, the anxiety of actually voicing her fears becoming overwhelming.
“Yes, Momo?”
His response was so pleasant, it was almost impossible to detect the threat.
Momo, however, heard his soft voice hum her name and she flushed red, eyes glistening with admiration.
“Nothing, sir. We’re in the final stages now – a couple of hours ahead of schedule. If the chemical continues to bond at this speed, we may even be done a day or two earlier than expected.”
Aizen smiled, and Momo felt her knees go weak. It was more than infatuation with him, she revered him to a near obsessive level.
“Very good. Keep up the good work.”
She watched him leave, determined to prove herself worthy of staying by his side. Gritting her teeth, she collected her tray of samples and headed for her workstation, all the while ignoring the pounding headache that grew with every step.
Everything will be ok, she thought, struggling to keep her eyes focused, Lord Aizen is a good man. I can’t believe anything else…
She began checking each sample against the sequence in the computer.
… Toshiro… Kira… forgive him… he’s a good man!
“No, we need that changed – no mention of the Kuchiki family… Yes, I know it’s just a quote, I don’t care. Take it out, or I’m pulling the whole article and replacing it with a puff piece.”
He hung up with more force than intended and turned his attention to the next crisis on his agenda: Tomorrow’s headline.
Izuru Kira was tired – beyond tired. He had a bone deep exhaustion that made every movement and word hurt and every joint creak. It had been weeks of putting out media fires and covering the tracks of several major players in the chief’s circle.
He had covered up Rukia’s abduction by using the 11th Hour explosion as the headlining article. Fortunately, his connections with Shuuhei and Ukitake meant he was able to get reliable quotes from both parties that the explosion was caused by a gas leak, and there was no foul play involved.
It wasn’t much, as far exciting content went, but he was able to get his people to run a series of follow up articles about home safety, ‘getting your mains checked regularly’ and ‘ensuring that your insurance was up to date’.
He was being kept out of the loop on most things related to the chiefs – he was sure of that. As the editor of the city’s largest new outlet, every story that came across his desk was beginning to paint a very disturbing picture. From Grimmjows escape, the car explosion outside the Big House, then random sightings of known felons back in town, to Rukia’s abduction and subsequent rescue, the explosion at the 11th, and now, the most disturbing piece of news he’d seen.
Someone had called in a tip to report they’d seen Gin Ichimaru – former editor of their newspaper, and currently a highly wanted felon – talking with a gang leader in one of the poorer parts of the city.
Kira had not taken that tip well.
His staff had shrunk away from his closed office door, as sounds of items being thrown and destroyed reverberated from inside. They had looked at each other with wide eyes - the boss losing his cool? That was very irregular. He was usually so… dour.
The phone rang again.
Without looking, he picked it up, answering with far less courtesy than usual. There was a moment of silence before:
“Hello, Kira.”
The man froze, every hair on his body standing on end at the sound of that terrifyingly familiar voice. His muscles refused to listen to his brain – he was stuck, rooted to his chair, one hand on the phone and one hovering over his keyboard.
“Are you there, Mr. Editor in Chief?” The voice teased.
Kira swallowed, forcing himself to turn his chair away from the desk and look out the window. The rain clouds continued to cover the city in a dreary haze, which had suited him fine. But now, all he wanted was a beam of sunshine to warm up his frozen body.
“Gin?”
“Mmm. I thought I’d give you a call while I was in town.”
“You’re in town?” Kira asked, trying to play innocent, but just sounding hopeful instead.
“You already knew I was in town. I’m curious as to why you didn’t share the information with… others?”
Gin sounded so pleasant, like they were having a chat about where to go for lunch. Kira felt himself struggle with the reality of the moment. Then a few pieces clicked.
“You called in the tip.” It wasn’t a question.
Gin laughed delightedly, the sound ringing through phone line.
“Well, I’m glad to know my absence hasn’t dulled you too much.”
There was another beat of uncomfortable silence. Kira’s mind spun, trying to consider what words to say to keep him on the line, keep him talking – perhaps even give up information.
“Are you there, Izuru?” Gin murmured, jolting him to speak.
“I didn’t need to share something they already knew about.”
“Oh, so you’re in their inner circle now, are you? A good little soldier? One of the ‘Chiefs’?”
Kira gritted his teeth at the verbal jabs, refusing to take the bait.
“Why are you calling me?”
Another moment of silence, but this time there was a thoughtful quality – like the man was deciding whether to answer honestly or not. Kira gripped the armrest of his chair, attempting to stop the shaking in his hands. After another moment, there was a heavy sigh on the other end of the line, and Gin said:
“I wanted to chat with you about Momo Hinamori.”
Ikkaku thrust forward with his wooden spear, making the movement look flawless and smooth as silk.
The members of the 11th who weren’t on an active bounty hunt had lined up in neat rows to take instruction on pole arms, however, they were not so smooth. The variety of bruises and bumps on each man were a testament to their lack of practice.
“C’mon, idiots!” He barked out, “What are you, tired? We don’t have the luxury of getting tired! Get those spears up!”
He had stripped down to his sweatpants, expecting to be given a workout – but this was just pathetic.
Ikkaku was in charge this afternoon – again – since Yachiru was back at school, and Kenpachi had disappeared for his daily ‘lunch run’.
The men had begun to notice their Captains’ absences, and a healthy betting pool had begun a few days ago. That same betting pool had instantly become an obsession when Ikkaku had casually asked the Captain If he could recommend a good place to eat, seeing as he was heading out for lunch so often. Kenpachi had looked at him like he had lots his marbles.
“How the fuck should I know? Food is food.”
It seemed the captain wasn’t on a new lunch time craving run.
He was up to something, and the men were curious. Though the 11th could occasionally become as full of gossip as a sewing circle amongst themselves, they would never discuss the internal workings of the 11th with outsiders – even ex-employees. So, rumors flew, money changed hands and bets were raised, called and cancelled – but it was all speculation.
Because no one was eager to ask Kenpachi Zaraki where he was spending his lunch break.
“It’s gotta be an underground fight club.”
“Idiot – why would he go to one of those, when he has an above ground fight club right here?!”
“Because he can kill people, there?”
“…”
“…yeah.”
“OK, put me down at 3 to 1 for the underground fight club.”
“I still say it’s a woman” One man piped up, jabbing his spear forward in time with the group.
There was scattered laughter and a few calls of ‘yeah, right’, ‘like the Captain would do that’.
“What if he’s at driving lessons?”
The entire platoon, even those ignoring the prattle guffawed and nearly dropped their training spears.
“He’s already got a license!”
“Yeah, but that’s a motorbike license.”
“I’ve never seen him on a bike?”
“Well seeing as it blew up with the rest of his home, that isn’t very surprising now, is it?” Yumichika cut in, the acid in his voice causing every man to sweat and refocus on the drills.
Ikkaku had been listening from the front of the room, and the vein in his head was beginning to throb at an alarming rate. He barked at the men, making them duck their heads.
“That’s right, assholes – it doesn’t matter what the captain does in his own time, but I reckon you need to stop gabbing, and start stabbing!”
He jumped off the small dais and into the middle of the ranks, swinging his spear wildly, knocking them head over heels in all directions. The men cried out, trying to block and hold their ground, but failing miserably.
Yumichika delicately picked up a spear from a fallen man, and with a brutality that seemed so at odds with his aesthetic, flew at Ikkaku, striking and jabbing forward, making him work for the win. Ikkaku wasn’t about to be pushed back, however, and grinned eyes lighting up at the challenge.
“You’re not usually one for pole arms.” Ikkaku grunted, stepping to the side and sweeping his spear like a broom across the floor to deflect a sharp thrust.
“No, but that’s the point.” Yumichika raised his voice over the clacking of the wood as they struck again and again. “If I am able to wield a long weapon to this degree,“ he struck at Ikkaku, and the bigger man allowed himself to be pushed back, as a demonstration, “then you should have no problem learning enough to be useful.”
He disengaged Ikkaku and took a few quick steps back, lowering the pole, and dropping it at the feet of one of the men. Ikkaku’s breathing had sped up, but he pulled his spear up to stand beside him and glared at the men.
“That’s right. He’s a short arms master, but if the occasion called for it, Yumichika would be able to hold off a larger opponent with a longer weapon.” Ikkaku nodded to his partner in thanks, and the flamboyant man smiled with more heat than was called for, before returning to the small office. Ikkaku gulped and hoped that heat would simmer until later this evening.
The surrounding men didn’t notice, they were too busy groaning about sore muscles and aching joints. Ikkaku scoffed at them and felt sweat trickling down his spine. At least Yumi knew how to give him a workout. His brain instantly went south at that thought, and he cleared his throat, trying to focus back on the men and the unsanctioned break they seemed to be taking.
“What the captain does in his own time is no one’s business but his.” Ikkaku said firmly, looking them each in the eye. “And this little betting pool you’ve got going? It stops now. If you want to know so badly, grow some balls and ask him.”
He strode back to the dais, taking his regular position and holding the spear with two hands, horizontally.
“But I better warn you, he won’t be happy to hear you’ve been gossiping instead of training. So, get your asses off the ground and BACK IN FORMATION!” He roared, making the men jump and take their positions. Ikkaku nodded, pleased that they obeyed so quickly.
Maybe there was hope for these weaklings, after all.
Shuuhei Hisagi wasn’t used to visitors at his office in the power plant. Especially not these visitors.
The Governor, his assistant Chojiro Sasakibe and Kyouraku Shunsui were here to inspect the facility, to ensure that security measures had been taken and control over the power grid and gas lines was still firmly under his control.
Personally, Shuuhei felt the visit was unnecessary, and that the regular reports and video evidence he’d been sending should be enough to appease the men. There seemed to be more, however, as Yamamoto seated himself in the visitor’s chair, flanked by the two men.
“I am pleased with the precautions you have taken, and the plans you and Shunsui have implemented to protect this location.” The governor began, politely.
“Thankyou, Sir. We have done our best to prepare for any eventuality.”
“Which is exactly why I needed to speak with you today.”
The Governor thumped his heavy wooden cane against the carpeted floor, and all the men flinched.
Yamamoto wielded incredible power, but it was the respect he commanded and admiration he earned from people like Kyouraku, Zaraki, Unohana and Kuchiki that made him a truly dangerous man. He had managed to weld together money, brilliance, strength and death into an unbeatable force.
Kyouraku spoke up.
“We know this location is a crux. This is the place Aizen needs to get into once the drug is ready. I have a strong suspicion that he will be mounting an incursion on the day he comes for the alloy.”
Shuuhei jerked back. “An incursion? Like a full-scale assault?”
“Yes. It’s one of several scenarios I have put together, and it seems to be the one with highest chance of success on his part.”
“But – the timing? Why do you think he would do it within the same time frame as capturing the alloy? Wouldn’t it be smarter to take the alloy first, then come for this place at a later time?”
Kyouraku shook his head.
“No, our forces would be prepared for a second assault – he knows we would focus on defending the power plant – the distribution core - it wouldn’t be tactically sound. However, going after two or even three targets at the same time, splitting our forces and diverting our attention? Yes, that sounds like something Aizen would do.”
Shuuhei took it all in, thinking over the ramifications of this new information. “So, you want to give me extra security? Fighters?” He asked, baffled.
Shunsui covered a smile at his words, clearly amused, while Saskibe cleared his throat, eyes dancing.
“No, Mr. Hisagi,” The Governor replied, his voice filled with good humored menace. “When Aizen returns, there will be an immediate response. We’re going to give you the 11th Hour.”
Shuuhei gulped, trying to cover his distress at that. But something moved behind the man’s beard, and Shuuhei suspected he was trying to avoid grinning.
“… And also, a few old friends.”
“Are ya done? I’m hungry.”
Unohana hid a smile, ignoring the very large and very relaxed man sprawled over her couch, legs dangling off the side and end. She was tempted to point out that if he had wanted to nap, he should have done it before coming over.
Kenpachi had strolled in around lunchtime as usual, still seeming to have avoided her entire staff (and she had yet to figure out exactly how) pulled his sword from his belt and dropped onto her couch. She’d raised a brow at him, and he had dutifully asked her to fight, adding that today would be perfect for his schedule.
She had denied him, stating that her own schedule was completely locked in today, so it just wouldn’t be practical to battle. Her calm, professional smile hadn’t wavered even an inch.
He had just nodded in a strange, accommodating way, which had her worried for a moment, before he had yawned hugely. His sharp teeth glinted in the dim office lighting as he had flopped back on the couch, putting one arm around his sword and the other behind his head. Within seconds, he was sound asleep, big chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.
Is he seriously asleep, right now? She thought, shocked.
She was tempted to get out of her chair and approach him, but knew that his instincts would wake him up the moment she came near.
A predator does not approach a sleeping being – unless that being is prey.
She continued to work quietly, tapping away at her computer and filling in paperwork for several patient files. His gentle breathing had filled the room. Not a snore, just a slow, steady rumble that had her own eyelids feeling heavy. She couldn’t hear a noise, but the sensation was extremely relaxing – like the air was purring against her skin.
And she had taken the opportunity to really look at him.
The black ‘uniform’ was plain, but good quality, pulling against those wide shoulders and solid thighs. The battered wooden sword was tucked securely in the crook of one arm like a child – she wondered if he had napped with Yachiru like that when the girl was small.
The thought had her heart melting, and she shook herself not wanting to fall down the rabbit hole of considering Kenpachi Zaraki as a ‘gentle father figure’.
The man was the result of years on the street – bloody, brutal, merciless years, where he had fought and killed to survive. As an adult, he had veered away from outright murder, finding more joy in the fight than the kill – but that joy had brought him dangerously close to being on a wanted poster.
Then he had gotten into trouble with someone he shouldn’t have, and before he realised what was happening, he’d taken down a pair of criminals worth a huge bounty – the Kusajishis. Rumour had it that Kenpachi had found the girl after slaughtering her parents before her eyes. The tiny child had been malnourished, dehydrated and abused – and Kenpachi had taken her away, to an unknown future.
Within weeks, he had established a small company using the money from her parents’ bounty. Madarame and Ayasegawa had been using the same turf to hunt their own prey, and when they had come to challenge the big man, it was said that their fight had seen Ikkaku thoroughly beaten, and Kenpachi offering him a job for being such a strong opponent.
Within months, the 11th Hour became the number one agency in the city, gaining the attention of major players, and turning heads all the way up to the Governor himself. The format of their business had impressed the Old Man, though it was extremely concerning for it’s ‘no holds barred fighting style’ to commanders like Komamura.
Still, Zaraki attracted power like gravity, and fighters from around the city began pouring in for his special brand of training and the promise of glory, to the point that most divisions within the city began having their employees go through 11th Hour Training before being deemed ‘proficient’ to continue.
But still, within all that violence, that world that he built and thrived in to ease the fever of fighting, the little girl he had adopted had grown well. She was bright, inquisitive, mischievous and kind. She was wise in ways children shouldn’t be and shared an emotional innocence with Kenpachi that was heartbreakingly sweet.
Unohana had sighed loudly at the thought, mind still boggled that such a man could raise such a child. But it made a weird kind of sense. In the same way a scarred warrior would wear little brass bells on his tassels and yarrow flowers in his hair: It just fit.
Kenpachi had shifted at her sigh, the arm under his head stretching out as he yawned hugely, waking from his short nap and putting his token sunglasses on his forehead. He didn’t seem the tiniest bit concerned that he had fallen asleep in ‘enemy territory’. If anything, he tilted his chin to look at her as if she should be embarrassed for waking him.
Then his stomach had growled loudly.
“Well?” He asked, prompting her to answer his initial question.
She nodded, locking her computer and turning to her drawer to pull out a covered bento box, putting it in the middle of her desk.
Kenpachi swung his legs off the couch and sat up, eyes gleaming at the box.
“What’d ya make today?” He asked, swallowing.
“Fried chicken rice, omelet and marinated vegetable salad.”
He stood and walked to the visitor’s chair, pulling it in behind himself as he leaned over the desk. Unohana pulled out her chopsticks and placed them before her, then raised a brow at him, silently questioning.
Kenpachi reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a plastic fork – the kind given at the hospital cafeteria.
She sighed, wondering how many of her staff had been too terrified to ask what he was doing down there, let alone why he had just come for the cutlery. He was clearly able to become invisible the moment he approached her floor.
She leaned over and lifted the lid on the box, wondering if he could tell there was just a little bit extra – just a little more to share – than there would have been a week ago.
He didn’t offer a comment, just dug his fork into a piece of chicken and put it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before she had selected a bite for herself.
“’S good.” He said quietly, waiting for her to eat.
She felt herself blushing at the compliment and cursed silently. She didn’t want him to see that his words affected her so readily. She quickly picked up a piece of cheesy rolled omelet and popped it in her mouth.
Humming around the bite, enjoying the flavour she glanced at Kenpachi, and seeing him take another mouthful, she realized she was enjoying the company as well.
Since that day at the diner, his visits had been their usual ‘challenge and deny’ format, but the lingering, the choices to annoy her – they had all been less… frustrating. She began to find his mannerisms amusing, the way he tried to get her attention through petty irritations – it was all so… flirtatious. That wasn’t the right description for a man like Zaraki, but she mentally equated it with ‘pulling pigtails’, and could feel his attentions growing on her.
“So,” She mused, tapping her chopsticks to her chin, and looking to the ceiling as though hunting for an answer. “Where should we go to dinner?”
Kenpachi choked, turning to the side and coughing heavily. After a moment, he whirled back to her, hand rising to grip his nape in that familiar nervous gesture.
“Uh..”
She ignored his moment of indecision, and ploughed forward, “I was thinking something spicy. Hmm…” She continued to tap those chopsticks, considering eateries that she had enjoyed in the past.
“I – uh-“
She gave him a coquettish look, “Unless you want to go somewhere specific?”
He rubbed his neck and gritted out, “I don’t really care.”
“Wonderful – ladies’ choice. So how about Saturday?”
“This Saturday?”
He sounded strained, and she watched him carefully – was he going to refuse? They hadn’t discussed anything about last Sunday’s impromptu lunch. Indeed, they had continued as if nothing had changed. But something had changed – again. Their whole history had been a series of changes, but now things were happening at a much more accelerated rate for some reason.
Too fast?
“Yeah. I can do that.” He grunted, sounding steadier.
And that was it.
The conversation was over as far as Kenpachi was concerned. He focused on eating, taking a few more bites before standing abruptly, looping his sword back in his belt and striding out the door without looking back.
He exited the hospital through his secret route and began walking back to the barracks, trying not to consider the ramifications of standing her up on Saturday. Maybe then she would be mad enough to finally accept his challenge? He’d never even had a date before – so was standing someone up that big of a deal?
As he got closer to the 11th, he noticed familiar landmarks and was pleased that he was finally taking the right route to somewhere he wanted to be. His thoughts took a turn, and he slowed, not focusing on the path.
Somewhere I want to be…
When was the last time he’d gotten lost on his way to see her?
Notes:
Not long now... the chemical is nearly complete... and once they have the alloy - Kyouka Suigestsu will be ready for use!
And who is Yamamoto referring to when he says 'old friends'? Mwahaaha - you shall find out when shit hits the fan!I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and a little more history on the 11th Hour :)
This AU is extremely... large. So if you have any questions, please ask! I have blueprints, timelines and a running soundtrack.As always - leave a comment if you loved it! Cos I love YOU for reading!
<3
Chapter 26: Fridays Aren't That Bad
Notes:
Songs I was listening to as I wrote this chapter:
https://open.spotify.com/track/5ewhx9Kxie7RTbQkbkTaiJ?si=32847da89d3046b7
https://open.spotify.com/track/5uCax9HTNlzGybIStD3vDh?si=a1f23f3a8466435d"She's so High" - Tal Bachman
"Say You Won't Let Go" - James Arthur
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Friday
Fridays are bullshit.
Renji leaned against the wall outside Rukia’s class, headphones on and eyes closed as the music tapped out a beat.
With his tailored black suit and white shirt opened nearly to his waist, striking tattoos and severe ponytail, he looked more like a gangster than a private security agent. He didn’t mind the confusion if it helped him blend in, but at the university everyone knew he was there to ‘escort the Kuchiki girl’.
He had been concerned for a time that the special attention would make her feel more isolated – but he had underestimated the fickle nature of young adults.
They loved that she had a bodyguard.
She was making friends more readily, which both pleased and concerned him. Boys were either too scared to approach, or liked the challenge of getting close, just to hear him growl a warning. The girls were another story altogether.
They tittered and giggled when he got close, all batting lashes a lingering looks. They clearly admired him for his build and his appearance, eyeing him with an almost indecent amount of heat.
Renji kind of liked the attention.
Growing up, he’d been a bit gawky and awkward around girls. Rough, in a street-smart kind of way that girls weren’t that into. Not that he wanted just any girl.
Rukia didn’t seem to notice the attention he was getting from her new friends, she just continued to flourish, opening up in a way he hadn’t seen for years. After the war of two years ago and the fiasco that Aizen had caused, she and Byakuya had gotten a lot closer – but her social life had struggled.
A part of Aizen’s plan was to disgrace the Kuchiki family. It had nearly succeeded if it hadn’t been for the efforts of Renji and Ichigo. The way he had arranged for Gin Ichimarus paper to splash heinous rumors about her, falsify evidence of crimes and photoshop images to persuade nearly the entire city that she was public enemy number one was only convincing due to Kyouka Suigestsu. The drug had been pumping in the air, making everything seem so believable – even to Rukia herself.
When Ichigo and Unohana had uncovered the truth, the anger Byakuya had harboured towards Rukia had dissolved, and the noble had turned his full fury on Aizen. It had been the major turning point in the battle. Byakuya had joined forces with the most unlikely of allies – Zaraki, in particular – and lent his fortune and personal strength to ensuring Aizens downfall.
Rukia was safe, but her social life had been in shambles. The silver lining however was the gentle growing affection that had finally blossomed between herself and Byakuya. The truth about their lack of blood ties wasn’t something openly known, and he had always suspected it was the reason Byakuya had avoided even touching her. He shook his head, knowing it was an instant dismissal to even think about that.
Renji had never regretted working for Byakuya until the point of his initial abandonment of Rukia two years ago. So, seeing the two of them finally showing familial ties, was a balm on his fears. She was growing, opening up more every day, and his heart swelled for her.
Their own relationship had been a little trickier, recently.
Since that spat the previous weekend, and their conversation about the kiss, things had been… weird.
He’d continued to be professional, watching for her, assisting her into and out of cars and classes. He kept a log of their comings and goings, reported in daily with his team and made sure the rest of the force was taking care of Byakuya and the family assets.
She had been her usual reserved self, with small moments of temper and quiet dignity. She continued to shine in her classes, outstripping the other students with her diligence, and maintaining a humble modesty that had them warming to her, instead of rejecting her for being at the top.
But the constant friction of being so close to her, the subtle glances, the little touches – completely appropriate, of course – were starting to become nearly unbearable.
He wanted her – and that was completely inappropriate.
Their training sessions had returned to their usual fun, energetic workout, albeit with more laughter and the holds lasting a few extra seconds. Only yesterday, he had caught her from behind, one arm trapping her fists to her chest and the other around her stomach. He had leaned down, panting lightly against her ear as he explained how she had failed to turn into the attack, and had been caught instead of hit.
She had shivered, whispering his name, and the closeness of her body had him letting her go in a hurry, turning away to adjust his gi and exiting before she could notice his growing erection. He had cleared his throat, tossing instructions for solo exercises over his shoulder as he jogged to the bathroom.
Renji banged his head against the wall, furious at himself for not having more control. She wasn’t ready for… anything. She was still a Kuchiki, still out of his reach, and yes, he loved her.
That was exactly why he wouldn’t act on impulse. He needed her to offer him a window of opportunity.
But god help the first boy who tried to touch her while he still breathed. Even the thought of another mans hands on her pale skin had him growling deep in his chest, the sound echoing down the nearly empty corridor. The two twenty-something girls who were walking past shot him terrified looks and scurried along.
Then the door opened, and the class began filing out. Renji stood up straight, put his earphones away and waited for her to exit. When she finally did, he tensed, immediately sensing something was off.
“You good?” He asked quietly, in that subtle ‘bodyguard’ voice.
“I’m fine.” She snapped, hustling away from the body of students and practically running for the exit.
He followed her without comment, long legs keeping up without effort. She appeared to be running from something – but he couldn’t figure out what. The rest of the class seemed to be their usual cheerful selves when they had exited, chatting about assignments and notes.
Rukia finally stopped on the far side of the empty, open courtyard that acted as a green study area for students and faculty. She had her back to him, fists clenching and unclenching, clearly angry and upset over something.
Renji hesitated, then reached out and touched her shoulder – a simple affection, friendly and concerned.
She recoiled away from him as if burned, and he retracted the hand, hurt by her reaction. What had he done now? She had been perfectly fine before class, her scars from the abduction fading with each joke, each gentle shove they gave each other.
“Did something happen in class?” He asked, trying to sound casual.
She didn’t answer, just began walking again, arms pumping as she got farther and farther from the main buildings, turning down the maze of small connecting alleys that made up the rear walkways of the campus.
“Hey!” He said trying to slow her as they diverted even further from his ‘safe routes’. She kept walking, feet flying without actually turning into a full-on run.
“Rukia!” He yelled, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her to face him. “Where are you-“
Her face was red, eyes filled with angry tears. He released her arm, baffled.
“You’re not a whore!” She snarled at him, eyes nearly glowing with fury.
“I know?” He responded, stepping back and putting up his arms in a placating gesture. The heck what she talking about? This was beyond confusing – this was downright weird, and a little scary.
“So why do they… they…” He made a frustrated noise and waved a hand over her head in futility.
“Who? What did they do?” Renji’s dread began to make a slow ascent to his throat, not sure he wanted to know the answer. “You’re not making any sense?”
Rukia closed her eyes and took a few deep calming breaths, attempting to quell her anger. When she opened her eyes, she was glaring at him, and he took a step back, feeling his shoulders hit the brick wall of the large building towering over their narrow alleyway.
“You are not a piece of meat to be objectified.” She said, her words precise and cold.
He didn’t say anything, just continued to look at her with confused eyes, trying to piece together what she was saying. She seemed to be both angry at him, and for him. And who on earth would be objectifying him?
His memory flashed back to those new friends of hers, the ones with the lingering looks.
“Your friends?” He asked uncertainly.
“Tch!” She scoffed at that, clearly disagreeing with the term ‘friend’.
He mulled it over, then said “I’m around you all day to protect you. I have tattoo’s, and scars. I wear a suit. It’s not beyond the realm of belief to think some people like that kind of thing.”
Her eyes flashed again, and he had a suspicion about why she was so mad.
“But I don’t care about any of that. Or any of them, for that matter. I only care about you.” He stepped away from the wall, unsure if he was about to get slapped, but certain that this was something worth being slapped for.
“Are you… jealous?”
She gaped at him, mouth working but only angry squeaks emerging. Finally, she crossed her arms and turned her head away, muttering about ‘bodyguards with egos the size of campus.’
Renji smiled, feeling a pleasant flutter in his chest. He was right – she was jealous. The connotations of what that meant had him reeling. Did he dare act on this tiny window?
Raising a hand, he gently pinched her chin and forced her face up.
Rukia looked up at him, noting the self-satisfied, sleepy look in his eyes. Her anger began to fizzle out. She had been indifferent when those three girls behind her had started talking about ‘the hot bodyguard outside’. If anything, she had begun blushing as they sighed over his ‘dreamy eyes’ and his hard muscles.
But then they began talking in more explicit terms, describing their impression on his anatomy, and what they would do to him if they got him alone – and she became furious. How dare they? They didn’t know anything about Renji! It was just as well the class had ended when it did – she was seconds away from launching into a tirade about sexual harassment.
“What were they saying, Rukia?” He asked, using that deep tone that secretly made her toes curl.
She pressed her lips together, not wanting to answer, but he shifted his thumb, running it lightly over her jaw, and she felt her heart speed up.
“Th-they were talking about… you.” She said lamely, trying to ignore the way his thumb continued to softly caress her jaw. She swallowed; certain her body had felt heavier only moments earlier.
“Mhm, and what else?” So confident, so sure of himself – just like in training.
“About the things they were going to do to you if they ever caught you alone.” She whispered, feeling herself blush, all traces of anger gone, now replaced with vivid curiosity. He seemed so close now – when had he gotten closer?
“What kinds of things?” He murmured, closing the space between them with a small step. She didn’t seem to notice.
“It’s embarrassing…” She muttered glancing away. When she turned her eyes back to him, he raised a brow, smirking at her. She felt irritation stir.
“They wanted to pin you to a wall and- and-“ She couldn’t say the rest, it involved a lot of words she’d never said out loud in that context.
Renji gulped, heat rising to his cheeks at the idea of Rukia pinning him to a wall and doing… whatever those girls had suggested.
He couldn’t stand it anymore. If he was going to hell for taking this chance, he would gladly step on the path – but he would go down swinging. Rank be damned – he loved her, and if he was any sort of man, he’d let her know before fate took this chance away from him.
“You think I’d allow another woman to touch me, when the only one I want to touch is right here?” He murmured, looking down and hoping this wasn’t just another dream.
Rukia’s eyes widened, lips parting. She didn’t pull away, just stared at him as her blush covered her face.
Renji quietly placed his other hand on her hip, the warmth of it seeping through her clothes so slowly, that she wasn’t aware of it until he was leaning down, his face only inches from hers. Rukia didn’t move, her breaths coming in tiny frantic pants. He stopped, not wanting to frighten her.
He could feel her breath on his lips as he said in a low voice.
“I don’t know when I started falling in love with you,” he paused, waiting for her to absorb the words. “But I know I’ll never stop.”
“Renji…” It was barely a whisper, and he held his breath, hoping he hadn’t just broken himself to pieces. It was out. Would she understand how long he had wanted to say that?
But then a small hand shakily rose and touched his cheek, and he leaned into it, pressing his mouth against her palm and closing his eyes in bliss. This. This was everything. This perfect moment. He felt cradled by her warmth, loving the touch of her soft skin against his.
Seconds ticked by as he allowed the sensation to soothe the ache in heart. Years of secret yearning, years of guilt for wanting someone he could never have – it was all drifting away, brushed aside by that gentle hand on his cheek.
Releasing her chin, he cupped her face and opened his eyes. She was still so close, the flush across her cheeks, the tiny panting breaths – had she ever been more beautiful to him than right at that moment?
He leaned down, so careful to catch every movement, to remember every detail – the hitch in her breathing when she felt his hot breath on her chin, her eyelids fluttering closed and he gently brushed his mouth against hers, the way her free hand gripped his white shirt in a fist, holding him still as he pressed the softest, most delicate kiss upon her lips.
The sight of them, the man in the black suit, carefully bending down to the small, fine boned woman who stood on her toes, reaching for him with innocent abandon. The moment lit with the afternoon sun warming the air as a gentle breeze played with their clothes, tugging at her summer dress. All of it was lost, as Renji and Rukia forgot time and space, only knowing the heat of their shared kiss.
Before he was ready, he pulled away, watching for her reaction. Would she be happy? Sad? Would she be disappointed in him? Or angry at his presumptive action?
Her eyes were still closed, her face still turned up to him, as if expecting him to return – she looked so fragile, but he knew that the power she could wield over him could have him begging on his knees. It was a terrifying prospect, but one he accepted without fear.
Renji cleared his throat and Rukia opened her eyes, the spell she had been under for that glorious minute had ended. His face was flushed red, and he had taken a step back, as thought embarrassed. She still gripped his white shirt in one hand, as though unable to let go.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?” He asked, the uncertainty in his voice evident from the way is shook.
Rukis just shook her head, a smile curling on her lips. “I liked it.” She murmured. “Did you mean what you said?”
He nodded – absolutely sure. “Every word.”
“Good.” She replied and stook a step towards him, releasing his shirt to reach up and put her hands around his neck, pulling him down to her.
“Rukia – wait a min-“
She pressed forward, locking onto his lips as he stumbled back in shock, hitting the brick wall and grabbing her by the waist. He pulled her away quickly.
“We can’t do this here!” He hissed, glancing around hurriedly.
“Then take me somewhere we can.” She purred.
Renji swallowed hard, suddenly unsure if this course of action was the wisest. She was pressed against him, arms around his neck, and asking him to ‘take her’ somewhere. He wasn’t sure if this was a fevered fantasy, or is he’d knocked his head, and was actually lying passed out somewhere on campus.
“How about I take us home, to start with?” He said cautiously, trying to gently unwrap her arms from his neck. If this was reality, then needed to be careful – she was his best friend, after all, and a noble. There couldn’t be any alleyway hook-ups with someone like her. Not to mention he had just crossed a massive professional boundary.
She removed her hands, and watched him, a hint of hurt in her eyes. “You… don’t want to…?”
The leading question had him groaning and trying to ignore the throbbing ache in his pants.
“Oh, I want to. I really want to.” He said heatedly, “But I don’t know that it’s the best idea right now.” He emphasised the timing.
She gave him a sceptical look, but relaxed and took a deep, steadying breath.
“Ok.” Another breath. “I have a test tomorrow, so I need to study tonight anyway.” She patted her clothes, and began walking towards the car park, where the black town car would be waiting for them.
“Are you coming?” She asked, eyebrow raised over one shoulder.
“Almost.” He muttered darkly, and strode after her, flattening the creases in his shirt and trying not to think too hard about that second, abandoned kiss.
Pinned to a wall, hey? Those girls might have been onto something.
Notes:
Phew! This particular chapter has been in the pipeline since the first week I entered Renji into the plot. I am SO happy how this came together, and I can't wait for you all to follow their story as we progress further!
Fluffy First Kisses, beautiful summer afternoons, hearts leaping into the unknown - ah, it's all so beautiful <3
And again, if you liked this chapter, please leave a comment for LOVE <3 It absolutely makes me day to know which parts made you smile, cry or get righteously angry!
Love <3
Chapter 27: Creepy Kuchiki Pride Powers
Notes:
Songs that helped make this a bit fun:
https://open.spotify.com/track/1ytTeSRAU6IRo2itVDwtPv?si=f3d6acb894464284
https://open.spotify.com/track/6hwQ69v7VbPhTTR2fOtYX7?si=ffb255237df743ea"Creep" - Radiohead
"Want You Bad" - The Offspring
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Of all the people Toshiro had expected to see walk into the Snowball on a Friday night – Kira Izuru was not one of them.
The bar was its usually rowdy crowd that night: members of the 11th, though Zaraki and Madarame were absent. A few rough and tumble locals, a small biker group that was there for a quiet drink and one very glamourous couple that Rangiku was watching like a hawk. He suspected they were professionals, there to scope out the talent at the bar.
Must be new to the game, if they don’t know where they’ve walked into. Toshiro had thought, almost feeling sorry for the two dressed-to-the-nines girls.
So, when upper-middle class, dark blue suited, perpetually emo-haired Izuru Kira stood in the doorway, attempting to ‘blend in’ – there was a bit of a record scratch moment. Heads didn’t necessarily turn, but there was a definite lull in conversation by the pool tables.
Toshiro glared, outright challenging the man to approach the bar. Kira met his gaze and dropped his eyes, clearly aware that he wasn’t welcome here.
Rangiku, however, let out a surprised cheer when she saw him, and urged him over to the counter. Kira went to her and allowed her to reach over the bar and scruff up his hair with one hand. Toshiro watched as the two exchanged what looked like a pleasant conversation; clearly, whatever hurt there was between them because of Gin was no longer an issue.
He wasn’t happy about any of this – his own history with Izuru was a sore spot at the best of times, but now with everything that was happening, it felt like Kira had come here as a lamb to the slaughter. Toshiro jerked at the thought, and caught himself wondering if his exposure to Zaraki had planted such bloodthirsty thoughts in his mind? He knew the big man would be pleased to see him considering it, at least. The idea of sharing an evil grin with Kenpachi was unnerving, but amusing.
Toshiro wanted to make his disquiet more obvious, to ensure both Kira and Rangiku were aware that he didn’t consider the blonde man a friend. In fact, as far as he was aware, Kira was only a patron as long as he paid for his drinks and didn’t look twice at the owner. He turned to the rear door and exited the main bar, heading up the stairs to his private office. It would be safer for everyone if he took a little quiet time away from the man.
Pretending not to watch him exit, Kira turned to Rangiku and sighed.
“He still hates me, huh?”
“Yup.” She replied cheerfully, pouring a shot. When he reached for it, she swiped the glass from him and downed in, offering a thoughtful smile.
“Maybe you should have come tomorrow night if you wanted to see me? Then you could have avoided him altogether? He’s only working weeknights these days.”
“Yeah, well this couldn’t really wait. I spent the last twenty-four hours trying to decide who to discuss it with, and well,” He shrugged and spread his hands on the bar, “here I am.”
Rangiku crossed her arms over her ample chest, and gave him a suspicious glare, “What are you talking about, Kira? You’re not one for riddles.”
Quirked a finger at her to lean in, he took one last hasty glance around to make sure no-one was listening, then hissed.
“He’s still in town. Gin. He’s here, and he called me.”
Rangiku wasn’t too impressed – until that bit about the phone call.
“Wait – he called you?”
Kira nodded so fast she thought his head was going to topple off his shoulders.
“Well, what did he say?”
“He said he wanted to talk about Momo-“
Rangiku lurched forward and slapped a palm over his mouth, her eyes wide and panicked.
“We don’t say that name so casually, in here.” She hissed.
When he nodded agreement, she stood back and yelled to the waiter on the floor that she was taking her fifteen minutes.
Walking around the bar, she hooked Kira by the arm and escorted him firmly outside, passing a very filthy Ikkaku and Kenpachi as they made their way inside.
“Oi! Kira – what are you doin’ here?” Ikkaku turned back, but before he could answer, Rangiku firmly steered him toward the far side of the building and snapped over her shoulder, “He’s busy!” Ikkaku rolled his eyes and followed his boss.
Once she was sure they were alone she thumped Kira firmly in the shoulder, pushed him against the wall and stood in front of him threateningly. At this angle, he could clearly see everything she displayed for the regulars, but somehow, even that was intimidating right now.
“He called you to talk about her?” Rangiku said in a loud whisper. “Why?”
Kira leaned against the wall and tried to sound calm.
“I think he was trying to warn me. He said she was with Aizen and she was safe for now.”
“This makes no sense…” She muttered, nibbling on a fingernail, mind racing. What was Gin doing? Even after they had… reconnected – she hadn’t expected him to start making moves to betray Aizen like this.
Unless it was all just another game?
“When I asked him why he was telling me, he said he knew I still had … well… a ‘soft spot’ for Momo.” He blushed, trying to hide his face.
Rangiku said nothing, mind still going over all the angles and still not quite seeing the whole picture. She wished she could talk to Kyouraku – or even Kisuke. They definitely couldn’t go to Toshiro about this.
“He called you yesterday?” She asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah – in the afternoon.”
Why? There was no reason or benefit to tell him about Momo – was he just stirring the pot? And he’s still locked in with with Aizen, regardless of what happened the other night.
“What did you do after the call?”
“I was kind of shaken, so I went home early. I took today off – I blocked every call, just in case.”
Why call Kira with meaningless information that would just stir him up emotionally? Why would he appear to betray Aizen for Kira?
Rangiku continued to nibble her nail. Suddenly, a thought took hold – a sickening, gut wrenching thought. Izuru watched her face pale, and he had a very bad feeling.
“Kira… who has access to your office?”
When Kenpachi and Ikkaku had entered the bar, they were tired, dirty and a little bloody. Today’s hunt had been good – they’d managed to upend a drug den and flush out several bounty’s – though the biggest fish had escaped. They were going to give his name to Ichigo and let the P.I. get a bit of glory.
At least, that was what the paperwork would say – the truth was, even the biggest fish, some ass-wipe named Kariya, was slippery and weak. Too much effort to chase him down, and not worth the fight for Kenpachi.
So, they had handed off the captured folk to the men of the 11th to take back to the barracks for processing before being taken into police custody. Then, they’d been close enough that a ten minute walk had them at Hitsugayas for a cold drink.
They had both lost their black over shirts during the scuffle, and were now sitting at the bar in their fitted white tank tops, looking like a pair of dirty, over worked gym junkies. They didn’t notice the pair of glamorously dressed girls in the corner eye them like a pair of ripe plums.
The waiter covering for Rangiku rushed over with a few beers, knowing exactly who they were, and why they needed to be served first. Kenpachi didn’t wait, he flicked off the bottle cap with a nail and slung it back, finishing the drink in one breath. Ikkaku just stared at the TV, mind going blank as he let the long day fall away from him.
The men didn’t talk – when they drank together, they often spent their evenings in silence, appreciating that quality about each other. They didn’t need chatter to communicate their mutual comfort. And they didn’t need silence to convey their friendship. They were loyal, but not dependant on each other – and they both respected that quality in their friendship.
“Hi fellas.” A feminine voice purred from behind them.
Ikkaku turned fully and raised him brows, giving a thorough inspection to the two women who were dressed for a night at the club scene. Kenpachi turned his head and glanced at them over his shoulder with one beady eye. He grunted, uninterested, and returned his attention to the action film on the TV.
“Hello, ladies.” Ikkaku replied with a grin. The women giggled, turning up the flirt. He knew exactly what they were doing, but he let them play it out – it would be a good story to tell Yumichika later.
“We couldn’t help but notice you two are over here all alone.” The other woman purred, her dark eyes flashing as she watched Ikkakus torso flex under the tight fabric.
“Are you looking for a bit of company tonight?” The lighter haired woman asked in a soft voice, putting out the offer in a such a blunt way that Ikkaku nearly snorted. Clearly amateurs.
“Fuck off.” Kenpachi growled, not even bothering to turn. Ikkaku didn’t react, just kept grinning. The Captain wasn’t interested in ‘company’ like theirs – ever. He had a lot of connections with working folk like this, but he had never sampled the goods. Ikkaku accepted this as just another one of his boss’s quirks – like the way he let Yachiru hang off his shoulder like a monkey.
The women threw disgusted glances at the big man, clearly dropping him from their target list. Ikkaku’s grin grew sharp, feral – his voice sounded dangerous. He didn’t appreciate any kind of disrespect to Kenpachi, but these women weren’t aware of who they were, so it was best to just get rid of them.
“If the Captain says ‘fuck off’, then off you fuck.”
The women scoffed and stared at him with disbelief. He was rejecting them?
“Whatever – you’re both fuckin’ ugly anyway.” The dark eyed one hissed, before they slunk away to the small group of friendlier bikers. They were going to have much luck there, Ikkaku noticed – they’d missed the rainbow patches sewn onto the leather jackets.
He turned back to the TV and sipped his beer, already forgetting the interaction. He had no problem with working women – he thought it was a decent way to make a living. But coming into this bar was just stupid – there were two off duty cops in the back booth, alone. Not to mention Rangiku was on friendly terms with most of the local girls and wouldn’t hesitate to point out territory poachers.
A movement caught Ikkaku’s attention, and he watched from the corner of his eye as Kenpachi raised a hand and ran his fingers hesitantly over the scar running through his brow. He dropped his hand, not saying a word, but there was a dark look in his eyes that Ikkaku suspected was resentment.
At that moment, Rangiku stormed back into bar like a woman on a mission – Kira wasn’t with her, and from the way her face was clouded over, Ikkaku thought they might find a blonde corpse outside. That would certainly liven the place up. She flew behind the bar and through the back door, heading for the office.
“The fuck was that about?” Ikkaku muttered as the door banged close behind her.
Kenpachi just shrugged ignored them all, wrapped up in his own thoughts. The new moon was two nights ago – the sliver moon would be out tomorrow - the first of the new cycle.
The full moon usually brought out the crazies in the city, but the new moon tended to make the darker inhabitants come out to prey on the weak. It was a subtle and dangerous shift in the power dynamic of the underworld, one that he had grown up in.
And thrived on.
Tonight’s little scuffle reminded him that there were still boring fights out there – weaklings who posed little threat, but still wanted the challenge. People who wanted to cut and be cut, people who sought power, whether it was through their own means or by stealing it from another.
And those that killed merely for the pleasure of it.
Those people were just as boring. Killing was easy. The fight – the journey to winning – could end in death, but that was just a risk to be taken. Why didn’t they understand that? The murderers. The assassins and killers? Where was the fun in taking a strong opponent and just making their heart stop beating?
He shook his head, not willing to give anymore thought to those idiots. They weren’t worth the braincells. He opened another waiting bottle and slung it back.
Better to dull them with beer.
Byakuya arrived home from the downtown offices later than expected. His two-man security team handed over their charge to the home faction, who advised him that Renji and Rukia had returned earlier in the day.
He made his way to his office but changed his mind about bypassing the living quarters. Instead, he dropped his briefcase in the foyer with Rikichi, and strolled down the hall towards Rukia’s rooms, black soled shoes clicking sharply against the marble tiles.
Coming to her door, he wasn’t surprised to find it unmanned, Renji was a friend and often sat in the room with her as she studied – usually wasting time on phone games.
He knocked softly; a gentle tap-tap tap that was specifically his. He waited a moment but didn’t hear a reply. He knocked again, a little harder, and finally heard her voice.
Opening the door, he paused, sensing the tense atmosphere. Rukia was hunched over her desk, apparently studying on the computer – fingers flying across the keyboard. Renji was seated on the other side of the dividing wall, legs up on the couch and eyes focussed on the phone in his hands. His hair was a little mussed and his face was tinged pink.
Everything looked normal.
“Rukia.” He greeted, keeping his voice to its regular stoic timbre.
“Brother, welcome home.” Rukia turned and stood, greeting him warmly.
Very warmly. He thought. Her face was flushed, and she seemed to be short of breath. He decided to have the housekeeper check the central air vents into this room, just in case.
“I know we usually dine at seven, but I still have several items that need my attention. Tomorrow, if you like, we can dine at –“
“Oh, I’m sorry brother – but tomorrow night I’m not able to join you.” Rukia interrupted, looking genuinely sad. “Yachiru is coming over for a girl’s night. We’ll be having pizza.”
Byakuya face didn’t change, but Rukia still made the offer: “Would you like to join us? She loves your company.”
“Possibly.” He droned, considering the most polite and legal way to muzzle a child.
He turned away, nodding to Renji, who stood to attention and gave him a small bow. That was… odd. Renji was respectful, but he didn’t show that level of deference when in the family quarters.
He spotted something different about the man, and couldn’t quite find a subtle way to ask.
“Renji?”
“Sir?”
“Are you wearing lip gloss?”
Byakuya had never seen a man blush that hard, that fast. Was he going to faint again? Rukia seemed to be choking on something.
“Yes, sir.” He replied in a tight voice, staring at a point on the wall above Byakuya’s head, avoiding direct eye contact as though the act might very well kill him. “I like… the strawberry flavour!”
Byakuya raised a single brow very slowly. “Alright then.”
He walked out without another word or glance at the man – who was clearly embarrassed to be called out on wearing something that Byakuya considered fairly standard. He himself often wore a balm on his lips, especially during winter when the winds could strip a man of moisture within seconds – leaving unsightly and shameful dry skin.
Still, he sighed wearily, heading for his office, Strawberry? Renji, when will you move away from childish flavourings?
“Shit, that was close!” Renji exhaled and collapsed on the couch, head falling back to stare at the ceiling.
“It wasn’t that close. He did knock.” Rukia replied, walking over to him.
“Yeah. But did you see his face? He knew something was up.” He squinted his eyes and waggled his fingers under his chin. “He used those creepy Kuchiki pride powers to figure it out.”
“He doesn’t have secret powers.”
“We can’t confirm that. Remember the glitter bomb?”
“Oh. Oh no. We don’t talk about the glitter bomb.”
But it seemed Renji was still sore about the subject.
“He knew. He knew and that’s why I nearly lost an eye.”
“You were covered in glitter residue! Of course, he knew it was you!”
“US. Rukia, it was us. Don’t try and change the story now! Somehow you were glitter free! I was nearly blinded!”
“He wasn’t being serious – it was just training.” She said ruefully.
“Training with Byakuya is always serious – this was attempted-revenge-on-Renji-blinding.” He waved his hands angrily, voice raised to a high-pitched yell.
“Well, he was really sparkly.”
“So sparkly.”
A pause as they wistfully remembered the ten minutes of silent hilarity that was Byakuya Kuchiki covered in neon pink glitter, walking calmly to the bathroom to scour his skin, acting as though it was a perfectly normal thing to do.
They hadn’t meant for him to open the box – it was a prank for Yachiru. Payback for her filling Rukias backpack with fake snow. But the girl had gone one step further and put the box on Byakuya’s desk. The man had seen the mysterious box with Rukia’s handwritten note and opened it, releasing the glittery surprise all over him and his office.
Yachiru had laughed for week.
Rukia shook off the memory first and grinned, closing in on Renji, who scooted away so fast that the couch shifted on the carpet.
“Whoa, wait – he’s home now. I’m supposed to be working.”
“You were definitely working on me.” Rukia said saucily, her eyes glinting with mischief. Did I really just say that?
She liked this new, assertive side of herself when it came to him. It felt powerful. Though she couldn’t imagine saying anything so bold to anyone else. Renji reared his head back and stumbled away from her, nervous at the predatory look she was giving him.
“I think we should just cool it for a bit, ok? You’ve gotta study for that test. Who even has a test on a Saturday? And I’m supposed to be guarding. You. Your bodyguard – that’s me.”
I can use words! He screamed at himself, flustered and ready to bolt.
Today had been wild – their first kiss had been so perfect, a moment in time he wanted tattooed on his mind. But then they had arrived home, and he had escorted her to her room, like they did every day. Then he had sat on the couch and chilled on his phone while she worked – like they had begun doing since he was assigned to her.
But there was definitely a difference.
They stayed separate, her at the desk, him on the couch – but the gap seemed so small. His heart was pounding, alone with her in her rooms. He couldn’t focus on what he was doing, and it seemed the same was happening to Rukia. When he glanced at her, he found her eyes unfocussed, fingers delicately tracing her lips. He swallowed – she was thinking about their kiss, it was obvious.
Renji wasn’t clever about love. This was something he had come to understand about himself. Chad calling him out at Snowballs the other night had really switched on that light bulb. And it had always seemed like Rukia was just as clueless. He’d thought if he made the first move in any window of opportunity, like that day on the training mat, he would be able to lead their romance. She would be helpless for him. He couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been.
Rukia Kuchiki. Helpless? Yeah, sure. And tomorrow he and Byakuya would get matching tattoos.
Instead, it seemed Rukia was not just clueless – she was a time bomb. One kiss had started the damn clock, and every moment he was in her vicinity, she got closer to exploding all over him. He had an idea of what he wanted from this new development – it involved romance, dating, kissing and the like. Sex was certainly on his mind – and had a fair amount of influence over his body – but he wasn’t so sure either of them were prepared to take that step just yet. He wanted her – he had for a long time - but now he had finally taken the first step, he was afraid rushing would ruin everything.
So, when Rukia walked over to him solemnly, eyes to the floor and clenching her fists, he had thought she was about to throw him out, so she could concentrate on studying, and not her memory of their kiss. For a moment, he had a flare of masculine pride, the sensation of making a big enough impact on a woman to make her lose focus.
Pride, sense and several kinds of shit had hit the fan when her timer went off, and she launched herself at him like a goddamn rocket.
He’d caught her purely on reflex as her arms clumsily pressed against the couch on either side of his head and she crashed onto his mouth hard enough to knock his teeth. He had been shocked, and little scared at her actions. He had hoped they would continue what they had started that afternoon – but he hadn’t expected her to attack him so suddenly.
He wanted to pull her away, but the kiss she had pressed to his lips hadn’t moved. Was she stuck? He shifted, intending to pull his head back and ask her if they should really be doing this in her home -in her bedroom - while he was supposed to technically be working.
Instead, his shift had her tilting her head and slanting her mouth across his, closing her eyes and pressing him down into a deep kiss that had his mind turning over.
This is a bad idea. This is a bad idea. This is a GREAT idea!
Still sitting upright, he lifted her so she wasn’t straddling him. Instead, she sat across his lap as he leaned forward, wrapping her arms around his neck as he leaned down to take her mouth more fully.
She tasted like strawberries.
Renji began to feel a haze taking over his body, and knew his arousal must be obvious to her, but he refused to move his hands or anything else to draw attention. He was focused on the feel of her mouth on his, and the slow, gentle way they explored and tasted each other. She was softer now, plush lips moving against him, her nose bumping against his.
Rukia didn’t really consider how she had gotten to this point, but feeling him respond to her, his strong hands cradling her hips as he gently pressed his tongue against hers – she didn’t even care. He felt so familiar but so different, now. He had always been a warm presence at her side, but now he felt hot, skin burning everywhere they touched. She wondered is his tattoos would scorch her hand if she traced them. She reached up to his face, fingers skimming over his temple and into his hair, gripping his ponytail and holding him firmly.
And then that knock on the door, and the reminder of where they were. She had leaped off and away from him so fast that he realised he had to start pushing her harder in training. She could clearly keep up.
Renji shook himself, regaining his professional manner like a dog shaking water from his coat.
“I’m supposed to be guarding you, not making out while on duty.”
“You can do both?” Rukia asked, a hopeful note in her voice. Renji just gave her a hard stare, instantly cooling her off.
“What we have going on here… we need to set some rules.” He said, making is up as he went.
“Yes. Rules – good idea. I’ll start a draft.” She ran to the desk.
“What?”
Shit. Fuck. Damn. He should have known she would make a literal task of this. But was that so bad? Maybe they did need a list, clearly outlining the do’s and don’t’s. Rukia was pretty clever sometimes.
She opened a new screen on her computer and looked at him expectantly.
“Alright,” He said, feeling less confident by the second, “we should definitely start with ‘Don’t Let Your Brother Find Out We’re Dating.’”
“Are we dating?” Rukia murmured as she typed, eyeing the screen.
“Uh – we could be? Did you want to?”
Renji genuinely had no idea how his brain was working at that second, when his heart and lungs simultaneously ceased to function waiting for her answer.
“Yeah. I mean, we kissed. So, we’re dating.” She made it sound so matter of fact.
Breath. Beat. Brain function. Brain overload.
Holy shit.
He was dating Rukia Kuchiki.
Renji took a moment to let that information sink in, and for a second his entire understanding of his world imploded, reformed and had dedicated a monument to this event. Elation gave way to slight panic as he began to fathom just how huge this was.
Oh god. He was dating Rukia Kuchiki.
Notes:
So, the greater scheme is starting - and Kira had been put into a very awkward position.
I had a bit of 2am sillyness writing the glitter bomb incident - but this is actually based off a real event 🤣
Glitter bombs are DESIGNED to make you laugh, scream, cry - REACT. So the idea that Byakuya got pranked, and just kind of... walked it off seemed so hilariously in character to me. 🤣I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave some Kudos and Comment-y love, if you're so inclined - I ADORE reading your thoughts!
** This chapter is pro sex-work and sex-workers (solidarity) these two girl characters are written to be immature, naïve and jumping in without being prepared to engage clients.
Chapter 28: Beneath the Sliver Moon
Summary:
SLI-VER. Not silver. SLIVER - as in a small slice.
Notes:
I listen to these songs a lot, when I'm writing romantic moments - on their own, they don't have the right feel, but together, they're perfection <3
https://open.spotify.com/track/03gk2zRwm8uUZDbyZJtPgh?si=c583531e6c4447fe
https://open.spotify.com/track/4qefHyLKbyW3yeqk5Jrjey?si=7c211fe02d964314'The Nearness of You' - Norah Jones
'A Thousand Years' - Christina PerriAlso 100% this song: https://open.spotify.com/track/2kWowW0k4oFymhkr7LmvzO?si=406cf55f0d054793
'Come with Me Now' - KONGOS
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Saturday
“I know this has been troublesome – but what did you find?”
“He did a good job of coverin’ his tracks. But we think he was lookin’ through some of the stories Kira had killed off for us.”
Shunsui sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping to all hell that Kira was kicking himself hard enough that when one of the other chiefs finally did it for him, his ass would be too sore to feel it.
Rangiku had been the one to figure it out: Gin had pushed Kira’s emotional buttons to get him out of the office on purpose. He’d used the opportunity to enter through a hidden passageway that he’d built during his own tenure at the building, to cause several pieces of trouble.
Firstly, he’d changed the headline of the Sunday paper to a shocking story about corruption in the Governors office. Then, he’d pulled a few files and spun some stories about members of the public in high profile positions, who were actually key political players: Namely, the Chiefs.
If word of their connection had gotten out, things would become a lot more difficult to control in the city. A population of that size, getting out of hand because of a few well-placed conspiracy theories could be catastrophic to defending them against Aizen and the drug that was so near to completion. There were so many needless deaths during the last war, and none of the Chiefs wanted to have their names plashed across page four. Thank god for Nanao finding and killing the stories before they went to print.
But the most concerning piece of information that Shinji had found, was that Gin was looking through the stories about Rukia Kuchiki’s abduction. Both the articles Kira’s people had been working on, and a collection of pulled items that Shuuhei had shared with him as part of their public information circle. Apart from causing trouble for the Kuchiki family, what on earth could Gin be looking for in those stories?
“Was there a pattern to the articles he was looking through?” Kyouraku asked, knowing Shinji was able to discern such things as well as he was.
“Yeah, there was, actually.” Shinji sounded spooked. “He was specifically looking as stories that mentioned the ‘how’ part of the abduction. It looks like…” There was a flurry of keys tapping as swift fingers worked through the logs. There was a soft scuffle on the other end of the line before Nanao took over, speaking quickly and professionally.
“It looks like Gin was reading about how Byakuya’s security responded to the abduction.” She paused for a moment, mouse clicking. “Then there’s a whole bunch of social articles that Kira killed because it had Byakuya in the background of the photos. Here, I’ll forward through the images now.”
Shunsui had asked Nanao to join the Vizard at Kira’s office as soon as they arrived back in the city, hoping that her skills could assist them in finding out exactly what Gin had been after. Shinji was the muscle on this occasion, but he had a shrewd, calculating mind that would know exactly where to point Nanao’s expertise.
Kyouraku waited for the ding of the email. When he opened the files and began scanning through the photos, he froze at one in particular.
“Oh shit.” He muttered, phone falling away from his ear.
“Sir? Are you there?” Nanao asked frantically. Another scuffle as Shinji took the phone and called for him. “Oi, Kyouraku, what’d ya find?”
Shunsui picked up the phone and held it to his ear, jaw clenched as he stared at the photo on the screen.
“We need to arrange a meetup, and soon. If Gin has seen this image… then so has Aizen. And we’re going to have to update a few people’s safety status.”
He hung up on Shinji and Nanao, eyes pinned to the figures in the background of the slightly blurred ‘social news’ photo taken by some young hotshot paparazzi:
Byakuya exiting the CSURWD building, shaking hands with Soi Fon as Yoruichi stood further back, chatting with Renji. The focus was clearly on the noble and the document he was handing to the smaller woman.
“This is not good.” Shunsui said out loud, and hurriedly texted an emergency message for the Shihoin compound. He needed to warn them. Because by now, Aizen knew that Soifon was the keeper of the second code. Not Yoruichi.
A backup plan? He thought, trying to play out the chess pieces in his mind. We have plans for Kuchiki’s assassination, a frontal assault and a tech wiz to actually break the code. But we hadn’t planned on his discovering Soi Fon’s involvement – because Yoruichi is untouchable.
He got out the bed he had been reclining on and walked through his house to the kitchen, pouring a large mug of steaming coffee and taking a sip without sweetening. He grimaced at the bitter taste and headed out to the terrace overlooking his small garden.
I doubt Aizen will get anything out of Soi Fon, even if he does manage to capture her. She’s wound tighter than a spring and would die to protect Yoruichi.
He took another sip of coffee, allowing himself to relax and he thought through all the possibilities. Had Gin made a critical error on Aizens behalf? That seemed rather… irresponsible. The man had purposefully lured Kira out of the office, then ‘covered his tracks’ so the allies couldn’t find out he’d been looking into ways to access the Alloy?
But what if it was all part of something bigger?
Shunsui’s eyes narrowed as he began to think more like a spy and less like a tactician.
What if he was showing us something Aizen already knows? Something we hadn’t considered – a weak spot in our defences?
What if this whole news article trail he’s led us on is a covert communication that only myself and Urahara would understand?
His eyes widened and he stood up straight, his mind finally clicking all the pieces of the puzzle together.
What if… he’s on our side?
Rangiku yawned as she dropped onto her couch, still in her lacy black night gown. It was well after nine in the morning, but she’d barely slept a wink – kept awake by worry and anxiety over Gin’s actions.
After she’d run in and reported to her boss – then had to calm him down for several minutes as he threatened to scalp poor Kira for his own stupidity – she’d had to wait as he’d then called Kyouraku and allowed her to speak directly to the man, conveying everything along with her own misgivings.
Although, she didn’t mention the last two times Gin had visited her.
Their reconnection after that first frantic coupling in the car had been slower, sweeter – filled with agonizingly long moans of pleasure, and the feel of skin to skin contact that had been so absent in her life since he’d left. He’d snuck her a key, and they’d spent a few memorable hours recounting each other’s bodies at a quiet hotel, taking the time to reminisce about the past, without touching on their present situation.
They had touched so carefully, sure that the fragile trust between them would break. But all the worry disappeared when he had pressed his lips to hers, their secret language echoing all around them.
I love you.
In those few hours, the years had melted away, and there was only them. He had held her tight, pressing a kiss to her hair as his chest heaved after she had collapsed on top of him, body trembling. They held each other for comfort, for reassurance and for the reminder that after everything they’d been through, they were still drawn to each other beyond reason.
Gin was a few points beyond a genius, and even he couldn’t fully comprehend the way she made him feel. He understood the chemistry of it, the psychological workings of the relationship, but nothing quite made sense as much as being with her. The world was still dark, still tricky and crooked and evil. But with her in it, he would dodge the traps and spin the riddles.
He would guide her through the darkness, if she could trust him completely.
Rangiku was brought jarringly back to the present at the light knock on her front door. She went to answer, utterly unconcerned with her negligée on display for whoever had come to visit. Looking through the peephole, she took a quick step back – the view was obscured. Someone didn’t want to be seen.
Rangiku opened a drawer in the nearby hall table and reached in for a small device she kept there for emergencies. Holding it tightly, her finger on the button, she opened the door a crack, ensuring the security chain was still connected.
She raised the miniature air horn – an anti-theft device that would not only deafen and startle a would be robber, but would wake every neighbor on two floors. Peering through the crack, she scanned the empty hallway, looking for the mystery knocker.
Nothing.
She took a moment to ensure she was genuinely alone, then removed the chain and opened the door fully and stepped into the corridor.
Probably just some neighbors kid being silly she thought, turning to go back inside, eyes catching something odd.
There was an envelope stuck to her door, covering the peephole. She ripped it from the door and hustled back in, turning the lock firmly. Tearing it open, she pulled out a single piece of paper and ran her eyes over it, searching.
Nothing.
The paper was completely blank. She opened the envelope wide, looking for something, a clue – she knew in her heart who had left the envelope, but against all reason, she hoped she was wrong.
After several minutes of checking everything, including the doorway, halls and stairwell, there was nothing. Why would he leave her a blank envelope? A blank note? What was he trying to tell her?
Rangiku wasn’t the kind of woman to sit still and ponder – she needed to act. She pulled herself up, put on her most outrageously flirtatious work outfit – the one that had her cleavage threatening to trap the unwary, and a skirt so silky it made her ass feel like a Mercedes – and grabbed her keys.
Eyeing the note, she felt a moment of anger flare up. Was this just another game? Another play on her emotions, like he had played with Kira? She grabbed it and headed for the kitchen, pulling out the lighter from her purse.
Holding each piece separately, she let the tongue of flame lick the corner of the paper. The dark spot moved, fire quickly spreading as she dumped the letter in the sink. She watched it burn, sealing her heart as the paper turned to ash.
Then, right as the last corner was disappearing, a tiny symbol appeared, hidden in invisible ink, only revealed by the fire. Her eyes widened and she reached for the letter, but it was gone – dust and ash, never to be seen by anyone but her.
She stood frozen in front of the sink, trying to comprehend the last message he had given her. It was for her eyes only, a secret between the two of them. And yet, it implied so much for her alliance – she had to tell them. Was this a test of loyalty? Did he understand that she couldn’t possibly betray them?
Yes. He knew – of course he knew. Every step he ever took was planned out ten places ahead of anyone else. He would expect her to share the words – they needed to be known.
But the symbol? That was for her, a message as close to truth as he could ever allow. Hope burned like hot coals in her chest, and she felt like crying until the tears finally put it out.
“See you soon.”
He was leaving the city, returning to Aizen, and preparing for their invasion. It would be coming soon, and they had to be ready.
And in the corner, a tiny heart, meant solely for her.
I love you.
The fuck am I doing?
Kenpachi stared into the mirror after his shower, towel hugging his waist as the water on his legs and chest dripped on to the bathmat.
He wasn’t an indecisive man. He wasn’t hesitant or of two minds about his actions – he pursued every course with surety. And this was no different: He was absolutely sure that he had no idea what he was doing.
He did know two things, however: He was going to eat. Retsu would be there.
She said she was going to make the arrangements. Whatever that meant. It was dinner – didn’t they just show up, order and eat? He didn’t care about the food, really – it was the company that had him still standing in front of the mirror, trying to melt the glass with his glare.
He knew his reflection. He had no concept of vanity or shame in his looks – but he knew his reflection. For the last several weeks, he’d thought more about his scars than he had throughout his entire life. She had given him his most prominent one – the one that he had to look at and choose to ignore every time he came across a reflective surface. He snorted derisively, and raised himself to his full height, leaving the bathroom to get dressed.
Yachiru had already left for the Kuchiki princess’s place for a ‘girl’s night’. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his plans this evening, but the girl had a sixth sense when it came to getting out of his hair. Sometimes he wondered if she knew him better than he knew himself – even as a child.
He grabbed the first pieces of clothing he found and tossed them on, then paused, mind whirring. This was as much his meal as hers, right? And really, didn’t he have a choice about the (field of battle) eatery?
He made a decision, then, and snagged his studded leather jacket, flinging it over his shoulders and striding out the door.
I choose where I eat.
He exited the barracks and walked to the rear parking lot, stopping in front of a large, tarp covered mound. He’d only picked up this piece two days ago, but it was solid, and he knew where he was going for once. Flinging the tarp away with one sweep of his arm, he grinned with a feral joy.
This was going to be fun.
Unohana checked her bag one last time – definitely no knife. She removed the small tanto dagger, placing it in a drawer by her bed. Any kind of weapon would just instigate violence, or the start of something she really didn’t want to get into.
Walking to the door, she checked her reflection one last time: Hair, neatly combed and braided down her back. Navy blue blouse with a high neckline and short sleeves decorated with intricate beadwork at the cuffs. Pale trousers that were expertly tailored, yet only reached her calves. A pair of practical sandals that perfectly showed of her delicate ankles, and a long-handled shoulder purse, that held no weapons.
It was a simple, practical outfit perfect for a summer evening. Not suggestive, not too casual – she had been very careful in her selections, and didn’t want him, nor anyone who might see them out together to get the wrong idea.
What’s the right idea?
Checking her watch, she hurried out the door – she still had to find a taxi and head over to 11th Hour Barracks to pick up Kenpachi. She had insisted on that, as even in a taxi, his sense of direction was likely to make him late or stand her up altogether. She exited the foyer of her building and stood calmly on the sidewalk, looking out for the distinctive sign of a free cab.
A loud rumbling growl filled the air street, growing louder – closer. She frowned, looking for the disturbance in her quiet city street. But then a taxi pulled up, and she reached for the handle.
The noise roared – a throaty acceleration as the heavy black T5 motorbike pulled in front of the taxi, effectively blocking it’s path as the rider turned off the ignition and ignored the man shouting from the drivers seat.
Unohana raised a single brow at the leather clad man sitting on the bike and lifting his chin at her in challenge. Would he ever just say ‘hello?’
Removing her hand from the taxi, she walked over to him and took in the whole image: heavy black boots, loose dark jeans, zipped leather jacket with a studded collar, hair wild and whipping in the early evening breeze, and dark glasses covering those dangerous eyes – far too dark for this time of the day, with the sun well past the horizon.
“I was supposed to be picking you up.” She said, her face revealing nothing.
He shifted in his seat and jerked a thumb over his shoulder.
“Just get on, woman.”
She was tempted to refuse, if only for the rude way he ordered her to obey him. But then, would he know any other way to ask? Other than challenging her, or demanding information, he had only ever told her exactly what he wanted – never asking or using flimsy pleasantries.
It was refreshing, if a little galling.
She should have expected the unexpected with this man. He never took the easy way, never obeyed if his own interests were more pressing. Clearly, he didn’t want to be waiting around for some taxi to collect him – he wanted to be in control of this encounter.
She could understand that.
She gave a little wave to the taxi driver as she stood by the bike and considered how to mount without too much effort. He turned the ignition and pumped on the pedal, starting the engine with a grinding roar that turned heads along the sparsely populated street. The sound pressed on her ears, making it hard to think clearly for a moment.
He glanced back over his shoulder, watching her – what was she waiting for?
Taking a deep breath, and knowing that she was entirely underdressed for this form of transport – not mention the obvious lack of helmets, she swung her leg over the rear wheel and sat herself on the small, cushioned pillion seat that was clearly meant for someone smaller and inclined to pink candy.
Instantly, she felt herself sliding forward, hips coming down to firmly press again his lower back. Her chest fell against his upper back and it felt like she was leaning on a heated, leather covered concrete wall. Combined with the heavy vibrations of the bike underneath her – the experience was highly charged, and she had to mentally pinch herself.
“Where are we going?” She called to him over the engine. They hadn’t left yet, and she was already concerned that they would be lost in seconds.
“A place I know. Hold on.” He commanded back to her.
The bike lurched back a little, and she gripped his waist to steady herself. The leather didn’t give her much to hold onto, however, so she curled her arms a little further, wrapping them around his lower torso and holding on.
Kenpachi growled when he felt her arms inch further around his waist. This was the first time she had touched him since the diner, and it still affected him. Her grip was strong, and he was uncomfortably aware of her small body pressed firmly against his back, her hips against his ass, the edges of her thighs clenching against his as he began pulling the bike back.
This was the first time he’d taken the T5 out for a spin since he’d bought it and tossed it out the back under the tarp. It was a means to an end – a source of transport - but right at that moment, he was liking his choice of vehicle just a little more than usual.
He turned north, hit the accelerator and released the clutch, taking them to an easy speed, changing gears as he moved into the wider streets. He felt her hands grip him tighter, and he grinned – he liked that.
They began to reach the outskirts of the city, heading into the hills along the north western ridge, and he changed gears again, speeding up on the open freeways, dodging slower cars and thoroughly enjoying having her hold onto him with a strength that raised his temperature.
He took an off ramp and began firing up an incline, evening out onto a small mountain road. Seeing a familiar red-light intersection ahead, he slowed down, and came to a halt, propping a leg to support them as he waited for the lights to change.
He felt her arms relax slightly, and his muscles ached. Damn, she was strong.
As they waited, Unohana looked around, not seeing any familiar landmarks in the barely lit darkness, only an empty intersection off the freeway, with a few small buildings that could be anything from retail to residential. She wasn’t worried about their location – if push came to shove, she could use the GPS on her phone to get them home – although, he seemed to have a specific destination in mind, and was driving with confidence and skill.
Still, they’d been going for nearly thirty minutes, and her legs were beginning to feel a little shaky from the constant unfamiliar sensation of riding pillion on a bike this size. Was everything about him so… big? She flushed and pushed that thought away for another time.
The light turned green, and they were off again, she clenched him tight not wanting to be blown away with the wind. His large body had protected her from the worst of it, his hair whipping over her head, torso flexing under her hands as they leaned into each turn. She had enjoyed that, squeezing a little harder than necessary to remind him that if he took a corner too fast, she was still attached.
They rode for a further ten minutes, taking a few turns that seemed to be nothing more than rocky farm tracks, before they burst clear of the trees and rolled to a stop off the side of the path and into a large open field. Zaraki switched off the engine and waited for her to dismount before lifting his body off the bike.
Unohana took a few steps away, towards a glow in the distance, before coming to a stop and letting out a small gasp.
The city was spread below them like a glittering blanket, the lights filling the sky with a brightness that took away from the sliver of visible moon. She hadn’t been out this far in years, sticking to her routine and her work, keeping occupied and calm. Quiet. Safe.
The grass was long enough to brush her ankles, but the air was clear and clean, and so fresh that it felt as invigorating as the first breeze of spring. The field ended in a sharp drop towards the city skyline, and she took a careful step forward, to test exactly where the edge was hidden beneath the verge.
“Careful.”
His voice rose from the darkness behind her, and she turned not realising how far she’d walked. He was still at the bike, sitting against the propped seat, arms crossed and watching her. What was he thinking, bringing her so far out here? The field itself was shrouded in darkness, surrounded by a line of heavy oak and ash trees. She could just barely make out the glimmer of a few houses in the distance, but otherwise, this area seemed to be hidden from the real world. The drop off to the city was like a window to a surreal place that existed outside of this natural reserve.
“How did you know about this place?” She asked, walking closer to him.
“I used to come up here with Yachiru when she was a kid.” He replied, moving to open the small case hanging under the rider’s seat. When he turned back, he was holding a six pack of beer and large bag of something that looked like jerky.
“After she grew a bit, we would stay home in the evenings instead. But I still remember how to get here.”
He walked past her slightly and crouched, sitting on the bare grass and leaning back on one arm, the other undoing his jacket to let the breeze in. He stared out to the infinite black then down to the glowing city, revealing nothing further. Reaching over he popped the cap off two beers, and held one up to her, waiting.
She came to join him, and took the bottle, but hesitated about sitting down. He noticed, and without a word, he put down his drink, and shrugged out of his leather jacket, laying it out on the grass beside him. He picked up his bottle and sipped, eyes everywhere but her.
She was touched, and a little wary, but sat on the offered jacket, enjoying the warmth that it offered from the chilly ground. For a man so obnoxious and nearly offensive in his obliviousness to delicate situations, he had offered her a simple and efficient solution to avoid grass stains on her pale trousers. Moments like this caught her off guard, as it just proved her theory that there was a part of him that cared a lot more than he was even aware of.
Minutes passed, and the sliver moon moved across the sky. Kenpachi opened the packet of jerky and offered her another beer. She accepted it, relaxing on his jacket as the evening air cooled their skin and the distant hum of the city calmed their minds.
“Whaddaya think?” He murmured, breaking the silence between them.
She looked at him, trying to determine the direction of the question. He was looking out to the city, his long body stretched out as he leaned back on his hands. The white t-shirt under his jacket had a black graffitied cat motif, hackles raised and screaming out. Apart from the nap he’d taken in her office, she realised he’d never fully relaxed in front of her.
Now, he was laid back, unwound and enjoying himself – and it was a little intoxicating.
“I like it.” She answered honestly and looked out to the city as well. “I like this.”
She didn’t notice him giving her a long, thoughtful look.
“Yeah. Me too.”
She took another sip and turned to him, bottle still to her lips.
The air was full of something she couldn’t name. A pressure, like energy seemed to push at her, calling out to her, and to him – she could see it in his eyes.
“What are we doing, Zaraki?” She muttered, putting down her empty bottle and leaning her head on her shoulder.
She felt tired. Had their entire lives done nothing but lead them in a circle? Back to each other in an empty space with nothing but silence and distant lights?
“Like I fuckin’ know.” He growled and sat up propping his elbows on his knees and glaring at her, like this was all her fault. She felt the tiniest bit of temper slip the leash.
“Are we just going to keep doing this?” She bit out “Just going around in circles, never really saying what needs to be said?”
“Ya told me everything ya needed to say that day on the docks.” He snapped back leaning over to her.
“That was… frustration.”
“That was our past.”
“It’s ancient history.”
“Maybe for you.” His scar ached suddenly, and he flinched.
On instinct, she reached out a hand to his face to ease the pain, but paused an inch from the old wound, realizing that touching him there, now, would be crossing a boundary that might never be resolved.
She didn’t ask, and he didn’t offer – the words too raw, even now. They both had wounds, scars that would never but heal inflicted by their blades. Did they hurt? Sometimes – but only in the presence of each other. And to admit that, to say it out loud, would be a fracture in this gentle truce that had been growing between them.
She dropped her hand and began fiddling with the end of her braid, untying the band and running her fingers through her hair to let it flow freely. It felt good – natural – to have her hair down in the wild night like this, drinking beer with a barbarian as she tried to ignore the anger between them.
“So, what are we doing now…” She murmured again, more as a thought than a question. He needed to move on from their past.
She heard him shift and turned her head to look at him, now seated closer, the hand propping him up was now so close to her own. He seemed to be grumbling to himself, glaring into the distance.
“You’re so confusin’, ya know that? Always makin’ me question everythin’ I always thought was set in stone. The past, the present, who you were, who you are…”
He paused, frowning as he softly murmured into the dark “…what you mean to me, now.”
Kenpachi looked down at her, eyes glazing over at the way her midnight hair brushed the edges of her face, playing hide and seek with her shoulders. Her eyes were wide and dark, absorbing the light, like the void he knew she struggled to hide. Her face was pale, pure and could be so utterly devastating when she bordered that line between then and now.
Did she even know how beautiful she was? How swiftly she could cut him?
The fuck am I doing? He thought to himself for the umpteenth time that night.
I dunno. But I like it.
He didn’t know if it was right, and maybe the beer was catching up to him, but he couldn’t keep running from her confusions anymore. He couldn’t keep shrugging it all away.
She was here. He was here. Why was this confusing?
He moved his hand and grazed his fingers over hers in a light touch. After a frozen minute, her own hand moved to curl around his, and gave the lightest squeeze. His skin burned, fizzing along his nerved from his fingers, down his arm and spreading to his whole body like wildfire.
She was watching him, waiting for him to do something – but he couldn’t perceive her expression. He had no idea what lay beyond this next step, and that was exhilarating. The way his heart sped up, his face warmed, and his mouth felt dry – it was the same, but different… the same anticipation as facing a strong opponent.
But instead of the drive to fight, the need to test his limits, he wanted to touch, to push her to her own. He wanted to feel her and be felt by her.
As the sliver moon arched across the sky, Kenpachi leaned forward under the cover of the endless night, and gently fitted his mouth to hers.
Notes:
OMG IT'S HAPPENING!!!
Kinda felt the opening two scenes were a bit wordy, but the more I read them back in the edit, the more I'm like 'nah, that info leans pretty cleanly into the overall plot'. It works - are you seeing all the little clues Gin is leaving them?
And now, dear reader, please leave ya girl some comment-y love, if you feel so inclined <3
Chapter 29: Don't Hold Back
Notes:
This song has been dedicated to this steamy scene since day dot:
https://open.spotify.com/track/3mRLHiSHYtC8Hk7bzZdUs1?si=64f83c73ed894675
'River' - Bishop Briggs
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Unohana squeezed a bit harder than necessary and pressed her face against his back as the bike sped down the freeway, their hair streaming behind them like an ebony banner.
Her mind kept playing and replaying their time in the meadow.
“…What you mean to me now.”
His rough hand had been so careful, so warm as it lay over hers. For a moment, she had felt all the air leave her lungs and the sensation of him so close had been the only source of reality in that space.
She curled her fingers around his, not wanting the moment to end – the sense of absolute nothingness with only them inside the abyss. She watched his eyes dip to her mouth, and her heart began to pound. Was he going to kiss her? Would she lose control again?
Then he slowly leaned down, tilted his head, and ever so gently fitted his mouth across hers.
A deliberate kiss that had her drowning in the feel of him, so close, his presence filling her senses. Everything about this kiss was different to their first interaction – there was no frenzied hunger, no aggression, no hormonal overtake.
This was slow, strong and powerful. This was Kenpachi the man, taking her mouth as a woman.
As a lover.
She melted into that kiss.
She pressed back against him, slowly exploring what he had to offer. Her tongue reached out and caressed his, a gentle battle that she forfeited and allowed him to win, claiming her fully.
They didn’t shift from their seated positions, just leaned into each other, delicately tasting and testing the new waters between them.
When she finally pulled back after what felt like hours of drowning in hot, delicious sensation, he had watched her with hooded eyes, and bit his lip as if stopping himself from moving further.
“Why?” She breathed.
“We’ve been on this path for a long time.” He growled, voice cracking slightly.
“But you-“
“I got lost.” He let out a small rumbling laugh deep in his chest, and she shivered as it travelled through her. “And my shortcuts don’t always work out so well.”
He leaned down to kiss her again, but she shifted back, leaving less than an inch between them. She whispered to him, her eyes flickering between want and something he thought might have been trepidation.
“Is this a good idea?”
“Probably not.” He whispered back, and took that inch, sealing his lips to hers again.
They spent the next hour holding hands and exchanging gentle, seeking kisses, building their trust with each other as they enjoyed the simplicity of their own company.
Soon enough, the beer was finished, the sliver moon was far across the sky, and the city, while bright, was looking quieter – a softer light.
She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay in this meadow with him, touching this brute who gave her feelings she thought she would never have. Butterflies in her stomach, heat in her blood and a gut deep reaction that there was so much more to come.
“We need food.” He said quietly and stood up, helping her to her feet.
Toe to toe, their height difference was a little comical, but she felt her face heating up at the sight of him so close, towering over her after those sweet, lingering kisses.
“Yes – I’m hungry.” She replied, already missing their quiet seat in the grass.
He bent down to grab his jacket, and still holding her hand in his, led her back to the bike.
He’d only let her go when he needed to put his arm through the sleeve. He jumped the ignition, sat back in the riders seat then offered her a toothy grin and a wink that had her stomach flipping over. This man could be devastatingly sexy without trying. How was she supposed to keep her hands off him, now?
Kenpachi began slowing the bike and pulled into a gas station. He dismounted and indicated she wait for him. A few minutes later, he exited the shop with another six pack and bag that she hoped was filled with something to eat.
He grinned at her as she raised a brow and said: “I got something with a lotta flavor.”
She smiled and waited for him get back on and kick the engine to life before swinging her leg over and pressing as close as she could to his back and rear. She ran her hands up the outside of his legs before wrapping them around his waist again. Kenpachi felt all the blood from his body go south and let out a shaky, growling breath.
“Where to now?” She called to him, but he didn’t answer. They took off with a roar and she let out a gleeful laugh, feeling the adrenaline surge through her again at the sensation that she was flying, holding onto a meteor that soared through the streets.
Before long, they had entered the south western edge of the city, and she began recognizing a few familiar landmarks. Guessing where they were headed, she began craning her neck around to confirm their destination, right as Kenpachi slowed down and pulled the bike into a small gravel laneway that opened to a rear parking lot behind a large building.
They dismounted, and she waited as he tossed a huge tarp over the bike – the only protection needed for a vehicle parked in this lot. He picked up the food and beer, and began walking down the drive, towards the front of the building. He slid open the large door with one elbow and nodded to her to go in ahead of him.
Entering the dojo was like going back in time. She hadn’t been inside a building like this in years, and could smell the sweat, blood and fear of battle seeping from every surface. It was… dangerous. Being here was dangerous. Being here with him could be disastrous.
“This is the 11th.” He said from behind her, closing the sliding door and walking to the small dais at the far end of the hall. He sat, pulling a beer and watching her as she slowly strolled over the tatami mats, taking in his domain. The dull lights barely illuminated the space – it was shadowed, only the dais lit from a bright downlight.
What’s she thinking?
Unohana breathed deeply, letting the feel of the place soak into her. She could sense the primal fighting strength flowing all around her, could see the movements of men fighting, cutting, bleeding… screaming. She turned following the wooden beams overhead, searching for an assassin that didn’t exist. Eyes darting to the rear door, she stalked closer, determined to surprise the unsuspecting victim that would feel her blade slide between their ribs, piercing the liver-
“That’s the office.”
The dark, rolling voice echoed in the space and washed over her, hitting every exposed edge. She spun on one foot, her body gracefully remembering the moves to respond to a deadly threat. Her mind still wrapped in the moment, still lost in the feel of the past being brought forth in this place.
Then she saw him, sitting on the raised dais at the far end of the hall, knee bent and watching her with a face shrouded in shadow. Like a Feudal Lord of old. Like a King.
She had a moment of heat rush through her, warming the icy cold that that had been rising from that darkest part of her mind. She came towards him, eyes locked on his as she joined him on the dais, then looked expectantly at the bag of food.
He cleared his throat and handed her a beer, then opened the bag and pulled out a container and a pair of chopsticks, offering them to her without comment. She opened the container and grinned – noodles in some kind of thick, teriyaki sauce. It was rough, oily, gas station food that was probably full of salt and too much chili.
Perfect.
Kenpachi watched her dig into the dish and tried to focus on his own meal – but it tasted like ash after the sweetness of her kisses on the hill. When she had begun prowling the hall, and turned to him, eyes dark and filled with a predator’s instinct, he had shot rock hard. He struggled to control himself as she stalked towards him, her body perfectly balanced.
She’s on the edge. He realized. The two halves of her – they meet here.
The noodles were finished sooner than expected – they were hungry – and the two relaxed on the dais, sipping their beer and feeling an awkwardness growing that wasn’t there during their time in the meadow.
“We should fight.” Kenpachi said suddenly, but not unexpectedly, climbing to his feet. Unohana groaned and rolled her head on her neck.
“Really? Now? I’m full.”
“It’ll help you digest.”
“We’ve both had a bit to drink.”
“So? We’ll just spar. No weapons.”
Hand to hand combat? That seemed lot safer than putting a blade in her hand at this point. And this wasn’t a real fight – just sparring. No cutting. No bloodlust. She struggled to her feet, less gracefully than intended, and followed him to the middle of the floor.
He had removed his leather jacket and boots when they entered the dojo, and she had done the same, untying her sandals and leaving her bag on the dais. The dark blue blouse seemed so confining now, and she loosened the buttons at the neck to allow herself more movement.
They faced one another, feet set in a ‘ready’ stance as they eyed each other and began playing out the moves ahead of themselves.
He would attack first – impatient, brash, eager to fight. She would block, allowing his greater weight to pass her as she would strike his back and use the inertia to fling him to the floor.
Kenpachi didn’t move, one hand out in a welcoming gesture, the other held behind his back. The move looked like he was offering her a bow, and she scowled at him, slapping his hand away and stepping forward to lay an open palmed strike against his sternum.
He didn’t move, didn’t flinch.
She pulled back, eyeing him warily. Was he teasing her? Sure, she hadn’t hit him with her full strength, but allowing her to get the first shot was just rude… and a little stupid.
“You didn’t block.” She said accusingly.
“Why would I block?” He scoffed “I gotta figure out how hard you’re gonna be hitting me, first.”
“Do you do that with every fight?”
“Most of ‘em, yeah.” He pushed forward, jabbing a fist towards her face at quarter speed, allowing her to easily dodge or block. She chose to block, gauging the strength behind the jab.
“That seems a little… irresponsible.” She huffed as she stepped into his guard and spun, aiming an elbow at his solar plexus. He swung to the side, still keeping to an easy pace as he gripped her shoulder and hooked a leg to throw her to the ground.
“It’s a measuring stick.” He grunted as she pinched his wrist and escaped the hold, skipping back to resume her ‘ready’ stance a few feet from him. Her breathing had barely increased.
“You need to measure people’s strength, to see if they’re worth fighting?” She asked, waiting for his strike. He took one step closer, looking for an opening.
“Kinda. I wanna know If they’re worth my time.” She struck first, fist flying to his chin. He caught her easily, holding her wrist and lifting straight up, her feet began to leave the floor, and she felt frustration gather.
Gripping the wrist that was holding hers, she used the weightlessness to kick out with both feet, landing a powerful strike to his chest and sending him back several feet, knocking the wind from him as she twisted in mid air and landed on all fours.
They both panted, knowing the stakes had just been raised.
“Am I ‘worth your time’?” She snarked, standing to glare at him while preparing for his next strike.
He swiped a hand over his mouth, and smiled, sharp teeth flashing.
“No.” He growled, taking her off guard as he rushed her, moving at a speed she wasn’t ready for. She turned to retreat, but he was behind her, powerful arms catching her in a vice like grip. She struggled and attempted to kick back, but he blocked her with one leg.
She felt his breath on her neck as he leaned down, cheek brushing her hair away. Lips to her ear, his words rumbled and rolled down her spine, pooling in the heat gathering at her core.
“You’re worth more.”
He released her suddenly, and her knees wobbled, struggling to keep her upright as he pulled back. She turned to him, trying to maintain her calm demeanor.
“I win.” He muttered, hand raising to rub the back of his neck in that familiar nervous gesture.
“What are you saying?”
“I pinned you. I won.” He said with a shrug.
“That’s not what I meant.”
Silence. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, just stared at her as if he had become a statue dedicated to words of regret. Why wouldn’t he speak? Hadn’t they finally overcome this obstacle in the meadow?
She turned away from him, heading to the dais to collect her purse, feeling a strange new pit of despair opening up in her heart. Despair hadn’t been on the menu for tonight – and it was bitter and shameful.
Kenpachis’ hand gently gripped her upper arm, stopping her. His presence was a wash of heat against her back as he stood behind her. She refused to turn, refused to keep yo-yoing back to the same point over and over again. She shuddered.
Large, calloused fingers gently traced her arm, slowly dropping from her shoulder to travel down to her wrist, the skin grazing over hers so deliciously. Carefully, he wrapped those fingers around her hand, and lifted it, pressing a soft kiss to her pulse with those dangerous lips. She shuddered again, knowing how vulnerable she had made herself like this.
He lowered her arm and used his other hand to pull aside the curtain of her hair, leaning down to rumble softly in her ear as he breathed in the scent of her. His lips pressed against her neck and she felt her head falling to the side of its own accord, allowing him to kiss and lick and caress her skin. He was merciless, each touch burning her and soothing the fire inside.
His body was growing hotter behind her, she could feel it like a furnace against her back and neck as he feasted on her, the actions slow and deliberate. His grip on her wrist had moved to cover her hand, linking his fingers through hers and adding to the sensual torture he was inflicting. She felt the sharp edge of his teeth bite at the skin of her neck and she gasped, pulling away and turning, her face flushed, chest rising and falling as she panted.
He watched her with hooded eyes, taking in the slightly askew clothing, his bite on her neck and the irresistible way her eyes flickered between predator and prey. He needed her in the worst way and in the deepest parts of his mind he knew he couldn’t stop. Something had started tonight, and unless she had forsaken him entirely, he would have her. He was losing his mind over having her. Every instinct in him told him now was the time – take her now, before their moment was lost.
She saw the man – the hunter – stalking towards her, and her own instincts flared. Defensive and aggressive, the need to conquer and soothe in equal measure. She wanted him – she couldn’t deny it anymore– and he seemed to be on the edge of control, barely holding himself back from tearing at her like an animal. She should be scared, she knew that, but she felt aroused to he point of pain, her fingers curling and uncurling as she held her self-back from attacking him.
He was vicious, cruel and bloodthirsty.
And she was falling for every scarred, brutal inch of him.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” She said lowly, her voice dark and feral.
He sucked in a breath and let out a snarling sound, teeth bared at the challenge she offered. His fists clenched and unclenched, muscles tense and vibrating slightly at the restraint he was holding over himself.
“I fuckin’ hope so.” He gritted out. “Cos if I don’t take you, right now, I’ll tear this city to the ground and fuck the rubble.”
They moved at the same time, running at each other and clashing, like titans. Like Demons. Hands tearing and ripping, teeth bared as they kissed violently, sucking and pushing and craving – the need to control was like an addiction. They were drugged on each other, getting higher with every grasping pull.
This was the hunger. This was the heat that pulled at him, the thing that made his mind go blank but for the feel of her body. His hands landed on her ass pulling a cry from her as he lifted her to his mouth, feeling her legs wrap firmly around his waist and squeeze. She was holding herself on him with thighs that could strangle the life from him in the right position.
Fuck that’s hot.
Still holding her ass, he began grinding against her, pulling her into him with each movement. His mouth was on her neck, biting down hard as she cried out losing herself in the pain as he lapped at the mark, sending shivers down her spine.
They were in shadow, two beings struggling against and towards each other, pleasure and pain in equal measure as they kissed and groped and bit.
She rocked on him, knowing she could snap his neck like as he arms wrapped around him, hands threading and grasping at his hair as she delivered her own punishment, latching onto his earlobe with her teeth and sucking hard, feeling the groan that came from deep in his chest emanate throughout the room.
She pulled away, breathing hard, hips moving on him as he held her effortlessly. His breath was coming in rasps and his lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral smile. She offered him one of her own, and saw his eyes burn into her. She ran a tongue over her teeth and tasted blood – his blood. She felt a thrill run down her spine and she laughed, throwing her head back and letting it out in a burst of sound.
“I don’t think I can be gentle with you anymore, Kenpachi.” Her laugh subsided to a chuckle as she felt the bloodlust push her further, changing and warping until it was purely lust for this man that drove her. His body was solid muscle, but she would make him quake.
“Woman,” He rasped, pressing his throbbing erection against her core, “do you think it’s the healer I want right now?” He pulled her back to him, kissing her so hard their teeth clacked, and he could feel his lips bruising hers from the force. She was hot for him, that same sensation as their time on at the dock pushing at her. But he couldn’t force her – couldn’t have her believing it was all ‘a mistake’ again.
He pulled back, searching her eyes, looking for something only she could give.
Permission.
“Then don’t hold back.” She purred and used the moment to grip his shirt and tear it open, exposing his chest. She struck like a snake, dipping her head and licking him in one long stripe from mid torso to chin, leaning back to savor him, licking her lips at the salty taste of sweat and need and the headiness of him.
“Ahhh… FUCK!”
He bellowed to the ceiling and tore at her clothing, needing to feel her skin against his. Needing to have her hands all over him, touching him as he ravished every inch of her body. After a few moments of frustrated clawing, he had had enough. He lowered her to the ground, trying not to buck as she slid past his trapped, aching cock.
“Take it off.” He demanded, while stripping the rags of his own shirt from his body. She raised a brow, as he began fumbling with his jeans.
“Which part?”
He froze, hands on his zipper as he slowly raised his eyes to hers. Was she teasing him? Now? He wasn’t a man to trifled with at the least of times. But right now, when his blood was on fire for her, and she was willing – she wanted to tease him? Had his kiss knocked the sense from her?
“You don’t wanna test my patience right now.”
She bit her lip and began to unbutton the surviving clasps on her blouse, letting the garment fall to ground as she watched his reaction. He swallowed, eyes travelling over the expanse of skin that she allowed him to view. Her taught stomach rising to breasts that begged to be released from the white silk cups that held them.
And the scar just below her clavicle.
His scar.
She wasn’t teasing. She was warning him.
He hadn’t seen that wound since he was seventeen, fighting her and seeing his end coming towards him with death in it’s eyes and a sword that cut him so easily. Now, he was grown – and his gaze rose from the scar to that same face, those same eyes. Could he finally move on?
It was time, he took a step forward, and reached out a hand, touching her scar, feeling the ridges and bumps. He had done this – and he didn’t regret it. He was proud to have left this mark on her, as she had left her mark on him. He knew that wasn’t ‘normal’ – it was sick to feel proud of such a thing. But neither of them were ‘normal’. They would never be.
He didn’t think, he just let het his body take over, grabbing her hand and pressing her palm to his face, to the scar she had cut on him so many years ago. Her fingers played on the skin, tracing the line over his eye, his cheek, his lips.
They stayed like that for several minutes, allowing the moment to calm the sharpest spikes of their hunger for each other as they touched the forbidden. This was more than resolution, this was healing – and if he wanted to be with her, he had to decide it was time to accept the healer within her.
Her fingers were gentle on him as they moved from his scar to cup his face, thumb still trailing over his lips.
“Can you move past this?”
A loaded question, for both of them.
“I have to.”
”Will you move past this?” She insisted. He paused, the battle of years and days and sleepless nights conflicting with an unknown future. He made up his mind.
“I will.”
A weighing moment, stretching the trust between them. Tense and silent. Easing as the words were accepted and finally, believed.
There was nothing more to say. She reached for him and he leaned into her, fitting his mouth to hers so perfectly, like they were made for each other. Two pieces of a broken puzzle, everything lost but their edges. In the middle of the night, in the shadows of the old barracks, two scarred souls began to heal each other.
She let her hands drop to her trousers, and quickly undid the button clasp and zipper, letting them to pool to the floor at her feet.
Without breaking their kiss, he unzipped his jeans, allowing them to hang loosely on his hips, adjusting himself so didn’t ‘escape’ before she was… prepared.
He put his hands under her ass again and groaned at the feel of smooth bare skin and satin against his palms. He lifted her and once again and she wrapped her legs around his waist but this time the feel of his hot muscled skin on her bare thighs was so much more erotic, hotter and harder.
He released on hand and pulled at the left strap on her bra, sliding it down her arm, following it with heated kisses. She panted, watching him with eyes filled with fire. He followed suit on the right, before tugging at the centre of her bra, sliding it down her chest. His face flushed, feeling heat rush through him at the sight of those perfect little mounds, the pink nipples pert and erect, begging to touched.
Using both hands to lift her higher, he buried his face in her breast, capturing one nipple between his lips and suckling, rolling the peak on his tongue as she gasped and let out a tiny mewling moan. He loved that sound, moving to her other breast to lavish it with the same attention. Her legs squeezed him tighter, hands clenching at the hair on the nape of his neck.
Unohana was having trouble focusing on anything but the hard cock pressing against her inner thigh and the sinful way this demon was destroying her for anyone ever again. They hadn’t moved from the middle of the floor in the dojo, his chiselled chest and arms holding her so tightly, with apparently no effort at all.
His tongue moved so wetly against her, and each tug on her nipples had her arching to him, trying to hold onto the moans that threatened to overtake her and echo through the room. She felt herself getting even wetter for him than she had been since the meadow, making her panties slick with need.
Suddenly, he staggered, taking several quick strides until she could feel him easing her against one of the supporting beams the dotted the floor. Her back was laid against the wood as he continued his assault on her breasts, moving down further, further…
She needed him to touch her, to stroke and slide and ease his way inside, to feel him so deep that she would know nothing but his name. She needed to grasp him and lick, suckling him until he was a quivering, groaning giant, toppled by her and her alone. She needed…
she needed…
She used her heels to dig at his rock-hard ass, hooking the edges of his jeans, forcing them to fall to his knees, releasing his cock. She couldn’t see below her waist, but she heard the sigh of relief he let out and rested her head back against the beam.
It seemed, however, that dropping his jeans him only made him more eager. Releasing her breasts at last, he flashed her leering grin and flexed his biceps, raising her in the air until her thighs landed on his shoulders. She wasn’t surprised at his strength, but she was shocked by his boldness. She didn’t assume the big man was overly experienced in this area, but it seemed confidence was the bridge that gapped the great divide.
Reaching behind her head, she held onto the beam, staring down at him as he breathed against her silk covered core. Her eyes widened as she watched him gently bite down on the hem of the fabric, gripping it with those deadly incisors.
Eyes never leaving hers, he twisted his head sharply, tearing the lingerie away enough that he could finally lay eyes on her.
He swallowed hard, face flushing red as he perceived her delicate flesh. She was pink and glistening, the heat touching his face so gently. She was so sensitive here, and so small – would he even fit a finger inside her?
He leaned his head forward, aware that her deadly thighs were now latched onto his shoulders, and at the slightest miscalculation, she could snap his neck. It was sex and death in one. His mind turned over at the perfection of it all.
“Ah, fuck me.” He groaned and pressed his mouth unceremoniously to her slick sex.
She cried out, hips bucking to his face as his tongue delved into her velvety heat. She was so soft – he didn’t think there was anything about softness that he would find so erotic – but every taste of her changed his understanding of the word.
After a while of plundering her core, he began to explore the rest of her wetness, lipping and licking her folds, absorbing each shiver, each moan that escaped her. He looked up, watching her reactions as he alternated between kissing the edges and diving his tongue deep inside. She watched him, panting and open mouthed, brows pulled together into a look of pleasurable agony.
She was wet for him, her walls pressing against his tongue at each stroke. So, when he moved up, and flicked the tip of his pointed tongue over her pouting clitoris, he felt his cock twitch again as her head thrashed and she let out a throaty moan. A moan? No…she just…
“Ah! Ken-!”
… she had cried out his name.
For the first time in a very long time, Kenpachi wanted restraint. He pulled away with a snarl and bit down on her inner thigh, using the moment to remind her exactly who was feasting on her. Whose name to scream as she came.
She did cry out at that, a moment of pain before he was back at her pussy, licking and sucking her little bud fast and hard, wanting to hear his name again, moaned in a way that had him desperate to sink inside her.
Retsu knew she couldn’t last – he was strumming her so well, biting her and fucking her with his tongue. But when he began focusing on her clit, she knew it was all over. He moved so fast, flicking and nuzzling until she felt her bones melting into her feet. The tension in core began to tighten – it was happening so quickly! She couldn’t hold back!
“Oh god! Oh Fuck!” She began moving her hips on his face, pushing against his mouth as her orgasm climbed and climbed. He seemed to sense she was at her peak, and without warning, released a hand from her ass and pressed one large thick digit deep inside her, allowing her pussy to suck it further in as she quivered around the unexpected pressure.
So much sensation. So much pleasure. She looked down at him, expecting him to be focused on her body. But his eyes were on her, watching her reaction.
And then he smiled.
Over.
She reached her peak and crashed hard, bucking and writhing against his mouth and fingers, riding him as her thighs squeezed and contracted. She screamed incoherently, hands gripping the beam behind her head so hard she thought she might crack the wood. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow – just continued to suck and lick and thrust, pressing in a second finger right at her most intense moment.
Everything fell away, the walls, the floors, the face she was riding six and a half feet off the floor – she was bliss. Lightheaded. A world-shattering orgasm of epic proportions had just cracked her reality.
His tongue pulled away right as the oversensitivity began, but the fingers continued to lazily thrust inside her, a heavy, sliding in and out that she didn’t expect from him.
Using one hand he lifted her off his shoulders – fingers still slowly moving inside her. She was once again impressed – not every man could exercise both that level of muscle power and delicate control.
Wrapping her legs back around his waist and arms around his neck, she instantly felt the head of his shaft hitting her ass. Though still riding the high of one of the strongest orgasms of her life, she could feel the heat and size of him – and it was a little intimidating. He leaned down suddenly and captured her mouth, tasting herself on his lips, she let him slowly roll his hips against her.
“That’s the hottest fuckin’ think I’ve ever seen.” He muttered.
“Me, coming on your tongue?” She asked, her words meant to incite a lustful reaction.
“You, screaming my name as you did it.” He replied, eyes dark, his fingers sinking into her even deeper, cutting off her response as he added a third, slowly allowing her to adjust around him. Her eyes widened then clenched shut as her mouth opened in a low moan as she moved on his hand.
“I have to make sure you can handle…me.” He gritted out, by way of explanation.
She looked at him with yearning, her body waiting and willing and so damn ready. Removing his fingers, he reached between them and wrapped his hand around his neglected shaft, stroking it and trying not to spontaneously combust.
Unohana glanced down to watch him stroke himself, a secret fetish she had that had been sitting in the back of her mind since their first ever kiss. The idea of his stroking himself to release was incredibly hot to her. Then she caught sight of his fist, pumping slowly.
Oh shit.
She had caught a glimpse at the hospital, but that was for professional purposes – the reality of a rock hard Kenpachi Zaraki cock was mildly terrifying – only slightly less so than the man himself. She looked at him, a hint of worry creeping into her gaze. He blushed – blushed – and gave her a reassuring kiss, pressing the head against her opening, but going no further.
“I’ve got you.” He said softly, moving his hand from his cock to her clit, tracing lazy circles around it as he deepened his kiss, distracting her. She relaxed, feeling her body soak in the rhythm of his movements.
The head of his cock sank into her, pressing forward slowly, allowing her to accept each inch before he took another. They were both breathing hard, both looking down to where their bodies connected as he pushed further inside her. She watched his abs curl and tense as he filled her, his own face a mask of shock and concentration as he sank deeper and deeper.
One tiny shove, and he bottomed out, throwing his head back and letting out a deep guttural groan. She was so tight around him – it was impossible to move just yet. But she had taken all of him – no woman he had ever been with had done that. To be fair, only two of them had been able to take him at all – but she was squeezing him, her tight little pussy holding him in the warmest, wettest grip he’d ever felt.
He sat inside her, breathing through the pressure, loving just the feeling of her all around him – her chest pressed against his, her nails gripping his back as her heels dug into his ass. It was better than anything he’d ever imagined. He wanted to stay there, in her warmth for as long as he could.
“’Hana?” He murmured, wanting to know she wasn’t hurt by him, by his size.
She looked up at him, eyes bright and swallowing hard. She nodded – she was ok. He was just so large. That last push had pinched, and she needed time to grow accustomed to him. He wasn’t sure about what to do, so he stayed perfectly still, allowing her to rest her back against the beam.
He was so hot, she could feel him deep inside her, so hard that his heartbeat pressed against her inner walls. Looking down, she imagined she could see the outline of him on her belly but knew that was just fascination.
A short while passed, and she slowly began to relax. She clenched around him, making him let out a shocked breath. Hiding a grin, and did it again, enjoying his reaction.
He eyed her, she was pinned on his cock, but she wanted to play with him? He gave a short, experimental thrust, bouncing her. She cried out in pleasure and he grinned evilly.
Game on.
Starting slow, he began to roll his hips into her, cock sliding in and out in deep, delicious thrusts that had her grabbing his face and pulling him down for a sensual kiss. He gripped her ass harder, enjoying the sensation, kissing her as he continued to his slow, heavy build. Soon she had her head on his shoulder, pulled tight against him, her breasts rubbing up and down on his chests as she muttered in his ear about a ‘sex demon’. He liked that, too.
Unohana had never had it like this – he filled her and surrounded her, the friction of his cock sinking into her again and again made her grip him as close as she could rolling her hips on him, stimulating herself as she fell against his carved chest. He was too good at this – and it was barely anything – he was just sensuously thrusting into her. But it felt amazing.
She needed more.
“…’pachi… harder.” She groaned, kicking his ass with one heel.
He growled and began to thrust harder, hips pushing her back against the beam as he pulled out almost all the way, before slamming back in over and over again. He began to pick up speed gripping her hips hard as he bucked, using his hold to move her on him, bouncing her as he plunged into her over and over again.
The sounds of wet, hot sex filled the dojo, echoing through the hall as they devoured each other, the slapping of slick skin and cries of pleasure fading into the dark.
She was moaning, crying, screaming for him and he began to lose feeling in his legs, as he pistoned into her taking them both higher.
“Shiiit…” He groaned, the overwhelming sensations making his sack tighten as he felt his release coming on.
“Don’t stop! Kenpachi… Unhhh!” She was screaming into his neck, hands clawing at his back and he thrust hard, jackhammering into her, cock touching her deepest corners, feeling her walls flutter and quake around him.
“Fuck… Fuck… FUCK!” He swore with every thrust, knowing he couldn’t last much longer with her squeezing him, scratching him, screaming his name as her soft breasts rubbed his chest so hard.
“I’m so close-“ She moaned in his ear, the sound going straight to his balls as they slapped rhythmically against her ass. He had to hold on, just a bit longer, just a bit longer! Her heels were digging into his ass, urging him on, hands clawing at his shoulders – but then she did something he wasn’t ready for.
She opened her mouth and bit his neck, right on his carotid artery.
His eyes rolled back in his head and he dropped, knees hitting the floor and leaning back on his haunches as she held on with her teeth. He was still holding her waist, still fucking up into her, but with this new position, she was able to get the leverage to raise herself and sink back onto him.
“’Hana – wait – I’m-“ He tried to speak, but she kept going, teeth still biting his neck in a paralyzing hold and she rode him, chasing her release. He could hear the little moans of distress as she ground harder, harder…
With a scream, she released his neck and threw her head back, sliding herself up and down his body as she came with a violence that was bordering on painful.
She wasn’t prepared for her second orgasm to be even more powerful than the first, but the pleasure was so intense that when she felt he first wave rise, she began fucking him in earnest riding out the explosion of pleasure as each wave washed over her again and again, each time increased by the feel of his hard cock buried so deep inside her that she could feel him as he began to climax.
Kenpachi wasn’t gentle when he came. The hands on her hips were bruising in their strength, and she felt him swell, and plunge so deep it was like he was reaching for her stomach. He pulsed, and roared out, the sound echoing loudly, making dust fall from the roof. He continued to thrust, each jolt becoming shorter as he came inside her, pumping into her pussy with deep, shuddering groans as he whispered her name. She could feel the heat of it, could sense he had spent himself entirely in her core.
The silence was defining in the large, empty dojo as the two caught their breath, panting and staring at each other in shock. Neither had expected it to be that intense – that intimate.
They reached for each other in a rush, pulling close and kissing so hard that Retsu was sure her lips would be bruised for days. He was tireless, hands touching her everywhere, feeling her tasting her. She licked the bite on his neck, keen to try that again soon – a weak spot on the mighty Demon? That would be her secret, alone.
Something was happening between them – more than sex, something primal and evolving fast. It was terrifying and exhilarating.
The kisses slowed and deepened, tongues pushing and pulling, loving the feel of each other, the feeling of being together, at long last.
She felt his cock stir inside her, hardening swiftly, and she gave him a shocked look.
“Already?”
He shot her a sexy grin, teeth flashing.
“I’m not holding back anymore.”
Notes:
Well. I did it. I wrote a thing.
Is this the end? HELLLL no! There is still more to go, more plot, more relationships, and yes, more hot sexy deliciousness.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter, dear reader! As always, please leave some comment-y love, is you did! <3
A reminder - the blueprints for the barracks are here: https://zaraki-oriented.tumblr.com/post/647958930163679232/the-new-barracks-and-living-quarters
Peace!
Chapter 30: Pancakes, Strip Poker & Werewolves
Notes:
Really enjoyed the feel of these as I wrote this chapter.
https://open.spotify.com/track/7qUJQSNX9QNf46CC6FgH66?si=c7c6b2b08571436f
https://open.spotify.com/track/3SC4yUuwlSL8NvsYgo7B0M?si=0d7d8ddcf4a44037
https://open.spotify.com/track/5lDriBxJd22IhOH9zTcFrV?si=01e526fbcb3645e2'Sucker for Pain' - Imagine Dragons, Lil Wayne, Logic, Ty Dolla $ign, Wiz Khalida, X Ambassadors
'According To You' - Orianthi
'Dirty Little Secret' - The All-American Rejects
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sunday
Light crawled across Unohana’s face, soft and warm, and she felt the lightest brush of cotton across her arm. She woke slowly, blinking as the sun eased over the horizon, peeking through the blinds. She could feel the rise and fall of a large, solid chest under her hand, and she smiled contentedly at the man who had satisfied her so thoroughly.
Kenpachi… one of her thighs was casually hooked over his hip, her body curled into his side as his long arm had wrapped around her in the night. She felt fluid and feminine, languid as a cat in the sun. She closed her eyes again, wanting to savor the quiet peace they had both earned.
Retsu didn’t think she’d ever slept so well as she had last night, her body and her spirit thoroughly spent. But now, she was curious. Her eyes popped open as she shifted up his chest - she wanted to see his face, see him resting and sated. She wanted to watch him come awake and see his response to having her in his arms, and in his bed.
Moving carefully, she raised herself on one elbow, and felt herself soften for him.
He looked so peaceful – so at ease. His heavy brow was relaxed, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted, breaths coming deep and slow. He seemed to be deeply asleep, and she felt herself gloat, just a little. Perhaps she had managed to ‘soothe the savage beast’?
“Mornin’.”
She jumped and his lips curled as he cracked one eye and fixed on her.
“Good morning.” She purred; her voice huskier than intended.
She had discovered that by letting go with him, she had awakened a new part of herself – a deviant, insatiable part that had focused its attention solely on him last night, and early into the morning. He had been unending, taking her again and again – and she had spurred him on, encouraging every aggressive, possessive instinct in him. She had scratched and bit, kissed and soothed, moaned, screamed and even laughed his name as they let it all go, together.
He responded to her tone instantly, growling low in his throat and turning onto his side, leaning on one elbow as he gazed over her body, barely covered by the thin cotton sheet.
“How did you sleep?” She asked, raising a mischievous brow.
“Like the dead.” He grinned back, “For an hour or two, anyway.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah.” His grin widened and he slid one hand over her waist, pulling her against his hard body. It was impossible to miss the reason he was awake so early, prodding at her thighs. She rolled her eyes at him and let out an exasperated breath.
“You know, Zaraki, as a medical professional, I really think we need to get you checked out.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Mmm. A man with your… stamina… might be a new discovery.”
Her teasing was swiftly cut off as he rocked against her, his shaft pressing between her thighs and reminding her that when aroused, teasing him was a bad idea.
“Why not check me out right now?” He growled, stirring her desire.
But, a woman had her priorities. She gave him a mischievous smile and moved away from him, intending to use the bathroom to freshen up and see what damage had been done after last nights… activities.
She would need to collect her clothes from the barracks, and maybe run a cloth over that supporting beam.
And the dais.
And the office.
And the stairs.
And the hallway to his bedroom.
A new discovery… that I’m never going to get enough of. She thought, loving the delicious ache in her pelvis. She was strong, resilient and had hidden reserves of power to call on if needed, but last night…
Zaraki had destroyed her.
Before she could swing her legs over the side, he grabbed her waist, dragging her back to the bed. She scrambled, trying to evade him, but ended up on her stomach, with him leaning on his hips and elbows as he loomed over her.
She tried to spin around, but his body was solid muscle and he had pinned her fully – again.
Unohana turned her head, looking over one shoulder and calmly acknowledging him.
“Are you quite done?”
She gasped, feeling his enormous shaft rubbing between her cheeks.
"Never." He muttered, so quietly that he wasn't sure the words were even said.
He used his legs to spread her thighs apart, positioning himself at just the right angle and pressing his hips forward to slowly sink in until he was fully seated in her tight heat. A low, trailing groan left him as he felt her enclose him fully.
Will I ever get enough of her?
She moaned, muscles clenching, trying to push against him, to feel the friction of him all over again. But he didn’t want to go fast – he wanted to enjoy the sensation of having her in the daylight, her face half hidden and calling for him, hands gripping the sheets as he moved over her.
He began to rock, a slow, gentle flex in and out that was both exactly what she needed and perfectly torturous for the both of them. But he didn’t change his pace, just continued his steady rolling hips as he thrust deep inside her. Sweat beaded his brow and he leaned down to press his chest to her back, sliding along her ass as he continued to play out this new, slower pleasure.
She was slipping further and further away from reality. The all-encompassing feel of him inside her, rubbing on her, rasping, panting grunts against her ear – and that steady, thrusting pull.
It was all too much.
She felt her orgasm building in slow, rolling waves, each one gathering and receding like the rising tide, tightening her core. She began to moan at each thrust getting louder as she felt the pleasure beginning to peak.
“Uhnnnh… just like that… just like that…” She whispered into the mattress, begging him for more.
Her chest felt tight, and a sob escaped her as he continued his pace, touching her so deep inside. He began to let out little grunts of effort as he pressed harder, grinding against her with each thrust.
“… never… enough...!”
She felt tears running down her cheek from the overwhelming sensation of it all, until she finally succumbed, letting out a stuttering moan that ended in his name being torn from her lips. She convulsed under him, clenching so hard that she heard him cry out as he jerked against her fitfully, finding his own release, intensely pleasurable, but in a more subdued way to the ferocity of last night.
They stayed pressed together, catching their breath, bodies shaking as he pressed kisses against her back, working his way down her spine as he gently pulled out of her. She shuddered at the loss of him, and at the feel of his long hair tickling her with each brush of his lips.
She could get used to mornings like this.
He caressed her thighs, big hands moving over her, touching everywhere. She let him, rolling onto her side to watch him explore her body in the day light. He seemed fascinated by her skin, running his fingertips over every inch.
“You don’t have any other scars.” He murmured, leaning on his elbow as his hand travelled up to graze her stomach, searching.
“I’ve never been cut,” She said carefully, knowing this new ground was still freshly buried, “except by you.”
Kenpachi just nodded and retracted his hand, falling onto his back and putting his arms behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He was completely at ease with his nakedness, and she took the opportunity to give his body a thorough examination.
Every inch of him seemed to be the same tone, even his hips and thighs - which was curious – as most men she knew tended to tan unevenly. There wasn’t a single area that wasn’t tight with solid, packed muscle and sinew. He wasn’t bulky, just completely hard – a man who fought and gained power through movement, rather than one who packed on muscle with protein and a gym membership.
And he had scars – so many scars. They crossed and recrossed in small, faded lines along his arms. Deeper, ridged memories lanced down his body from collar to hip. He had two large deep pockmarks in his side – a stab wound? A bullet? And a series of red lines covering everything.
Scratch marks – from her nails.
She blushed and tried not to think about how his back and ass must look. Had he bled on the sheets? Had she? She eyed his neck and jaw, seeing several bruises, and particularly nasty bite wound around the thicker muscle surrounding his major artery.
Well, he had really liked it when she got a little rough on him, there.
She eyed the length of his arms and legs, and suspected that he had been quite lanky in his youth, growing too quickly to fill out as he shot up. She barely remembered his physique on the first night of their meeting.
She had been focused on staying alive.
“’Hana?” He prompted quietly, using the nickname he had been calling her for a while now. “We didn’t use anything.”
She looked at him with a bewildered expression for a moment. Then the pieces clicked. He was talking about protection.
A little late for that, Kenpachi.
“We didn’t need to.” She responded, wishing he hadn’t brought it up. She’d hoped to avoid that conversation for as long as possible. It wasn’t a topic she was fond of discussing – especially not now, when she was still coming down from the incredible high of hours of mind-blowing sex.
Sitting up, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaving the room before he could ask anything further. She wanted to be fully clothed when she discussed that particular piece of information.
Ikkaku stretched and yawned, rolling over to sprawl across Yumichika’s back and grumble into his hair about Sundays and pancakes and his desire for Sunday Pancakes.
“Mrrrpmhpssllfff.” Came the muffled response.
‘Make them yourself’ Ikkaku gathered from that.
He grumped and rolled away, scratching his bare chest and tying up his long pyjama pants before they dropped to the floor. He stomped into the kitchen and began making as much noise as humanely possible: banging pans, slamming cupboard doors and generally causing a racquet.
Within seconds, Yumi was in the archway, hair askew, robe untied, and black silk shorts hastily pulled on. The eyes that glared at Ikkaku boiled with rage and the bald man let out a terrified chuckle. He sometimes forgot that behind the pretty face and perfect ass was a deadly fighter that could beat the crap out of him given the right motivation.
“I’d just burn ‘em.” He said by way of explanation. “And aren’t you heading into the office later?”
Yumichika glared.
Ikkaku sweated, knowing that breaking Yumi’s beauty routine was big ‘no-no’. And Sunday sleep-in’s were a big part of that routine. Perhaps he had been a little hasty.
Ikkaku prowled around the table and eased over to his lover, hands up in an apologetic gesture.
“Hey, I’m sorry, ok?” He lowered his hands, sliding them around the smaller man’s waist and pressing a soft kiss to his neck, trying to soothe him, and maybe distract him just enough to calm him down.
Yumichika growled and pulled away, walking back towards their bedroom. Ikkaku rolled his head on his neck and groaned – he was in trouble. He hated being in trouble. It meant gifts and apologies and...
Yumichika held the door open, waiting impatiently with a spark in his eyes that wasn’t there before. Ikkaku grinned and hurried towards him.
… and make-up sex.
Shuuhei sipped his coffee and scrolled through his emails, checking and re-checking the online hotspots for news worth noting.
Sundays were his quiet days, a time to catch up on personal tasks and browse for new additions to his growing guitar collection. The weather had finally cleared up and he was determined to enjoy a bit of sun this afternoon – maybe he’d call Renji and they could grab a coffee? It’d been week since they last caught up.
When was the last time the gang had been altogether? Him, Kira, Renji, Momo.
Momo…
His good mood dimmed, as he thought about his old friend. She had been so bright, so cheerful and caring – dedicated and earnest in everything she did. She charmed everyone around her with her genuine empathy and her belief that there was good in all people.
Kira was in love with her. Had been for years, but there wasn’t a damn thing they could say to convince him to tell her.
Then she had taken on that apprenticeship with Aizen, and everything changed. Their college gang was heading in different directions, moving into a bigger world that they were barely prepared for. Renji had followed his childhood friend in the only way he could, Kira had been headhunted by Ichimaru for the work he had done with Shuuhei on the school paper (and wasn’t that galling, he was two years ahead of Kira!) and then there was him.
Shuuhei Hisagi. Industrial engineering major, specialising in electronics with a minor in civic planning. An extended course that he had scrounged, and penny pinched and starved to pay for. He had been snapped up by Kaname Tousen personally, weeks before his graduation. Which was a blessing in and of itself – he didn’t think he had the grades to pass.
Settled into their newly terrifying roles, the gang (minus Momo) would meet for drinks and diatribe every Saturday night, bemoaning their petty troubles and cheering each other on to greater heights as the alcohol flowed. They would get into wild some nights, and Shuuhei still blushed at the memory of the strip poker event that Rangiku had wrangled them into one night.
Kira and he hadn’t gone all the way, but with his unrequited yearning for Momo, and Shuuhei’s fumbling realizations about his own sexuality, the two had ended up making out and fooling around in a drunken stupor, waking up the next morning and feeling ashamed for taking advantage.
They each apologised, trying to take the blame off the other, and only ending up reaffirming their friendship. They had laughed, poked a bit of fun at the scenario, and talked it out, deciding that neither of them wanted the other in that way.
Their friendship had been stronger for it.
Now, he had to consider how Kira was holding up after everything they had gone through. He still loved her – through all the fights, the tirades about Aizens innocence and the subtle hints that she had been more that just his apprentice during at least one point in her past.
That had nearly broken Izuru.
Shuuhei finished his coffee and picked up his phone, sending a group text to Renji, Kira and Rangiku – hoping they were free for a boozy lunch. It had been far too long. He wondered if they had anything new to share – anything not related to the stress that had been overtaking their lives for the last several weeks.
Ding! Ding-Ding!
He raised his brows and replied quickly, letting them know the time and place.
Ding! Ding-Ding!
Apparently, they were just as eager to catch up as he was.
Retsu turned the knobs and let the water cascade over her.
The shower felt incredible, nearly scalding her skin as she let it soothe muscles that had just begun to ache. Taking the shower head off its hook, she took the time to cleanse herself thoroughly, washing away the morning’s slow coupling.
Before they had finally decided to sleep, Kenpachi had offered her the shower first, adding - with a self-satisfied smirk - that if she had trouble walking, he could run her a bath.
She had made it three steps on nothing but stubbornness and pride before he had picked her up and carried her to the bathroom, sitting with her in the tub and letting the water run until they were both surrounded by comfort and steam. It had been yet another surprising side to the man, and something she should have remembered: Always expect the unexpected with him.
They had relaxed and he had refrained from touching her to arouse her body, instead washing her back as she slyly cleaned herself. The warm water had soothed her aching legs, and she’d managed to stagger her way to the bedroom on her own, collapsing on his large mattress and falling into a deep sleep before he’d returned.
She washed herself more thoroughly, wincing slightly at the dark bite mark on the inside of her thigh and the ache between her legs. She had used muscles last night that hadn’t been used continuously in that way for a long time. She was sore.
Kenpachi had entered the room last night to find her curled on her side, naked and damp, hair spread across his pillow and hand gently clutching the sheet. In the dark, she shone, a beacon that pulled at him like a magnet. He grunted in frustration as his cock stirred yet again, against his will. He wasn’t done, but it seemed she was – for now.
Climbing under the sheet, he had slid it over her, shifting her body and easing her against his own to keep her warm. She had curled into him so trustingly, so comfortably that he stilled, feeling an enormous sense of calm wash over him.
He knew happiness – it was at the end of his blade – this was similar, slower, stranger.
Weird.
Against all odds he drifted away, sleeping more peacefully that night than he could ever remember. He didn’t understand the calm feeling, and he wasn’t sure he liked it… but he didn’t want it to stop – not if it meant keeping her in his arms.
He loved the way she had moved under him, pressing and pulling, testing his claim on her body with every breath. He had meant what he’d said: he hadn’t held back. He’d given her everything, pushing to his limits every time he took her. She hadn’t been solely the placid healer; nor had he been rutting alone with the bloodthirsty predator – she truly was both.
And that balance - shifting between one and the other with each second, becoming one and the same on the next breath – he had never been more aroused, nor more engaged with an opponent. Woman. Sex… partner.
His previous Sundays before her had been spent lazily napping or training alongside Yachiru, Ikkaku and Yumichika. Now, he was quite happy to exchange his naps for a few more heart pounding sessions between her thighs.
Grinning at the thought, he lurched to his feet and stretched, feeling the tight muscles of his lower regions crying out for more sleep. He ignored them; in the same way he would ignore battle wounds.
And speaking of wounds…
He looked down at the sheets and chuffed out a proud laugh. The small speckles of dried blood from the marks she had left on his back had him stalking to the bathroom, hunting for her. The steam that escaped as he opened the door was excessive, and for a moment, he wondered if she was trying to boil herself. The rushing water of the shower ceased.
“Yes?” She asked him primly.
Without a word, he strode to the tub and turned the knobs, filling it with a more reasonably tempered water. He turned to her – she was watching him through the glass, unwilling to exit the safety of the shower stall while he was in the room. Also, she had no towel.
“Whaddaya think, Doc?” He asked suddenly, and turned to show her the scratched, torn mess that she had left on him. Her nails had raked him in several places – most severely over his shoulders, shoulder blades and lower back. She wasn’t surprised at the depth of the scratches; she was shocked at the quantity. When had she done all that?
“I think you need a balm, and about three gallons of water.” She responded, more concerned about dehydration as she spotted the edges of a smirk on his face.
“Did that before coming to bed.” He turned off the water, and stepped into the bath, sitting slowly and letting out an indecent groan as the water covered him to his elbows. She flushed – he’d made a very similar noise less than twenty minutes ago.
"What'd ya mean - about not needin' anythin'?" He asked in a lazy voice.
"Exactly what I said." She replied calmly. She could only stall him for so long - the man had a way of cutting to the core of a persons meanings and intentions.
Exiting the shower stall, she made her way to the bedroom, ignoring the feel of his eyes on her backside. She found one of his large shirts and put it on, using it to dry the majority of her body as she headed downstairs to collect her clothing and belongings.
Kenpachi soaked for a while, letting his mind go blissfully blank, hearing the apartment door open and shut for a second time. A minute later, she was in the doorway, fully dressed and enjoying the sight of his stretched out, naked body in the water. He raised a brow and crooked a finger at her.
“Care to join me?”
“Tempting. But I need to get home.” She crossed to the mirror to check her reflection, grimacing at several small bruises that couldn’t be hidden by her clothes. She’d need to used makeup for the next few days.
Turning, she smiled down at him and felt a flutter in her chest as he stretched back his head to watch her. She was very tempted to stay. Leaning down, she pressed a slow, hot kiss to his waiting mouth, hearing him growl deep in his chest. He reached for her, but she skipped away, avoiding getting grabbed and pulled in on top of him.
“You play a dangerous game, woman.”
“Only when I have the advantage.” She replied sweetly. “I’ll see you when I see you.”
He heard the apartment door close, listening for the sounds of footsteps on the stair, the dojo door opening and closing. He lay back and sighed, letting his mind go blank once more – he enjoyed the gentle quiet of the early hour, and the water was incredibly soothing. All he needed was a drink and this would be a perfect Sunday morning.
That thought in mind, he slowly drifted off, falling into a light, peaceful slumber as he caught up on some well-earned rest. Sweating through the night wasn’t a new experience – but sweating through the night with her was definitely a workout and a half.
He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep, but when the front door slammed open and the bubbly cry of “Kenny! I’m back!” echoed through the small apartment, the water was cold, and the room was much brighter.
Getting himself up and dry, he wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, coming face to face with four feet of pink, bouncing energy high adrenaline and most likely sugar.
“D’ya have a good time, squirt?” He said by way of greeting and moved past her to his room.
“Kenny...” She said in a hushed voice.
“Yeah?” He responded as he picked up a shirt from the bed. Yachiru watched him with wide eyes. “What?”
Why was she looking at him like that? Staring at his arms and back and neck -
Oh, right.
“Kenny – did you fight a werewolf?!”
“Yes?”
“It’s me. There’s been a development.”
“Tell me.”
“Target four and Target eleven have engaged in sexual relations.”
A moment of shocked silence.
“Are you sure?”
“Uncomfortably sure.” The voice certainly sounded uncomfortable.
“How long?”
The voice sounded like it was squirming.
“Uh… several hours at least. She only left this morning-“
“No. How long has this been going on?”
“They have been interacting more regularly for several weeks. This was the first encounter of this kind.”
Gin let the information roll through him mind, wondering how he could use this. He would need to inform Lord Aizen immediately, but he wanted to have a plan in place that would best serve his own agenda.
This particular informant was very well positioned, helping them on several occasions – most notably helping them create the duplicate key for Grimmjows escape, and informing them of Rukia Kuchiki’s location. He wanted to ensure the man maintained his loyalty to their faction, so he handed out a bit of bait.
“I’ll pass this onto Lord Aizen.”
The voice was noticeably tense with pride. “You will?”
Gin couldn’t help playing with him just a little…
“Oh yes. I’ll inform him you witnessed this new development personally.”
“Yes!... No, wait – not like that!”
Gin chuckled and hung up the phone as the voice squealed in distress:
“Ichimaruuuu!”
Notes:
I'm not a 'one and done' kind of writer. There will be more, much more ;)
My heart - IkkaYumi domestic fluff is by far the cutest damn thing. UGH. I can't wait for you to read where they go from here!
Were any of you surprised about Shuuhei? Ohoho - you wait and see what's coming his way, shippers ;)
Who is the mystery informant?!
All will be revealed! SOON!
You know how I love your comments - so please leave one if you enjoyed this chapter <3
Chapter 31: The Mantis and The Ibex
Notes:
Song for this chapter:
https://open.spotify.com/track/2H72GU6mzrSfGj9R5SDGVP?si=a93ae21ab2144047
'Like Toy Soldiers' - Eminem
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Monday
Momo removed her mask and took a deep breath of refreshing, sterile air, eyes bleary from pulling yet another all-nighter. She struggled with the ties on her gown, before feeling warm, strong fingers take over and quickly unfasten them. She jerked and spun around, coming nose to nose with Aizen.
“How are we progressing this morning, Hinamori?” He asked quietly in that polite even tone. She gulped, intimidated and drawn to him in equal measure.
“W-we adjusted the final variant about an hour ago. Now, we have to let it distill for the next forty-eight hours.”
“And then it’s ready.”
“Yes, sir.” She wobbled, struggling to stay on her feet.
“You’ve done well - I think you’ve earned a break, Momo. Why don’t you go rest? These others will be able to keep an eye on everything.” He gave her one of his trademarked, heartbreaking smiles, and she felt herself warm to him once more. How could anyone so gentle be so misunderstood?
“Yes, sir.” She tottered off, praying she would make it to her quarters before she slumped against a wall and passed out.
Sosuke watched her go and hid a sneer. She was a hard worker – dedicated, enthusiastic and loyal to a fault. Pathetic. Did she even have a thought for herself? He had used everything she had to offer, and she still pushed herself for the idea of him. It was a useful trait, but something he deeply despised.
Turning, he nodded at the other technicians in the room – they had been taking notes and recording every step of the process. There would be no more lost time to a lack of information. As he walked the corridors back to his control room, he paused at an intersection, sensing the man leaning against the dimly lit wall.
“Waiting in the shadows for me, Gin? Surely you can’t be that bored. You know where to find me.”
Gin moved into the light and nodded his head, wide smile firmly in place. “I’ve been back for less than a day, and even I can see the Espada are restless to the point of disobedience. What exactly has Tousen been doing to keep them in line? Leashes? Whips? Electrified dog collars?” He paused, tilting his head as though considering the option. “I can get you some of those, you know.”
Aizen turned his head smiled at his faithful lieutenant, happy to have him back. He had been given a full debrief of the activities in the city, along with the mischief Gin had caused to keep them edgy. Tousen had been present for the full disclosure – including the tidbit he’d just received from their mutual spy. Aizen was happy with Ichimaru’s progress and would allow him to know it.
“I’m pleased you’ve returned. You’re right on time to assist with preparations.”
“Oh?”
Aizen continued walking, expecting Gin to follow and listen carefully.
“In forty-eight hours, we will begin out return journey. Once we arrive, the assault will commence simultaneously, at all key points. Has Tousen shown you the plans for troop deployment?”
“He has. Though he was quite breezy about his own position during the main attack.”
Sosuke smiled. Exactly as planned.
“I want you both by my side once we arrive. However, I feel Tousen will be better suited to take care of distracting Ukitake and Komamura’ s forces – so I’m sending him out to ‘play with fire’ as they say.”
Gin grinned, clearly eager to play with fire himself.
“But you, Gin, will be with me until Kyouka Suigetsu is completed. I need someone at my back who can hold off whatever Yamamoto decides can withstand us.”
“It will be my pleasure, Sir.” Gin replied smoothly. “And what of our little sand flea problem, out there?” He tilted his head, indicating the expansive desert beyond the walls.
Aizen stopped as they came abreast of a paned window, gazing out to the morning sun warming the golden dunes. No wildlife disturbed the barren earth, an only the dead limbs of cracked trees stretched to the endless, cloudless sky.
“I want them to watch.” He said casually. “In two days, I’m going to give them a little gift, and depending on their reaction, I may or may not show them mercy.”
Gin followed Aizen, ice coating his spine. He knew exactly the kind of gift Aizen would want to gift back to these spies.
“Coffee?”
Kyouraku eased a hand around her waist as they stood at the coffee cart. He liked the subtle touches and the way she allowed him to be in her space more often nowadays. She was so warm, and every moment she was within reach, he wanted to reach out and touch her – to reassure himself that this was still real.
But Ise Nanao was not a woman to swept away in the moment in the middle of a busy street. She saw the way his eyes glazed over, the subtle shift as he moved closer to her, the way his gaze dipped to her lips. He was thinking about scandalous things again. Things that shouldn’t be thought about on a Monday morning on the way to work. In public.
“Sir!” She snapped, slapping his hand to get his attention. He retracted the hand and held it pitifully, pouting at her like a child. She rolled her eyes, unamused. “I asked if you wanted a coffee.”
“Oh… No, thankyou.” He responded to the barista. They took a few steps to the side, allowing the line to move along.
“Sir,” Nano whispered as they waited, “I’d like to remind you again that we want to keep our liaisons discreet. It wouldn’t do to have the faculty gossiping about us. Let alone the parents.”
“Can I help it that you’re glowing with the morning sun? You are effervescent, sweet Na-“
She elbowed him firmly in the stomach and rushed forward to grab her coffee.
School mornings were no longer the dull trudge to work, filled with thoughts of curriculum, state grading and faculty notifications. Now, he would awaken to Nanao knocking on his door at precisely 6:45am, waiting to be let in for debrief and breakfast.
He lived for that sharp little rap on the door, announcing her arrival. He would often artfully tousle his hair and put on his lowest riding pants, answering the door with a sleepy yawn, hoping to entice her to join him back in bed for ‘five more minutes’. She would always step inside and huff, pushing past him to the kitchen to arrange something for them to share.
But he never missed the sparkle in her eyes, or the little smile hidden in the corner of her mouth as she did so.
On the first day he had answered the door like something from a bad porno – all sleepy expression, muscled chest and sharp hipbones barely holding up dark sweatpants – she had nearly jumped him. She praised her self-control however, as she raised a hand to touch him, then retracted it with a sharp jerk and strode past him to get started on breakfast. It had been a battle every morning since. But if she said anything – then he would know it was working.
Nanao had set the terms of taking it slow, and she intended to abide by them. Oh, there were still heated moments – stolen kisses and delicate touches that had them both sweating. A dinner that had nearly ended in hotel room after one too many salacious anecdotes from her, and far too many burning gazes from him.
But she would hold fast for a few more days. Two dinner dates, one lunch date (and one of the strongest orgasms she’d ever had on her bosses’ desk) did not a relationship make. But it was getting there. She enjoyed his company, the way he spoke, hiding incredible insight in sly, lazy words. It was a puzzle – and her sharp mind was addicted to puzzles. She liked the way he would always miss that one lock of hair that got in his eye, as if he intended to have a distraction in front of him.
But mostly, she just liked being with him. His presence calmed and bolstered her. She felt more independent, yet more connected, stronger but with a weakness that was glaringly obvious. She was a feminist to the core, and his antics – while playful and not a true representation of his opinion for women – always grated on her. Now, she saw the way he would carefully word and hedge around the compliments – always keeping them to a yearning, distant affection, allowing the object of his desire the space to turn away if needed. And he never, never complimented or flirted with a woman he hadn’t been introduced to.
And now, being the object of his affections meant having all of that chained desire, all that restrained heat pointed directly at her. Though her will was iron, his was a furnace, and her edges were beginning to smelt. She wanted to experience him – intimately, and the perfect opportunity was on the horizon.
This morning, they had stopped at the coffee cart a few blocks away from the school to grab caffeine and a pastry before heading in. Shunsui didn’t like this nearly as much as their mornings in his kitchen or on the balcony – there he could hold her hand, and she would let him. He could ask for a morning kiss, and she would give him that brow raising glance before leaning over to capture his lips for a quick taste, before returning to her meal.
“So, what’s on the agenda today?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation light.
“The public holiday on Friday has the children excited.”
“Along with the rest of us.” He muttered, nodding his head to a familiar face here and there. Perhaps nanao was right about the whole ‘touching in public’ thing – there were people everywhere today.
“I was thinking we could have dinner.”
His lips curled. “That would be lovely. Did you have anywhere in mind? I know a few-“
“At your place.”
Shunsui felt his throat close over as his heart skipped a beat. He coughed into his fist and stared at her with wide eyes. She was blushing, avoiding his gaze.
“My place? What a great idea. Uh-“ He wanted to make a suggestion, to pursue her decision with some clever innuendo, but he realized that joking now would just revoke the invitation. He cleared his throat and looked over her shoulder, watching the middle distance and keeping his voice low and conspiratorial.
“My place. Friday. Seven pm.”
She nodded, please that he had agreed without making a scene. She didn’t want to say it, but the war clock was counting down fast, and there was no promise of their time together after this was all over.
She clutched her briefcase and began the walk to campus, following her Principal with all the loyalty and trust she had.
Delta Squad moved silently, hitting their posts with clockwork accuracy. Each day for the last three weeks they had scouted and reported, identifying patrol patterns, key targets and the waking schedule to such a fine degree that, if Toshiro hadn’t expressly forbidden it, they would be in a prime position for infiltration.
“Cricket, in position.”
“Cardinal, in position.”
“Veil, in position.”
“Hood, in position.”
“Ibex, in position.” Nel whispered, the wraparound throat mic picking up the vibrations and sending the message to the hidden team. Their code names had been in place for several years, and even now, using them felt more comfortable than using their given names.
They’d been incredibly lucky, so far: Zero interactions with Aizen’s sentinels. She had no doubt he was aware of their presence – the man was brilliant, ruthless and cautious to a fault – but he seemed to be holding his ground and focusing on the task of finishing the chemical.
Nel was convinced that sooner or later, one of the Espada would come for them – and she didn’t know how she felt about that. She hadn’t seen this place in years – not since she had been betrayed and cast out. There were no pleasant memories for her here…
“We’ve got movement on the east wall.”
Nel flattened herself against the sand dune and waited for the follow up report to confirm all was well. One minute passed – then two. Her instincts told her something was off; Cricket should have responded by now.
“Cricket. Update.”
Static.
No!
“Team – switch to broadcast Charlie, immediately.” She quickly flicked to their backup channel and sent out the call. “Has anyone got eyes on Cricket?”
“I’m heading to him now.”
“Back up on the way.”
“No. Hold your positions. I’m closest – I’ll check it out.
“Ibex-“
“I said hold. Stay at your posts until I’m back. Ten-minute bugout timer – starting now.”
“Roger.”
“Roger.”
“Roger that.”
She knew that if she didn’t report back in ten minutes, they would just disobey her orders to bail, and would come after her – but it was a commanders duty to complete the mission with as few casualties as possible.
Nel got to her haunches and began to swiftly cross the sandy dune to Kokochiro’s position. Her hackles rose and every nerve fired a warning as she spotted the tall, skeletally thin man standing over a small prone mound of sand colored material. There was no point hiding – this enemy wouldn’t stand for cloak and dagger style combat. She had taught him better than that.
Halting a few meters away, she stood proudly - shoulders back, khaki military uniform peeking from behind the sand toned camouflage cloak. She lowered the hood and stared calmly at her former protégé:
“Nnoitra.”
The tall man grinned, leering at her as he put one booted foot on the body under him and stomped down. A low moan escaped the man, and Nel narrowed her eyes – she needed to distract him, to get him away from Kokochiro and focusing on her. If he was here for a fight, she needed to get her men as far away as possible, as fast as they could run.
“I thought you were dead.” He grunted at her, chin jutting in that familiar, arrogant way. “Or at least, disabled enough that I’d never have to see your face again.” His every scanned her body, and focused on the scar across her forehead, mostly hidden by a lock of hair.
“At least you’ve got your figure – that nasty scar certainly isn’t winning you any beauty contests these days.” His grin widened, taunting her, baiting her to attack him.
He really hasn’t changed, if he thinks insulting me will work.
“I had heard the same about you – weren’t you supposed to have been killed by the Demon Hunter, Zaraki? What happened – did you betray another soldier to cover your escape?”
Nnoitra dropped the grin and scowled at her, single eye narrowing. He stepped towards her and raised a hand, touching the white eyepatch cutting his face in half.
“Stabbing a man in the eye doesn’t kill ‘em if you don’t follow through.” He spat venomously, “Aaroniero is proof of that.”
“You would joke about your own comrades’ death?” She asked coolly. Of course he would – he had no problem trying to kill her, in the past.
“He was a leech – and a weak one at that. I’m bored of all the insects crawling over this place.” He grinned at her, and she felt the murderous intent seeping off him in waves. “So, I thought I’d come out for a walk, and see what rats might be scurrying about in the dunes. Imagine my lack of surprise to find you here – have you come to settle our score?”
Nel took a step back, leading him further away from her fallen man – was he alive? Was he still breathing?
“I don’t see the need to settle a score with a beast like you.” She replied coldly, “Only warriors deserve the respect of a fight to the death.”
Nnoitra didn’t move, he just watched her, his single eye narrowing to a slit as he stood his ground against her barbed words. He licked his lips, tasting the electricity in the air – he could take them all, right now… but orders were orders.
“You are worthless. Trash. A poor leader for a knot of worms. You are broken and weak and killing you would barely be worth the effort.” He sneered at her, but she could hear the impotent rage in his voice.
He didn’t mean a word of it.
He wanted to kill her – badly. He wanted to slice her throat, spill her blood and watch it soak the sand. He wanted to listen as she choked and gurgled and died a painful agonizing death at his hands. But Aizen had spoken – and he was not to kill these spies… yet.
He turned to walk away, taking a pot shot at the fallen man and kicking him hard enough to crack bone. A muffled scream against the sand announced that Nnoitra had done exactly that, and he sighed in satisfaction before disappearing into the distance.
As soon as he was far enough away, Nel raced for Kokochiro, turning him gently and checking hm for wounds. Several broken ribs from that kick and a large, bleeding knot on the back of the skull from being king hit by a man far stronger than he looked. Nel sighed in relief – it could have been worse. A lot worse.
“I’ve retrieved Cricket. Cardinal, he’s going to need a field dressing and some wraps for his ribs.”
“Roger that – heading back to camp now.” The relief in the man’s voice was audible.
“Ibex, do you need a hand?”
“We can be at your coordinates in five minutes.”
“Negative – hold your positions. I can take Cricket to base. I need you to keep an eye out – we’ve just had our first encounter, and that means things must be getting close inside.”
The men agreed and she commanded thirty-minute updates for the rest of the day, doing a swap out with Dondonchaka and Pesche after she had confirmed Kokochiro’s condition was stable with Shūtetsu.
Lying on her belly, watching the fortress through her scope, she realized that she had a lot more riding on this mission than she cared to admit. Toshiro had given her trust when she’d barely deserved it and had accepted her leadership of his old unit without a fuss.
Now, she was back in the one place she hadn’t wanted to think about for several years – and had just spoken with the man who had forced her exile in such a callous manner. He still wore the same white jumpsuit with the white hood and black belt – though the eyepatch from his battle with Kenpachi was new.
He still hated her – simply for two points: She was a woman. She was a commander.
Nnoitra hadn’t been quiet about his sexism and misogyny. But she thought they had come to at least some sort of an understanding while she’d trained him. She had been so wrong. And her two subordinates had been viciously scarred because of his jealousy and spite.
Your hatred for strong women makes you weak – you learned nothing from my teachings.
She pulled out a small screen and watched a green blipping dot moving across a glowing map – the tracker she had thrown at his back as he walked away.
If you had listened, you would have become so much stronger. You will be fodder for the warriors assembling against you.
She considered the eyepatch on his face and grimaced.
One in particular.
Shuuhei held his head in his hands and attempted to will the headache away. Sunday brunch had turned into afternoon drinks, which had escalated to an epic bar crawl that landed him grabbing a cute stranger ass, and running like the wind after his crew before said stranger could crack him across the jaw – or worse – return the favor.
But all of that wasn’t the reason for the headache.
Ok, that’s a lie – Shuuhei had a hangover the size of Seireitei General, and just as full of noise. Renji, Rangiku and Kira had unloaded their news on him to a staggering degree. The four of them were welcome to share information amongst themselves, but even so – this was a lot.
The biggest surprise wasn’t even that Gin had been in town and disappeared again, nor that Kenpachi and Toshiro had apparently had a fucking sword fight in the parking lot earlier in the week – it had been Renji, blushing and asking them to keep his secret: He was dating Rukia Kuchiki.
There had been a pregnant pause, then Rangiku had fallen across the table laughing hysterically, as Kira and Shuuhei whacked him on the back and offered their own congratulations. It had taken the two of them long enough to figure it out, as dense as they both were about the subject. Renji had grinned, and they all softened at the star struck expression on his face as he spoke about her.
They were all on high alert until at least the fifth round of drinks – that’s when things started to get… hazy. He knew they had lasted till sundown, then Rangiku had convinced them to come along to all of her bosses’ other properties, making their way across town, hopping from one to the next. And wasn’t it convenient that they had Rangiku with them? Drinks were free or half price – which was probably why he had lost his usually tightly wound control and grabbed that tight ass without a second thought.
He sighed, not remembering much beside rough pants, a grey button down and a feral, crazed feel about the man. Ah well, that’s what Kira was there for – keeping his ass out of trouble.
Shuuhei’s private line rang, and he answered quickly.
“Hisagi. What? Now? Yeah – yes. Show them in.”
He hung up and used the reflection from his office window overlooking the plant to dix his hair and make sure he looked appropriate for this meeting. Yamamoto had said he’d be sending a few ‘old friends’ along with the 11th as additional protection.
The crafty old man had avoided mentioning that the ‘old friends’ were members of the Visored. Shuuhei hadn’t had a lot of interaction with the mercenary group, but he knew their reputation. Strong fighters, vicious, determined and ruthless. Killers, as the situation dictated.
He gulped – he wasn’t a fighter – not like them. He had the skills and the training, certainly, but he was a pacifist at heart, fearing the repercussions of critically injuring or killing someone. The pronounced scars on his face always made people think he was some sort of brawler, a dangerous man who could give and take a beating – but that was all a misunderstanding on their part.
The door to his office opened, and he came around the desk to meet Shinji and his cohort. There were four others – a man with star shaped hair and dark glasses, a small, energetic woman with lime green hair, a short, freckled girl in a red tracksuit, and a handsome, muscular man with a shock of pale, silvery white hair.
“Hisagi – I wantcha ta meet your ‘help’.” Shinji said with a toothy grin and waved over the green haired girl and the muscular man.
“This is Mashiro Kuna and Kensei Muguruma. They’ll be sticking around, popping in and out for the next little while.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Shuuhei said politely, reaching out to shake their hands. Mashiro pumped his arm twice and began chattering about her plans to ‘fun-ify’ their new digs. He turned to Kensei and felt a flicker of recognition – but it passed as the man gripped his hand and shook it carefully.
“Kensei.” He said stiffly by way of introduction, staring at Shuuhei like he’d just been insulted.
“Uh, Hisagi – but please, call me Shuuhei, as we’ll be working together.” Shuuhei offered a rare smile and Kensei returned it with a terrifying shark grin. The younger man nearly laughed out loud – what an odd man.
“Right – well, we’ll be off. I need ta drop Love off with Ukitake at the 13th. See ya, Hisagi.”
Shinji and the other two filed out, but he stopped in the door frame and fixed a glare at his two comrades. “Now, play nice you two. He’s young, but he ain’t dumb.”
“Pffft!” Mashiro blew out her lips and decided to follow after them, dancing past Shinji to call after Love. Shinji just lifted his chin at Kensei, eyes narrowing, before closing the door and leaving the two of them alone in the office.
An awkward silence followed as Kensei did a quick scout of the Office layout and entry points, before standing quietly next to the desk and staring out the window. His whole bearing screamed ‘military’, and the khaki pants were definitely working for him.
“So…” Shuuhei said slowly, trying to figure out exactly what Kensei would still need from him. Shouldn’t he be out with Mashiro, scouting the plant?
“Do you make it a habit of getting wasted and hungover before the work week begins?” Kensei growled suddenly. Shuuhei cringed, feeling like he’d been caught out by a teacher for fucking up. He was a responsible, mature man – so the reprimand hit home hard.
“Uh… no.” He paused, trying to figure out how this Kensei man had known. Were psychic abilities part of being a mercenary?
“How-?”
“You have aspirin on your desk. You’re pale and sweating. Pretty obvious.” He paused for effect. “And irresponsible.”
Shuuhei scoffed, anger bubbling – he wasn’t about to be insulted in his own office!
“And I suppose you’ve never needed to get out and let off a bit of steam in the middle of all this?” He challenged, crossing his arms over his chest.
Kensei turned to eye him, giving his body a thorough survey. Shuuhei tried not to squirm, the mercenary was attractive – more than attractive – strong jaw, pierced left brow and ear, dark chocolate eyes, toned, sculpted upper body hidden behind the dark tank top. If Shuuhei hadn’t been so irritated, he might have taken the time to learn a bit more about the man.
“I work out.” He said simply, as if that was the only obvious answer to ‘letting off steam’. Shuuhei let out a frustrated sigh and went to his desk, putting him almost directly back-to-back with Kensei. As he pulled his chair out, his hand grazed the man’s ass, and he muttered an apology. The man shifted his weight and glanced down.
“Second time in two days. You best watch yourself, kid.” Kensei muttered as he strode to the door, closing it behind him firmly.
What?
Shuuhei sat glued to his chair, eyes wide as his memory came back in a rush of distorted images:
The second last bar. Kira grabbing his hand and dragging him to the exit… Spotting the sexy gym junkie by the pool table…
Noticing the white hair didn’t match the youthful features and cut musculature that made him all but drool. Veering with Kira to pass by the tables so he could reach out…
And grab a handful of that tight, sexy ass in those khaki army pants. Being dragged away right as shocked brown eyes locked with dark grey.
Shuuhei let his head fall into his hands and tried to stop the hysterical laughter as it bubbled in his throat. What kind of luck was this? Of all the men, in the entire city… he had groped a sexy, angry, temperamental mercenary.
He had grabbed Kensei Muguruma’s ass.
I am so fucked.
Notes:
Welp - shit's getting close. Only 48 hours... what 'gift' is Aizen talking about?
Nel and Nnoitra coming face to face for the first time in years.
Kyouraku and Nanao, being a super secret couple. Not gonna lie - I would mind having a half naked, sleepy Kyouraku open the door and offer me breakfast. Yum.
And Shuuhei, you drunk skunk. How will he and Kensei work together moving forward?And still, none of our Heroes know how close Aizen is to completion!
Give comments if you love it! Cos I love Y'ALL! <3
Chapter 32: Dreams of Blood and Nothingness
Notes:
Bit of a wierd song choice here, but yeah... I remember seeing these guys live, and it was nuts.
https://open.spotify.com/track/4VPxypjUC9dzr4NPlC1CNg?si=b19fa96249df4fb4
https://open.spotify.com/track/2VxeLyX666F8uXCJ0dZF8B?si=54cda45334b84b44'Crazy Bitch' - Buckcherry
'Shallow' - Lady Gaga, Bradley Cooper
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
After arriving home mid-morning Sunday, Unohana had returned to her scheduled day – organizing her meals, planning her staff calendar and catching up on work for Monday. Her thoughts drifted to Kenpachi and away again as she focussed on herself and her responsibilities. As the sun set, exhaustion grew, and she found herself curling up in bed with a cup of tea and a comfort novel.
Finally tired enough to sleep, she turned off the light and sank below the covers, lying the dark and waiting to drift off. But her body had other ideas – aching and stinging in several places, her thighs sore enough to make her gasp. She brushed a hand over her pelvis, prodding and poking for the third time that day – a physician checking herself for any damage. As her fingers brushed over the bruise on the inside of her thigh, she winced and felt heat flood through her.
Kenpachi’s marks would take a few days to fade – as would her marks on him – and she wondered how he would explain his ‘wounds’. Would he hide them? Would he show them off proudly? She suspected he wouldn’t be willing to show off these marks of battle, but then – he was such a strange man in many ways.
Thinking about him and their time together that morning, she flushed then frowned – she didn’t regret it, not in the slightest – but it did make her worry. Starting a physical relationship wasn’t a complicated thing as far as she was concerned – sex was sex. But this was something else, and not only because they were both Chiefs working in the midst of a second war: There was just so much history between them. Years of unspoken anger that they were willing to walk away from.
As she passed into sleep, she dreamed of him, fighting, killing, covered in blood and gore and wounds, his manic grin and joyous expression terrifying and comforting. She loved his bloodlust – his absolute obsession with fighting, his entire life’s joy. She understood it – probably better than anyone. She felt that same joy – that same bloodlust.
Then she was there, and they faced each other – swords clashing and sparking as they hacked and slashed. She struck, slicing him and he laughed, grabbing her sword with one hand, the blade cutting into his palm. He thrust his sword forward, impaling her through shoulder and she screamed in laughter.
The fight continued, each action becoming more and more violent until they were both heaving and covered in blood, grabbing at each other and kissing aggressively even as they stabbed each other through the chest. They broke apart and he grinned at her, licking blood from his lips as her sword grated against his spine.
“We don’t change.” Her voice, coming from his mouth.
The scene moved, and she was on a filthy road, surrounded by refuse and bodies. An opponent entered the street, tall and broad, silhouetted by the moon. She glanced down and found herself holding her medical bag – she wasn’t here as the predator – she was here as herself. The healer. These bodies were alive and begging her, reaching for her, crying for her help.
She didn’t hesitate, immediately bending down and applying aid. Her hands were slick with blood as she pressed and sewed and wrapped. The opponent moved closer, becoming more familiar with every step… that aching, scarred face. His battered sword was raised, but his eyes held no joy, no gleam and he swung down. She sneered at him and raised her arm, waiting for the sensation of flesh parting and bone separating.
CLANG!
The sword was met by another that connected inches above her head. She turned, seeing nothing but a shadow holding a blurred blade. The shape condensed becoming clearer, the face becoming sharper but still not in focus. So familiar, but not at all.
The joyless Kenpachi and the shadow pushed away, fighting around her in circles, occasionally stabbing a victim on the ground before heading back to her. She felt her own spirit ignite, wanting to join the fight, wanting to challenge and push back – but the people. The weak… broken…
The shadow rushed the opponent, entering his body and becoming one. The man howled like a beast and dropped to all fours. When he raised his head to look at her, his eyes were glowing red, his face hidden in shadow. A demon. Skin burnished and smoking slightly.
She stood, pulling her sword from the ether and drawing it slowly, allowing the blood of it’s countless victims to pour out and pool at her feet, spreading in an ever widening circle, eating the bodies, eating the street, eating until there was nothing but his glowing eyes, and so much blood.
“We are what we have always been.”
The voice came from her throat but sounded like Kenpachi.
“We can be that – but no more.”
Blood and Nothingness.
The scalding water sluiced over Unohana’s bare shoulders and she let out a sigh of relief. She had woken this Monday morning feeling rested, warm and deliciously fluid. She had run her hands over the cotton sheets, luxuriating in the feel of the material over her skin. She tried to remember the graphic dream, but found it slipping away, seeing only red, glowing eyes.
She felt that familiar calm wash over her as she started her day. Procedure, structure, methodical agenda. Work was hectic as usual, but she let it play out, looking forward to her expected lunchtime visitor.
He didn’t disappoint, storming into the office like he always did, chin jutting and grin wide – the challenge clear in every line on his body. And she knew those lines oh so intimately, now. She felt her heartbeat speed up at the sight of him, that familiar heat building with every moment he came closer.
“Good morning.” She greeted pleasantly, keeping things as professional as possible while in the workplace. Well, her workplace.
“Morning. Let’s do this – I slept well, and I wanna use this energy.”
“I did too, but I’m just about to eat,” as usual, “would you like to join me?”
He held his stance for a moment longer, before falling into their pattern and taking a seat to share her meal. Hamburger steak with rice, salad and pickled vegetables. They each took a bite, savouring the meal.
“Yachiru thinks you’re a werewolf.”
Unohana froze, eyes wide and confused, but she couldn’t ask with her mouth full. Kenpachi took another bite and spoke around the food, having no such qualms.
“Well, she doesn’t think you’re a werewolf, just that I was torn up by one.” He grinned evilly, tapping a finger against the angry bruise on his neck.
“And… what did you tell her?” she asked carefully, wanting to know whether he had ‘outed’ them or not.
Are we a ‘them’?
“Said I had a good fight.”
She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. “Good. That’s good.” And it was – it seemed secrecy was going to be the way of it. And it might be just as well, she wasn’t even sure what ‘this’ was yet.
They finished lunch in comfortable silence, before Kenpachi stood and came around to her side and resting his butt on the desk, unbuttoning his black overshirt.
This definitely broke their pattern.
“What are you doing?” She asked tightly, thought it seemed painfully obvious.
“Shirt’s a bit tight.” He muttered and shedded it and his white undershirt, revealing his toned arms and shoulders covered in crisscrossing scratches. His chest and neck had fading bruises and bite marks, and her lips twitched – this was like a private strip tease showing off her own graffiti.
He glanced at her, then turned and showed her his back, and she bit her lip. Now she understood – he wanted her to see that. One of her nails had dug hard enough to slice deeply into his shoulder blade.
“Pretty sure I’m gonna need a stitch or two on that one.” He muttered, his voice a mix of smug pride and irritation.
“Ah. Yes – let me look after that for you.” She left the office and returned a moment later with gloves and a suturing kit. He sat quietly as she threaded the needle and began to work.
“Looks like you’ll only need two. I can take them out in a few days.” She murmured.
He just grunted in agreement, staring out the window to the sprawling city beyond. A few days… perhaps in time for Aizen to return.
As if reading his mind, she said, “Kyouraku has set up a defensive perimeter for the Hospital. I’ll be here, along with my own forces.” Kenpachi snorted at the idea of her ‘forces’, but she ignored him and continued.
“Police from the 7th will be on patrol here also – though he has assured me that we’re not a key target here. On that, I agree with him. Apart from medical requirements, there’s no need for me to intervene this time around.”
She finished the last stitch and set aside the kit, taking off her gloves and leaning against the desk by his side. Kenpachi said nothing, but his hand moved to cover hers on the desk, and the two of them enjoyed the quite for the next several minutes.
Such a strange man. She thought, considering the way he touched her hand. It was a comforting, familiar gesture, from someone who had near zero experience offering anything like it. Was it instinct to comfort her, after raising a child who might need the same thing from time to time?
“My men are being spread to target areas on my orders. I won’t know where to be until the enemy arrives – then I can find the strongest to fight.” He sounded hopeful, and she knew the feeling.
“The Governor trusts us to do right.” She said in that dark voice that rose in the yearning to battle.
“We’ve never done ‘right’.” He snarled, turning his head to look at her. “We fight for our own pleasure.”
She glanced up to him and smiled that terrifyingly gentle smile. “’We’?”
He licked his lips, eyes burning as his gaze dipped to her mouth.
“We.” He rasped in confirmation and lowered his head to capture her lips in a heated kiss.
“Sir? Are you heading to the office?”
“No. The Governor has asked me to attend a meeting this afternoon.”
Renji nodded and flicked a look to Rikichi, a private nod that indicated the man needed to arrange more security for this break from procedure.
“I expect to return late – please ensure Rukia is aware that I will be unavailable to dine this evening.”
“Yessir.” Renji replied stiffly.
Byakuya nodded a farewell and exited with Rikichi along with two of his men.
The journey to the Big House wasn’t too far from their uptown abode, so the noble arrived fifteen minutes early for this impromptu meeting. Knowing Yamamoto was a stickler for respect and propriety, Byakuya pulled as small black badge from his pocket and pinned it to his lapel.
The Limousine pulled up and the entourage entered without fuss or interruption (one did not wave a security wand over a Kuchiki). Entering the large meeting room, Byakuya took note of Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Juushiro Ukitake standing by the far window. He moved to join them, doing his best to hide his distaste for the scientist.
“Kuchiki, glad you could join us.” Mayuri hissed in that screeching voice.
“Kyouraku can’t make it today, so it will just be the three of us and-“
“Gentlemen.” That deep commanding voice boomed through the room, and the men quickly found seats close to the Generals chosen chair. There was a moment of polite greeting and discussion before the old man thumped his cane impatiently.
“I have been advised of the best course of action, as well as the possible routes that could be taken if Aizen chooses another path. However, I believe Kyouraku is correct in his plan to cover our key assets. So, I am placing Byakuya Kuchiki with Mayuri Kurotsuchi’s division.”
“Sir!’ Mayuri sputtered in protested.
Yamamoto held up a hand, demanding silence. “I will speak further with young Kuchiki about this shortly, but for now, I want him in position in the lower levels. Take whichever security measures you see fit – but you are more than capable of disposing of any enemy that comes near that vault.”
Byakuya nodded in agreement, though mentally he was reeling. Was Yamamoto putting him directly in Aizen’s path? Was this a sign of respect for his abilities, or was he placing him at the safest possible location, hoping to stop the man’s forces before they ever got that far?
“As for you, Ukitake – Kyouraku has already given you the plans for your department.” Juushiro nodded, confirming the assessment. “However, I want you, specifically, to be by his side.”
Ukitake’s shocked stutter only made the Old mans frown deepen.
“Is that a problem?” He grumbled.
“No, sir. I am just surprised. My squads will need me to lead them-“
“You haven’t been in a real fire in years.” Yamamoto said with quiet understanding. Ukitake winced at the subtlety of it. “But you and Shunsui are best suited to protect this location, and you know how to fight together – I couldn’t ask for a better team against what is expected to hit this building.”
Byakuya frowned – was he missing something? Wouldn’t Aizen’s forces be heading straight for the Alloy in the lower levels at Mayuri’s division? Isn’t that why he was being positioned there?
“Now, there are still several more items to discuss, but I’d like to speak with young Kuchiki alone for a moment.”
Mayuri and Jushiro exited without a word. As the door closed, Chojiro Sasakibe entered from the hidden rear door that the General often used. In one hand was a steel briefcase.
“I am placing you in the lower levels because of Kyouraku’s second plan.” The General began, signaling Chojiro to hand over the briefcase to Byakuya.
“On Wednesday morning, at ten fifteen a.m., I want you to remove the Alloy from the vault and bring it here. I have arranged the Visored to be your escorts along with your own security.”
“Why am I bringing it here?” Byakuya asked suspiciously. Removing the alloy was incredibly dangerous, and bringing it to this building, while secure, was not tactically sound in his mind.
“Because you will be placing a decoy in it’s place.” He nodded at the briefcase, and Byakuya opened it, brows raised as he saw the replica of the sword tip.
“We had Urahara create this – it is a perfect duplicate. It is designed to react with the chemical Aizen produces, but it will not catalyze the reaction he needs. Instead, this duplicate will render the formula inert.”
Byakuya suddenly understood – they were using him as a red herring. The real alloy would be tucked away here at the Big House, guarded by Kyouraku, Ukitake and Yamamoto. They expected Aizen to go for the sword tip, but whichever way he went, he would either be tricked into failure or have to face three opponents that could easily defeat him.
“You understand the need for absolute secrecy on this matter?” Yamamoto asked quietly.
“I am one of two people that can pull the alloy from the Vault. And SoiFon will be guarding the Shihoin at their compound. This makes sense.”
The General nodded, pleased that the noble wasn’t griping about being taken off the front lines. For such a perfectly groomed, genteel man, he could be as bloodthirsty as Zaraki at times.
“Excellent. I will see you here on Wednesday.”
He noticed the black pin Byakuya was wearing and allowed a small smile to raise his moustache.
“The Camellia rests lightly on nobility.” A poetic phrase from the Kuchiki's family history. Duty. Honor. Pride.
Byakuya’s face lost some of its austerity and he offered a smile of his own to the old man who had earned his respect.
“I wear it proudly.”
“Watch the till – I’m heading to the stock room.”
Rangiku gave a two fingered salute to her diminutive boss and responded to a call from the far end of the bar.
Toshiro sighed – whenever the woman went out drinking the night before a shift, she always arrived to work overly boisterous, almost the opposite of a hangover. It was like the pain that the rest of them felt was the one sin she seemed to be absolved of.
Reaching the back room, he began hunting for the items he was after, when the phone in his left pocket let out a small ding! He answered it immediately, heart beating faster – this was his burner phone, the only one with Delta Squad’s number.
A Mantis came to play. Cricket is down, but still sings. We are still enjoying hide and seek.
Toshiro decoded the message and frowned – one of their agents had been injured by the Espada – the Mantis… Nnoitra. Nel had already setup code names for them in advance, ensuring intercepted messages would be harder to decode. He tapped out a message, the first one he’d sent since Delta had been dispatched.
Keep playing. Stay out of trouble. Come in when it get’s dark.
Putting the phone back in his pocket, he hefted a case of beer onto one shoulder and headed back to the bar.
Rangiku flitted and flirted, keeping up with the slowly growing crowd – Monday evenings were always a little crazy: the first drink of the new week, and a way for folks to unwind and share stories from the weekend.
She spotted a few men from the 11th, including Ikkaku, Yumichika and Kenpachi – who had (surprisingly) joined them all in a game of pool. She watched as the big man lined up the pool cue and struck, sinking the ball sharply and sneering, handing the cue to Ikkaku.
“It’s a bit easy, ain’t it?” He grumbled. Ikkaku scowled at the man as Yumichika snickered.
“Well, yeah – but that was the eight ball! We lost!” The other men of the eleventh laughed and proffered well intentioned words of comfort to their Captain.
Kenpachi scoffed and walked away, heading for his favorite chair, as Ikkaku followed and sat beside him. He ordered them two beers, then sat back to watch the large TV screen, though his attention was fully on his Boss. The man was acting strangely calm, like he did after a good nap – but this attitude had lasted since first thing that morning. He seemed… relaxed.
“Get up to anything fun on the weekend, Captain?” He asked gruffly.
“Took the new bike out for a bit. Drank. Napped. Yachiru had her ‘girls night’ at the Kuchiki palace.”
“Nice.” Ikkaku didn’t say anything for a second, but Yumichika would stab him if he didn’t ask. “Did she give you that?” He pointed to the dark, angry bruise on his neck.
Kenpachi just grunted and ignored him, drinking deeply and refusing to answer. Ikkaku noticed that the Captain hadn’t removed his black over shirt like he usually did at the end of a big day. In fact, the thing was almost fully buttoned up to the neck – something that Ikkaku knew irritated him.
Something was going on. That bruise looked suspiciously like a hickey… but that couldn’t be right.
Ikkaku couldn’t exactly push Kenpachi for answers, and, honestly – it was none of his business. He shrugged and turned away to focus back on the TV, leaving only a fleeting thought that he hoped the Captain hadn’t contracted a rash.
Toshiro walked towards them behind the bar, two fresh beers in his hands. He placed them in front of the pair and gazed directly at Kenpachi, a look that demanded his attention. The Captain returned the gaze, and a shark like grin began to spread across his features.
“You lookin’ to go again, pipsqueak?”
“No.” Toshiro answered coolly. “I wanted to ask you about a different fight.”
“Oh yeah? Which one?”
“Nnoitra Gilga.”
Ikkaku raised a brow at Toshiro – that was a ballsy way to talk to Zaraki – but then, he suspected that the younger man had earned enough respect with the Captain to be allowed to ask such things.
Kenpachi had a dreamy look on his face as he remembered the fight. Gilga had been tough; damn tough.
“What did ya wanna know?”
Toshiro braced himself on the bar, making sure they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Why didn’t you kill him?” He asked quietly, intently, “You had the chance.”
Ikkaku sucked in a breath. That was a straight-out accusation – a declaration of war in the 11th. The Captain had his own set of rules about fighting, and how to end them. But this verbal attack sounded like Zaraki had let Nnoitra live for traitorous reasons. How dare-
Kenpachi growled, deep and low. His eyes glittered in that strange, predatory way that always scared the shit out of regular people. Toshiro met his stare firmly, his own eyes glinting a deep blue – and Ikkaku realized that the two, while physically leagues apart, were both on a similar footing when it came to pure, raw will power.
“I thought I had killed him. I stabbed him through the fuckin’ eye and slashed his chest open.”
Toshiro raised a single, pale brow.
“You didn’t check for a pulse?”
“Why? I never met anyone that survived a stab through the eye or throat.”
“Until now.”
Kenpachi chuffed and crossed his arms, glancing at Ikkaku as if to say, ‘this guy, huh?’. Ikkaku just quirked a grin and rolled his eyes. Kenpachi focused back on the little owner.
“So, what do ya want me to do about it now?”
“I want you to finish the job… and make it painful.” Toshiro said heatedly, showing anger for the first time.
Ikkaku, the silent member of the peanut gallery during this encounter looked surprised – this wasn’t a regular request. Kenpachi would defeat Nnoitra, certainly – and most likely kill him. But to make it painful? That wasn’t something he enjoyed – pain was a price to pay for a good fight, not a form of punishment during one. Toshiro spoke again, face mere inches from the Captains’.
“When they return, I want you to kill him. Take as long as you can – but end it. Will you do that?”
Kenpachi grinned, sharp teeth flashing, eyes gleaming with the idea of a prolonged, challenging fight.
“Oh, I plan to.”
Notes:
"We."
If you loved this chapter, I hope you feel comfortable to leave a comment! I absolutely love them :)
Chapter 33: The Lies of Flowers
Notes:
https://open.spotify.com/track/5M5ySjWYS4s6hi2pEvEwb5?si=c5b4feb5fc0847d8
https://open.spotify.com/track/6bal6He7kynSGdhLtVAHJk?si=e72461b824484f19
https://open.spotify.com/track/07YGd9rgn81r9BTTord7Nd?si=2e1f11fad0044725'Bad Reputation' - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts
'Dream on' - Aerosmith
'I'm Still Here' - Stereo Avenue
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Tuesday
Renji always looked forward to the first break of the morning. It was the one time during Rukia’s college schedule that they could sit together in public and not arouse suspicion. The lunch area that she always selected only had two seats and little standing room, so even when Renji had been keeping his distance he had been forced to either sit beside her or stand awkwardly, several feet away, while Rukia politely accepted whichever young person decided to join her.
As her bodyguard (nee boyfriend) that didn’t seem acceptable to him, so Renji was forced to take the seat next to her. Oh woe. Oh no.
The door opened and the students filed out, Rukia heading straight for him with that determined ‘I-have-a-plan-and-it-is-brilliant’ look in her eyes. Renji gulped audibly – Rukia’s ideas, while statistically brilliant, were often dangerous and borderline criminal.
“Ready for a bite to eat?” He asked casually, ignoring the titters from the young women who passed him. Rukia had made him aware of them now, and while it was a boost to his ego, he didn’t enjoy getting that look from anyone but his girlfriend.
Girlfriend. That’s so cool. He thought, a dreamy smile crossing his face.
“Not yet – I have an idea!” Rukia replied conspiratorially as she marched them towards the rear exit of the building. Renji’s stomach growled, and he whined a little.
“But… food, Rukia. Food.” He salivated a little as they passed a vending machine. “Food…” He reached out a hand, grabbing air.
She hooked his arm and frogmarched him to a secluded seating area with clear lines of sight to the quad and main carpark. Why did she want to come here?
Dropping her bags, she craned her neck around, searching for passers-by or eavesdroppers. As soon as she confirmed the coast was clear, she crooked a finger at him and grinned evilly.
“I know how to get into the underground.”
Renji reeled back and gave her a shocked, angry look. “Ruki, no!”
“Yes! It’s important, and-“
“NO.” Renji put enough depth into his voice that Rukia knew he wasn’t playing around. He raised a hand to rub the bridge of his nose. “What part of ‘you’re staying put’ did you not understand?”
Byakuya had come home the night before and called Renji to his office.
“I’m going to need you and several of your best men on Wednesday morning.” He had said in that bland, disinterested way.
“Sir.” Renji nodded in agreement, mentally going through the roster to ensure he could move everyone around as efficiently as possible.
“And I’ve received my placement orders from Yamamoto.”
Renji stiffened. Finally!
As he laid out the details from the meeting, Renji realised that he would be by Byakuya’s side during the fight. This had always been the plan, of course, but over the past few weeks, being assigned to Rukia, he had begun to assume that he would be placed with her to an alternate location.
He should have known better – of course he would be with Byakuya during the incursion – it was his job. Not that his boss would necessarily need his help when it came to fighting.
Byakuyya Kuchiki was an incredibly powerful swordsman. His Family’s ancient technique had been passed down for generations, a secret art form that combined great strength with stunning fluidity. There was some competition amongst his own comrades as to whether Byakuya was the more powerful amongst the chiefs due to his skill – but that was speculation.
Renji knew Byakuya was stronger.
In fact, Byakuya’s skill was one of the reasons Rukia was being groomed to be a leader in the family business even while she was still at college: she had been trained in the Kuchiki technique since she’d been old enough to grip a sword, and had proven to be an exceptional pupil. Renji may be training her in hand-to-hand combat, but in terms of technique and raw skill, Rukia far outstripped him.
He has only seen her train with Byakuya a few times, and the only words he could use to describe her were: Ice Queen. She was composed, graceful and utterly devastating when she was landed a strike. Every move was a dancer’s step, and every turn an avalanche of icy blows.
By comparison, Renji’s own sword skills were twisting, vicious cuts that sawed through his opponents’ barrier like a serrated snake. He had none of Rukia’s grace, or Byakuya’s calm – his wide blade and rough technique was made for tearing, rending and breaking.
“Rukia’s schedule has her working from home on Wednesday, so the house security will be enough.” Renji said quietly, considering all the angles. “As for movement to our position, I will plan out a few routes to get us there as quickly as possible when we get the word.”
Byakuya had agreed, and gone over the last few details, before relieving Renji for the evening. He had no choice but to leave for his own home, without saying goodbye to Rukia in the way he would have liked.
She had taken it out of his hide – or should he say, his lips – this very morning.
To placate her – and to ease her off of him before things began getting out of control (again) – he had asked for her help on planning some of the travel routes. She’d been distracted enough that he’d been able to ease away and lead them both to the car, and off to the college.
“I take it these routes are based on where brother is going to be positioned when Aizen returns?” She has asked, biting a nail as her mind whirred.
“Yeah – exactly.” Renji should have known she would figure it out from what little he’d said – she had always figured things out quickly.
“And where will I be?”
Too quick.
“You’ll be elsewhere.” He had hedged, right as they pulled up at the campus. He hadn’t hesitated to escort her directly to her class, ushering her inside and taking his position by the wall.
Now, she was telling him she was going to infiltrate their ranks? In one of the most secure locations in the city? During an expected invasion?
Not a chance.
“Rukia, this isn’t up for discussion.”
“Who says?” She argued back.
“Your brother, for one.” He snapped.
“Well, he would want me somewhere safe, right?”
“Obviously.”
“Somewhere I could both fights, and also be under the best protection?”
“Of course!”
“Then what better place could I be positioned, that with you and he?”
Dammit. She turned it around on me.
The look in her eyes had him scowling – she was so convinced she was right, with that determined little frown and cheeky grin. His eyes softened.
She’s so cute when she does that.
“Tell you what,” He said carefully, making sure to think about every word as he said it. “If you help me with these travel routes, I’ll tell Byakuya that you helped – and he might let me assign you with me.”
Rukia sparkled. She leapt at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips that held more than a hint of heat, and had him wishing they were somewhere more private, before trotting back towards the quad.
“Ok! Let’s eat – I’m starving!”
Ukitake took the steaming cup and sipped the fragrant tea, humming around the gentle flavour. He eyed the calm woman and wondered for the thousandth time how someone like her had become… someone like her.
“It’s delicious, thank you, Unohana.”
The director smiled and tilted her head. “You are one of the only people who appreciate the blend, so I’m happy to offer it.”
She tapped away at the computer for a moment before turning the monitor towards him and showing a series of graphs and charts.
“The treatment appears to be making an impression.” She showed him the varying results in his lymphocytes and T-cells, which had been severely awry prior to starting this new treatment.
“That’s comforting.” He sighed.
“How are you feeling otherwise?” A common question but asked from one who was not just a doctor, but a friend.
“Average – I’ve not had any episodes for a few days, and the last one was significantly milder.”
“That’s very good to hear, but I also want to know how you are doing?”
He offered her a speculative look and wondered why things hadn’t been fated to work between them. She was reformed, calm, collected and caring. She commanded a loyal force of healers and had absolute control over her emotions and her actions. They were so alike!
Except…
He felt love for those around him – absolute empathy for all he met. Though she cared, and he knew that she genuinely sympathised, there was something missing in her empathy. An emptiness that other people simply disappeared into. He cleared his throat and answered her.
“I’ve been worried, if I’m being honest. For my friends, my colleagues, the city, Shunsui... you.”
Her face was completely still, a smile carved in stone. “Oh?”
“We’ve all been on edge, preparing and biding our time. I think the most difficult thing is to just continue living as if everything is normal – as if I’m not expecting another call to action. Even in my line of work, that’s a difficult line to tread.”
She nodded in understanding. “I agree – we are in a similar situation over here. I feel lucky to have Isane keeping things to a steady workflow, even with the usual emergencies that occur in a city this size. I’ve been able to focus on my own projects and preparations, thanks to her efforts.”
I really am lucky to have her on my staff, and to call her friend. A floating thought that warmed her heart and softened her face for a moment.
Though he had always been a natural at reading people, Jushiro had had trouble getting a pin on Unohana. True, she was open and clear in her dealings, but he knew she had a blood soaked past – something that still influenced her connection with people. He had been horrified and in awe when he had learned her history, but had gained even more respect when he put the woman she was then beside the woman she had become.
It was one of the reasons he had felt an attraction towards her, and finally gathered the to courage to ask her out three years ago. It hadn’t come as a surprise to her, apparently, and she’d been wonderful company – attentive, engaged and even sharing a joke or two. What happened after was simply… not what either of them needed, no matter how much the ‘want’ might have been there. Sometimes being mature, emotionally responsible adults could be a bitch.
“I really appreciate you seeing me so abruptly, as busy as you are.” He finally said with an embarrassed chuckle. “I’ve been given new personal orders from the Governor, so I wanted to ensure that I was – well, fit for duty is the best description, I suppose.”
They both rose, and she escorted him to the door with a small laugh.
“These days, I am used to abrupt guests bursting in.”
“You are?” Jushiro tilted his head at her “How strange? You’ve always had such a tight schedule.” He glanced at the edge of bruise peeking out from the collar of her shirt.
What is that-?
Her eyes flashed, and for a moment he felt fear shiver across his skin. What was that look? It was so quick, gone in an instant, but he felt absolutely sure that he was no longer speaking with his friend and colleague. This was someone else in front of him. The same face… same body… but the eyes…
Unohana reached up, and with gentle fingers, tucked the white lock of hair back behind his ear from where it had fallen. He shuddered.
“You be careful out there.” she murmured.
Ukitake swallowed, muscles tense with the need to back away as quickly as possible. He nodded and offered a polite, stuttering farewell before exiting as respectfully as he could, sharing sweet, half hearted greetings with familiar staff on his way out.
Retsu watched him leave, eyes wide with surprise.
“Was it something I said?”
The enormous turbines were beyond impressive, and Shuuhei felt a small jolt of pride as he watched his workers diligently completing their duties, each one wearing proper safety gear and masks. He turned to the two who had joined him on this inspection tour and cleared his throat to get their attention.
“This is the primary generator room – while not the key point for distribution, any disturbance to this area will have heavy repercussions while restoration is attempted. Next, I’m going to take you to the storage and distribution tunnels.” He began to walk down the catwalk towards the connecting doors, expecting them to follow.
“So watcha think, Kensei?” Mashiro chirped, jumping up to sit precariously on the railing.
“I think we’re gonna be put through our paces.” Kensei grumbled. “I hate to admit it, but having some guys from the eleventh will be useful.”
“Maybe you’re right. But I meant about the kid – watcha think?”
Kensei scowled and rolled his eyes, heading off to follow Shuuhei. “C’mon, idiot.”
Mashiro stuck her tongue out and trotted after him, singing in an off-key tune. “Kensei likes them young and dumb, well not so dumb, but very hung…”
Shuuhei turned back to see Kensei strangling Mashiro in a vicious headlock, roaring at her to shuttup. Mashiro struggled and slipped away, bawling childishly as she ran past Shuuhei and into the main corridor.
“Uh-“
“Dammit Kuna!” Kensei charged after her, leaving Shuuhei to bring up the rear.
He sighed and headed in the right direction, wondering how on earth these two had become part of a group that had earned such a strong reputation. They had only been working with him for 24 hours, and already, he was exhausted from Mashiro’s childish tantrums and Kensei’s stiff, temperamental responses.
He waited by the distribution chambers and sighed in exasperation – he knew they were strong, but it just seemed so much harder to believe when they acted like a child and a pissed off drill sergeant. A moment later, Kensei strode towards him, arms crossed and shaking his head as Mashiro tiptoed behind, looking pouty.
“Well, now that you two are here, take a look.” Shuuhei opened the door and ushered them into the expansive bunker, pointing out the primary and secondary distribution centres that ran to each area of the city.
“This is the zone that I’m most concerned about, and the one that holds the most risk. I’ll be positioning myself here and diverting the control centre to one of the few people that can be trusted to take care of things remotely.”
“Who would that be?” Kensei asked sharply.
Shuuhei gave him a sly smile, “That’s between the Governor, Kyouraku and Me.” Kensei stiffened, gritting his teeth as he lifted his head in challenge. Shuuhei shrugged, “If you want to know, take it up with them.” Kensei twisted away, keeping an eye on Mashiro as she wandered further down the corridor.
“Hey, I.. I’ve been meaning to apologise.”
Kensei turned to Shuuhei with a raised brow as the younger man spoke quickly, trying to lessen the embarrassment.
“About the other night at the bar. I’m not the kind of person who does that – I was very drunk, and it was entirely inappropriate and rude and-“
“Forget about it.” Kensei interrupted.
“B-but-“
“Yeah, you grabbed my butt.”
“What? No – that’s not-” Shuuhei stuttered, but Kensei just stared at him impatiently.
He’s not teasing me, Shuuhei realised, He’s just incredibly straight forward.
“I just wanted to say it won’t happen again.”
Kensei continued to stare at him, revealing nothing.
“You sure?” He muttered.
At that moment, Mashiro came bouncing back down the corridor, jumping on Kensei’s back and pinching at his cheek.
“Let’s eat!”
Kensei roared and threw her off, breaking Shuuhei’s attention. He muttered his excuses, and headed back to his office, leaving the two to their own devices. As he entered, he knew he wasn’t alone, and he eyed the figure relaxing in his office chair, before it spun around, revealing the familiar face.
“How did they like the tour?”
Shuuhei felt his heart pound in surprise at the smiling, scruffy man. “Mr. Urahara – what are you doing here?”
Kisuke hid a grin behind his ever present, cheap, paper fan, and winked at Shuuhei.
“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” The fan lowered, and those hidden eyes peeked out from under his hat. “You’re not nearly ready to cover this entire location on your own with just two visored and a bunch of Zaraki’s soldiers.”
I’m not? Shuuhei wondered but knew in his gut that Urahara was right.
He stood and used the fan to point dramatically at Shuuhei, grin wide and slightly maniacal.
“I’m here to give you a secret weapon!”
The hour was late when the text message buzzed on her phone. She didn’t recognise the number, but the two photos were clear as day, and she frowned at seeing her own face. But it was the connotations of the photos that had her going cold with rage.
Unohana, on the back of the bike and gripping Kenpachi’s waist as they were pulling away from her apartment the previous evening.
Unohana, getting into a taxi outside the 11th Hour Barracks on Sunday morning.
She carefully put down the phone and considered the implications of someone not only having these photos, but sending them to her. Was it blackmail? A threat? What could they use them for? If she and Kenpachi were revealed to be seeing each other, what’s the worst that could happen? They were both consenting adults, after all. Not to mention who it could be revealed to – where was the advantage? Who on earth would care-
Aizen.
If there was one thing he excelled at, it was using people’s emotions to manipulate them. However, during the war two years ago, there were a few key people he’d been unable to control: Kenpachi and Unohana had been two of them.
She shook her head. Whoever had sent these obviously didn’t know very much about either of them, if they thought that their emotions could be used against them in this way. She had control, and the ability to lose herself to the void of unfeeling, whereas Kenpachi understood that loyalty and dependency were separate of each other and didn’t have either where she was concerned.
Yes. Good. This mystery voyeur had nothing on either of them – the only thing they could damage was her good reputation, and she cared about that as little as she cared about the lint in her dryer.
Half an hour and a steaming shower later, she was interrupted from her nightly musings by a loud pounding on her front door. She grabbed a robe and tied it tight, pulling her hair back in clip before checking the peephole. She rolled her eyes and bit the inside of her cheek to hold in her chuckle as she unlocked the deadbolts and opened the door.
“You gonna invite me in, or what?”
Kenpachi loomed in the doorway, one arm on the frame as a cocky grin curled across his lips. He was wearing a pair of low-slung black jeans held up by a wide belt decorated in chains, and a fashionably torn shirt that was carelessly buttoned, showing off a wide expanse of that carved, firm chest. She spotted a fading bruise and tried not to grin.
“A gentleman caller, at this hour? What will the neighbours think?” She murmured, placing a hand to her collarbone in mock modesty.
“Lucky her? Who gives a shit.” He growled and reached for her, but she skipped back opening the doorway for him to come inside. He followed her, stalking her to the main living area, taking in his surroundings with curious eyes.
“So really, what brings you here so late?” Her voice called out from the kitchen.
“I was in the area.”
He looked around the large living room and chose a spot on the wide couch, stretching out and taking in the subtle, simple feel of the room – it was spartan, only the necessities with a few monotone pieces of art on the walls. The only sharp colour was the display of bright, beautifully arranged flowers in the vase on the coffee table.
Ikebana – that flower arranging thing she likes so much. He still didn’t understand the appeal, but he could appreciate the beauty of the little display. He blinked as he realised, he recognised one of the little clusters of blooms.
“I know you don’t like tea, so I hope this is ok.” Unohana entered the living room and placed a small cup in front of him, before curling up in her armchair and sipping from her own steaming drink. He lifted the cup and sniffed, then sipped. Tasty. Some kind of plum flavoured liquor.
“So, you were in the area. At ten thirty on a Tuesday? That’s definitely… a stretch.” She teased.
“I felt like seeing your place – you already got a good look at mine.” He smirked.
“Well, it’s not like you gave me the grand tour.” She replied and sipped her tea.
He put this cup down and reached forward to flick a finger against the floral display. “Yarrow.” He said and cocked his head. “Pretty.”
Unohana smiled into her tea, pleased that he had remembered the small flower, and that he appreciated its fragile beauty in her display. She had found herself using the bloom in her ikebana practice ever since their lunch at the diner.
“Do you remember it’s primary meanings?” She asked quietly.
“Fight!” He said with a grin, but then he frowned and asked the question. “You said that the first time. It has other meanings?”
“It does.” She sipped from her cup and gazed at him, knowing he’d laugh at the other connotations.
Kenpachi watched her, sitting there so quietly, her feet tucked under her thighs as she enjoyed her tea. Her curtain of dark, silky hair piled up and pinned, just waiting to be let down, yet showing off that slender neck still speckled with his marks. Now that the shower had washed away the paint that kept them hidden when he’d seen her at lunch, he appreciated just how well he’d covered her skin. He rose and walked to stand in front of her, holding out his hand.
She watched him, the sharp line of his cheekbone in the soft light, the scar cutting his brow, his eyes dark and fathomless.
So easy to understand… so hard to read.
She placed her soft palm in his large, calloused one, and allowed herself to be lifted to her feet. But he didn’t move to touch her, to take her mouth or lead her to his own – he just waited. A patient hunter. She looked away.
“It has a few meanings,” She said, her voice becoming stern and, challenging, “Fight – through war, Good Health – from healing.” A warm finger curled under her chin, lifting her face until she stared into his eyes. Unreadable.
“And love.” She said mockingly, “Lasting love.” She gave a dry laugh. Whatever this is between us, is not love. It’s barely acceptance. Lust. Hunger. Instinct. Maybe more – but not love. Stupid to even say the word out loud. I don’t feel love for him.
He dropped her chin and gave her a confused look. “I don’t understand.”
Of course you don’t.
“It’s just a flower, Zaraki. It doesn’t define anything.” She turned away, pulling on his arm to lead him to her bedroom, already feeling the warmth of him spreading to every fibre of her body. But he didn’t move, wouldn’t budge even as she tried to draw him away.
Instead, he leaned down and plucked one of the yarrow clusters from the display, dissembling the art, but holding the bloom up to the light and staring at it intently.
Fight, Heal, Love, huh? What’s so funny about that?
Pulling her close, he tucked the flower behind her ear, enjoying the statement it made. Like a secret only they knew the code to.
“I dunno about all that,” he growled, “But it’s late, so if you wanted to take advantage of me, you better do it soon.”
All tension left her body in a huff as she scoffed at his arrogance. “Of all the insufferable, pig-headed, single-minded-“
He cut her off with a heated kiss, tounge lapping against her own as he used his considerable flexibility to dip her, allowing her robe to fall off her shoulders as he bent nearly in half while holding perfect balance. The change in gravity had her panting as he moved his mouth to her neck and collarbone, lipping, nipping, sucking and teasing her until she squirmed in his arms. He stood back up, grinning wolfishly at her flushed face and décolletage.
“So, am I getting the grand tour?”
Cheeky, aggravating, arrogant male. She thought, trying unsuccessfully to haul her robe back up her shoulders. She pointed to the bedroom, one arm straight out, finger shaking with unconcealed frustration.
“No – you’re getting the shortcut. And if you’re lucky, you won’t get yourself kicked out by the locals.” He barked out a laugh and ran a tongue over his lips. “Get in there and get your pants off. It’s late, and I have work in the morning.”
He strode past her, knowing when to listen and when to obey. She took a moment to breathe, allowing time for her heart to stop it’s frantic beating. They hadn’t slept together since Sunday morning, and though she was perfectly fine, that night had left her sore in a few places up until only that morning. She suddenly hoped he was into something a bit gentler this evening, if only for her body’s sake.
And Kenpachi could be gentle – he just needed the right motivation.
That thought in mind, she resettled the yarrow flower behind her ear and walked to the bedroom, finding him exactly as she’d ordered: Sitting on the edge of the bed, hands braced behind him, naked and hard as stone.
Unohana walked over to him and gracefully sank to the floor between his legs. His eyes widened and he sat up straighter, lips parting as he realised the position she was taking. Even after their extensive evening on Sunday, there hadn’t been… this.
Kenpachi swallowed hard. He’d rarely had this before, not even as an inexperienced teen. This was something he hadn’t really been interested in, when caught up in the moment – having been much more focused on simply being inside a woman.
But with her…
Her soft, silky palms ran up the insides of his thighs towards the juncture, and he began panting loudly, fingers digging into the bedspread. Her hands travelled over his hips and along his lower abdomen, bumping along the sharp bone and hard muscle that carved down towards his bobbing cock.
Her nails trailed over him as her warm breath ghosted over the tip. She brought one hand to his shaft, wrapping around it and giving it a firm stroke, making him groan. Her other hand hefted his sac, carefully teasing and rolling him until he was shuddering. He smelled clean, with a hot earthy tang that she identified as both male and distinctly him.
She glanced up and felt a thrill that he was watching her so intently, that same terrifying focus now applied in absolute pleasure to her actions.
“Are you…” He started to say, but stopped and shook his head, still panting roughly.
She smiled, “Am I what?”
“Are you gonna su- oh fuck, yeah.” He groaned out as she licked him from base to tip, swirling her tongue and tasting his excitement, lips kissing him wetly as she pulled back.
“Am I gonna ‘fuck yeah’?” She asked coquettishly, one finger to her lip.
His eyes blazed – he wasn’t fully in control of his faculties anymore.
“Don’t you tease me, woman. Not now. Not like this.” He sounded like an animal, all growls and hisses. She considered doing exactly that, but decided that might end in the kind of sex she wasn’t up for tonight – no matter how much her usually blanketed libido said she was.
“Fine.” She replied with a heft dose of sass, and without preamble, gripped him tighter and fitted her mouth over his aching shaft, sinking as low as she could and using her tounge to wet his member and she relaxed her jaw around him.
The sound he let out was somewhere between a cry and a moan, and she could feel his legs quaking around her head. Considering her position, she realised she had one of the most powerful people she had ever known shaking like a baby animal beneath her. She’d become accustomed to being in power, both before and after her transition to her new life, but having this man shivering for her and moaning her name was something she’d never get used to. It was addictive.
Hollowing out her cheeks, she bobbed her head slowly, allowing her jaw and neck muscles the pace they needed to accommodate both his size and the amount she could move from her position. She compensated the rest of his length with her hands, using their combine moisture to wet his shaft, sliding up and down in tandem.
She felt his hand on her head and lifted her eyes to his hooded gaze as he watched his cock being taken. She hummed on him, and he clenched his jaw as she took him deeper.
“Fuck yeah, just like that.” He gasped as she used the lightest, gentlest pressure of her teeth on the way back up. She sucked the tip, lapping at the slit until she heard him cry out again, her name spilling from his lips as he twitched and jumped in her hand. She grinned and continued her firm, even strokes as she waited for his eyes to gain focus again.
“Close already?” She asked, deciding to test her luck now that she was sure he wasn’t about to throw her to the bed and ravage her like last time.
Panting hard, he rocked his hips into her hands, his hair beginning to fall in dark strands around his face. He looked dishevelled, wild, and she gulped. Maybe she wasn’t in the clear just yet.
“Careful.” He rasped, and she heard a tearing sound – his nails had just shredded her sheets. “I’m on one kind of brink as it is.”
Oh dear.
She glanced at his neck and remembered how he reacted when she had bit down on that main artery. Would he react the same if she…
She turned her head and shoved her face into the juncture of his thigh, biting down firmly on the area around his femoral artery, just hard enough to bruise.
Kenpachi let out a guttural cry and fell back, arms falling to his sides as he lay flat on the bed, rolling his hips into her hands and thrusting desperately.
“How… do you keep… doing that?” He panted, sounding shocked.
Unohana grinned and licked the new bruise, before returning to his shaft and swallowing him whole, raising herself slightly to adjust for his shift in position. She pushed herself down on him, swallowing around him, but unable to take his whole member. She had a gag reflex and wasn’t prepared to risk it on this first foray into oral pleasure with him.
He writhed, hips bucking up, hands reaching to hold her head still so he could fuck her mouth, but she batted his hands away, preferring to be comfortable as she drew him to the edge. She bobbed her head, licking and sucking, pulling away to kiss and suckle him, coming back to swallow and lap, taking him higher with each movement.
Her jaw was beginning to ache when she felt the tell-tale swell, the tightening in his thighs, the panting and swearing changing to deep groans of pleasure. He leaned up, bracing himself on his elbows as he locked eyes with her, his mouth slack, scarred lips pulled back to reveal those sharp teeth.
“’Hana… keep going – keep doing that thing with your tongue.” He breathed, “I’m – fuck – ‘m real close.”
She loved how open he was, how clearly, he told her what pleased him. But if he was close, she wanted to make it as intense as possible. Keeping her eyes on him and his shaft in her mouth, she put her hands on his hips and scratched her nails down the inside of his thighs, swirling her tongue across his slit at the same time.
Game over.
Kenpachi threw his head back and bellowed to the ceiling, hips pushing up into her mouth and stilling as he spilled his seed, shuddering at the intensity, until he finally collapsed, letting out little grunts of air as he swore and muttered.
“Be the… fucking death… of me, woman… fuck…”
Unohana rose and cleaned herself up in the bathroom, returning to find him splayed out on her bed, as if crucified to the mattress.
She still felt aroused for him, wanted to have him inside her, rocking her to orgasm again as she squeezed him tight – but after getting those photo’s earlier, was any of this such a good idea? She sighed, feeling denied.
Kenpachi looked up at her sigh and gave her the smile of a man well pleasured. She chuckled and came to sit beside him, readjusting her robe to sit properly. He tugged at it, wanting it off her, but she held it in place, and he didn’t force the issue.
“I have work in the morning.” She said lightly, a subtle invitation for him to leave.
“So do I.” He replied, shifting his hands to support his head.
“And it’s very late.” She prompted again.
“It is a bit, yeah.”
How does he get under my skin so easily these days?
“Which means you should probably be heading home.” She said, leaving no room for misunderstanding.
A strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back down to the bed, spooning her against his chest. His breath tickled her ear as his arm gripped her hip, pushing it back against him – she could feel his arousal, even now hardening for her.
“Do you want me to go?” He asked, nipping at the curve of her ear, careful not to dislodge the yarrow. I want to stay here, with you, for a little longer. Even…
She shivered and placed her hand over his, turning her head to look at him over her shoulder.
“No. But we both have work-“
“We can work anytime.” He replied, “Fun is more important.”
Hard to argue with that logic. I want him to stay, for a while more. Even…
She sighed again, and rolled over, seeking his kiss.
Kenpachi grinned shifting his body to settle between her legs, as her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. His thoughts were hazy after his release and the feel of her silk robe parting as she moved beneath him, but like her, he still had one thought clear and present.
…Even though this isn’t love.
Notes:
Renji's goofball face as he remembers he's dating Rukia just gave me such a chuckle as I was writing this.
Urahara is offering a SECRET WEAPON, y'all. Can ya figure this one out?
I have never written this much smut in my life! It's a bit cool, actually.ANYHOO - If you liked this chapter, please, leave a comment - I'd love to hear from you :)
Peace out!
Chapter 34: The Hell Butterfly Soars at Noon
Notes:
https://open.spotify.com/track/2D52zjCyqEIQa221lhw6uk?si=3b18cf23e8ee43b9
'This is War' - Thirty Seconds to Mars
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Wednesday
“Sample 326 is stable. The base chemical is ready for the catalyst.”
“Final report has been updated. Server upload complete.”
“Enclosure secure – ready for transport.”
The faceless lab technicians began wheeling the covered carts towards the loading area, maneuvering past the waiting soldiers and Espada in the hangar bay.
“How long must we wait?” Barrigan snarled, eyeing his men.
“Thirty minutes, sir!” Replied the masked officer.
“Aizen said he had one last item to attend to before leaving. Something about pest control?” Starrk drawled, yawning into his hand. He’d had to get up early to say goodbye to Lillinette, and despite his bravado, is had been a somber farewell. This was going to be a hard mission, and possibly one he wouldn’t return from.
“Pest control?” Yammy yawned “Boring.”
Nnoitra said nothing, just glared furiously at the lot of them. When Aizen had passed them that morning, he’d been escorting Momo along with Tousen and that bastard, Gin. Nnoitra had attempted to sneak after them, to see exactly what was going on, but Gin had firmly told him to stay put or Aizen ‘wouldn’t be pleased.’
He knew where they were going – off to give the ‘gift’ to those sand lice. To that woman. He sneered, and leaned against the wall, ignoring the rest of the espada as they watched the incursion force gear up and board the vessels.
At the Eastern Gate, Momo Hinamori staggered through the sand drifts and out into the dessert. She looked back twice, confused but compliant – Aizen had told her it was time for her to go home, and that her ride would be waiting for her.
She hadn’t felt the tiny prick of the needle as he’d place his arm around her, she had only felt his warmth and the kindness that she knew was being manipulated by Gin. Her gentle, handsome friend was doing all this for the greater good – he couldn’t be held responsible for what that snake was doing in the shadows. All those deaths…
Momo shook her head and followed the sand covered path – why was she heading out this way again? Her brain felt fuzzy, too full of dust and cobwebs, each thought a struggle – well, she had been working hard.
I’m going… home. Home to dad, and Toshiro… all my friends… There will be a ride here… Sosuke said so… He’s so kind… so considerate… Takes care of me…
She felt her lungs tighten like a vice and she heaved, coughing as though the air was poisoned and falling to her knees. Looking down at her hands, she saw they were covered in blood, the coppery taste filing her mouth as her head swam and her vision blurred.
What is… happening?
“Oh shit! Contact! Peach is down! I repeat – Peach is DOWN!” Pesche’s voice roared over the radio.
“Hold position, Veil!” Nel hissed back, her heart thudding as she pulled out her scope and moved to get a better line of sight, staying low.
Swinging up the lens, Nel focused in on the small body convulsing on the sand as Momo continued to cough and hack blood. Shit! What the hell have they done to her?
“Hood! Advance to my position and hold. Veil, cover me – we have to extract her, now!”
“Bad idea, Ibex! That girl is bait, and you know it!”
Of course she knew it. This was against orders, against protocol, but there was no other way Nel could see to get Momo out of there. Cardinal was at their backs with Cricket still at the base, recovering – Nel and Pesche were the only two close enough to see the full picture. The girl was choking on something, and unless they could retrieve her, she would die in the middle of nowhere, observed and ignored.
“I know she’s bait – so when I spring this trap, you do your goddamned jobs and cover my ass!”
Nel bolted for Momo, her form hunched over, rifle to her shoulder as she whipped around, watching every angle for an attack. Fifty feet. Thirty-five feet. No sign of the enemy.
“I’m in position, on your six.” Dondo’s voice grumbled, clearly frustrated with her.
“No movement.” Pesche whispered, keeping his sniper rifle low to the ground.
Twenty feet. Ten. Nel was close enough to see Momo struggling to breath, her nails scratching at her throat as she coughed and hacked, blood spitting across the sand.
“Momo. Momo Hinamori!” Nel hissed, doing one last sweep across the open area in front of the colossal building, before shouldering her rifle and dropping to her knees next to the girl. “I’m a friend of Toshiro Hitsugaya.”
Momo’s eyes bulged and she coughed harder, unable to speak, her face now bright scarlet. Nel cursed and unclipped her emergency med pack, pulling free an EpiPen with a slightly higher pH level. She thrust it into the girl’s shoulder and turned her on her side, using the limited knowledge she had of first aid for choking and allergic reactions.
“What did you take, Momo? Why are you choking?” Nel asked as the girl began to shake, though her coughing started to subside.
“D-Don’t… kn-know…” She gasped, taking in lungful after lungful of air, her face losing the blue tinge that had started to edge around her mouth and nose.
Nel put a hand to her transponder and called out hurriedly. “Cardinal, Cricket – I’m securing the package, then heading to base. We need emergency care, so be ready to pack up and roll out.”
The line was quiet. Nel frowned, sweat trickling down her back as her instincts told her something was very, very wrong.
“Cardinal. Cricket. Come in.”
Nothing. Then-
“Ah SHIT! Contact! East Gate! GET OUT OF THERE!” Veil!
A bullet whizzed over Nels head as she hoisted Momos over one shoulder and began half running, half dragging the girl back to the safety of the dunes.
“Sniper! They’re using cover, I don’t have a clean shot-“
“Where’s the shoote-“
The line cut swiftly as a loud cracking shot split the air.
“HOOD! FUCK! Ibex, get outta there!“
BANG!
Silence. The ringing sound of empty desert, desperation and death.
“No…” Nel gritted out, tears pricking her eyes as she hefted the girl over the dune, her barely conscious form hitting the sand and rolling down the other side to the safety of the shaded area.
Nel felt the hit before she heard the sharp crack of the shot. A tremendous pressure punched her in the back so hard she was momentarily airborne, floating to the lee of the dune. There was no pain, just the eerie, screeching silence as she tumbled through the sand to land on her stomach beside Hinamori.
She gasped, her lungs devoid of air, as with each raggedy breath, the pain began to grow, throbbing until it was beyond bearable. Nel gagged and wretched, her vomit mixing with the steadily growing patch of blood-soaked sand. She wouldn’t let this pain beat her – couldn’t – not here, not again!
“…Give me wings…” She hissed, struggling to her knees and ripping off her sand-colored cloak, tearing into strips with her left arm and her teeth. “… I… will soar…” She held one end in her mouth and used her free hand to wrap the material around her chest and shoulder, patching the exit wound above her right breast.
“…Even if… this whole land sinks…” The familiar phrases she learned in training always kept her focused.
As she pulled the material tight, she grunted in pain, whimpering as the cloth began to turn crimson. She glanced at Hinamori: the girl was shaking like she was in shock, her eyes half closed and glazed, mumbling the same words over and over again. They needed help – fast.
Collapsing back onto the sand, Nel reached into her thigh pocket and pulled out the small mobile phone that was her only connection to Toshiro. Clumsily, she tapped out a text message and sent it off, praying that the battery would last long enough to confirm the reply. As she faded in and out of consciousness, she heard the planes roaring overhead, and realized why Aizen had planted this particular bait now. She hurriedly tapped out a second message,
Her vision was going dark when she heard the telltale ‘ding’ and pulled the phone up, reading his response. She let out a sigh and wondered if anything they did now would even make a difference. It took seven hours to get back to the mainland, and the time difference meant the city was only just waking up.
Aizen was going for the Alloy – and he was bringing an army with him.
Toshiro grumbled as he heard the ding of a text message, followed a few minutes later by a second. Realising who could be communicating with him at this hour, he grabbed the phone, and felt all the blood drain out of his head as he read the two simple, poorly written messages, with no coding:
Team lost. I m down. Peach is down. She needs halp.
They r coming.
Toshiro froze, his mind churning as he considered every angle, every possibility. Aizen was on his way now, with an unknown number at his back. He must have finished the chemical base – meaning he was bringing a weapon of infinite damage with him. Nel had Momo, but her team had been taken out – was Momo dying? Was there time to save her? What could he do from his position?
Considering all the angles and clenching his jaw at what needed to be done, he stood, gripping the phone tightly and tapping back his reply.
Wait for me.
Pride be damned, City be damned – he’d forfeit everything to save her, everything to see Momo one last time. He was duty bound, always – but that duty was first and foremost to repaying the woman who had brought him back from the walking dead he had been all those years ago.
He hoped Rangiku would understand. His heart clenched as he thought of her, and hurriedly opened an email on his regular phone, sending a delayed message to her, and praying she wouldn’t do anything to make matters worse.
Then he made the call – relaying in quick, precise words exactly what he knew to the man at the other end of the phone. He stated his intentions, and felt a pinch of guilt, quickly thwarted as the voice murmured it’s disapproval.
“You planned for everything. Now plan for this.” Toshiro hissed and hung up without waiting for an answer.
He quickly dressed, pulling out a battered box and removing the contents: three passports with different identities, several wads of various currency, a switchblade, a handgun and a folded piece of fabric. He stuffed them all into his cargo pockets and unfolded the pale cloth, revealing a long off-white sleeveless coat with slashing black designs across the hem. He put it on, remembering the day he had appeared on her doorstep, and she’d wrapped him in that jacket, holding him tight and whispering that everything was going to be alright.
Reaching under the bed, he pulled out Hyoinmaru and slung the strap over his shoulder, so it lay across his back, then ran from his apartment to his car, shifting the sword to sit more comfortably as he gunned it to the one man who could help him get to Momo. The one man he desperately didn’t want to see.
It’s time.
Kyouraku stood from his bed and pulled out his old uniform, dressing quickly. Tying back his hair, he reached into the back of the wardrobe and pressed on a hidden panel, revealing a dark recess. Putting his hand inside, he carefully retrieved his beloved possessions, clipping them to his belt and making his way to the living room, tapping out a special message as he went, and sending it to all parties. Then he paused, and wrote another, shorter message, for the one person he knew would hate him for writing it.
Taking a deep breath, he punched the send button, and left his house with a self-indulgent smirk – he wasn’t looking forward to the fight, but he was eager to play his part in this game.
Just fun and games, he thought, turning away and shading his eyes from the morning sun.
Just fun and games.
‘The Hell Butterfly soars at noon.’
Byakuya scowled at the message on his phone, and instantly went to his wardrobe to change into a looser black suit, allowing him greater movement. Lifting his sword from its resting place beside Hinata’s photo, he took a moment study at her face, and wondered if they would meet in the afterlife, or if his sins would send him to a different end.
“Sir, I received the message. Are we still on schedule for today?” Renji slowed as he entered Byakuya’s sitting area, noting the way he was dressed, and the beautiful sword now tied at his waist.
Senbonzakura… Renji’s breath caught at the fluid way Byakuya moved, and wondered how anyone could stand against him when he was prepared to fight them like this? Would there even be a fight? More like an execution.
“Renji.” Byakuya snapped, breaking him from his trance.
“Yes, sir?”
“We stick to the original orders – we have until noon to be in position. Be ready to move.”
“Yessir!” Renji stood straight and bowed, before running from the room to get his own gear organized.
It was time. ‘Hell Butterfly’ indicated Aizen and his entire force, and ‘soars’ meant they were coming in hard. If the message had read ‘floats’, they would have prepared for a sneak attack, positioning themselves for an alternate plans.
Renji grimaced, memories hitting him hard as he entered the carpark, opening his boot and strapping his sidearms to their shoulder holsters. Unclipping the katana from its position in the trunk, he tied it to his belt and let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Rukia was on campus today, she wouldn’t have received the message from Kyouraku.
Should I call her? Text her? But if she knows… He shook his head, his own loyalty to her warring with his overwhelming urge to protect her. Still undecided, he wandered back up to the penthouse, and called the morning brief, handing out orders to his team and letting them all know that today was the day.
Several men turned pale, others clenched their jaws, determination on every line of their faces. Would they all be here tomorrow? Would they still be fighting a week from now?
“You are authorised to carry a second sidearm, as well as the handheld weapons you trained with at the 11th.” Renji called out, watching the men stand taller. He grinned.
They just needed a little reminder that they’re as good as anything the enemy can throw at us.
“You have your orders. Dismissed.”
Renji walked to Byakuya’s office and entered after a quiet knock. If there was anyone who could understand his position about putting Rukia in danger, it was her brother. He clenched his fists and paused, unsure of how to approach this without seeming insulting – but in the end, all he needed to do was ask.
“Sir? Should I inform Rukia of this update?” His voice was tight, unsure if this was pushing the boundary. Byakuya looked up from his computer and frowned at Renji.
“I was under the presumption that you already had?”
“No sir, I haven’t. As I mentioned to you yesterday, Rukia wants to join us on the front lines.”
“And?”
Renji took a mental step back. ‘And’?
Byakuya stared at him with that fathomless disinterest. “I don’t have an issue with Rukia being in attendance at the vault. Having her behind us is the safest place she could be.”
Renji’s jaw slackened.
It’s so weird hearing her words come out of his mouth.
He nodded, and pulled out his phone to text Rukia, letting her know their planned route for the day. Rukia was fearless, strong and equally as deadly as any of them when it came to a fight – he realised was relieved to know she would be there.
Less than thirty seconds later, she replied, and Renji felt a surge of confidence reading her words.
Understood – I’ll meet you there. I’m ready.
I’m sorry about dinner.
Nanao read the text on her phone and rolled her eyes, furious that he would think to send her that now, after already sending out the call to arms. HE needed to focus!
Her own hands shook as she packed her gear into the large carry cases and prepared to depart for her remote operation. As she fastened the straps and began rolling everything to her rarely used van, she realised tears were coursing down her face.
Nanao wiped them away with an angry huff and climbed into the drivers seat, determined not to think about the what if’s of her mission, his mission, and the possibility that they might not see tomorrow.
I can’t think about that now. I can’t think about him. Focus. Focus on my job.
Putting the van in gear, she rumbled away, the responsibility of her role weighing on her like an anvil.
“Iba! Why are there still asses in seats? I want people MOVING!”
Commissioner Komamura roared, and officers went flying, running in every direction as they hurried to get to their assigned positions. Iba shouldered his way through, barking orders and relaying commands from his clipboard. People scurried to and fro, strapping into Kevlar and grabbing riot gear, filling duffel bags with gear and hustling to the exits.
In short order, nearly the entire precinct had emptied, leaving only the standby staff, Komamura and Iba.
“All personnel deployed, sir!” Tetsuzaemon saluted smartly and waited for his captain. The big Scot turned and eyed his department, all the empty desks. How many of them would be filled again when this was over?
“Good work, Lieutenant.” Komamura grumbled and began making his way to the elevator, one hand pulling on the Kevlar vest, and one grasping a non-standard issue shotgun, modified to his specifications.
As they reached the basement and got in their vehicle, Iba already knew their destination from hours of careful planning and tactics scenarios – but he still asked the question politely.
“Where to, sir?”
Komamura growled as he replied. “The Big House, Lieutenant.”
“I’m coming!” Kira yelled as he pulled on his jacket and yanked the door open.
He stared in shock and no small amount of fear as Toshiro panted slightly, glaring at him and leaning on the door frame with both hands.
“Hitsugaya? What’re you doing here? The call went out for-“
“I know. I don’t care.” He rasped, standing up straight fixing Izuru with a burning look. “There’s something more important happening, and I-“ He nearly choked on the words, “-I need your help.”
“My help?” Kira repeated.
“I need your plane.”
“You need the company plane?”
“Do I have to keep repeating myself?!” Toshiro shouted, grabbing at his hair and tugging painfully, the frustration clear on his face. Kira cringed and backed away.
“But- but they’re coming. We’re supposed to head to our designate-“
“None of that matters if Momo dies.”
Izuru felt his heart drop into his knees, and he staggered, holding himself up with one hand on the door. “What?” He asked weakly.
Toshiro clenched his teeth and let out a frustrated scream. “We don’t have time for this! She’s hours away, and I’m the only one that knows where! Will you help me?”
A moment of tense silence stretched between them. Kira weighed his loyalties and realised there wasn’t much of a decision to be made – he had people in place to cover his position, and a Chief was here asking for his help, to save the woman they both loved.
Of course he would help.
“Let me grab my keys – we can be at the airfield in fifteen minutes. Where exactly are we heading?”
Toshiro frowned and a look of disgust crossed his face.
“Hueco Mundo.”
Shuuhei was already in his office when the message came in and was one of the only people fully prepared to start his role without delay.
He quickly turned on the master control panel and adjacent workstation and began rerouting subcommands to send master controls through to the remote location that would take over full control of the plant within the next few hours. The process was lengthy and he had been going for an hour before he realized he wasn’t alone.
“You ready?”
Shuuhei didn’t turn, just continued tapping away. “Almost. These controls are delicate – but once they’re passed over, it will secure a major-“
“I asked if you’re ready.” Kensei interrupted, standing closely behind him, watching the screen flash.
Shuuhei swallowed and tensed, this man was dangerous – a killer – and though he was designated to protect this facility, he wasn’t there to protect Shuuhei directly. He could cut his throat and blame it on some random Aizen insurgent, if the mood took him. He had absolutely no idea where he stood with Kensei, except for the strange, violent tension that seemed to keep building between them.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He responded, and took one hand from the keys to pat the weapon sticking out of his back pocket.
Kensei leaned back to eye the bladed sickle and chain sitting along the curve of Shuuhei’s back and ass.
“Nice.” He grunted, raising a brow at the choice of weapon. This was a blade for killing – not fighting. Perhaps this kid was more interesting than he had begun to believe.
Shuuhei felt his face heat up at the praise, and continued to focus on the screen, ignoring him.
“Look, kid – just don’t do anything reckless, alright?” Kensei bit out, shocking Shuuhei enough to turn his head away from the computer.
“Excuse me?”
Kensei rolled his head on his neck, avoiding looking him in the eye, “I’ve already got one immature brat to work with, but she’s a killer through and through. I don’t need to be saving your ass if you can’t really use that thing.”
Shuuhei felt his lip curl in anger, and he turned away, not feeling the need to prove anything. Kensei just chuffed and left the room, clearly not interested in pursuing the topic.
Let him think whatever he wants, Shuuhei thought furiously, punching in the commands on the keyboard.
He has no idea what I’m capable of.
Kenpachi grinned malevolently as Ikkaku relayed the message over the kitchen table. He had burst in as the Captain was sitting down with Yachiru for a late breakfast, calling out that the message had come through.
“But I have school today!” Yachiru chirped, tilting her head at Ikkaku, as if he was speaking nonsense.
“You ain’t going to school today, kid.” Kenpachi growled, getting to his feet and heading to his bedroom to change.
“Then where am I going?” She called out to him.
“Yumichika is already contacting the men and sending them to their locations. Did you want us with you, Captain?” Ikkaku asked, following him to his room.
With his back to Ikkaku, he stripped off his t-shirt and reached into the cupboard for the familiar black button down and white tank top.
Ikkaku sucked in a breath at the sight of Kenpachi’s back, covered in fading red lines, and bruises. A particularly sharp line on his shoulder blade looked like it still had stitches in it. What on earth had he been fighting this time?
He slipped into the clothes and glanced at Ikkaku over one shoulder. “Not a word.” He growled. Ikkaku nodded quickly, knowing this wasn’t the time to start asking questions about the mans (apparently) off-the-books fights.
“Yachiru!” He called out and the girls head popped around the corner, looking at him expectantly. “You’re with me today, until I can get you somewhere outta the way.”
Yachiru pouted, her eyes twinkling with anger. “But I can fight, Kenny!”
“Not this fight.” He replied with a growl, turning to pin her with that ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ glare.
She huffed and retreated to her own room to change and pack a bag for whatever might be needed.
“Sir?” Ikkaku prompted. “We’re with you too, yeah?”
Kenpachi grinned, flashing those sharp teeth in a way that had Ikkaku mirroring him – the eagerness of the battle to come coursing through both of them. Ikkaku knew that they might get separated once the fight began, but being alongside his captain was the best place to be to see the real action.
Kenpachi licked his lips and thrust his sword through the loop in his belt, before grabbing a familiar, sleeveless white coat and slinging it over his shoulders.
“Hell yeah.”
Notes:
It begins.
If you liked this chapter, leave a comment! I adore hearing your thoughts <3
Chapter 35: When Pigs Fly
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
10:30am – The Vault
Byakuya closed the briefcase and clipped the locks shut, taking a moment to check that the duplicate was perfectly positioned on the glass covered pedestal. He stared at the hunk of metal that had caused so much trouble and considered the ramifications of its discovery and retrieval by Urahara Kisuke. It had all started with that man, and now, everything they had built, the lives they’d fought to protect, it could all be for nothing.
Urahara Kisuke.
Byakuya gripped the handle of the briefcase and decided that thinking about the man was best left to another day – right now, he had the responsibility of ensuring the alloy reached its destination safely.
Byakuya strode past Renji, who stepped in line with him and spoke into a wrist mic to the rest of his team.
“Moving out. Stay sharp.”
Byakuya made it to the top level above the vault, through the CSI private hallways and into the waiting limousine flanked by no less than ten agents, all alert, posed and watchful. Civilians on the sidewalk paused, waiting for the small group with hushed whispers behind raised hands.
Inside the limo, Byakuya sat with the briefcase on his knees, holding it steady. Renji clambered in after him, along with two of his men. A small nod from the noble, and he sent a signal to Rikichi to get under way. The car rumbled and pulled out, flanked by two black SUV’s filled with more of Renji’s forces.
“E.T.A. twelve minutes, sir.” Renji said crisply, eyeing the briefcase. Byakuya nodded, and watched the streets fly by. The people, the regular ‘living their everyday lives’ people that had no idea what was happening or was about to happen in their city. The people who could so easily turn intoa hysteria ridden mob and overwhelm any force they could assemble.
He wouldn’t forget how the ‘mob’ had turned so easily on Rukia, the last time.
But his duty was to the family, and to the city they had sworn to protect. He would do this task, and return to the vault as ordered, and he would do so while ignoring the bitter resentment he held inside. Rukia would be with him, this time he would have her by his side, and they would fight together, if it came to it.
She had become strong.
He watched Renji and nodded to himself – he, too, had become strong. He could trust the both of them. They were an odd friendship, but a true one, and he was glad they had each other to lean on during this event.
Within minutes they arrived at the Generals headquarters – the Big House – and moved swiftly across the pavement. The party was met in the foyer by Komamura, who nodded in greeting to Byakuya and proceeded to open the large meeting hall doors for the men, remaining outside with his Lieutenant.
Renji held up a hand to his men, instructing them to stay as he escorted the boss inside the private meeting area, the large doors thudding closed behind them and echoing across the sterile chamber.
“You’re right on time, Kuchiki.” Yamamoto’s voice rolled through the room like gentle thunder as he revealed himself from the hidden partition at the back.
“Of course.” Byakuya responded dryly, walking the inside length of the u-shaped table to place the briefcase gently in front of the old man. Yamamoto rested a hand on its lid and let out a breath of relief.
“All for this.” He mumbled. “All for a cursed hunk of metal from ancient times.”
Byakuya said nothing, allowing him a moment of reflection. The two men had different memories of the events of Aizen’s last invasion, and vastly different morals when it came to the leadership of the city – but they were both aligned when it came to the protection of the common people. This threat would be dealt with: mercilessly.
Renji cleared his throat softly, bringing their attention to the present.
“I’ll be heading to my post now.” Byakuya said quietly, offering the man a small bow of respect and retreating, Renji already creaking the door open for them.
“Kuchiki.”
Yamamoto’s voice boomed through the room, and Byakuya turned to offer his attention.
“They will not enter the Vault.” Not a question - an order.
Byakuya nearly scoffed, but instead, lifted his chin a little higher and nodded his head in agreement before sweeping out the door.
In the foyer, Renji’s men regrouped around their boss after taking a few minutes to chat with their counterparts on Yamamoto’s forces. The group was about to exit, when Kyouraku and Jushiro stepped into the foyer, chatting casually as though coming to the Big House were nothing more than a regular morning occurrence.
“Kuchiki!” Jushiro called out pleasantly, waving an arm in greeting. Kyouraku just smiled, arms casually tucked into his pockets. Byakuya paused and stepped away from his entourage.
“Ukitake. Kyouraku. You’re positioned here today?”
“We’re just making ourselves at home.” Shunsui drawled with a smirk, apparently relaxed and at ease with the situation.
“That’s a yes.” Jushiro replied with a nervous laugh, elbowing his friend in the ribs.
“Well, I won’t keep you from your roles.” Byakuya said, keen to get to his own post.
“One moment, Byakuya.” Ukitake said sharply, earning him a withering glare from the noble. Grey eyes met green, and the older man lowered his voice to a murmur.
“Rukia – where will she be during all this?”
The question wasn’t unexpected – Rukia had been targeted previously and also recently, and over the last two years she had spent many of her community hours working with Jushiro at the 13th, learning what he could teach her about distributing forces and prioritising structural damage and lives in a large scale event.
Byakuya blinked. “With me, of course.”
Ukitake pressed his lips together and nodded curtly, as if agreeing with his decision – not that Byakuya needed the man’s approval. His family. His mission. His business.
“I’ll tell her you send your regards.” Byakuya grumbled, and swept away, his security following swiftly behind him as Renji offered the two men a short salute.
“That man needs to lighten up.” Kyouraku sighed, as Komamura and Iba made their way over.
“That’s not much of a recommendation, coming from you.” Jushiro griped back.
“Gentlemen, are we all set here?” Komamura barked out in his usual stoic professionalism. Iba stood behind him, shoulders back, one hand resting on his belt, eyes hidden behind his trademark sunglasses.
Something he’d picked up from his time with Zaraki, perhaps? Shunsui mused, then coughed and answered lazily.
“We’re ready.”
“As we’ll ever be.”
“But is there a sofa here, somewhere, or…”
“For goodness sake, Shun-“
Iba and Komamura stepped away, muttering farewells as they headed to their own assignment, running patrols between the Big House, the Vault and the Plant. The tall Scot tugged at his beard as he took in the sunny street, bustling with commuters and traffic, the sun glaring off the planed glass windows of the surrounding sky scrapers. Clouds, that had no business being there according to the weather report, had crept along the horizon, piling up overhead and menacing the daylight.
“Sir, the car is waiting.”
Komamura cleared his throat and entered the waiting vehicle, hoping that the weather, like Aizens arrival, would be forecast early enough for them to prepare.
He hated the rain.
12:00 – Seireitei General – Carpark.
“He’s been a while…”
“It’s important. He said to wait, so we wait.”
“I know that - I’m just on edge.”
Ikkaku looked over his shoulder at Yumichika and raised a brow. “You’re on edge?”
Yumi sniffed politely. “Yes. I am. I’m excited for what’s about to happen and edgy that we’re not by his side, in case it starts without us.”
Ikkaku grinned and turned fully to face the one man he cared for most in the world. “There won’t be any fighting until we get there, I promise.” He glanced around the empty parking lot and raised a hand to cup Yumichika’s face, earning him a sigh of relaxation.
“This is going to be brutal – and there’s no-one else I’d rather be with than you and the Captain.”
Delicate lips kissed his palm, and for a moment, they lost themselves in the quiet before the storm. The empty underground parking lot hummed and echoed, partially filled with sleek, expensive cars that did nothing for their owners but make them look good. Above them, the hospital buzzed, a hive of activity that they happily ignored, losing themselves in the moment.
Yumi pushed off the car and stepped into Ikkaku’s space, lifting his chin for the kiss he knew was waiting. Warm, firm lips met his, pressing down and offering comfort, support and love. Yumichika tilted his head and parted his lips, turning the kiss into something more heated, and far more intimate.
Scarred hands gripped his waist, holding him still as the two experienced each other as though for the last time – tongues pushing and tugging as their blood surged and steady fingers became claws, gripping skin. Ikkaku pulled away first.
“Are you trying to distract me, or take your own edge off?”
Yumi’s feathered brows quirked coquettishly. “Both?” He allowed his hand to drop to Ikkaku’s waist, following the curve of his hips to grip his ass and squeeze. He grinned at the sound the man made. “Definitely both.”
“You’re lucky I’m not easily distracted.” He growled, his voice husky and promising things that there was no time to deliver.
“Sure.” Yumichika said, disentangling himself and stepping back to lean against the car as they resumed waiting for their boss to return from his ‘errand’ at the hospital of all places.
They waited for several more minutes before Ikkaku hummed, “Why here though?”
“Probably because he knows the safest place besides his own shoulder is by her side.” Yumichika yawned.
Ikkaku scowled, “She was never a protector.”
“She’s a healer. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“He’s always said she’s strong, too. I suppose those two things together must be enough for him.”
“Would you question his choice?”
“Never. But… Yachiru is like our own kid – she can take care of herself; we’ve all seen to that – I just wanna know she’s somewhere she won’t get into trouble on her own. You know how she is.”
Yumichika sighed. “Yes, I know. But she isn’t ours to make decisions for – that’s his job. And as both his subordinates and his friends, it’s our job to trust he knows what’s best when it comes to her.”
Ikkaku grumbled and hunched his shoulders, muttering to himself. “If she gets herself into shit because whoever was watching her didn’t do the job right, I’m going to kick their ass, then her ass.”
“And I’ll be right there with you.” Yumichika responded calmly. “But I don’t think that’s going to be necessary – if the Captain somehow trusts Unohana now, enough to look after his daughter during the heavy fighting, then that means he trusts her to watch the girl. And that’s something he doesn’t do lightly.”
Ikkaku nodded glumly. “I don’t want her there… but I wish she was coming with us.”
Neither man found that sentiment odd when it came to their pink haired lieutenant. The girl had more than proven herself to be unique in the field, knowing where to stand, when to run and when to intervene in a fight. There were things she understood about battle that hardened veterans were still struggling to recognise, and most people blamed this innate talent on Kenpachi’s influence. But she was still a child and having a child in this field didn’t sit right with any of them.
The men settled in to wait, knowing that Kenpachi would be back when he was finished, and not a moment sooner. Ikkaku settled onto the concrete floor and began to meditate, calming his mind and preparing in his own way. They barely knew what to expect, but one thing was certain:
Their blades would taste blood before dawn.
12:00 – Muken: Prison for the Criminally Insane
CLANG!
The narrow corridor echoed with the metallic sound.
CLANG!
The stone walls, cold and bare, refracted the noise.
CLANG!
The bars shook with every hit.
CLANG!
Closed fists, restrained by heavy cuffs thumped the metal cage.
CLANG!
Blue hair, dishevelled but clean. Icy blue eyes, wide and crazed.
CLANG!
Grimmjow wanted OUT.
Running footsteps slapping against the painted floor. A jingle of keys as a guard entered the cell block, coming to an abrupt halt at seeing the usually quiet and menacingly insane inmate making himself as loud as possible.
“Cut it out, Six. You and Two already had your yard time today.”
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
The guard pulled out a long, black baton and hit it against the bars hard enough to drown out Grimmjows racquet.
“I said quit it!”
Grimmjow – inmate Six at this specific institution – stopped banging his wrists, and grinned at the guard, showing all the teeth he could use to rip through the man’s face off, if he only came an inch closer…
“Don’t even think about it. I ain’t crossing the line today, buddy.” The guard indicated the red safety line painted on the floor in front of the cell.
“If you do, I’ll tell you what’s coming.”
The guard snorted.
“I already know what’s coming, Six. Lunch. In about twenty minutes. Today you’re getting chicken – and if you play nice, it’ll even be without the extra sauce I was gonna add.”
Grimmjow stepped back, lowering his hands and started to chuckle, increasing in volume until he was laughing uproariously, curled over at some inner joke. The guard just rolled his eyes at the insane man and turned to leave.
“If you think you’re safe on that side of the bars, you’re wrong.” Grimmjow choked out between heaving breaths. “They’re coming. I know they’re coming. And once they have what they’re after, you’ll do everything I say, exactly when I say it.”
The guard looked back sharply at the inmate, and narrowed his eyes.
“The day I take orders from you is the day pigs fly, Six.” He strolled away, banging the walls with his baton as he went, purposefully startling the few other inmates in that part of the building, pausing only long enough to leer at the female prisoners.
Grimmjow retreated to lie back on his bunk, wishing that they would allow him the use of his hands for longer periods of time. He stared at his ceiling, and smiled widely, licking his lips in eagerness.
“When pigs fly, huh? Well, fatso, bacon is gonna soar today. I just know it.”
12:00 – 30,000 Feet
“We’ll be landing in thirty minutes. Please take your seats for our decent, sir.”
Gin squinted through the slanted glass, spotting the dark sprawl below them. He hummed in appreciation and whirled away from the cockpit to join Aizen and Tousen in the main cabin, sitting quietly and buckling his seatbelt.
“Are you excited to be going home?” Gin asked Tousen, a subtle jab at the mans forced departure several weeks prior.
Tousen turned to him, sightless eyes unblinking behind the dark, wraparound glasses. Gin suspected that all the surgeries Tousen had been through over the years had given him at least some semblance of sight, but there was no proof to speak of. He still maintained complete blindness, and yet was still so adept at ‘seeing’ what was around him that it was a little spooky to most.
“Are you?” Tousen replied gravely, his voice soft and menacing.
Gin grinned in reply. “Oh, it’s like I never left.” Tousen scowled and turned away.
Aizen smiled benignly at his two lieutenants, chin resting on his hand as he reclined in his chair. Gin cocked his head and gave Tousen a curious look.
“There is one thing that’s been bothering me, though, Kaname.” Gin said, leadingly. Tousen inclined his head, one brow raised.
“Everyone knows you hate Zaraki – you tried to blow him up… twice! Now, most of us think it’s because you lost that fight to him alongside Komamura a few years back.” Tousen grimaced, his lip curling at the mention of his old comrade and the imposing man that overwhelmed them.
Gin pushed on.
“But it’s just us, here. Tell me, really – why this vendetta against the man? I’ve always found him quite fun – especially back in the day.”
Tousen scoffed and turned away, not saying a word. Aizen smiled gently, always the patient, polite host. Gin waited, then shrugged, seeming to give up on the answer – he knew Tousen couldn’t resist telling Aizen the truth behind his hatred. He didn’t have to wait long…
“He’s… wrong. Twisted. Soiled in a way that can’t be cleaned. He’s everything that’s wrong with human nature – the kind of person that shouldn’t exist. He’s a blood thirsty brute who’ll kill without second thought.” Tousen bit out, each word filled with poison.
Gin remained impassive as he replied. “Well, that’s a very… descriptive reason. But it doesn’t tell us why you want him dead.”
Kaname surprised them by chuffing out a laugh. “Zaraki is… empty – his sins have no substance. I need to burn him off this planet – to prove that even the cruellest, emptiest, most tarnished demons can be brought to justice. If fire can burn a man consumed by nothingness, if it can burn emptiness? Well…”
“Fire… always with the fire. You’d think you would have an aversion to the stuff, after… well… “Gin waved his hands at Kanames eyes, leadingly. The blind man grimaced and continued.
“I love fire – it’s the purest form of justice there is. There’s no escaping it, once it has you in its clutches. Electricity can be focused, as a kind of directed judgement, and explosions purify everything. Fire is justice. It’s god-like. It’s clean and soulless, devouring sin and sinner alike. He’s a blight on this earth. I need to kill him, because he embodies everything I hate, and he is the most primal opposite of everything you,” He inclined his head towards Aizen in a tiny bow of respect, ”Are trying to build. He beat me once, and continually escapes – but I will purify him. I’ll send him back to the hell he came from and leave a purer land for Lord Aizen to build his perfect world.” His eyes turned to Gin.
“I want him dead because I hate him. I hate him because of what he is, and the danger I know he presents to us. Does that answer your question?”
Gin held up his hands in a defensive gesture. “I thought you were gonna say ‘he ran over my cat’ or something, geez, no need to get biblical.”
Aizen’s smile widened and all three felt their ears pop as the plane descended, hearing the rumble of the landing gear and the hum of hydraulics. Aizen finally spoke over the heavy rumbling.
“I am looking forward to seeing the city again – I wonder if it remembers me.”
His eyes glinted, and he brushed a finger over his curling lips, teeth peeking through his gentle smile.
“I’m certainly looking forward to seeing a few old faces.”
12:00 – Seireitei General
“But I don’t wanna stay here!”
“You don’t have a choice, brat.” Kenpachi growled low, a vein in his temple throbbing at the petulant note in the girl’s voice.
They had arrived at the hospital and headed immediately to Retsu’s office, bypassing all the usual staff, using his secret route. Yachiru had been quietly impressed with his stealth. After a short conversation with Unohana – who had seemed a little more friendly with Kenny than she normally was – Yachiru had realised she was being left behind and had begun to argue. Unohana had left the office to give them a little privacy ‘to talk things out’.
“I won’t be in the way, I promise! I know how to stay safe nearby!” Yachiru felt her face begin to heat as a scary emotion began climbing up her throat. A strange one that she hadn’t felt in years. She didn’t want to be left behind. She gripped the straps of her backpack, certain that she would get her own way.
“Yachiru!” He barked her name in a sharp, commanding tone. The one that was used on everyone but her. His ‘Captain’ voice. She shut up instantly, her breath catching in her throat.
Kenpachi hated having to command her to do anything – the two of them were always on the same wavelength, always so in tune. But this whining, aggressive attitude… was this puberty? No, he knew exactly why she was fighting him on this – she didn’t want to be without him. He was her whole world.
“You need to stay here, kid.” He said, much more gently, squatting down to speak on her level. When was the last time they had to talk like this? Years?
Yachiru’s eyes glinted, and for a scary moment, he thought she was going to cry. The kid never cried – he didn’t have the first clue what to do with her if she started now.
“But you need me.” She said, her voice much softer, much more subdued than her normal, boisterous way of speaking.
Kenpachi sighed, and lifted her chin with one finger, speaking to her in that gentle rumble he reserved only for her… and one other.
“I’ve never needed anybody, little one, because I don’t look beyond tomorrow. But if tomorrow came, and ya weren’t there, I wouldn’t be able to get to the day after that. I don’t know if that’s ‘need’, but it’s the closest thing I understand.”
Yachiru sniffled, still dry eyed, but emotions flaring within. “That’s love, Kenny.” She gave him a shaky smile. “I love you, too.”
He blinked and shook his head a little, the word still uncomfortable in his mind. Love, huh? He pressed on, trying to make her understand.
“You’re important to me, and I care about ya. I… I love ya. I don’t wanna see ya get hurt because of my fun – because it’s not all fun this time. It’s work.” He sneered and glanced away. “It’s war.”
Her tiny, soft palm pressed against his cheek, and pulled his face back.
“Don’t be mad, Kenny.” She said sternly. “You’re going to have so much fun out there, and you can tell me all about it later. Tell Yumi to take videos on his phone – when he’s not fighting too.” She let out a big sigh.
“I’ll stay here.”
Kenpachi gave her a lopsided grin. She returned it with a brave, toothy smile and he ruffled her hair as he stood up.
“Ok, now that that’s figured out-“
“All sorted out in here?” Unohana chimed in at the doorway.
Kenpachi turned to her, his grin transforming into a smirk at her neat, professional attire. “Yeah, we are. Yachiru will be staying with you for the day. I’ll be back to pick her up after dark.”
“That’s not very precise.” Unohana replied blandly, one eyebrow raised.
Kenpachi laughed, and Yachiru frowned, looking between them like an umpire at a tennis match. Her lips pursed, and she narrowed her eyes. Something was going on here.
“’Chiru – go see if you can find someone to terrify for a bit.”
The girl wanted to know more, but the chance for free reign in the hospital was too alluring.
“’Kay!” She chirped and was down the hall before the office door had finished closing.
“She’s as energetic as always.” Retsu murmured, walking to her desk and leaning against the edge.
“If you can keep her entertained in one place for more than an hour, you’ll be ahead of everyone but me.”
An awkward silence pressed down on them, and Kenpachi rubbed the pommel of his sword.
“You left early this morning.” Unohana murmured, inspecting her nails. “You didn’t even wake me – I had no idea you could be so stealthy.”
“You didn’t figure that out after weeks of me getting into your office unobstructed?” He raised his chin at her proudly, “I can be sneaky when I wanna be.”
“Clearly.” She opened her mouth to say something more, then closed it again, not wanting to offend him.
Ugh, just say it. She mentally chided herself.
“Are you sure giving her to me, now, is the best idea?”
“Yes.”
A simple answer for a not so simple question. She knew he wasn’t a hesitant man, but perhaps he should have thought twice about this particular decision when it came to his own daughter. After all…
“I’m not protector.” She said softly.
“You don’t need to be.” He replied, confusion evident in his voice. She felt anger bubble up at his ignorance of the position he was putting her in.
“You drop your daughter here, like a sack of potatoes, with me – a person with whom you’ve had a very public dislike of for… forever! Aand expected me to keep her secure until you get back? From the public viewpoint, that is the equivalent to asking your asshole neighbour to watch your kid while you’re out of town. It just isn’t done, Zaraki!”
Zaraki. She always called him that when she was riled, annoyed or needed to speak with him seriously. When had he begun noticing these little nuances about her?
When had he started to care?
“Look, I don’t care about the ‘public viewpoint’ or who knows about us – I never did – but you do. So, I’ll keep sneaking around, just like ya want.” An icy fist gripped his stomach as he said the words, and he had trouble keeping the sneer out of his voice as he spoke. He pressed on, trying to ignore the cold anger.
“But this ain’t about us – it’s about Yachiru. I just wanna put her somewhere she’ll be out of the way of people tryin’ to use her to get to me. Somewhere safe. And the only person I know who’s as good a fighter as me… is you.”
Unohana stared at him for a second, registering what he was saying, and hearing his anger when he spoke about ‘sneaking around.’ Did he want to go public?
“Yes, I can fight. But fighting isn’t protecting.”
“You’re a doctor!”
“Exactly! I fix people – that doesn’t mean I’m a guardian angel!” She felt her breathing getting heavier as she argued with him. When was the last time she had gotten so emotional, so openly angry with another person? Why did he always strip away her carefully built emotional defences like this?
“Well, she needs you to be one.” He muttered, cooling himself down as he stepped towards her, his towering height making her feel oddly small, but his words building up her sense of inner power. He looked into her eyes, and she thought she saw something similar to distress in his features.
“I need you to be one – for her.” Stepping into her space fully, one arm snaking around her back to press her body against his, the other hand lightly gripping her chin and lifting her face to receive a slow, seeking kiss. His mouth shifted over hers so carefully, lips moving like a prayer before pulling back so he could meet her eyes. She shuddered, unsure how to react to this pleading side of him. He could be gentle, he had been just last night, in fact, but this was…
“Please.”
…Tender. Would he ever stop surprising her? She melted for him, unable to deny what he asked of her, body and spirit softening towards him and unbidden feelings of care rising to overtake her as she etched the moment into her memory.
“Of course, I’ll look out for her.” She murmured, and pulled him back down, yearning for more of that gentle, pleading passion.
There was no lust, no heated, frenzied hunger – just mutual pleasure and reassurance of their desire for each other. They tasted and pushed in slow, agonizing passion, warm breath wafting across their faces as they refused to part, hands gripping tight, then loosing to find new flesh to massage and please.
Pulling away, he grabbed her hand and took a few steps back, before collapsing onto the couch, pulling her on top of him. She cried out as she fell forward onto his chest and lap.
“Zaraki!” She hissed, clambering to stand, and instead finding herself straddling his lap as her leered at her. She gave him her most evil glare, and he laughed delightedly.
“We don’t have time for whatever you’re thinking! Your daughter will be back at any second!”
His hand skimmed up the outside of her thighs, tickling her through the thin material of her suit pants. He gripped her firmly, settling her over his hips.
“I’m not about to sully your precious office, woman - I just don’t wanna be breaking my back to kiss you.” He gruffed, though his eyes definitely held a spark of interest at the idea of ‘sullying the office’. Cock twitching in his pants, he shook his head – now was definitely not the time.
She huffed and settled into his grip, putting her hands around his neck and leaning towards him, eyes filled with something he understood, but didn’t want to name – something that didn’t seem so daunting anymore. Her lips brushed his…
BANG!
“Kenny! Mu-Mu is being a butthead-“
“It’s IEMURA, Miss, and you –“
The two burst the door and froze. Kenpachi narrowed his eyes and growled at the man, fingers tightening on Unohana’s thighs as a strange new instinct washed over him like a wave on the beach. His lips pulled back and he bared his teeth at the intruder, eyes blazing.
Mine.
“Kenny? Re-Chan?” Yachiru asked, coking her head and stepping further into the office. Uhonana tried to gracefully dismount from Kenpachi’s lap, but she underestimated his hold on her. After struggling for a moment while his attention was pinned on Iemura, she finally gripped one of his fingers dug her thumb into the nailbed.
He hissed, attention breaking and releasing her to stand and pat down her clothes, neatening everything as though nothing had happened. Iemura was pale and sweating, his deep-set eyes retracting to pinpoints in fear of having interrupted something he clearly should not have. He babbled.
“Director – I-I’m so sorry – I w-would have knocked, but she –“
Unohana offered him her most terrifyingly calm smile, her eyes pleasantly squinted as she deadpanned, “Iemura, I appreciate you returning Yachiru – she will be staying with me for the rest of the day.” The man breathed a sigh of relief, then blanched further as Kenpachi rose to his full, height and stood in her shadow, a silent wall of malintent.
“However, doctor, I should remind you that this is my private office, and anything you see or hear inside these walls is considered confidential – am I making myself perfectly clear?”
The threat was significant enough to the have the blonde man stuttering apologies yet again and stumbling out of the room, closing the door behind him. Unohana sighed and turned to look at Yachiru, who was watching them both with narrowed eyes.
“What?” Kenpachi snapped, moving to stand beside her. The girl had no filter – and her mind was far more perceptive than any child – and many adults – had a right to be.
“Are you guys having sex?”
A choked sound from Unohana as she lost her ever present composure for a millisecond.
“Yeah?” Kenpachi relied, making it more of a ‘obviously? What’s your point?’ response. The woman blanched at his blunt words and exposure of their relationship to the girl.
Yachiru glanced between them, then stepped up to Unohana and gave her a thorough study. The woman looked to Kenpachi, confused – what was the child searching for? After a moment, she shrugged and stepped back, bouncing on her feet as she grinned up at them.
“’Kay! But if you transform during the full moon again, can you bite me, too?” She sounded excited and eager.
“What?” Unohana stuttered, utterly lost by the question.
“She’s not a werewolf, brat.” Kenpachi chuckled, one hand rising to rub his neck.
Oh… OH! Oh dear… Retsu thought, allowing herself a small chuckle.
“He’s right, I’m not – but that doesn’t mean I can’t bite really hard if you’re being naughty.” She said, trying to be playful with the girl, but coming across a little stiff and lot more terrifying. Yachiru beamed at her, then at Kenpachi, and Unohana realised that this child had a lot more of the Demon in her than anything her biological parents might have passed on.
“I’m going.” Kenpachi said abruptly and turned to leave.
“Wait! Aren’t you gonna give us a kiss goodbye?” Yachiru asked, all innocent mischief. Unohana’s eyes widened as Kenpachi grinned, playing along with Yachiru’s attempt at humour.
He swooped down and lifted the girl high into the air as she whooped and giggled. He pulled her into a crushing hug against his chest as she struggled and squealed about the need to breath. He grinned and dropped her, patting her head with a few meaty thumps.
Then, he raised a brow and offer that lopsided, sexy smirk to Unohana, who turned her head aside and raised her hands in mock defence while Yachiru cackled.
“Ooooh no, don’t even try it, Zarak-“
He gripped her flailing wrist and pulled her forward, leaning her over in in that dramatic, classic way he had done the previous night, kissing her with all the heat of a man who expects to stay long into the night. As he swung her back up, she felt herself blushing furiously as he laughed and swung open the door, leaving her staggering and flushed, and Yachiru grinning, and forgetting about being left behind.
Taking one last look at the two females that had become so involved in his life, he closed the door without another word and headed for the basement, his heart beating heavily, the warmth of Yachirus arms and Retsu’s lips leaving him with each breath.
Each step he took, he gathered power around him, like gathering in the edges of a cloak. The joy, he buried, keeping it locked away safe and sound in his chest. The feeling of happiness, peace, being with the two of them – all locked away.
Now was the real joy – the bruising, bloody, sweaty fight he’d been craving for months… years! The slashing… the cutting… the challenge…
Reaching the car, he found Yumichika and Ikkaku waiting patiently.
“Cursed Division, Captain?” Ikkaku asked, eyes glinting with a familiar battle light, and a smile stretching to cover his face. He and Ikkaku had so much in common when it came to fighting – and right now, the man was reading his mind.
“Yeah.” Kenpachi grinned. “Let’s go knock on Kurotsuchi’s door, and see what’s waitin’ for us…”
Notes:
Oh my goodness - THANKYOU for your patience, dear readers! I've recently started a new job, and the hours are intensive. Chapters will no be coming out closer to a weekly basis, instead of every three days or so.
AN-NY-WA-AY - Are. You. Ready?
It begins. The war, the fighting, the BLOOD starts in Chapter 36. Are they prepared enough for AIZEN, of all people? What do you think? Will Yamamoto be able to keep the REAL alloy safe? WHAT'S HAPPENING NEXT? Oh lordi, I'm so excited to share it with you!
Also - Clueless Byakuya is my favorite Byakuya.
And again, if you liked this chapter, please, leave your girl a comment - I adore hearing your thoughts! <3
Chapter 36: The Rising Bitter Rain
Summary:
I Need a Hero - Sarah Buxton (cover)
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
1:00pm
“What the hell…”
Rangiku read the email, eyes shuttling rapidly across the last words Toshiro had sent her before he’d apparently left the country.
“That little idiot!” She snarled, throwing her phone down and storming to her wardrobe to pull out a simple pair of black jeans and a fitted white V-neck tee. Pulling on a pale green jacket, she picked up the discarded phone and read the email again, checking the time stamp to ensure she wasn’t mistaken about the time on the clock.
Toshiro had sent the email at nearly five in the morning – and it was almost one in the afternoon on her only day off. He had planned this, the little shit! He knew she would try to stop him, or at least hinder him until he was thinking clearly. Momo was her friend too, after all.
Rangiku,
By the time you get this, I should be arriving in Hueco Mundo. I’m making Kira fly me, so don’t think about calling him for a ride. You know the one reason we would both leave at a time like this.
There’s another thing – it’s begun. Aizen is making his move, and he should already be there by now. You might already have an alert from Kyouraku. You know the plan - Be ready. You don’t need me for what has to be done.
You’re the person I trust most in the world, so I need to ask you a favor, one you’ll probably hate me for:
Don’t go.
Every person I’ve ever cared for is dead or… unknown. Except you. Keep your head down and fight the battle in front of you – don’t go looking beyond the plan.
If this goes badly, I may not be coming back – and you need to keep the bar going. You need to keep going.
People depend on it, and I’m depending on you.
- Sefe Hitsugaya Toshiro.
She squeezed the phone so hard her fingers creaked. How dare he? After everything they’d been through – the sleepless nights, the secrets they kept, running a business together, the fun, the fights – the truths they kept close to their hearts.
And he decided to follow this path without her… alone, leaving her behind just like…
Rangiku felt fury building, a deep heat that rushed against gravity and filled her whole body. Gritting her teeth, her mind whirled, and focussed on a single thought. She tapped the phone and called someone she knew would have an answer for her.
“Now’s not really a good time.”
A pause. The sound of heavy turbines and loud machinery.
“Rangiku? Are you ok?”
She decided to ask the most prominent question first.
“What’s happening at the plant right now?”
A startled silence, then Shuuhei replied. “We’re… well, we’re under security control, waiting to see what their move is going to be.”
Rangiku grimace. “So, there’s been no sign of them yet?”
He sounded confused as he answered her, the background noises fading to a quiet rumble. “I’ve got my orders, the 11th and a couple of Vizard, - but you already know that. Or you should? What’s going on, Matsumoto – why are you calling me? Now?”
Matsumoto. People only called her that when they wanted to speak with her seriously. She told him the contents of the letter – after all, Kira was his best friend: Shuuhei deserved to know.
“Are they insane?” He said in a strangled whisper. “They’re leaving on the day of the attack? Why – how- but..?!”
“Trust me, I know.” Rangiku snapped, “What I want to know is if you have any way of tracking them? I’ve tried calling them both, but their phones must be off. You’re the tech whiz – so whiz me some tech!”
“Rangiku- even if I could, I don’t have the availability. We’re on the verge of war. I’m expecting an incursion today of lethal force – none of us have time to track down two deserters- “
“They’re NOT deserters!” Rangiku hissed.
A crackling silence.
“I don’t have time for this. Toshiro would have already told Kyouraku – he’s not a total moron. But I can’t be distracted right now.” Shuuhei sighed and Rangiku felt herself being left alone, yet again.
“You need to follow your own plan, now. If we both make it through this, I hope you’ll forgive me.”
It took her a moment to realise he had hung up on her, the phone beeping softly at her ear. Her eyes narrowed and she frantically tapped out another message to both Toshiro and Kira, capitalizing her feelings and leaving out the usual flowery emoji’s that softened her words.
“When you get back here…” She muttered, tapping another familiar phone number and waiting for the recipient to pick up, “I am going to beat your assess black and blue.”
“Hello?” Yumichika’s easy tone did nothing for her frayed temper.
“Where is he?!” Rangiku snarled, sounding almost unrecognizable.
“Who?” Yumi was unfazed, which made her even more furious.
“Don Kanoji.” She said sarcastically, beyond trying to be polite. “Kenpachi, of course!”
“Oh – he’s just here. Let me see if he wants to talk.” A hand muffled the sounds coming from the phone, but Ranigku continued to mutter, impatiently pacing the length of her small hallway.
“What?” That familiar, rough voice sounded so odd coming through the receiver.
“Where’s Aizens compound in Hueco Mundo?” She blurted out.
“How the fuck should I know?” He snapped back.
“Well – you’ve been there, haven’t you?”
“No.”
“Wait… what?” Rangiku faltered – she was hoping he could tell her where the compound was, so she could…
… what? Follow Toshiro and Kira? How? Flap her arms really hard and hope to fly?
“You wanna follow your boss, eh?” The big man grumbled, piecing together why she (of all people) would be calling him asking about Hueco Mundo.
Sure, he’d been there – not to Aizen’s compound, but to a beach during a run with an illegal pirating vessel he’d assisted for a month, back when the pirates were the only ones helping the people, and the ‘good guys’ were the ones committing genocide. His experience of the place?
Sandy.
“Loyalty’s good – but it means followin’ orders when they’re given. I bet he left you some. So go on.”
Rangiku stared at her phone, realising she’d just been hung up on – again.
Follow the plan. Follow orders. Follow… follow… always follow! Well FUCK following!
Striding to her bedroom, she unhooked the curved wooden weapon from its’ resting place on the wall, collected a small packet of strings, and strapped an long pouch to her calf. Taking a moment to properly set up her recurve bow, she gave it a careful flex, counting her arrows and considering her choice.
Following the plan… always following. But not today.
Making her way to her car, she began driving in the direction of the bar, eyes focussed, hands gripping the wheel so tight that her knuckles turned white.
Today I’ll make my OWN plan.
They crept, like an army of ants, one after the other, following the chain. At each plotted intersection, they stopped, the lead ant holding up a closed fist.
They spread, small black boxes held tightly in webbed hands, booted feet marching silently through the dripping, dank tunnels.
Goggles that made the air glow green, and whispers that sounded like the skittering of leaves across the dry asphalt above.
They crept. They left their little boxes. They continued along, sneaking, quietly filling the spaces below the streets.
An hour passed, then two. The ants had finished their work – now it was time to wait, to skitter and scurry to their hiding places. To rest and provision themselves. To allow those above to fret and worry because they hadn’t yet been seen.
Below the city streets, the army waited.
2:00pm
While Kira didn’t speak the language fluently, he was able to request and receive permission to enter Hueco Mundo airspace with little fuss. The sleek corporate jet would need to refuel before heading back to the mainland, but the two men couldn’t care less about the return journey – they were far more impatient to arrive at the coordinates Nel had sent through in her message.
“We need to search the base.” The younger man had instructed on the journey over.
“You don’t want to search the surrounds for them, first?” Kira had asked, surprised.
“Of course, I do – that’s what I’ll be doing. You will be searching the base.” He answered irritably. “What are we doing is equal to treason – or haven’t you figured that out yet? The least we can do is take out Aizen’s cover, and any information he might have acquired about the drug.”
Kira gulped and nodded, brow furrowing at the idea that they had just abandoned their companions one the eve of the invasion.
“I have first aid in the back – but we’re going to need more advanced medical assistance once we find them.” Kira said quietly.
Toshiro looked away sharply so Kira wouldn’t see the hurt in his eyes. “I know that.” He snapped, betraying his feelings. “You’ll look for that, too. As soon as I secure their conditions inside the cabin, I’ll text you to head back. Then we get the hell out there.”
If we can, Toshiro thought darkly, knowing Aizen would not have left his base unprotected. There would likely be defensive measures and personnel there to protect his interests.
Landing was… difficult. Aizen had flown out of a hidden hanger within the compound, whereas Kira was trying to land on shifting sand covering the small patches of solid earth. It took them a few tries, but they were finally down, the rear left wheel sinking slightly.
Exiting the plane into the scorching sun of midday had Toshiro panting – he hated the heat, and his impatience was only adding to his rising temperature.
“Go.” He ordered, and the two split up, making their way across the sand towards their own goals.
It took Toshiro nearly twenty minutes of frantic searching and making his body ache as he ran the soft sand to spot the small bundles in the lee of the dune. He scrambled down, heart beating wildly, breaths panting at the stillness of their forms.
“No… don’t let me be too late…” He muttered, face contorted into a mask of anger and concern.
Reaching them, he knelt down beside Nel and carefully removed the insulated, torn camouflage that she had clearly used to shield them from the blistering sun.
They were unresponsive, faces pale and still. Blood soaked the sand all around them. It looked as though Nel had attempted to bind her wound to stop blood loss, but hours out in the elements with no shelter, food or water had done their work.
The women were both in critical condition.
Toshiro knew the first thing he needed to do was get them inside the shelter of the plane’s main cabin, rehydrate them and take care of any infection. As he considered who to take first, he realised Momo had no visible injuries – there was blood covering her face, neck and hands, but no wounds.
Making his decision, he put one hand under Nel’s knees and the other behind her back, feeling the sticky mess that was seeping from her shoulder ooze around his fingers. He hoisted her with no effort, the power in his slender frame far stronger than he let nearly anyone realise.
Don’t you die on me! He thought angrily, his concern for her wiping away any lingering doubts about her.
He hurried back to the plane, depositing Nel on one of the low, padded bench seats, before running back out for Momo, crossing the sand in desperation. But as he breached the peak of the dune, his blood defied the sun and ran cold, cold, cold.
A stranger stood beside Momo’s body, a pistol lazily pointing at her head. He didn’t seem about to shoot her, instead, using the gun as a pointer. What was he waiting for?!
“Hey!” Toshiro yelled, trying to get the man’s attention.
Gray eyes turned to Toshiro, bored and irritated. The man was tall – very tall – with black hair in a neat plait down his back. He was dressed in white, with a peaked hat shading his right side from the sun. He raised the gun swiftly and shot, aiming for Toshiro’s head without any warning.
Toshiro felt he bullet which over his head as he ducked, and she swore – the solider had good aim. How on earth could he keep his attention away from-
“Did you think you could just land on our front doorstep, and we wouldn’t notice?” The man drawled in a refined, crisp voice.
Toshiro popped his head over the dune, only to duck as another bullet whizzed into the peak, covering him in a shower of sand.
“Not exactly!” He called back, hoping to keep the man talking as he began manoeuvring along the length of the dune to come around for a surprise attack.
“If this is your people’s attempt at a rescue, it’s a joke.” The man sneered. “The girl wanted to be here. She was practically panting every time Lord Aizen entered her space – we all noticed.”
Another bullet smacked into he due where Toshiro had previously been, and he released the man hadn’t figured out his movements yet.
“Honestly, she’s not worth the effort. It looks like they gave her a dose of the imperfect drug – she’ll die soon – so what’s the point? What could she possibly give you that she hasn’t spread all over Lord Aizen already?” The man joked crudely, stepping away from Momo and closer to the dune he thought Toshiro was still cowering behind.
Toshiro was already at maximum fury – but hearing the cruel way he spoke about her, the admission of hr condition, the snide rejection – everything froze. He saw things so clearly. This man needed to die – painfully. He needed to be punished for his casual callousness, and he most especially needed to be destroyed by Toshiro’s own hand.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small cannister. The blue label had military print in his native language, but the shape was extremely familiar. Toshiro raised the cannister to his mouth and pulled the pin with his eye teeth, released the latch, then stood and pegged the grenade towards the mans feet, instantly sprinting forward towards Momo’s body.
The tall man turned at the flash of movement, face going still at the sight of the blue and silver grenade landing neatly between his feet and lodging firmly in the sand. He saw Toshiro racing to reach Momo before the thing detonated, and he realised there was no escaping from his own fate. Raising the pistol, he aimed at Momo’s lolling head as Toshiro scooped her up.
“For Lord Aize-“
The grenade exploded.
But instead of fire or shrapnel, a quantity of sticky, viscous blue gel splattered in every direction. The man screamed as his body and face were covered with the goop and began to turn black as his skin froze!
Toshiro had managed to use the torn shreds of the camouflage to cover the exposed skin on his and Momo’s bodies, protecting them from the gel. He lowered the material and stared coolly at the man screaming in agony as he writhed on the ground like a wounded animal. He released Momo and came closer to the man, unsheathing his sword as he did so.
“It’s a special nitrogen gel, a secret design made in my old country.” Toshiro explained calmly, speaking over the mans screams. “A hyper cooled liquid that rapidly freezes the cells of the body, causing instant haemorrhaging, clots and intense pain as the nerve ending are literally burned with ice.”
He watched the man as he began to convulse, the black skin around his face and neck now resembling an eggplant. Dark, clotted blood began to ooze form the man nose, eyes and ears.
“You deserve this.” Toshiro said coldly, taking an unexpected pleasure in watching the man suffer. He hadn’t had that before – hadn’t had the bloodlust that others had craved: it’s what had made him such a good leader. But he enjoyed this. He may never get his hands on Aizen, so this could be the next best thing.
Taking a moment to consider this, his more rational side came to the fore, and raising his sword, he swung down sharply, ignoring the spray of grossly clotted blood that splashed his face.
“But I don’t deserve to become like you.”
Turning, he sheathed Hyoimaru and hurried to Momo, lifting her and bringing her to the plane, eyes wide and worried for her. He laid her down opposite Nel, and quickly texted Kira that he had found them, before kneeling next to his friend. Her lids fluttered, and he started forward.
“Momo! Momo, can you hear me? Say something!” He demanded in a frantic whisper. But she remained still, her breaths coming in rasping pants.
Toshiro slumped, and spent the next half an hour hooking the women up to basic fluid IV’s and fixing Nels’ gunshot wound to the best of his abilities. He wasn’t a healer, but this wasn’t his first gun shot.
After another hour of worry and fear, Toshiro angrily texted Kira again, demanding he return so they could get the hell out of here and back to a Hospital. Just as he hit send, he heard footsteps on the stairs leading to the cabin, and instantly unsheathed his sword, crouching to better cover himself and the women.
Kira staggered into the plane, bloody and pale, his hands and arms covered in gore and holding a filthy garrote. Toshiro eyed the ligature uneasily – a garrote was the weapon of an assassin – an executioner. Her didn’t realise Kira had the balls to handle such a weapon, let alone come back with evidence it had been heavily utilised in battle.
“I-is she…?” Kira asked, surging forward towards Momo.
Toshiro growled and instinctively shifted to shield her. Kira paused, body going still as his face filled with concern and fear for his friend.
“Please…” He rasped, “Is she alive?” The blood dripped from his fingers, forming a little pool on the plush carpet. Toshiro took him in – everything – and realised he couldn’t deny it anymore: Kira loved her. Kira loved her as much as he did, and he had proved how far he’d go to save her. He grudgingly admitted to himself that the man had earned a second chance.
“They both are… for now. We need to get to a hospital – quickly.” He said softly, rising and sheathing his sword for the second time that day.
Kira nodded and ran for the cockpit as Toshiro pulled up the stairs and sealed the door, securing the women with safety belts. The engines started quickly, and the plane began rumbling along the small patch of hard earth they had managed to land on, wheels becoming unstuck, then sinking again shortly after.
“Hold on!” Kira said as Toshiro joined him in the cabin. “This isn’t going to be smooth!”
The plane shuddered and bounced, and they heard the crash of various items bursting free from their dainty shelves. This machine was not made for rugged terrain.
“C’mon, baby…” Kira growled, punching the accelerator, and pulling back on the throttle. He let out a gusty sigh and they finally picked up enough speed to leave the ground, zipping over the dunes and climbing fast.
Toshiro sat forward as he noticed smoke rising from several broken windows in the enormous white compound falling away below them. Eyes wide with surprise, he turned to look at the pilot.
“Kira – what did you do down there?”
Kira stared straight ahead, his chin dipping slightly as a shadow crossed over his face. When he answered, it was in a voice that sent a chill up Toshiro’s spine – and he suddenly understood how a weak-willed sap like Kira had been Gin Ichimaru’s right hand. This was a man that had no remorse. No pity. No regrets. When Kira spoke in that voice, Toshiro was certain he was seeing the man behind the mask:
“What I had to.”
3:30pm
How could the ‘invasion’ have been going on for over three hours and they hadn’t found one measly enemy to fight?!
A message had gone out to all parties that Aizen’s flight plan landing at the international airport – but when Komamura had sent a cursory force to check on the validity of the information, nothing had been found: No plane, no Aizen, no enemy.
However, there was a report from Soi Fon that a small group of military planes had been seen passing over the refinery on the outskirts of town – and they may be looking to land nearby – though no one could figure out how. There was nothing but densely wooded forest out that way.
“Yumichika – anything?” Kenpachi growled from his prone position on the bench. Yumi shook his head, clearly bored.
The three men had already positioned their forces accordingly – sending the majority to the plant, and the rest on a roaming patrol, focussing on key points like the school, the hospital and their working locations – like the barracks and the bar. Aizen might very well decide to go after their bases of operation and leave them high and dry before escaping again.
Kenpachi, Ikkaku and Yumichika had already stopped by Kurotsuchi’s CRSWD division, annoying the scientist into a spitting rage, until his offsider, Nemu, calmly asked them to leave. They had traversed the city on foot, stopping in at the Big House for a quick chat with Kyouraku and Juushiro, before continuing a roving ‘patrol’.
The three were hunting in a triangular formation, with Kenpachi in the lead, and civilians scattered like leaves in the wind. While they were already quite fearsome to behold - both individually and as a group – when the scent of a fight caught their nostrils, the three men became truly terrifying.
Kenpachi practically glowed with eagerness, his eyes glinting behind his glasses, his stride widening, nearly running ahead of other two in his excitement to find the enemy.
The three had eventually come full circle (with Ikkaku’s help on guidance) and ended up back near the CRSWD division, and the hidden vault deep underground where Kuchiki’s squad had holed up. They hadn’t found a single enemy – though they had swatted a few low-level thugs and purse snatcher on their way. It was, frankly, disappointing. Was this entire ‘invasion’ going to be a bust?
Kenpachi had taken over a city bench positioned in front a large skyscraper, neatly removing himself from the wide footpath, allowing pedestrians by. Though, in this part of town, pedestrians were few – and even fewer when they noticed the armed men casually lying about. Ikkaku sat cross legged on the ground with his back against the wall, unconcerned with city grime on his black trousers. Yumichika leaned against the building, happy for the shade. The three were frustrated.
They were surprisingly close to the Hospital at this location, and Kenpachi hoped Yachiru wouldn’t consider making a break for it to join them – the kid was safe where she was. He couldn’t afford distractions today, even if they were just lazing about, waiting for the enemy in a prime camping location.
“We know they’re here somewhere. They’ll be coming for the vault, and the strongest will attempt a blunt force entry, for sure. This is the best place to be for a fight.” Ikkaku murmured, interrupting his meditation to speak his thoughts aloud. Kenpachi grunted in agreement, and stared up at the heavy cloud cover, feeling the chill in the air that preceded the storm.
“Was it even supposed to rain today?” Yumi muttered, shrugging into himself as the first drops began to fall.
The downpour came slowly, increasing in strength as it flowed through the streets like a curtain of frosted glass, the weight and volume of the rain drowning out all other sound. The three stayed where they were, each of them unaffected by the elements – they had grown up in places that made rain seem like a gift; precious fresh water.
The clatter of shoes on pavement and the honking of cars became distant sounds, and besides the occasional taxi, the streets were soon clear of any movement, just the constant, pounding rain.
Kenpachi opened his mouth and allowed a few drops to hit his tongue, before he spat them out with a grimace and sat up, hair lank and dripping around his sharp cheekbones.
Bitter. He thought, confused. Why is the rain bitter?
As he sat on the bench, arms resting on his knees and feeling his skin shiver from the cold water permeating his clothes, he finally saw movement.
In the centre of the street, a manhole cover lifted, and slid to the side.
3:55pm
“That’s the signal – go.”
The ants began to move, climbing and breaching, pushing towards the surface, dark hands scrabbling on the wet concrete and bitumen as they emerged from below.
They had less than five minutes to get beyond the blast radius of their carefully planted charges. Tousen would be hitting the switch in t-minus-3 minutes.
And then they would understand just how far Aizen was willing to go.
Secret Weapon, my ass. Dammit Urahara!
Shuuhei scowled and continued to ignore the man following him everywhere he went. How on earth was Ichigo Kurosaki a ‘secret weapon’? Sure, he was good looking, strong and was on record as the one to break the Aizen case two years ago – but he was still just one man!
“You don’t need to follow me everywhere, Kurosaki. You’re not guarding me, you’re here to protect the plant.”
The young P.I. just shrugged nonchalantly and kept his hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I know. But I’ll see more of this place than what I got from the blueprints if I follow you – so it makes sense.”
It did make sense.
What didn’t make sense was how well he got along with the other visitors currently taking over his work place. The men from the 11th, and the two Vizard. Shuuhei had spent years working hard to earn enough of a reputation to be added to the Chiefs council – even only as a seat filler. But here Ichigo was, laughing it up with the top players, acting all friendly with the tough crowd and all cool with Kensei and Mashiro.
Shuuhei had enough confidence in himself not to be jealous of the kid, but his attitude and arrogance certainly grated on his sense of ‘fair work, fair play’.
Of course, at that moment, right as they were crossing the narrow catwalk that connected the north and west wings, Kensei appeared – striding purposefully towards them, a cocky grin on his face for Ichigo, and a scowl for Shuuhei.
Why can’t he grin like that all the time? Shuuhei wondered.
“Oi, Ichigo –“
Shuuhei backed against the rail, trying to allow enough space for Kensei to pass, but the man didn’t try to go forward, he just stopped and gripped the rails with each hand, leaning towards them.
“- when you’re done with your tour, I want you.”
Ichigo nodded “I’ll come quickly.”
Shuuhei said nothing, but his lip curled at the completely unintentional innuendo. He was glad no one else had heard their exchanges so far – these two were utterly dense to the concept of ‘phrasing’ – to the point that out of context, it sounded overtly suggestive.
Kensei glanced at Shuuhei and turned away, dismissing him with little more than a flick of one eyebrow. Shuuhei tried to ignore the snub but knew he couldn’t hide embarrassment very well.
“Yo – Kensei?” Ichigo called out to the retreating man. Kensei stopped and looked over one shoulder. Ichigo frowned and said in a rebuking tone:
“Hisagi works harder than anyone, so don’t look down on him.”
Shuuhei felt his ears burn with humiliation – he didn’t need the kid’s seal of approval, or his protection!
“I don’t care about his opinions, Ichigo – so it doesn’t matter. I can take care of myself.” He growled and strode towards Kensei, intending to shoulder past the man, proving how unafraid he was.
Kensei didn’t move, in fact he barely shifted, forcing Shuuhei to push past him. There was a moment of tension and an electric sizzle when their chests brushed against each other – a brief millisecond when eyes met and Shuuhei glared at the man with all the dismissiveness he could muster. Ichigo snorted from behind them, and Shuuhei continued along the catwalk, ignoring the world, disappearing around the next corner. Kensei brushed the front of his shirt with one hand and stared after him.
“Dude, can you be anymore obvious?” Ichigo laughed.
“What are you talking about?” Kensei asked honestly, swinging his head back around.
The younger man smiled and jerked his head after Hisagi. “You like him.”
Kensei turned and walked quickly away, not saying a word or showing any hint of emotion besides aggravation. Ichigo followed him, grinning slyly – did Mashiro know? Did Shuuhei? Shuuhei had all the traits that Kensei found alluring - level headedness, hardworking, serious – but it was still a strange match, at least in Ichigo’ s mind.
But then, he’d seen weirder.
Crisis always brought the most uncommon of people together, and for the most part, the ‘kismet’ of it all seemed to work out just fine.
They had nearly caught up to Shuuhei when they felt the ground shudder. It was only momentary, but there was a definite vibration that did not belong – even amongst the enormous machines keeping the plant running.
“The hell was that?” Shuuhei said out loud, looking around and hurrying to the nearest window.
Ichigo and Kensei followed close behind, and joined him, all eyes widening in shock at the hazy plumes of black smoke gradually rising in the air from the distant outline of the rain covered city.
“Oh my god…” Ichigo breathed, stunned at not just the size of the smoke rising, but the quantity that was evident from this distance, even through the curtain of the storm.
“It’s begun.” Kensei growled and leaped away to sprint down the hall, heading for the western gate.
“Where’s he going? His post is at the southern office!” Shuuhei snapped.
Ichigo directed his gaze to the edge of the western gate, where a swathe of armed militants in urban camouflage had begun using a blowtorch on the lock at the gate. Shuuhei counted forty before their numbers burst through the opening and began streaming into the open staging area around the western entrance, the encroaching storm reaching them right as they marched forward.
“You don’t have enough of the 11th to guard that gate.” Ichigo said firmly and turned to follow Kensei.
“Wait!” Shuuhei said, trying to stop him. “It could be a diversion! Dammit!” Ichigo was already gone, sprinting towards the invading force, the large sword across his back swaying as he ran.
Shuuhei continued to watch the incursion, looking around for any evidence that there was another force at work.
Nothing.
But nothing didn’t mean nothing. His instincts screamed at him that this wasn’t right – that there was no reason for an invading force to put on such a big show at a gate that was so far from his northern office and the south-eastern gas mains.
Turning on his heel, Shuuhei began sprinting in the opposite direction, pushing for greater speed as he heard the unmistakable sound of metal screeching and being torn from it’s hinges. Plant workers in white coveralls and safety vests were shouting and yelling, running in the opposite direction, glancing at him in apology as they escaped. They had their orders – if there was an attack, they were to shut down and lock their zones, then retreat to a defensible location, leaving the fighting to the 11th, the Visored and their boss. They were only to engage as a last resort.
Seeing their worried faces, Shuuhei understood not all of them had the time to lock their workstations – leaving some controls open to be used by the invaders. The master controls were being bypassed to Nanao at an undisclosed location – but there was still the chance that a clever hacker could use a local terminal to cause mischief.
He screeched to a halt at the primary northern intersection, calming himself enough to risk a quick glance around the corner.
Six? No, seven heavily armed stealth operatives, followed by an old man in a black and white military uniform dripping in medals. They were advancing down the hall at a fast pace, clearly aiming for the central control units.
Shuuhei took a deep breath and pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Kyouraku and Ichigo, updating them. Then, with all the calm of years of training, he slowly pulled out the long, thin chain and sickle that would be his only defense against these assailants.
Taking a moment to consider the fight, their positions and how quick he would need to move, Shuuhei took a step into the intersection and into the bloodiest fight he would ever know.
Notes:
Thankyou for your patience! I have been tapping away at this chapter steadily and am thrilled with how it turned out! I'm already working on Chapter 37, and I can't wait for you to read what happens next!
Your thoughts: Are Toshiro and Kira deserters? Did they do the right thing?
What did you think of Shawlong's gruesome death by Toshiro?
What is Matsumoto's plan?!
Stay tuned, and as always, please leave a comment if you liked this chapter! <3 I love hearing your thoughts!
Chapter 37: Don't Bring a Gun to a Sword Fight
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The explosion tore through the air, blowing away the rain and heating the ground to a blistering degree. Another explosion rang out, then another and another.
Soon, the city was tearing itself apart as blast after blast ripped up from the sewers, shattering the streets and making the teetering high rises quake and sway.
Pillars of smoke poured out from great, ugly pits formed by the blasts, foul smelling fumes rose and mingled with the air as the returning rain pattered into the open sewage lines.
The invading army had shifted themselves far enough away from the major blast sites to avoid being caught up, protecting their head and shoulders with short, blunt arm guards that acted as shields. Their flat masks gave them the look of faceless androids, the glinting eye slits only playing up to the illusion.
As they used the chaos to spread and head towards their designated targets, they spoke quietly into their throat mics, calling out enemies sighted, location information and more.
They swarmed, an army of over two hundred scurrying and dodging in the heavy rain, automatic rifles to their shoulders, short knives tucked into sheathes at their thighs.
One unit had already been deployed to the plant, but there were still three more targets to focus on in the confines of the city.
As though with a single mind, the army skirted the debris, staying hidden from the eyes of the general populace as they scurried towards the Vault, spreading out for several blocks, hunting for defenders.
The blast that hit closest to the street directly outside CRSWD headquarters and the Vault below, completely crumbled the bitumen. Two larger blasts took out the intersections at the end of each block, effectively cutting off the building and making it an island within the city.
The lights within flickered, then continued their steady glow. Nervous glances from the researchers inside as they still shook from the explosions right outside the building.
“Focus!” Mayuri screeched, stalking through the rows of work benches, white lab coat flapping behind him as he headed for his office.
“If that was meant for us, we would be dead by now. Continue your work, and pay attention! You can evacuate when I say so and not a moment earlier!”
Nemu followed closely behind him, eyes locked on the tablet in her arms as another, louder explosion suddenly boomed, shaking the building so badly that several people cried out in fright, bottles and monitors toppling to the ground.
“Sir,” Nemu prompted quietly, “That blast has certainly broken through the foundation. For your own safety, I recommend we leave-“
Mayuri swung around and hissed, “You don’t make decisions for me, Nemu – if I have to remind you why, you may prefer to have been caught in that blast!”
As he berated her, he didn’t notice the tiles under his feet bulge and crack.
With an almost comical expression of shock, Mayuri dropped through the floor and into the gaping crevasse below created by yet another blast.
“They’re coming.”
As the dust drifted through the stale air of the underground corridor, the small squad coughed lightly and picked themselves up off the floor and walls. All except Byakuya, who had displayed impressive balance as the explosion had ripped through the ceiling at the end of the dull white corridor, still lit by flickering halogen lights high overhead.
Renji helped Rukia to stand, squeezing her hand in comfort – but he wasn’t sure if it was for her, or for himself. She looked up at him and offered the tiniest smile. He nodded and turned back to the rubble, waiting to see what would emerge.
His staff of twenty men were prepared for anything – well, almost anything – blasting through the ceiling was a bit overkill, in his opinion. He looked around, trying to get a better view on their status.
Byakuya, dressed in his tradition black shihakushou and white haori stood by the vault door, relaxed and ready, one hand on his sword. He certainly didn’t seem surprised by the blast.
Renji and Rukia flanked Byakuya, hands on their swords as the debris continued to settle and the sound of scrambling hands and feet became louder. Twenty armed gaurds men stood front of them – most holding standard issue service weapons, some also sporting holstered hunting knives. These men weren’t trained to the sword like the Kuchiki’s and Renji had been. They were fighters, yes, but focusing on security meant they used the quickest and most user friendly weapon to defend their client and their boss.
“They’re coming.” Ruki murmured, echoing Byakuya. Renji gritted his teeth and crouched in readiness.
The security squad moved closer, guns up, black suits greyed by the falling dust. One man, the forward scout, kicked a piece of rubble breaking the silence.
Immediately, an enormous hand shot through the unstable pile, reaching out to grasp the man by the neck. The agent dropped his gun to grapple with the bulky forearm as Yammy Llargo emerged from the debris with a laugh, then receded back, breaking the way for dozens of armed men to swarm in behind him and begin shooting.
Bullets sizzled through the air, and Renji dove to cover the Kuchiki’s as his men took the brunt of the offensive. He saw several fall to the floor, knowing that Kevlar wouldn’t save them from a headshot.
“Push back!” Renji roared, leaving the nobles to sprint forward and thrust his sword through the neck of an enemy. The man gurgled and grasped at the bared blade, trying futilely to tug it free. Renji jerked the sord to the side, turning the man into a pez dispenser.
The battle raged, with only two soldiers managing to make it through to the Kuchikis – one, dispatched by an ivory statue, moving faster than the eye could follow to slice down his enemy. The other, sliced by Rukia gracefully moving to make her blade flow through her attacker like silken snow. Renji snarled, blood searing at the sight of his clients drawing their blades.
“You’re a bit gristly, ain’t ya?” A loud voice boomed from the rubble. The enormous arm that had receded back into the debris now emerged again, pulling with it the enormous shoulder, head and torso of the Espada that Byakuya and Kenpachi had failed to kill years ago. Renji’s men backed away, their duty done, their weapons smeared with the blood of the enemy. Bodies lay strewn everywhere, and though battle ready, even Renji would have nightmares about the amount of men they had killed.
Rukia’s face filled with something terrible as she watched the Espada emerge. Byakuya glanced down at her, and subtly put a hand on her arm. She peered up at him, eyes sparkling with murderous intent – but he shook his head ever so slightly: A silent, unbreakable order.
“Stand down.” He commanded, his deep voice echoing through the destroyed corridor.
Renji turned, panting slightly, face red from the heat of the fight – Byakuya had to know that he wouldn’t – couldn’t – walk away from this enemy. This evil creature. He locked eyes with his employer and felt his bones turn to jelly.
Byakuya Kuchiki – head of the Noble House of Kuchiki, CEO, Swords Master and all around clenched up bureaucrat, was pissed.
Renji slowly allowed his rage to ease, and safely stepped back to stand with Rukia as Yammy freed his legs from the last few pieces of brick and mortar. The big man stood to his full height, his head barely brushing the ceiling. Looking around the room, he grinned at the sight of his fallen men, and locked eyes with Renji, clearly mad.
“You’re a tough one, aren’t you?” He growled in delight. “I’m gonna have fun pulling your arms from your sockets!”
Byakuya stepped forward, his gait and flow perfectly balanced. “I will be your opponent, oaf.” He said mildly, his voice betraying nothing.
Yammy dropped his gaze to Byakuya and if possible, his grin widened even further. “Kuchiki!” He bellowed with delight, “I was hoping I’d get the chance to see you again! I haven’t forgotten our last boating trip together!” He lifted his stained white shirt and jacket, revealing several dark scars on his abdomen, clearly from deep stab wounds.
“Where’s the other fucker? Zaraki? I still have to pay him back for this!” He lifted the shirt higher, revealing an enormous, puffy scar running horizontally across his torso – as though he had been nearly bifurcated.
“Zaraki has other matters to attend to.” Byakuya replied with terrifying gentleness. “I’ll be dispatching you, today.”
Yammy threw his head back and roared with laughter. “You? On your own? What makes you think you can take me on alone, little Princess? When you and Zaraki together couldn’t kill me?” He wiped a mirthful tear from his eye.
Byakuya removed his white haori, tossing it to the side, and elegantly drew his sword pointing it directly at Yammys chest. The slightest hint of a sneer fell upon his lips, and his voice was laced with venom.
“Because you touched my pride.”
Yammy didn’t hesitate, he rushed Byakuya head on, his huge body belying incredible speed. The noble stepped away, and came back with a thrust, his sword tip slicing across the bigger mans bicep, neatly cutting into a tendon, and leaving the arm useless.
Yammy roared in surprise and pain, gripping his now limp arm and glaring at the man with undisguised rage. He seemed to swell, chest heaving with the anger. Byakuya merely flicked his sword free of blood, and began walking forward, face still, will immovable.
“You’re faster.” Yammy hissed, sweat beading his forehead. “Well, so am I.”
He moved so quickly, Renji barely had time to shift before Yammy’s fist was connecting solidly with his temple. He dropped like a stone.
“Renji!” Rukia screamed, dropping to his side to check for a pulse. Yammy reached forward to grab her, knowing he would only have a second to take her hostage before Byakua’s blade was on him.
A sharp pain seared through him, as Rukia, still crouched in a defensive position over Renji, twisted her sword where she had skewered him through the palm – moving so fluidly that Yammy hadn’t even realized he’d put himself in danger by coming for her.
“You little bitch!” Yammy bellowed, bringing his leg back to kick her as hard as he could.
But in that moment – barely two seconds of time – Byakuya had covered the distance between them, and before he cold follow through with his kick, Yammy suddenly felt light – lighter than he had every felt before. And he was falling – falling away, no sensation, no pain, no… anything.
Wait… why could he see his arms from this angle… and was this his chest? How could he see his own chest? What a strange sensation…
Yammy head hit the ground with meaty thud, rolling slightly to the left, as his body lost its control and crumpled like a paper cup.
Byakuya, still holding his form with his sword fully extended, stared down at the head with dispassion, clearly unimpressed. “You were not worthy of touching any part of her.” He murmured.
Rukia left her sword where it lay through Yammy’s dead hand and turned back to Renji, leaning close and whispering to him over and over again. He groaned and cracked an eyelid, brows pulled in obvious pain as Rukia swooped down to give him a through kiss, hands steadying his head as he tried to shift and gasp air.
A moment passed, then two, before Byakuya finally cleared his throat.
“Rukia. I believe Renji is oxygen deprived.”
Rukia broke the kiss with a small yelp, eyes frantically searching for any further damage. Renji’s eyes, unfocussed, drifted from Rukia’s face to Byakuya’s, pupils contracting as he understood his situation.
“Sir-“ His voice cracked, and he cleared his throat, attempting to sit up. Rukia place one hand on his forehead and pushed him back down, non too gently.
“He’s alright, Brother.” Rukia said brightly, her cheeks a rosy pink color as her hand shifted from Renji’s forehead to his mouth, successfully gagging him as he struggled to move.
Rukia was far stronger than she looked.
Byakuya turned away, surveying the damage – the bodies, the downed men, the rubble and the slow, steady rise of water streaming down from the street several levels above them. The vault was well drained, so he wasn’t worried about the area filling, but that rubble had blocked off the only corridor – and access – to the vault, successfully trapping them there. They were going to need assistance to get out.
“Rukia.”
Byakuya’s deep, commanding voice rolled along the corridor, just loud enough for them to hear.
“Take care of him.”
“They’re here.”
The quiet comment warmed the still air in the grand foyer, making Shunsui ease himself up from his seated position against the wall. Yawning widely, he felt his jaw crack and rubbed it, feeling the course hairs of his short beard against his fingers.
Jushiro stood behind a pillar, casually peeking out from their position at the back of the hall to count the number of insurgents they expected. His brows raised, and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. That can’t be right.
“How many?” Shunsui asked, pulling himself to his feet and stretching laboriously. The short pause grabbed his attention, and he stood up straight, senses on high alert. “Juu?”
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Yes. Three.”
“Uh-huh.”
Shunsui took a peek, his eyes focusing on the shadowy figures fiddling with the locks at the door as the rain pounded down behind them.
The loud, booming explosions hadn’t done much to the fortified building. The bullet proof glass had withstood a spray of rubble and pavement from the small crater outside, and apart from the noise, the two men inside hadn’t been overly bothered by the cacophony.
At least, in appearance.
Shunsui’s strategic mind whirred, not having been prepared for them to bring such high yield explosive devices this far inside the city’s defenses. Sure, he’d planned for a small army, weapons, maybe a few field devices – but from what he could hear, and the reports streaming into his phone, Aizen’s people had detonated the equivalent of C4 plastic explosives under the streets, effectively cutting off routes between the major hubs and creating a slowly filling moat around several key buildings.
He’d received a hurried text from Renji, saying that the roof to the vault had caved in, but nothing had come through since. He knew they could handle themselves – but he was still concerned. Regardless of his professional status, he liked Renji and the Kuchiki girl. They were both hard working, driven and still had moments of childlike silliness that made them endearing.
He shook his head, focussing on the problem at hand.
“Three… why send only three?”
“Perhaps they are the recon force?” Jushiro murmured, removing his white over coat and setting it neatly on the floor. Underneath, he word a breezy black button down and slacks, perfectly tailored to his slim form. Shunsui raised a brown in quiet admiration.
“You’re looking pretty good there, handsome.” He said slyly.
“Shut it.” Ukitake snapped, but the sound was full of laughter. “Get ready – they’re coming.”
Shunsui removed the long, curved katana and the shorter wakizashi from their sheaths at his waist, and held them across his body, eyeing the steel with gentle sorrow.
“People will die today.”
Jushiro grimaced as the sound of the lock breaking echoed through the room.
“People die everyday.”
The sudden ssshhhhhhhhh of pouring rain hit their ears as the door was opened and closed, the three enemies stepping inside and peered around the dark foyer. Two of the men were in black army fatigues, automatic rifles up and pressed to their shoulders, panning across the room. The third man was tall and lean, with dark wavy hair, short stubble and a faded white suit that looked a little rumpled – as though he had slept in it.
Shunsui eyed the man, and felt a knot of tension form in his stomach.
The man seemed to be barely awake, with lazy, disinterested eyes. But something was off. He was too smooth – too… predatory. He was the real danger – not the armed soldiers. Suddenly, he shifted to raise one arm and scratch his head, and Shunsui spied two pearl handled revolvers in harnesses under each arm.
So, he thought sourly, he brought guns to a swordfight.
Jushiro swore quietly, and Shunsui knew he’d seen the guns. Of all the people that could have come here, Aizen sent a long range fighter. Had he planned for that? Or did he just send his strongest, regardless of fighting style.
No… Shunsui realised, Aizen knows our strengths and weaknesses. He sent the ideal counter for me. He shot a glance to Jushiro.
For us.
The armed soldiers began moving forward in a coordinated motion, crossing the large open foyer and passing the pillars the two men hid behind.
“Hey.” Shunsui said casually as they came abreast.
The two men both turned to him, trigger fingers already squeezing back, as they were suddenly pulled backwards with tremendous force, their feet leaving the ground, bullets spraying the walls and ceiling as they cried out in alarm. Shunsui watched impassively as they landed hard, struggling to get to their feet.
Juushiro was on them in an instant, standing between their prone forms and stabbing down vertically with two beautiful, deadly swords, connected by a long thin whip. The connecting whip had landed over the men’s necks, and Jushiro had used his underestimated strength to pull them towards him. He held the swords perfectly still, waiting until the men’s hearts had stopped beating.
“Well, that went better than I had anticipated.” He huffed, blowing a lock of hair from his forehead.
Shunsui grinned, keeping one eye on the quiet, lazy looking man still standing by the door. Those eyes were watching them – assessing them. Something felt off. The man felt predatory, certainly – but more like a wild dog, a scavenger…
… a coyote.
Taking a cautious step forward, Shunsui walked into the foyer, eyes locked on the man and his lack of movement.
“I think you’re in the wrong place, my friend.” he drawled, carefully keeping his swords out of view. He was only one step from the pillar, just close enough to step back for safety.
“Don’t call me friend.” The enemy replied, rolling his head on his shoulders and casually reaching into his jacket, taking out one of the large, pearl handled pistols. He raised it, aiming first towards Shunsui, then allowing his arm to drift over to the pillar where Jushiro still stood behind, taking aim and squeezing the trigger. Shunsui’s eyes widened as he finally recognised the calibre of the weapon and swung around to yell out a warning.
“Get down!”
The shot was loud enough to crack the glass of the doors, as the bullet blistered the air and disintegrated the corner of the pillar, blasting a hole clean through the reinforced concrete and out the other side.
Shunsui dove to the left, shielding himself as the coyote shifted his aim and shot again, destroying his own pillar.
“Shit. That’s no ordinary gun...” He hissed out, eyes searching for Juushiro through the concrete dust floating in the air. Where... where? A heavy cough and a groan was no reassurance, and he decided it was worth the risk.
“You still alive over there, Handsome?” He called, hurriedly forming a plan, ripping his shirt sleeve and tying it into several intricate knots.
“Y-yeah.” A husky voice responded. Jushiro sat with his back against the pillar, a bead of blood dripping down his forehead as he grimaced in pain. The bullet had missed him, but the shrapnel from the pillar had sliced open his forehead and temple in three places. Ukitake Jushiro was a powerful man, despite his weak constitution, and this pain was nothing compared to some of the episodes he’d endured over the years.
He stood, peeking through the fragmented hole in the pillar trying to get an idea of the enemies position. He needed to follow Shun’s lead as his strategy was being formed. He knew the man well enough to know exactly what he was attempting, and how to play along.
“What’s your name?” He called out, hoping to buy some time.
“What does it matter?” The man said in a lazy, emotionless voice. He raised his gun and shot again. Destroying more of the pillar. Jushiro swore and ducked as more pieces of concrete and mortar rained down, painting him is dusty grey.
“It matters to me, to know the name of the man trying to kill me!” He snapped back, hoping the distraction would be enough. There was a long, pregnant pause before the man muttered – his voice just loud enough to be herd by the two men behind the pillars.
“Starrk. And I know who you are, Ukitake, Kyouraku.” He raised the gun and fired again. Blam!
“I feel like I should be honoured, but somehow, I’m not.” Shunsui said blandly.
“I don’t care how you feel.” Blam! Blam! “I only care that you’re no longer in my way.” Blam!
Starrk began stepping forward, his bullets shredding the pillars until they were little more than a few reinforced steel rods holding the top and bottom halves together.
“We don’t remember you from before.” Jushiro called, catching Shunsui’s eye and communicating with him in hand signals. He nodded, agreeing to the plan.
“My employer doesn’t play his full hand on the first fight-“
Shunsui moved, staying low and rushing forward, Jushiro taking his lead and following right behind. Starrk was quick, aiming for them as they zigged and zagged, and pulling his second revolver as they split up, shooting in two directions at once.
The men ducked and dodged, getting closer, and in a matter of seconds they had flanked him. It was then that he saw their plan – the knotted cloth, the dual swords, the position they had lured him into…
Each man held the hilt of one sword tightly, then relying on the strength of the connecting wire and cloth, they FLUNG their other sword directly at Starrk: Shunsui’s aiming for the head, Jushiro’s aiming for the legs. The strength and speed of their attack should have despatched Starrk instantly, cutting through his legs and leaving him mortally wounded.
But again, he was quick… Quicker than they anticipated.
Pivoting on one leg, he flung himself off the ground and spun, twisting his nimble body to dodge both blades in an enviable horizontal motion. The men each yanked back on their swords and darted in for the kill.
But it was too late.
Starrk landed gracefully on one foot, raise both arms on either side of his body, and with a simple whispered, “I’m sorry about this…”
He squeezed both triggers.
Yumichika didn’t know how long they’d been fighting the ugly vermin that had climbed out of the blasted sewers – all he knew is that he desperately wanted a clean set of clothes… NOW. The pounding rain, the mud, the blood, the sweat – it was all so… filthy!
He glanced over to Ikkaku, grinning as he watched the man spinning and thrusting, stabbing and slashing with all his might, the light of battle absolutely filling him with beautiful purpose. Yumichika sighed, taking a moment run his sword through another silly vermin who thought to attack him because he looked like the weaker of the three men.
Ikkaku always look beautiful like this. He thought dreamily. His eyes drifted further through the curtain of rain, to where the captain was absolutely annihilating a large contingent of thirty men on his own, grinning mildly – clearly only half enjoying the fight.
And no surprise, really – none of these weaklings was much of a challenge for any of them. Was this all Aizen had sent against them?
“Well, lookie here – a little sparrow that’s been eatin’ all my bugs.” A nasal voice hissed from above him. Yumichika whirled, sword up and ready for a blow that came much faster and harder than he could have anticipated. With a sharp cry, he was flung to the side, crashing into the rubble with a dull crunch, instantly knocked out.
“Stay grounded, sparrow. I need ta speak with your keeper.”
Ikkaku whipped his head around at Yumichika’s cry and felt his heart stutter as he saw him flung into the debris by the towering form of:
“Nnoitra!”
Ikkaku howled a battle cry, cutting down his last opponent and hurling himself down the incline towards the Espada, heart thundering in his ears as he kept one eye on Yumichika for any signs of movement.
Nnoitra grinned from ear to ear, displaying large white teeth. He looked beyond sinister – he looked positively, insane and evil. He gripped the handle of his weapon and licked his lips in anticipation.
Just a little closer, tiny man, come closer and let me slice you apart….
“Ikkaku!” Kenpachi roared over the deluge. His massive frame was slowly trudging forward, his face in shadow, the small mountain of bodies behind him bleeding sluggishly into the gutters. His single visible eye nearly glowed with eagerness at seeing Nnoitra. He held up his bloody sword and rested is across his shoulder, straightening up and mirroring the crazed grin.
“This is my fight.” He said joyfully, making Ikkaku grit his teeth in anger. He wanted to attack this man – to brutally cut him down as painfully as possible for what he’d done to Yumichika – but if he interfered now, if he took this fight away from his Captain… he’d be a lot worse off than his lover in the rubble.
Kenpachi, focussed as he was, was not blind to their situation.
“Take him to Seireitei General. Get him fixed and back out here.” When Ikkaku hesitated, Kenpachi swung his gaze down, and his eyes blazed with fury. “Now, Madarame!”
Ikkaku moved, sprinting to Yumichika and lifting him easily in both arms, before running with all his speed towards the hospital only three blocks away. No one stopped him.
There was no one left that could.
Once his men were out of earshot, Kenpachi returned his focus to the man who had not only escaped his blade but had been as eager to re-engage as he was. Nnoitra was a tall, lanky fighter, with a long reach and a strange reaper like staff that gave him an advantage over short range fighters like Kenpachi.
“Did ya miss me?” Nnoitra asked, tongue poking out to taste the rain like a snake tasting the air.
“Only a little.” Kenpachi replied, grin widening as he set his stance.
“That’s good.” Nnoitra chuckled. “Because after this – after I kill you – I’m going to take one of your eyes to replace this one.” He tapped his eyepatch with one hand. “So you won’t have to miss me ever again.”
Kenpachi laughed long and loud, throwing his head back and belly laughing until tears formed in his eyes. Nnoitra just kept grinning, unshaken.
“That’s funny,” Kenpachi finally chuckled, “I’m going to miss that sense of humour.”
“Well, I’m going to win one way or another.” Nnoitra said slyly, making Kenpachi’s eyes narrow and his grin fade.
“What’s that s’posed to mean?”
Nnoitra’s grin stretched impossibly wider.
“Fight me and find out.” He crowed, single eye jumping manically.
“Fight me, Kenpachi Zaraki, and lose – or you’ll never know what happened to that brat your call your daughter!”
Notes:
I know. I know. Don't tell me.
It's been FOREVER since I updated, right? But I am here! I am determined to finish this fic - and we are SO close to the end, people! Real Life is busy, but writing this is my escape, so I can't wait to share the next chapter with you!
Are Shunsui and Ukitake alight? What did Nnoitra mean about YACHIRU?!
Stay tuned!
And remember, if you liked this chapter, please leave your words in a comment - i love 'em! <3
Chapter 38: Battle of the Giants
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“That was loud.” Yachiru whispered, after the final echoes of the explosions had petered out. A light rain of dust had fallen from the ceiling, covering her pink hair in gray snow. The office hadn’t been affected – but a few lights were definitely flickering out in the corridor. Her eyes followed the lights uneasily – she didn’t like the unsteadiness in those fittings.
“Are you alright?”
That croaky voice, followed by a hacking cough came from Unohana, who had inhaled more of the dust than Yachiru had. Her eyes were watering but determined – she was already gathering her phone and pager to run out and check on her people.
“I’m fine, Re-chan. But I should go check on Kenny- “
“No.” The iron reply startled the girl, and she turned to the doctor, who was staring back with a look that froze her to the spot. She looked… scary. Her eyes were vast and lifeless – the same eyes Kenny had when she’d first met him. She swallowed and lifted her chin, ready to argue.
“Re-Chan-“
“You’re not going anywhere, child. Not while he’s out there fighting to protect you.”
She’s never called me that? Even her voice sounds different – cold and empty. I don’t like it. I don’t like that voice… Yachiru thought, beginning to feel the first tingles of fear. Unohana took a step towards her, then another – her movements fluid and predatory.
Memories she didn’t know she had flashed through Yachiru’s mind, and she flinched, tensing to bolt from the room. But when Retsu crouched in front of her, her eyes were full of warmth and understanding. No fists. No cruel words.
Yachiru’s hitched breaths began to ease, and she held her ground. She didn’t know why Re-chan had been so scary just now, only that something about it had made her want to run, and run, and hide with Kenny until it was safe to come out. Weird.
“C’mon. After that shake up, I need to check in with each floor. Let’s go.” A slender, pale hand was held out to her. An offering – and something more within that offer, something subtle that neither of them could name. Something full of trust, and a hint of hope.
“’Kay!” The girl chirped and gripped Unohana’s hand with all the enthusiasm she had inside. The woman smiled and lifted them both to their feet, dusting off their clothes and hair and offering a warm smile.
“Shall we-“
Yachiru stared at her when she didn’t continue.
“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it?”
The deep, husky voice flowed across the room like blood in a pool of water, Unohana’s face changed again. Cold disgust etched in every muscle. Her hand lowered to a sword that wasn’t there and she gently tugged Yachiru to stand behind her. The girl glanced around her hip at the tall, dark stranger in the doorway with the fancy hair.
“And now you’ve even taken his spawn under your wing.” The man sounded angry.
“It has been a long time, Tousen.” Unohana confirmed, taking a small step back, forcing Yachiru to move with her.
Tousen. She thought – where had she heard that name before?
“And I suspect you’re not here for a checkup?” Another small step.
“Sadly, no, I’m not here to appreciate your medical prowess.” He replied, taking another step into the room and closing the door behind him, turning the lock. He began to walk towards them, and Yachiru finally remembered where she had heard his name before.
“You’re the man who tried to hurt Kenny.” She said quietly, feeling her whole body tighten and shake with anger. “You’re the one who destroyed our home!”
“Hush.” Unohana commanded, steering them behind the desk as Tousen advanced. The man scowled in Yachiru’s direction, and Retsu noticed the way his uncovered eyes contracted and focused. Was he… looking at them? Seeing them?
Slowly, he raised his hand and slid it inside his jacket, and Unohana felt her heart slow. A small, satisfied grin crept its way up Tousens’ face.
“I’m here to break the unbreakable man.”
Shuuhei dry heaved, blood dripping from his scalp to pool and clot in his ear. He gripped the chain in his right hand and threw the connecting blade, plunging it into the last assailant’s face and jerking him forward with a sharp tug of his wrist. The man’s body jerked and convulsed on the bloody indoor concrete, dying slowly alongside nearly a dozen of his comrades.
Ducking back behind the safety of the reinforced control panel, he panted, anguish filling him at the thought of all the people that had been killed by his hand. The blood speckling his arms and coating his chest made his heart harden. If it wasn’t the enemies’ blood, it would have been his own people’s.
“You’re not unskilled, boy.” The grating voice called out – the man in charge.
The General.
“I don’t see that as a compliment.” Shuuhei yelled back, panting.
The wide corridor that the invading party had entered through, opened into a large, technicians work area. The ceiling was a crosshatch of steel cables and metal catwalks that reached up to the glass ceiling nearly six floors above their heads. And the floor on which he was resting was one of several island platforms amongst yet more metal grated flooring, rising another six stories above the basement levels below. Not a good place to drop your pen.
The whole work zone surrounded a large, circular opening that reached from the ground floor, all the way to the class ceiling. Only the wide safety bars and waist high glass railing stood between Shuuhei and the express elevator to the concrete below.
He heard footsteps and risked a quick glance over the top of the console. The general was making his way towards him, seemingly unafraid of the ranged weapon Shuuhei was able to use so proficiently.
Why make himself such an easy target? He thought, gripping the handle tighter as his mind whirled.
“Someone like you – well, you could do really well for yourself in this business. How would you like a job?”
Startled, Shuuhei barked out a laugh.
“You can’t be serious?”
More footsteps. The old man was getting closer. Why was he doing this? The slow walk, the confusing angle…
“Of course I’m serious! I’m always on the lookout for promising killers in my army! They all come to me in the end.”
Stalling. Shuuhei realized, He’s stalling for time. But why-?
At that thought, he heard it – the sound of a dozen heavy boots running across steel catwalks. The metallic clink of weapons and tags and war. Taking a quick glance, he saw another ten assailants join the General.
Must have come through the side gate.
Shuuhei’s head dropped – was this it? There was no way he could take out that many - not without the element of surprise. Not in his current state. Gripping the handle of his blade, he decided that going out fighting was better than going out like a coward.
He wouldn’t be like Tousen.
Tensing shaking leg muscles, he prepared to leap…
“AHHH!”
“Shit! BEHIND! SIX O’CLOCK!”
BANGBRRRRRRBANG!
Shuuhei jerked at the sudden sounds of fighting and gunfire.
“On your left- GAAAH!”
“Gaarggggleee…”
“AIEEEEE!!!”
“Fuck! Get down! Down!”
Deciding to risk a glance, he popped his head up, taking in the entire scene in an instant:
Bodies, writhing on the metal mesh walkways, blood dripping to the concrete six stories below. One assailant, jerking fitfully as a long, black sword was pulled back through his spine with a sickening, bloody, ‘Sshhloop!’. Ichigo, face carved from stone, kicked at the man who he fell to the side, dead.
To his left, another soldier being held in the air by his neck, arms and legs limp at his sides. Kensei, single handedly holding him by the neck, a long, serrated and bloody bowie knife held securely in his other hand.
“You children.” The General spat, turning away from these new defenders, apparently forgetting all about Shuuhei. He moved swiftly, attempting to retreat to a more guarded position.
Shuuhei moved swiftly – smoother that he thought he could – coming up behind the bigger man and slipping the long chain around his chest and arms with one clean motion as he brough the blade to his neck.
“Forget something, Old Man?” He hissed in his ear, voice laced with venom.
“See, that’s what you young bucks don’t seem to understand…” The old man rumbled, and Shuuhei began to feel a strange tingling sensation along all the places his bare skin was touching the mans clothing.
“When you’re up against a veteran like Baraggan Louisenbairn, you need to realize…”
The tingling turned into a fierce burning that had Shuuhei releasing him with a yelp and jumping away, scrubbing at his skin. He stared at the raised welts and felt an icy sensation running down his nerves.
“What is this? What’d you do?” Ichigo barked from the other side of the catwalk, eyes narrowing as Shuuhei struggled to stay on his feet, still scratching at his skin, eyes widening with panic.
Barrigan grinned widely, and pulled a pistol from his belt harness, making Ichigo and Kensei duck for cover. Shuuhei, now on one knee began coughing, his eyes wide with panic as he clawed at his skin and neck.
“I would never allow myself to be manhandled away like some common criminal. I am the law in my part of the world, boy.”
He pulled back his leg and kicked Shuuhei in the stomach, sending him flying to the edge of the central well. His body let out a sickening crunch as he fell limp, one hand still holding his weapon. Barrigan turned to the control panel and tapped a few buttons, calm face curling into a frown as nothing happened.
“You think we’d just let you access this place like some degenerate hacker, Barrigan?” Kensei called out, his voice strained.
“And it takes a lot more than one control panel to gain ownership of this entire facility, dickhead!” Ichigo baited.
“You think I don’t know that, you insolent little maggot?” Barrigan muttered, pulling a metal box from his pocket and attaching it to the panel. He pressed a few buttons, and the little box beeped.
“I don’t need to gain control of it – I just need to give access to those who can.”
Kensei roared and charged, zig zagging as he dodged bullet after bullet. He stumbled and rolled away when one slug burst through his collar bone, spraying blood across his neck and shoulder.
“Muguruma!” Ichigo cried out, tensing to run to him.
“I’m fine – it went straight through!” Kensei called back, teeth gritted in pain as he flexed his hand, testing the truth of his words.
“None of you can stop this.” Barrigan called out calmly, gun hanging loosely from his fingers. “You aren’t soldiers. You aren’t warriors. You’re just-“
“-Killers.” Shuuhei hissed in his ear.
Barrigan jerked at the sudden presence of Shuuhei grabbing him from behind and wrapping the chain of his weapon around the big mans’ neck, pulling him backwards and away from the control panel. The younger man heaved, using his entire body to pull the Arrancar General from the panel and as far back as he could.
“HISAGI! LOOK OUT!”
Shuuhei was so focused on gripping the chain with all the strength he had left, while trying not to pass out from the pain of his burning skin, that he didn’t feel the railing hit the back of his knees until it was too late.
With a strangled cry, fingers still scrabbling at his throat in shock, Barrigan lost his balance, falling backwards over the railing and into the open void of the central well, dragging Shuuhei along with him.
“NO!”
Kensei bolted forward, face set, teeth gritted, arms reaching for a body he knew wouldn’t be there. Hitting the railing with both hands, he looked into the central well. Barrigans body lay somewhere down there in the darkened shaft, broken and shattered on the concrete below – his almighty self-importance nothing more than ashes.
“Fuck.” He whispered to himself, face tightening at the thought of losing yet another comrade.
“…uh… little help?” A raspy voice hissed from below him.
Kensei leant further over the rail, and his eyes widened as he grinned at Shuuhei, hanging by one hand on a broken piece of netting still connected to the wall.
“Hang on!” Ichigo called, already tying a rope to the sturdy central console and tossing it down. Shuuhei grabbed the rope and attempted to tie it under his arms, but his fingers fumbled, and he frowned in obvious pain.
“My body’s not working right – there was something on his skin… I think I’m poisoned.” His voice sounded even weaker, and Kensei remembered the way Shuuhei had jumped away as though burned. Looking closer, he noticed the dark, angry patches of skin racing up and down his arms.
“Just hang tight – I’m coming down!” Kensei bellowed.
Hurriedly tying a rope around his waist, between his legs, then back over his shoulders, creating two additional loops, Kensei secured the line, and instructed Ichigo to be on safety. Then, using all the speed he could muster, he abseiled down the ten feet to Shuuhei.
“How you doing, kid?” He asked as he came parallel, instantly manoeuvring the younger man into the two loops on his toro, so Shuuhei was straddling him and secured from falling if he fainted.
“Hone…stly… not… so great…” Shuuhei rasped, his eyes sliding shut, hand slipping from the ropes.
“Heeey now, stay with me!” Kensei barked, using one gloved hand to gently smack his face and shake his shoulder. Shuuhei looked back at him blearily.
“I need you to tell me what you’re feeling – the more information, the quicker we can treat you. Is it burning? Stinging? Numbing? Do you feel drowsy, or is the pain knocking you around? Talk to me, kid.”
“Sh…”
“Huh?”
“Shuu… hei… my name…”
Kensei couldn’t help but grin at his stubbornness as he began pulling them both up, hand over hand, biceps bulging as he carried them to the top.
“Shuuhei,” He murmured, “tell me what you’re feeling?”
“H..hot…”
“Hot? Like a burning sensation? Is it just on your skin?” Only a few more feet… c’mon, ki- Shuuhei – stay with me…
“You… make me… hot…”
If Kensei hadn’t just grabbed the railing with one hand, he would have dropped them both, jaw going slack as Shuuhei slumped into unconsciousness.
“Shit – what’s wrong with him?” Ichigo grimaced, staring at the angry red blotches along Shuuhei arms as he pulled them over the rail and onto the platform.
“Some kind of poison or irritant.” Kensei growled, pulling open one cargo pocket and removing a vial of ointment that he began smearing over Shuuhei’s skin. “This is a general anaesthetic for burns we use in the field – it won’t stop what’s happening but at least he’ll be out of pain until we can get him to the hospital.”
Ichigo nodded, already pulling out his phone for Seireitei general. He had a friend there on speed dial – and though the kid was timid as a mouse, he was one of the most reliable guys Ichigo knew. And right now, there was no way they could leave the Plant. This attack, as intense as it was, was definitely a diversion – that box on the control console was the real problem.
“Hanataro? It’s Ichigo – we need a bus. Poison, external, serious. We’re situated at the power plant. Do you think you can get out here- no, I know there’s been an explosion… yes, casualties… well there’s about to be one more, if you don’t get your ass over here!” Ichigo yelled into the receiver. He finally hung up with a scowl and turned to focus on the console, ignoring Kensei as he attended to Shuuhei.
“Stupid kid…” He muttered. “You’re not a killer – you’re too smart for that shit.”
Shuuhei’s eyes fluttered open, “Not… that smart…” His lips twitched in a shaky grin. Kensei felt an uncomfortable pain in his chest. This kid has the kinda guts most soldiers dream of.
“Well just stay with me, ok?”
“Thought… you’d never… ask…” Shuuhei whispered before falling back into blissful darkness.
“Kensei! I need some help over here!” Ichigo cried, his fingers flying over the controls. “Whatever that asshole did to this console, it’s rerouted controls back to this terminal! That shouldn’t be possible!”
“What does that mean for us?” Kensei asked grimly. Ichigo turned to him, face tight with anxiety.
“It means that all our plans have gone out the goddamn window!”
The rain pounded on blood smeared skin as the two giants waged all out war on each other. Swords flashed in the fading light, as flickering, broken streetlamps illuminated the shattered street, creating eerie, monstrous shadows.
Nnoitra panted, blocking another overhead strike from Kenpachi’s huge odachi. The man seemed to have gone completely berserk – his already insane grin widening to maniacal levels, making Nnoitra shudder in pleasure. This fight – this fight – was what he’d been waiting for. To cross blades with the demon hunter, to hack and slash and cut him down. To howl in victory over his mangled body and feel the blood rushing through his veins like the champion he knew he was.
But Kenpachi wasn’t backing down, and he wasn’t slowing with each slice and cut he received. If anything, he was getting faster, stronger, more worked up. Even after dropping the verbal bait about his brat, the man only seemed to be more focussed on the fight – a true warrior. Nnoitra knew Kenpachi was a worthy opponent but seeing him disregard the threat to his own weakness only proved how deserving he was to cross blades with.
Another overhead chop, another block using both hands to hold up the staff of his scythe. But this time, Zaraki followed through with an open, claw like fist, thrusting at his throat and gripping him in a choking hold.
“… This is fun – but you can do better than this. I’ve seen it!” With a heaving shove, he threw Nnoitra to the ground several feet away. “Stop holding back and fight me!” His sneer was manic, and the look in his uncovered eyes made Nnoitra hesitate. The fading light, the flickering streetlamps, the rain and the way Kenpachi stood bathed in it all – he was glowing, a bright yellow gold.
“Aren’t you the least bit interested in what I said?” Nnoitra chuckled; voice raspy from the finger shaped bruises blooming on his neck. “Aren’t you gonna ask me about your brat?”
Kenpachi surged forward, down the incline of blown up bitumen, and onto the still level sidewalk where Nnoitra hurriedly got to his feet, smirking in glee. Sword hit scythe, sparks flying as neither opponent left even a hint of an opening. They disengaged and struck again, and again, Nnoitra’s longer weapon giving him an advantage as Kenpachi dodged just enough to avoid a fatal blow, but not enough to stop shallow slices across his face and shoulders.
Soon enough, both men were covered in superficial wounds, their clothes in tatters. A flurry of strikes, and Kenpachi’s shirt finally gave way as he managed a significant thrust of his sword through Nnoitra’s bicep. The taller man roared in pain and kicked out, hitting Kenpachi in the chest and throwing him back through the broken glass front of an empty store.
“Fucker!” Nnoitra howled, tearing off the remains of his shirt and tying it around the hole in his arm. If he wanted to keep enjoying this battle – and defeat Kenpachi – he’d need to avoid any significant blood loss.
“Don’t tell me that little scratch is gonna slow ya down?” The rough, humour filled voice flowed from the dark store interior. “I’m already goin’ at a snails place just to give ya a chance!” Nnoitra’s eyes widened as Kenpachi emerged from the building, stepping onto the sidewalk and not even offering a smile.
Something was happening within him. Something unfamiliar and uncomfortable. He was shirtless, the rain washing away the blood and dirt as it continued to pour in heavy, fat droplets. His sword was held loosely, his hair slicked back highlighting the pronounced brow and cheekbones, as well as the prominent scar running down him face.
Kenpachi frowned, taking a moment to look around him, the rubble, the carnage, the blood, the broken street for blocks surrounding them. This was… home. This was his ideal battlefield – the destruction and damage were just the price to pay for a good fight. For the joy and the ecstasy. So why did he feel so…
… Anxious?
He had wanted this fight for so long, had waited over two years for this rematch. Nnoitra was strong – very strong – and the joy he expected to feel was just… not there. Sure, he was enjoying himself, but the underlying tension, the need to finish this quickly was almost overwhelming. He equated it to earning himself a beer after a long day, then only finding out they were serving water.
He wanted this to end. He wanted it to end fast – but Nnoitra had said something about Yachiru…
“What about her?”
Nnoitra cocked his head at the question, eyes narrowing as his fingers gripped the staff even tighter. Was the Demon finally going to crack? Was he going to give into his weakness and allow Nnoitra to cut him down, winning him his victory? Yes… Yes!
With a spreading grin, Nnoitra thrust his chin forward and crooned, “She may or may not survive the night.”
Nothing. No twitch of the lip or clench of the fist – no reaction at all. Was there blood in his ears?
Making his voice as syrupy and mocking as possible, he yelled louder, “I’ll tell you, if I win this fight!”
The sky had darkened at an alarming pace, with only the streetlights being reflected from the broken glass surrounding them.
Kenpachi just looked at him. His eyes were flecks of granite, his face a s cold as stone. Something had changed in the man, making Nnoitra shift his weight from foot to foot. The big demon was covered in scars, the planes of his bulging shoulder and chest muscles glinting from the rain. His jaw was clenched as he stared at his opponent, and with a slow movement, he brought his sword up before him in a traditional kendo pose, though still only using one hand.
“Tell me.” He murmured, the low vibrating sound breaking through the rain as though shouted at the highest volume.
Nnoitra giggled nervously, gripping his own weapon, “I’ll take that as agreement, then!” He crowed, crouching in readiness for an attack. “Very well!” Licking his lips in anticipation, and tamping down his sudden apprehension, Nnoitra laughed as he said:
“Tosen has his own plans for your kid. Said he knows where you would stash her and he’s already headed there now.”
Nothing.
“And,” He said loudly, pushing for the reaction he wanted to see so badly, “He said they would have a blast!”
Kenpachi’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he felt every hair on his body stand on end. Around him, the rain seemed to slide away, as though the heat from his body evaporated it before it could land. In his chest, he felt an intense burning, and a fierce pounding pressure. Connecting his thoughts, knowing who he had left his daughter with, his breath stuttered. His heart stopped. And he felt…
Rage.
Intense, burning, unforgivable rage.
Barely able to see through the red haze covering his vision, Kenpachi watched as his opponent lifted his feet, and began charging towards him, intent on landing a killing blow.
I’ve done it! Nnoitra howled in victory, charging the man with every ounce of power he had left. I’ve bested him! I’ve won, I’ve- “WON, ZARAKI!”
Barely able to string together a cohesive thought, Kenpachi lifted his head, his left hand coming to land on the hilt of his sword.
Yachiru…
He raised the sword.
Retsu…
He swung it high overhead.
I won’t let him…
Nnoitra’s eyes widened, and he attempted to stop his charge with mad scrabbling.
Not because of me!
With a grunt of effort, Kenpachi swung down with all his might, all his anger, all his rage. Nnoitra screamed in terror as the blade fell with a force unknown, cleaving both his scythe and his collar bone in two, cutting him all the way to his abdomen. Slicing through bone and lung and organ to lodge firmly in his pelvic bone.
Kenpachi heaved an enormous breath and roared to the sky, pulling his sword free with a meaty ‘schluck’! The rain hit his face, cooling his burning skin, but the rage remained molten within him. Yachiru, she would be safe – Unohana wouldn’t let anything happen to her – but… at what cost?
Nnoitra let out a gurgling laugh, spit and blood bubbling at his lips – but it was all he could do. Choking and gagging, he slowly suffocated on his own blood and bile, fulfilling Kenpachi’s promise to Toshiro.
Barely seeing where he was going, bare chested and pants in tatters, he lifted his sword and began sprinting as fast as he could towards Seireitei General.
The rain softened to a gentle mist as he ran, stinging his face as he forced his mind to focus on getting there as quickly as he could – to not think about what might already have happened, but what he could stop if he got there in time.
Rounding the final corner that seemed all too familiar now, he saw the hospital rise like a mountain before him at the end of the road – white concrete and glass, brightly lit and whole. For a moment, he felt his heartbeat faster, his shoulders relaxing at the familiar, unblemished building.
There was an enormous crowd out the front – hundreds of desperate civilians crawling and clawing each other, demanding medical attention. Some of them were covered in blood and bruises, others were holding loved ones close, screaming for help. Ikkaku and Yumichika must have gotten inside before all the madness.
Komamura’s forces were clearly overwhelmed, with uniformed officers yelling and using flashlights and emergency tape to cordon off entry ways and create some form of order and direction. No one was listening – they were all too panicked, too frightened and too injured to listen.
Kenpachi stormed towards the masses, merging with the river of people streaming in from every which way. He didn’t have time for this! Didn’t. Have. Time! Not knowing any other way to deal with a rowdy group of people, he decided to just go with his gut.
“SHUTTUP, ALL OF YOU!”
His gravelly tone boomed loudly, his battlefield voice carrying over the rain, the screams and the moans of the injured. Frightened faces turned to him, relieved officers, their eyes full of gratitude, listened, shushing the last few rabblerousers.
With a grunt of approval, Kenpachi felt the weight of so many eyes and reared his head back in discomfort. He wasn’t a ‘people person’. He wasn’t even a ‘leader’. But he needed to get through – and these civilians were between him and his people.
“The fuck are ya doin’?! We’re in a state of emergency, ya morons!” He saw a few people shrink away and sneered – fear didn’t belong here. This place needed competence – not spinelessness. He didn’t have time for this shit!
Pointing to the officers who were using the distraction to complete the registration area, he roared: “Those cops ain’t here for you. But they’re doin’ their job and tryin’ to get you inside and looked after. SO FUCKIN’ LISTEN TO THEM!” The only sound was a few strangled pain filled moans, and the pattering of the rain as it increased.
Shit… the rain…
“This rain is gonna keep fallin’. So move over there-“ He pointed to the large covered parking lot across the next block, “-And form three lines: Missin’ limbs, Head, Spine and Internal Injuries and Everything Else. A broken bone ain’t urgent! The officers will call you over in groups so ya don’t stay out in the rain.”
When no one moved, Kepachi scowled, not used to being disobeyed. “I said MOVE, people!”
The crowd scattered, running to do as he commanded, leaving the front of the hospital clear for the emergency workers to begin doing triage amongst those too injured to move out of the rain. The officers began communicating with those in the parking lot, ensuring everyone that they would be seen to as soon as possible.
Without another thought, Kenpachi focused back on his goal, and began running towards the front doors.
For a moment, all was still.
Then, for the second time in as many months, Kenpachi saw a bright, searing light appear, before a wave of superheated air and rubble lifted him off his feet and threw him across the open road, skidding along his bare back as glass and stone rained down all around him, replacing the rain.
Coughing heavily, he swung his eyes up to the top-level corner of the building, where a large ragged hole had torn it’s way from the offices there. Reinforced steel and broken glass stabbed the sky as smoke and fire filled the gaping entry.
“No…” He muttered, an icy fist closing around his throat as he staggered to his feet and made his way inside as quickly as he could.
Alarms blared all around him as he ran for the stairs, taking them three at a time as a stream of scared hospital workers stumbled down past him. He burst onto the top landing, covering his nose and mouth as billowing black smoke filled the flickering corridor.
Completely focussed on reaching the office, he nearly missed the small tug on his tattered trousers. Looking down through the smoke, he recognised the tiny, dusty pink head of his daughter.
“Yachiru!” He barked, relief evident in his voice as he dropped to one knee and gathered her up into a massive hug, his arms gently lifting her off her feet and cradling her against his warm chest. She was cold, silent and shaking like a leaf. Not good.
Pulling back, he looked down at her face, big hands clumsily trying to wipe away the dust and grime and leaving smears of mud and blood in their wake. Her big eyes stared at him blankly, her face slack with shock. He grimaced, frustrated that she wasn’t responding and unsure how to care for her like this.
“Yachiru… talk to me, please. C’mon, kid – tell me you’re ok?” His voice was gentle, rolling through her like thunder during a spring storm. He leaned down and pressed rough lips to her forehead, a fatherly gesture he seldom offered. She took a deep, shuddering breath, her pupils contracting and focussing on his face.
“Kenny?” Her voice was tiny and filled with fear.
Kenpachi offered her a lopsided grin. “Hey, little one.”
Her face crumpled like paper as tears filled her eyes. “Kenny!” She sobbed, great heaving wails leaving her as she tucked her arms against him and let the tears fall.
“Hey, c’mon now, it’s gonna be alright.” He said gruffly, rubbing her back with one massive hand. “I got you, kid.” Yachiru sobbed harder, her shoulders shaking as she let it all out. Kenpachi looked up, peering through the smoke to the dull light of the spreading fire at the end of the corridor.
Unohana’s Office.
Looking down again, he gave her a gentle shake and asked, “Yachiru. Where is she? Where’s Retsu?”
For a moment, she looked so lost that he thought his heart would sieze – but he was proven wrong when her choking, tear filled words caused it to crack in two.
“She was in there…when it all happened…” She choked, and began crying harder, taking a stuttering breath, she looked into his eyes and wailed desperately:
“She’s gone!”
Notes:
Thankyou so much for your patience! Real life is crazy - but we are SO CLOSE to the end of this story.
Tell me your thoughts! And as always, comments are welcome, encouraged and loved! <3
Chapter 39: No Time For Farewells
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
“What is going on?” Nanao muttered, biting her nail as she stared at the screen.
Everything had been going as planned. Well, as much as bombs going off in the city could be part of the plan. Nanao had been solely focused on the running of the plant remotely – ensuring nothing stopped the steady living of the city. She diverted power around the destroyed areas, shutting off gas mains and rerouted the necessary flow for the rest of the city.
But then… something went wrong. Her access was being revoked! She tapped the keyboard rapidly from her secure location, face screwing up in frustration as each function was blocked until she had completely lost her access.
“Not good.” He hissed as red lights flashed before her eyes. “Not good, not good, not good!” She watched helplessly as the gas mains were reopened, still rerouted from the torn mains in the City Centre, but now flowing back towards housing and residential areas that had since been shut off. Scrabbling for her phone, she hurriedly messaged Kyouraku, keeping him up to date.
A minute passed without a reply.
Then another.
“Where are you, Shunsui?!” She hissed to herself, already packing up to head to the plant directly. “You better be ok, or I will kick your ass!”
Sosuke Aizen took his time.
In fact, he had all the time in the world. Today had gone off exactly as he’d planned – the bombs, his forces, and now…
Stepping through the glass doors of the large, white building, he gazed effortlessly over the broken marble and bloodied forms on the ground in the foyer. He recognized Shunsui Kyouraku and Juushiro Ukitake – brothers in arms taken down by his own weapon most suited to go against them. Gin, following closely behind looked around like a tourist at a zoo.
However, he was surprised that Starrk was still breathing.
Looking at the man leaning against the pillar, one hand pressed to his neck, the other still gripping his gun, Aizen smiled, eyes narrowing. Gin took his cue from Aizens look and turned to the Arrancar.
“Well, look at you, Starrk,” He hummed, wandering closer, “Such a surprise to see you like this.”
Starrk sneered and coughed, unable to speak.
“Don’t be too harsh, Gin, he clearly did his task.” Aizen murmured looking at the two downed and blood splattered Captains.
“As you say. Should I patch him up?”
“Let’s not go overboard.”
Gin’s smile spread further as he followed Aizen to the elevators, long overcoat swishing as he left Starrk to apparently bleed out. The two men positioned themselves in the elevator and Aizen pressed a button for the top floor – Yamamoto’s office.
With barely restrained patience, the two men rode the silent elevator to the top, considering everything that had occurred.
Tousen’s custom devices had worked perfectly, positioned by Barrigans forces. The bombs had gone off as promised, effectively cutting off the central business district from the rest of the city, leaving the Hospital on the outside of the ring of damage, to avoid any of the enemies’ forces making their way to help.
Barrigan had then led his primary force directly to the Power Plant, to soften it up for their arrival. Aizen had no assumptions that Barrigan would win – he had planned too readily for this, and already guessed who would be waiting for him there.
“No sign of Kaname.” Gin drawled, as if commenting on the weather.
Aizen’s lips curled and he spoke without looking at his companion: “Already past the road for justice, and on the highway to hell, I presume. That tends to happen when children are involved.”
Gin grinned his sinister grin and mentally cursed. He knew Tousen would be going for Kenpachi – Aizen had probably predicted exactly how he would take the man down. But children… did Tousen go after Kenpachi’s daughter? That seemed so… immoral for someone like him.
It wouldn’t stop me. Gin thought coldly. I’d never wash the blood from my soul… but it wouldn’t stop me. I won’t stop until this is finished.
The doors chimed and slid open, offering the way to a large reception area in front of an open plan board room and office. Taking careful, measured steps, the two men made their way to the far right, following the memory of Yamamoto’s old desk space.
“So, you’ve finally come, Sosuke Aizen.”
The gravelly voice still held so much command – so much power over them – that Aizen felt himself offer an unconscious nod of respect for the old General. Yamamoto was standing in the large wooden floored room that must have once held an extensive board room table at one time. Now, the open glass and cedar space was lit by unobstructed floor to ceiling windows, forty six levels above the street below.
“So good to see you, Sir.” Gin grinned, every bit the gentleman caller.
“You know why I’m here.” Aizen interrupted, his footwork switching from careful steps to calculated swordsmanship as he closed the distance. Yamamoto’s frown didn’t budge. The anger that ebbed off him like heat waves only added to his dangerous aura.
“If you think you can take it, then you must know something about the afterlife. I will not spare you, Sosuke.” The old man growled softly, the promise hanging in the air like dead weight.
“You’re here, so you know there’s no discussing his. I will kill you. I will take the alloy. And this city will disappear under the new world I will build.”
Yamamoto sighed heavily – the sound of a man who was told to run yet another mile past the finish line. “I will not mourn you, young Aizen.” He grumbled, and slowly removed his button-down shirt, revealing a starkly contrasting muscular frame for his age.
Scars riddled his torso and arms. More than even Kenpachi, Gin thought, a seed of doubt entering his mind. Could Aizen actually do this? The old man was a lot stronger and a lot wilier than anyone realized.
But, seeing the calm confidence on Aizens face, Gin felt himself relax. There was no way this wasn’t going exactly as planned. Yamamoto flexed on long bicep and removed his sword from it’s sheath at his waist.
“Come at me, boyo – let me see what you’ve learned in two years of sand and blood.”
Shinji wiped the sweat from his forehead and grimaced at the stinging pain of a deep cut. Looking at his hand, he realized that rain and sweat weren’t washing away the seeping blood from his wound.
“Get some glue on that, and keep moving, Baldy – we’ve still got a ways to go.” Hiyori growled, kicking a body away from them and into a large, bloody puddle.
“Change of plans.” Shinji coughed, hacking up something foul and spitting it onto the pile of bodies to his right. “We’re heading to the plant.”
“What? Why?” Hiyori snapped, her eyes scanning the demolished outer rim of destruction for more ‘Ants’.
“Hiyori.” Shinji said in that tone, making her stop and scowl at him. “I can’t get a hold of Kyouraku. I can’t get a hold of Kensei or Nanao. None of this is exactly to plan. We need to go where we’re needed.”
“Fine. But don’t look at me when Rose and Love kick your ass for missing out.” She whined, cleaning off her blade and hurrying to a few stranded motorcycles lying beyond the circle of broken rubble that surrounded the inner city.
Shinji just snorted and jumped on one of the fallen bikes, quickly hotwiring the thing until it roared to life, and the two of them sped off towards the power plant, hoping they weren’t too late for whatever was happening.
Rangiku woke with a cough, her lungs on fire. Cracking open her eyes, she took stock of her surroundings as everything came rushing back to her…
Driving with intention towards the inner city – her destination locked. She knew exactly where they would be. She knew Gin better than even he had predicted. She was fuming at being left behind, being told to do her job - as though the war would be lost because she wasn’t helping an already stocked communication Centre at the Snowball bar! Trying to keep her away… keep her at arm’s length…
Not this time.
So determined, she had sped through stop signs and red lights, horn blaring as she dodged traffic and trucks, the flow easing to a trickle as she made it to the central part of the city as the rain began to fall in a steady, pounding beat.
Then – light – sound! An explosion ripped up the ground under her little car as she was tossed high into the air like a child’s toy. If she’d been going even a mile slower, her fuel tanks would have caught fire from the heat of the blast, and she’d be gone – it was the only reason...
…She was still alive.
Coughing and hacking, she realized she was hanging upside down, held in by her seatbelt, the front windscreen was shattered. Broken glass lay waiting for tender flesh all along the roof of the car.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she unbuckled herself and fell to the roof, crying out as she felt her skin slice open in several places. Not wasting any time, she gripped the bow and quiver from the rear compartment using her powerful legs to kick through the passenger side window and crawl out to the street beyond.
At least, she thought it was a street.
The area looked more like hell. Small mountains of bitumen and pavement reared upwards, carving open large trenches to the sewers below. Rain formed pools and muddy puddles in every crevice, some with the limbs of dead civilians peeking through. Blood seeped from those impromptu graves, and Matsumoto grimaced at the idea of so many deaths, all for the greed of one man.
Strapping her bow to her shoulder and her quiver back onto her thigh, she began making her way to the Big House.
The rain continued to pound, and through the sheet of water, she could see pitched battles happening with black clad encroachers. Bullets sizzled through the air and the sounds of metal clanging and singing broke through the deluge in whispers.
She was determined to reach her goal. Determined to be there when he got to his destination…
Rounding the last corner, Rangiku faced the open plaza that looked more like a scene from a movie that the entryway to a government building. Empty. Empty, empty, empty and not even a car in sight. The rain pounded and washed the sides of the building, scrubbing away the city dirt as much as it hid the battle going on inside.
Setting herself up carefully, Rangiku sprinted across the open street, across the large drop off area and sidewalk, and hid behind a large support pillar under the awning of the open foyer.
Risking a glance, she saw bodies and broken tiles inside the glass doors – blood and dust appeared to coat everything – though she was too far away to see much detail. With a start, she recognized a flash of white, and hoped to God it wasn’t who she thought.
No, she told herself, heart racing and aching simultaneously, There’s no way it’s him – Juushiro was supposed to be stationed with the firehouses. Out of the way of the main fight. Gin couldn’t have… he couldn’t have...!
All thoughts on the matter flew from her head as she spotted movement and ducked back behind her cover. Was that him? That bastard Aizen? Pulling an arrow from her quiver, she checked the tip and grimaced. Steel broadhead – a bolt designed to pierce metal… and Kevlar. A killing arrow. A Haineko branded murder weapon.
Placing it on the string, she held it deftly, her movements familiar and easy, despite the environment. She evened her breathing, closing her eyes for a moment to focus her mind and clear her thoughts.
Enough. They think I’m just be the ex. The waitress. The honeypot. But I am the right Hand. The defender, the problem solver…
Drawing the bow to her shoulder in one easy movement, Rangiku rounded the pillar and instantly saw her target exiting the glass front doors, his eyes meeting hers with chilling clarity.
… I will not be left behind.
Kenpachi moved like a man who had suffered a grievous injury. Telling Yachiru to stay behind him, he eased his way into the smoky corridor, eyes narrowed as he searched for any movement – any chance of survivors - friend or foe.
Hearing a voice, he pricked his ears and listened – but there was no call for help – no begging for assistance. Turning to his traumatised kid, he knew it wasn’t right to leave her, but he wasn’t the kind of father who was overly worried about taking her with him into dangerous situations.
“C’mere, twerp.” He said gently, indicating for her to climb on his back and trying for some familiar language to see if she responded. Yachiru gave him a wobbly smile and hurried over, climbing him like a monkey, and hanging on with the confidence of years of practice.
Kenpachi waited until she was secure, then began making his way forward, instincts on high alert for an attack. His sword was bared and glinting wetly in the dim, flashing light – no one would get past him until he had answers.
As he came to the area with the most damage – near where the bomb had clearly detonated – he found a sooty and singed man, curled up begging behind an upturned waiting room sofa, his hands covering his head as he rocked back and forth, whimpering.
“Oi.” Kenpachi spat out, tapping the man with his sword tip.
“He can see me. He will. I didn’t do wrong. I was right. It’s alright. He can see me. I’m alright. He will. He wins. It’s good…. “ The insane babble coming from his mouth told Kenpachi the fellow was a long way past shock – but she he narrowed his eyes, he realised he knew this idiot. It was the same idiot who had burst in on him and Retsu right before he’d left. What had Yachiru called him? Eee Eee?… Moo Raa?
“Iemura.” He snapped, bending down to snap his fingers in front of the mans face.
Eyes glassy with shock stared up at him, and Kenpachi realised this man wasn’t even injured – he was just stunned. With a snort of disgust, he stood up straight, ignoring Iemura to focus on the office. Rounding the corner, he stopped, eyes narrowing as he took in the scene.
The walls were buckled and soot stained. The ceiling tiles had blown straight off, allowing melted wires and cables to fall dangerously over head like sparking Christmas decorations. The furniture was pressed back against the walls in all directions. The tall windows had shattered, spraying glass outwards, with the large wooden desk flung to hang precariously over the edge.
Kenpachi took a step inside and heard a whimper by his ear.
“Yachiru?”
“That’s where he stood.” She whispered, pointing to a large dark stain on the floor that could only be blood. Kenpachi grimaced and realised this was too close to the kind of brutality he wanted her to avoid.
“Close your eyes, little one. I don’t care what you’ve seen before, you shut ‘em, and don’t open ‘em until I say so. You hear?”
“Yes Kenny.”
He grunted approval and looked around the room, spotting the dark, torn limbs strewn away from the openly gutted torso of Kaname Tousen. Seeing the spray of blood and the radius of damage, it was clear the man had been wearing an explosive device – and had detonated himself. He didn’t want Yachiru to see that – she’d seen enough. Stepping further into the office, he began shifting the furniture, calling out.
“Retsu! Oi? You in here?” There was no response. He didn’t know why he expected one. The blast had clearly torn the man to pieces. He wished he’d had the chance to do it with his bare hands. The sneaky, lying, filthy, son of a-
“…”
The tiny sound drew him like a shark to prey, and he hefted the large couch off the wall with one arm. He stood still for a moment; eyes wide at the state of her. Clothes burned away, bleeding from multiple lacerations. Her leg was bent all wrong, like a broken stick covered by skin. One eye was bleeding profusely, and blood spilled from her ears and mouth, as though her body couldn’t hold it in.
He didn’t know what to do with her. Should he lift her? Would that cause more damage? Should he call for a doctor? A paramedic?
“…Pach…i…” She rasped weakly, and he bent down immediately, one hand gently cupping her face.
“Hey, stay here, yeah? I’m gonna get you some help.”
“Kenny? Is she ok?” the little voce by his ear sounded so small, so worried – all the things he couldn’t understand that bubbled from somewhere deep and dark within him.
“She’s gonna be fine kid. We just need a doctor or somethin’.”
His chest felt tight and painful. There wasn’t enough air in the room – why wasn’t there enough air in a room with blasted out windows? He couldn’t stop staring as her injuries, and with each one, he felt them physically stabbing into his own skin, felt the pressure of the blast he’d survived sizzle through the air around him.
“…Need… Mina…zuki…”
Pulled from staring blankly over her, he frowned, turning his head to look for the sword and spotting it embedded in the underside of the couch. With a yank, he pulled it free and placed the hilt in her unresponsive hand.
“There ya go. Now we need to get you a healer-“
“Kill… him…” She rasped, voice sounding angry and weaker than before. Kenpachi shook his head. “He’s dead – pieces of him all over the damn place. Now c’mon, I gotta get you out of here.”
Ignoring the way his heart thundered in his chest, and the sweat that poured from him for some unknown reason, he lifted her in suddenly shaky arms, never realising just how light she was… how fragile she could possibly be.
He hated that. She wasn’t fragile. She didn’t break. This was wrong. This was all WRONG. The room made a slow spin and he shook his head to clear it, stumbling out of the office, careful not to knock her in any way.
In the corridor, he stopped by the babbling man, still moaning that someone could see him.
“Oi – crazy…. Fuck it… Yachiru! Get this guy to heal her!” He bellowed, making more dust and smoke billow through the air. He could hear voices in the distance, but they didn’t have time. He could feel her growing cold – they didn’t have time to wait!
Hearing a loud slap, he looked down and nodded in appreciation as Yachiru whispered hurriedly to the man, her hand raised for a second jarring strike. Whatever was said was enough to snap him out of his shock and have him standing to look at the woman in Kenpachi’s arms. He extended her out a little, trying to allow the man a better look at her injuries, or instruct him what to do.
Before the orderly could say a word, he jolted and gurgled, eyes bugging in surprise as they both looked down to see Minazuki protruding from his stomach. He stumbled back, ripping the sword from Unohanas grasp as she glared with hatred at the dying man.
“..Bas…tard…” She hissed brokenly, before falling into a dead faint.
“Shit… now we have to find a new one…” Kenpachi muttered.
“He was a bad man, Kenny.” Yachiru said clearly, her eyes never leaving the dead mans, her face oddly calm. “He knew the bomb man.”
Silence.
At that moment, something snapped within Kenpachi Zaraki. Something small and delicate that didn’t quite have a name. His blood went cold, cold, cold and everything became terrifyingly focussed. If he were a different man, the snap would have scared him – but Kenpachi embraced the new sensation. The absolute clarity, of total, enraged madness.
He didn’t even blink. “Grab the sword. We’re leaving.” He told Yachiru in a rough voice and began striding towards the stairs, kicking open the door with enough force to dent the heavy steel. Yachiru pulled the bloody sword from Iemura’s torso with a wet slurp and stuck her tongue out at his glassy eyes for good measure.
“Bye Mu-Mu!”
Running after Kenpachi, she gripped the sword tight and tried to ignore the little pools of blood that trailed behind them.
“How long till that Ambulance gets here?” Kensei growled, still holding Shuuhei as he shuddered and gritted his teeth in unconscious pain.
“Another twenty minutes or so. Hold on, Hisagi.” Ichigo called out, still attempting to figure out the control panel behind them. What had that bastard done? These controls were clearly labelled for another section of the plant – down in the….
…oh shit.
“Kensei… stay here. I need to head to the ground level. I have a feeling… just… stay here!” Ichigo called as he bolted down the passageway, sword held tightly in one hand.
“Oi! Ichigo! Hold on!” Kensei cried out – but it was too late – the kid was already gone.
Ichigo bolted down the passage, taking the stairs two at a time and praying he wouldn’t break his neck. If the controls for the distribution centre were already diverted, that meant there may already be people down there.
Had this entire fight been a diversion? The front gate… the old General…all of it?
Ichigo ran as fast as he could, knowing precious seconds were passing. He skidded to a halt outside the double doors to the first floor, taking a minute to catch his breath as he carefully peeked through the tiny glass window.
Oh fuck… He swore silently, seeing the two-dozen black clad men unloading what looked to be the final barrel amongst dozens of other from the back of a large canvas covered truck parked in the loading bay doors.
There were too many of them… too many for him to take alone without help. But what choice did he have? Bracing himself to bust through the doors – he stopped, suddenly hearing the familiar sounds of two single engines roaring into an enclosed space.
Jumping back to peek through the glass, Ichigo stared in shock as Shinji and Hiyori came speeding in on twin motorbikes, jumping free at the last second, letting the bikes fly off to careen into several barrels, spilling gallons of semi-clear liquid all over the concrete floor.
As they landed on their feet, they both pulled out a sword in their right hand and a semi-automatic pistol in their left, spraying bullets at the Ants in the back, and thrusting forward to slash and carve at those in front.
Ichigo took the opportunity given to him, and stormed in, slicing through the back of a man with his gun sights on Hiyori, surprising a gurgle from his throat as he went down.
“Dumbass!” Hiyori yelled.
“Glad you could join us, Kid!” Shinji called out.
Ichigo grimaced and thrust, cutting his way towards two, never quite sure how they managed to keep such light-hearted attitudes in the middle of life or dearth situations. Just a mercenary thing he guessed.
They were severely outnumbered, and it began to show as the initial element of surprise faded, and the three became cornered together behind several of the stacked barrels that had been unloaded from the truck.
“Are these what I think they are?” Ichigo asked, tapping the metal barrel with his sword hilt.
“You bet your ass they are. And the king dick himself is probably already on his way here to finish the job.” Hiyori snapped, taking a glance over the top of their cover, to see the remaining several enemies organising themselves to attack.
“Wait… he got it? He actually got it? But… Rukia! Renji and Byakuya-”
“We don’t know exactly what’s happened – we just know that everything went to shit when those bombs went off. Focus on the here and now, kid, or we’re gonna die before we can save anyone.” Shinji advised firmly, letting the comical mask slide away, and speaking as the leader he was.
Ichigo clenched his jaw, but nodded in agreement, trying to quell the concern in his heart.
“They won’t shoot while we’re behind the barrels.” Shinji said quietly, eyes staring as he considered the possibilities. We need a distraction – there’s only a few left, but they’ve got the advantage…”
“I’ll go.” Hiyori muttered. Stretching her neck to one side, as though about to hit the gym. “You two have the longer reach, but I’m faster.”
Shinji said nothing, just frowned. She was right, of course – it was the most practical decision. Ichigo looked ready to argue, so Shinji laid a gentle hand on his arm, shaking his head slightly.
“Go.” He said, gripping his sword tightly.
Hiyori exchanged a single glance – confidence and trust – before sprinting from the barrels to the left, drawing fire as Ichigo flew to the right, and Shinji vaulted over the top. They swung and stabbed, cutting through the soft camo between body armour to the flesh beneath, downing their enemies with ruthless efficiency. Shinji finished off his last opened just as-
“AHhH!”
-A scream, sharp and pained.
“HIYORI!” Shinji cried, sprinting towards her, decapitating her shooter in one hard swing. He slid to his knees, knowing Ichigo could handle the last two without concern. Helping her to sit up, he grimaced at the ragged stomach wound where two slugs had pierced her.
“Fuck…” She groaned, pale and sweating, eyes already rolling back as Shinji lifted her.
“Hey! Stay with me, idiot!” Shinji snapped, losing his composure for a moment. Hiyori was a pain in his ass… and one of his closest friends. They were constantly at each other’s throats, but they shared a deep trust and compassion for one other. Seeing her hurt was like a blow to his own gut.
“Shinji! Take her to Kensei, up on the sixth floor! There’s an ambulance on the way for Hisagi – it’ll be here in ten minutes. When Shinji hesitated, Ichigo looked around them and picked up a gun, shooting a barrel with a spray of bullets, destroying the chemical inside.
“I said go! I can contaminate what’s here before he arrives! He’ll never get this shit in to the pipes if there’s nothing to use! Now go!”
Shinji picked up Hiyori and carried her to the doors, casting one last look back at Ichigo as he continued to shoot and drain the barrels.
“When did you grow up so fast, kid?” He muttered, before running as carefully as he could to meet up with Kensei.
He could already hear the sirens in the distance.
“Sir?” Gin called suddenly as Aizen limped towards the door, his right calf covered in blood, he left hand holding a small Samsonite case.
Aizen turned his head without stopping, the tiny grimace enough to satisfy Gin that Yamamoto’s’ final attack really had been more than the man had bargained for. It wasn’t a strategic wound for the sake of the ‘grand plan’ - this was a weakness. A vulnerability.
It’s time.
“Would you like some assistance with the case? Or your injury?”
Aizen’s eyes narrowed at Gin’s words, but he kept walking, seeming determined to make it to the street.
“I am perfectly fine, Gin. Come - we are nearly at our goal.”
“Yes, sir…” That smiling sibilant sound followed them as they passed the bodies of the fallen men. Gin refused to mention to Aizen that he saw a foot twitch and a chest rising in breath from his fallen ex-friends. That was none of his business anymore.
Exiting the building, Aizen walked towards the street, unimpressed with the rain, but complacent with his retrieval of the Alloy. A movement to his left, and he locked eyes with Matsumoto Rangiku – instantly knowing why she was there, and what was about to happen.
With a smirk, he stepped to towards her, surprising her enough that as she released the arrow, it flew wide, grazing his ear as he heard it crash through the glass behind him. She scrambled for another shaft, but he was already too close. Her training kicked in, and with effortless grace she swung and kicked, expecting to hear the crunch of bone or a howl of pain.
But Aizen simply gripped the ankle speeding towards his face and twisted, enjoying her cry of pain as she fell away from him. Taking a step towards her, he raised his foot over her face, and smiled, looking forward to destroying something that held so much reminder of the tainted past-
“Aizen!”
The shout made him stop - that voice belonged to his ‘trusted’ right hand snake of a man, and he smirked, knowing this conflict was sure to reveal his true agenda. Turning his back on the fallen woman, his eyes widened, and his smile fell as Gin held up a small black case, identical to the one Aizen was holding. He gave it a little shake.
“Confused?” Gin asked condescendingly. “It wasn’t hard to switch the cases after you had cut down the general. While you and he had your little shit show, I took the case with the real alloy, and handed you a fake.”
Gin’s face hardened, and for a single moment in time, through all the years of blood and pain and sacrifice they had made towards his goal – Aizen finally saw a tiny hint of the man Gin kept hidden behind the mask.
And it was frightening.
“You won’t lay a hand on her.” Gin hissed, his voice deepening as he reached his free hand inside his jacked and extracted a short silver gun, with an obnoxiously long silencer on the end. An assassins weapon. A mobsters weapon.
“Well, I can’t say this is really a surprise, Gin.” Sosuke chuckled. “Are you doing this for her?” He inclined his head to where Rangiku lay, shell-shocked at this turn of events. “Or are you doing this as some sort of belated penance? For all the torment you’ve caused? All the blood you’ve spilled?” His mocking tone begged for a response, but Gin merely smiled that terrible smile and said in a chipper voice:
“Yes!”
BANG!
The bullet burst through Aizen’s shoulder, spraying blood across the ground as he was thrown backwards from the force. He grimaced in pain and glared at Gin.
“Really?! All of this? Years of planning and work and blood – for a woman and a city that did nothing for you but scorn you both?” He hissed, stumbling back from the awning until the rain pattered down around him, drenching him in seconds.
“No.” Gin replied, raising the weapon again. “Not a woman. A goddess. She owns me, Aizen – body and soul.” He squeezed the trigger -
BANG!
There was a moment of terrible silence as the gunshot echoed against the tall building. Then, with a shocked laugh, Gin stumbled backwards, a single drop of red on his white shirt spreading and blooming, until the bullet that had entered his chest finally caused him to fall backwards and lay coughing on the wet, empty concrete.
Aizen heaved a pained breath and stood, opening his shirt to tear away the Kevlar chest piece and shoulder armour he had hidden under his clothes. Pocketing the heaving, smoking gun, he limped up to Gin and stood over him, eyeing him with false pity.
“Such a shame…” He murmured; voice nearly lost to the deluge. “You were so useful.”
With nothing more to say to the man who had been by his side for years, a confidant, friend, and colleague – a betrayer – Aizen picked up the extra case, and limped toward the street, already shouting orders to the small contingent of black clad men who met him there.
Within minutes, they had disappeared into the haze, leaving nothing but a broken, bleeding man, and the crippled, sobbing woman who crawled to him, desperate to hear his final words to her.
“Gin… Please…” Rangiku sobbed, hands gripping his chest, shaking him, desperate to hear him over the downpour. Hauling herself up, she could no longer feel her eyes stinging, could no longer feel her cold hands tugging and pleading with him to wake up. “Gin! Wake up… please!”
Cold, wet fingers brushed her cheek and she sobbed brokenly, afraid to look down at the ruin of his chest. She wanted to kiss him, to tell him everything was going to be ok. She wanted him to open his eyes and tell her it was all a prank – all an elaborate joke for some sick unknowable punchline. But he just lay still, and the blood kept flowing, tendrils of it snaking into the cracks of the pavement like tiny snakes.
“Please…” She gasped, her cries so broken they were barely even words, “Please… don’t leave me! You always leave me! Gin!” She felt her heart tearing in half as those cold fingers slid slowly away, and those clear, clever eyes looked into hers one last time. He smiled so gently now, so hauntingly, just for her. Just for her.
“I love you… always have… always… will…”
Time stilled.
In the distance, her anguished scream echoed beyond the rain, until even the clouds ducked their heads in sympathy.
“I don’t give a shit!”
The roaring voice caught Ikkaku’s attention instantly, and with a last squeeze of Yumichika’s hand he sprinted through the packed car park, knowing his love was safe with Isane. It wasn’t a place to be pushing people out of the way, so Ikkaku eased himself as best he could towards the towering man, his brain running on pure adrenalin. What was the Captain even doing here? Had he dispatched Nnoitra and come to check on Yachiru? No… no that wasn’t likely – there were still more pitched battles to fight throughout the city if he’d already finished his foe...
“Captain!” He called, waving an arm as he approached them. “What’s going – oh, shit…” Ikkaku trailed off, eyes wide as he caught sight of Unohana held limply in Kenpachi’s quaking arms. Without skipping a beat, he turned his head and screamed, “ISANE! GET OVER HERE!” His voice could carry through a battlefield just as well as his Captains, and now the rain had finally stopped – he knew she had heard him.
“Was she up there when-“ Ikkaku jerked his head, eyes full of concern and frustration. He frantically looked for Yachiru, taking a deep breath of relief when he noticed her dusty pink head slightly behind her father. Wait… dusty? Had she been up there when it happened?
“Shit, kid – are you ok?” Ikkaku asked quickly, taking a step forward.
Big mistake.
Kenpachi growled deep in his throat, startling several medics and making Ikkaku back away slowly. Something was… off with the man. Ikkaku looked into his strangely glowing eyes, illuminated by the harsh glare of the outdoor work lights in the parking lot, and gulped. Kenpachi looked… dangerous. Feral. Something had snapped and snapped hard.
“Captain?” Ikkaku asked again, more gently this time, eyes not leaving the man.
“Re-chan got hurt, Baldy.” Yachiru said softly. “Don’t touch her unless you can help.” A warning – from the one person who knew him best. Still, the girl offered him a tiny smile. “I’m ok. I got out before…” Her face fell again, and she reached out a hand to grip Kenpachi’s shirt for comfort.
Ikkaku nodded, not taking his eyes off the big man as Isane finally reached them, her choked sob the only indication that she understood how bad Unohana’s condition must be. Kenpachi watched her like a bird of prey watches a mouse – eyes following her every movement as her allowed her and two medics to gently lift the woman and place her on a gurney, instantly rolling her away and calling for ‘twenty cc’s of this!’ and ‘thirty cc’s of that!’.
Minutes passed as he stared into the crowd of milling, groaning people. The air full of cries of pain, moans of anguish and sobbing grief. These…people… why were they here? Why were any of them even in his way? They were useless for fighting. Useless when it mattered. Disposable. Collateral. Nothing.
Thoughts in turmoil, Kenpachi reached for his sword, a haze of fury clouding his mind, his judgement. Ikkaku saw the action, and moved in an instant, pressing himself closely to the man, and clamping a hand over Kenpachi’s massive fist. Yachiru froze, eyes wide, but unafraid.
“What are you going to do, sir?” Ikkaku whispered, trying to get through to him. The bloodlust was evident – but Kenpachi had never slain an innocent, never killed without cause. What was happening here? Was he triggered by an attack on Yachiru?
Ikkaku glanced down, and saw the girl looking at him, holding-
Unohana’s sword.
He finally pieced it together.
Oh shit. Oh fuck. Oh god, no.
Kenpachi would be out for blood… and he wouldn’t care whose body it came from.
“Your enemy isn’t here, sir.” Ikkaku said hurriedly, struggling to hold Kenpachi’s fist as he began to unsheathe his sword. “The enemy is out there – in the city. In black body armour, armed and hurting people – good people. You’re needed there.”
He couldn’t stop the man, but perhaps he could divert him to a fight – something he could grip and tear – something to get him as far away from these innocent, injured civilians as possible.
“C’mon, Kenny.” Yachiru said with forced happiness. “Let’s go find a fight.”
Kenpachi’s glassy eyes began to refocus at Yachiru’s offer, and Ikkaku breathed a tiny sigh of relief. The man was still on edge, still unstable, but they were out of immediate danger. It had been years since he had seen Kenpachi in this state – not since that night at the bar… and the only person who had managed to bring him back had been Unohana. Now…
“Hey Baldy, hold this!” Yachiru chirped, tossing the bared blade to Ikkaku and scrambling up to hold onto Kenpachi’s shoulder. Ikkaku yelped and luckily caught the sword by the hilt, glaring at the girl and puffing his chest in anger. She gave him a cheery smile, then turned sad. “Take care of it until Re-chan wakes up, ok?”
Ikkaku felt all the anger drain out of him in a rush. He nodded seriously, and watched as the two disappeared into the night, back towards the ruins of the inner city.
Notes:
I... am sorry. I wrote Gin and Rangiku's scene months ago, while listening to 'Chasing Cars'. I love them with all my heart.
This is the SECOND LAST CHAPTER, PEOPLE - CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! Only ONE MORE Chapter till it all ends - and perhaps an epilogue to tie up loose ends.
You have been on this journey with me, and I'm so glad you're here <3
Comments are welcomed and loved! <3
Chapter 40: Surviving
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The rain eased, letting fall its last few drops before the still, quiet sound of trickles and moving earth overtook the drowning pound.
The clouds eased apart, revealing inky sky, already into the late evening – stars twinkling brightly above, as though they themselves had been rinsed by the downpour. Buildings sighed and swayed, the explosions from hours ago creating instability along the natural bedrock of the city.
Sirens wailed in the distance, cut off from the central zone, they circled, picking up survivors and injured civilians from damaged buildings. The car park of Seireitei General had become a massive operating theatre until damage from the upper east wing was stabilized.
Blood in the streets. Grief and anguish. And through it all, the fight continued to rage beyond the eye-line of the general public…
Sosuke Aizen sat resolutely in the back of the luxury car and gripped the small case he had taken off Gin. He held it tightly as the car ran over the rickety, impromptu bridge his people had built for their crossing over the blast radius. Once on the other side, the roads were smoother, dark and eerily quiet, as the evacuation had already occurred on this side of the central area.
With careful fingers, Sosuke opened the small case and gazed down at his prize – years of fervor and need building to a fever pitch. His lips parted and he allowed himself a genuine smile of pleasure.
The alloy – the key for his success was now in his grasp. He was holding it, touching his prize finally, after years of waiting and planning. Years of building his position. Plucking it out with gentle fingers, he held it up to his eyeline, cooing quietly.
“All this time… finally mine…”
The car continued along its route, the two black clad Ants in the front seat focused on the road and making sure they got their boss to the plant as quickly as possible. Team two should already be moving the dozens of barrels of product into the main distribution bays – all they needed was a quick dip with the alloy, and they could be poured directly into the main lines.
Aizen took a moment to bask in how right everything had gone thus far. The teams, the pitched battles, even the necessary losses. All according to his plan. He knew Tousen would go after Kenpachi – just as he knew the man would go after Unohana as a way to hurt the big warrior. Still – their relationship had been a surprise. One he hadn’t counted on – but it didn’t matter. It was inconsequential in the grand scheme, as long as those two were out of his way.
Having the Kuchikis distracted by Yammys incursion had gone smoothly – he was sure there were several injuries, which would keep them occupied and out of the final phase of his plan. Besides, he’d advised Yammy to go in through Mayuri’s labs – which would have also kept the scientist busy.
He had an iota of respect for that bizarre man. Though completely dense to the subtle art of human nature and the genius it took to manipulate it, he was still a scientifically brilliant man. Not quite on Aizen or Kisuke Urahara’s level – but still brilliant.
That was another thing… Urahara.
He had planned extensively for Urahara, but despite every potential and likely scenario – he hadn’t managed to find the route he would take. So, he had let it slide – knowing his backups and pawns would handle it as it came. He held the alloy tighter and knew this would all come down to the power plant. Still considering his plans, he ran through the last few steps.
The fight at the big house between his sharpest weapon, Starrk, pitched against Yamamotos strongest swords, Kyouraku and Ukitake, was a calculated risk. He knew Kyouraku and Ukitake would be there to defend the true prize, just as he knew Yamamoto would be waiting for him on the top floor. It was one of several dozen strategies he’d planned for, and the one most likely to occur based on Shunsui Kyouraku’s prior strategic planning.
Aizen had studied that man intensely. Every little detail. Every redacted file. He knew the mans past - the history he and several others had worked so hard to hide. The years in black ops. The years in international espionage. The training directly with not just Yamamoto, but Urahara, the Shihoin family, the Undergroud and the elder Kuchikis. He’d accomplished secret missions around the world, toppled dictatorships and assassinated monarchs with nary a scratch. His confidante and oftentimes partner in this, Ukitake, was just as efficient – though not quite as physically capable.
Shunsui Kyouraku was a ruthless, brilliant tactician, with one weakness. Well… two. Sosuke knew the little romance with his ‘secretary’ wouldn’t be of any use to him in this battle, but the deep love and bond he shared with Juushiro Ukitake could be. So, he had used that, pitching the two of them against Starrk, knowing that if one of them went down – the other would not be the same man afterwards - and that would make a perfect patsy for the next phase of his plan, after taking this city.
For a time, Aizen had been concerned about Kyouraku. The man was a natural born leader – a commander – and for some reason, he refused to take the reins. Before hiding himself in the role of a - (Aizen coughed lightly at the ridiculous notion) - school principal, Shunsui was first and foremost – The number one Military Agent in Yamamotos’ arsenal. And – with some intense digging, and no small amount of personal pain – Aizen had discovered one more titbit about his true identity:
Shunsui Kyouraku was General Genryusai Shigenkuni Yamamoto’s sole surviving heir.
Yes, Sosuke smiled as he relived the moment, he’d cut down the old man after revealing he knew the family secret that they’d kept so well hidden. Kyouraku was Yamamoto’s nephew. He had thoroughly enjoyed the look of shock on the Generals face right before he had slashed him from shoulder to hip, grinning down as the man had struggled to hold himself together.
“You… won’t.. win…” He’d rasped out, one hand reaching for his sword. Sosuke had stepped forward and kicked it from his grasp, panting in victory.
“I already have.” He said quietly, not allowing any emotion to cross his face, past a small smile. It was in that moment that Yamamoto had used the last of his speed and strength to grip Sosukes ankle tight, swinging his free hand up – a short dagger held tightly within its grasp – and sunk the blade deep into the man’s calf muscle.
Aizen had gasped and swung his word down, nearly severing both of the old man’s hands with the vicious swing. Yamamoto lay still, eyes closed – a gentle, victorious smile upon his lips.
“Bastard.” Sosuke had spat and limped away, with Gin and the case trailing behind him.
And Gin.
That had been… slightly earlier than he’d expected. He knew Gin would betray him eventually – the man had thought he was so sneaky, too sly, and slimy to be caught, but Aizen knew the truth. All that swagger, all that slithering around and whispered lies – all to hide the only pure thing he thought he had: The Woman. Matsumoto.
Aizen had attempted, at one point, to have Gin destroy her – to remove that part of himself entirely – but he decided against it, knowing that if Gin were truly free to fall into the darkness of his own soul – he would become unpredictable. Dangerous. And Aizen did not want a dangerous, unpredictable pawn. He wanted a sleek, easy to manipulate little soldier that could be moved around at the mere mention of strawberry blonde hair.
Gin had fulfilled his usefulness, and now he was exactly where he deserved to be: Dying in the arms of the woman he loved. He had always loved her – it was as plain as day. The fact he thought he could hide it as merely ‘a passing romance’ was ludicrous.
And now, with all his plans, his betrayals, his battles won and lost – Sosuke Aizen had his prize, his key, and was on his way to finally – finally – fulfill his destiny.
When Aizen’s car arrived at the plant, it drove through the ruins of the front gate, and over several bodies, before rounding the southern wing and coming flush with the truck still hanging half out of the loading bay.
He had predicted there would be some resistance and had planned accordingly.
With a snap of his fingers, one of the men exited the car, running into the driver’s seat of the truck and pulling away leaving the loading bay open and empty. He saw the dead bodies of his men, and the bullet riddled, leaking and drained barrels, and smiled.
As the truck pulled away, Aizens driver pulled up a radio and spoke quickly, waiting for the appropriate response before nodding to his boss and sitting back to wait. A moment later, a second, heavily loaded truck arrived and backed into the dock, and four armed guards raced out to begin unloading.
Aizen exited the vehicle and made his way into the loading dock. Looking around, he eyed the placement of the bodies and the spilled ‘liquid’. A good defense. Too bad it was all for nothing.
“Are you here?” He called out, already knowing whose voice would answer, who would be defending this final post.
“I’m here.” Ichigo announced, stepping from behind a stack of blasted barrels.
Aizen smirked. “Did you really think I hadn’t planned for this?” He snapped his fingers, and the four armored men raised their guns at Ichigo, waiting for the command. Ichigo merely raised a brow with a pained look.
“Really? Guns? I thought you wanted a fight, Aizen – not a murder.”
“I don’t want either,” The man said lightly, stepping towards the first of the new barrels, and unlocking the lid with a loud hiss. “But we don’t always get what we want.” While his men kept Ichigo at gunpoint, Aizen carefully opened the case, and with gentle fingers, removed the ancient metal sword tip. With care bordering on reverence, he dipped the edge of the metal into the barrel, and smiled in almost lewd pleasure as the semi-clear liquid slowly clarified to the same purity as tap water.
The drug was complete. Kyouka Suigetsu was ready. Finally. FINALLY!
Aizen began to laugh – a deep, hearty laugh from his belly. Joyful, loud and full of triumph. He pointed to his driver still in the car and indicated for him to come. The man was there in an instant, hand on his side arm as he waited for instructions.
Without warning, Aizen grabbed the drivers hand, stripped off the protective glove, and dunked the hand in the chemical. The man didn’t react until Aizen spoke to him slowly:
“You cannot feel pain. You cannot be cut by a knife or sword.” The man simply nodded, as though he was saying yes, obviously. Then Aizen smiled with a jerk of his head toward Ichigo said: “Kill him with your bare hands.” Ichigo faltered – was he serious? I’m holding a sword?!
The man ran at Ichigo, heedless of pain or injury. Without thinking, Ichigo swung up, slicing the man across the gut – but he kept coming, teeth gritted in anger, hands reaching for that delicate throat. Ichigo stumbled back, raising his sword and impaling the man through the throat, his eyes wide and shocked at the attack.
The man continued to claw toward him, pushing himself further along the sword until Ichigo yanked to the left, turning the poor fellow into a broken Pez dispenser. Panting, Ichigo stared at the man, then at Aizen.
“How… how could you do that… to one of your own men?” he asked in disbelief.
Aizen chuckled, “What do you mean? He felt no pain – he did his job. I don’t see a problem. That’s the thing with you young idealists – you want everything to be simple. But the thing is, simplicity is someone telling you what to do, not making decisions for yourself. Simplicity is the freedom to act according to someone else’s design. I’m offering a simpler world, Ichigo. Without the stress or anxiety of choice. A world not governed by rules and regulations – but given total freedom within set lines. Freedom to do as your told. It’s… beautiful.”
Ichigo just stared at Aizen, his gaze unwavering – and something within it reminded Aizen too much of Urahara Kisuke. The same determination that the status quo was correct – that change was cemented into being a gradual thing, not an immediate fixture. The subtle strength of will that rivalled his own… and could topple his empire.
He hated that look.
With another snap of his fingers, Aizen blandly commanded the remaining four men: “Shoot him.”
Ichigo dove for cover as bullets sprayed all around him. He stayed down, listening to the ting ting of the barrels being struck over and over.
But then… something began to happen.
Suddenly the bullets were less – a scream! The sharp ratta tat tat! Sounded out one more time, before he heard Aizen cry out, “What the fuck are you doing?!”
Aizen… swearing? Ichigo stuck his head up and saw a single black clad guard holding his assault rifle pointed directly at Aizen. What the hell was going on?
With exaggerated slowness, the guard unbuckled his dark face covering and helmet, dropping them to the floor and shaking out his hair with wide smirk, grey eyes locked on Aizen, who hissed in fury.
“Urahara!”
“What’s happenin’ champ?” Urahara called out, inviting Ichigo to join them. The young man bounded over beyond happy to see his old mentor here of all places.
“How did you know?” Ichigo breathed, standing beside Kisuke, keeping his guard up and his eyes locked on Aizen.
Urahara smiled. “Ah, that was easy. ‘Course this guy wasn’t about to let his whole supply just drive on in and sit waiting before he even got here with the prize. So, I just hung back by the road and watched for a second truck to come in. I already picked up my Halloween costume from one of those assholes by the front gate. Then, it was just a matter of taking out the driver mid transit – so none of the guys in the back even knew I was here.” He gave Ichigo a pitying look. “C’mon Kurosaki – this is kids’ stuff.”
Ichigo just laughed, happy to finally have the upper hand.
“You think it’s going to be that easy?!” Aizen snarled at them, gripping the alloy tightly until it cut deeply into his hand, blood dripping to the floor. Before they could stop him, Aizen shocked them both by dunking his whole arm into the activated barrel in front of him.
“Shit!” Ichigo spat, rushing forward.
“Ichigo, wait!” Urahara snapped, reaching for him – too late!
“I am invincible! I am the strongest man alive! My reactions are faster than the eye can see! I can foretell every move my enemy makes!” Sosuke rattled off loudly, seeming to almost grow in mass and confidence before their eyes.
He began laughing maniacally, blood vessels bursting in his eyes as he tore away his clothes, leaving him shirtless, veins laddering across his skin as his muscles hardened and tensed.
Ichigo flew at him, sword raised for a diagonal strike-
-Aizen dodged it, almost faster than humanly possible. He swung a fist, connecting with Ichigo’s sternum and sending him flying. The young man crashed into a dispensing tube several metres away, and bent in half, coughing, and retching from the force of the blow.
“Ichigo!” Urahara cried – but he didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes or gun off Aizen. The ‘invincible’ man turned to him, his crazed, fervour filled face barely recognizable from the calm, controlled demeanour he had always held. He grinned at Kisuke, arms held wide.
“Are you going to shoot me, Kisuke Urahara?” He laughed, as if the thought was ludicrous. “I’m invincible, you Moron! You can’t hurt me! You certainly can’t stop me!” He began laughing madly, walking towards Kisuke as casually as a walk down the street.
BANG!
The bulled shot through Aizen shoulder with a wet splat! The man stumbled, paused for a moment, then looked down at his shoulder in surprise, a hand touching the bleeding wound and looking confused.
“You bought your own con, ass hat.” Urahara said blandly, his disappointment obvious. “You can hypnotize yourself all you want that you’re ‘invincible’ – but you won’t change the laws of physics. You can’t avoid a piece of metal going 3,251 feet per second, delivering 1300 pounds of force. Your body – no matter how hard you tense your pecs, Fabio – will tear under the compounding force. That’s physics 101, bitch.”
Aizen looked furious, but not in any sort of pain. He bared his teeth and snarled at Kisuke, rushing towards him, enraged.
“Three… two… one…” Kisuke muttered.
"Now." He watched as Aizen suddenly halted mid step, his entire body seizing as if in a fit. A gargled sound of agony tore from his throat as his knees buckled, and his back with the floor with a dull thud. His body began to writhe, contorting and twisting in strange angles.
“What… have you… done… to me?” He rasped clawing at his throat, his face – tearing the skin like a larva escaping its membrane.
Urahra watched Aizen sadly, not moving when Ichigo joined them, staring at the ‘invincible’ ma with pity.
“I didn’t do anything.” Kisuke answered sadly. “You did this to yourself. Your own body is failing you – or did you forget that if you ingest Kyouka Suigestu directly into the blood stream - rather than through the skin, or in a vapour – it reacts as a deadly toxin?”
Ichigo glanced at Aizens torn hand, where he still held the ancient sword tip that had dug into his skin, right before he’d dunked his arm in the drug filled barrel.
Aizen writhed and flailed, rage and frustration in every inch of his torn, bleeding face. “All your… talents! All your… gifts!” He choked out, blood starting to bubble at his lips, ”And you choose.. to side… with… them?”
Ichigo glanced at Kisuke, aware that he was witnessing the death of a man who had caused so much pain and agony - none of which would have been possible if Kisuke hadn’t discovered the damn alloy in that excavation all those years ago. How much guilt did he accept for that? How much pain was he carrying under that genial, easy-going facade?
Then, Sosuke Aizen rasped out his final, damning words:
“This… drug… was… YOUR discovery… Kis…ke…Har…a….”
With a last, gurgling gasp… he was gone.
Slash!
Slice!
Keep slicing. Keep pushing. Keep cutting down this one. And another. That one there!
This was his happiness. This was the feeling of joy and peace he looked for – right? Hacking. Slashing – fighting and killing…
... killing…
… killing…
Kenpachi stopped mid swing, his eyes coming back into focus as he swung his head back and forth. Bodies… bodies everywhere. Looking down at himself, he realized he’d been shot, superficially at least, several times. He shook his head and realized the sky was getting lighter, the darkness giving way to the rising dawn.
Just how long had he been out here?
He didn’t remember walking from the triage carp park outside the hospital. He didn’t remember scrambling over the blown open divide into the central part of the city. He did remember that first instinctive swing, as a black clad fighter came flying at him, wielding a short blade. The feel of his arm swinging his battered sword through the air was like the tension being released from a bow.
All of the nameless violence he’d felt building within him went into that strike, hitting the attacker so hard, that his body was bifurcated before his feet had stopped moving, while his upper body slid off into the muddy bitumen.
Kenpachi had moved like a demon, listening the small voice in his ear that warned him, ‘behind you’, ‘four steps to your left’, ‘the two behind us have guns’. He swung and cut, waiting to feel that joy, that sense of excitement that he longed for, that he knew always came from doing this…
…but not right now.
Something had shifted within him. He still found joy in the fight – still felt pleasure and happiness in pushing himself against a strong opponent. But this… this killing and slicing and hacking of Aizens lackeys as they swarmed him…
...this wasn’t it.
He wanted to fight her.
He wanted to love her.
And because of Aizen, and Tousen – he might never have that chance again.
Holding his sword at his side, he stared at the ground, watching the gentle stream of crimson dribble and drop into the gutters. He didn’t give a shit about the lives he took – he cared about the fight that took those lives. The joy in battle and cutting your opponent!
But there was no joy tonight. Only rage and blood.
Only anguish.
“Kenny?” Yachiru murmured by his ear, “You ok?”
Bringing one fist to his face, he gripped it firmly and felt his eyes stinging like acid. Tears filled him and his breathing hitched as he groaned in pain.
“Kenny?!” Yachiru asked, more concerned.
Kenpachi ripped his hand away, threw his head back and roared to the sky. A single, fat tear leaking out of his left eye as he screamed again – a primal, horrific sound of pain and rage and loss.
The bellowing cry echoed through the shattered streets, reverberating in the air and stilling any sense of hope or victory. It was a cry of the lost. The broken. Of those left behind.
Throughout the city, the remaining warriors of Aizen’s army removed their helmets…
… and surrendered.
TWO DAYS LATER...
The clean-up was far worse than anyone realized.
Without a leadership role at the helm, Police Commissioner Komamura had taken charge, dispatching units to arrest the surrendering invaders, and clean-up crews to get into the city and find any trapped or injured people withing the blast zone.
Isane Kotetsu had taken charge of the medical side of things, organising several teams to hunt down city leaders as a priority. Within hours, she had Governor Yamamoto, Shunsui Kyouraku, Juushiro Ukitake and their assailant Coyote Starrk in surgery – all four in critical condition, but expected to pull through.
Hanatarou’s ambulance had arrived back from the power plant, followed by a sleek black car. Shuuuhei Hisagi and Hiyori Sarugaki lay side by side, leaving no room for anyone but the other paramedic to care for them. In the black car following behind sat Ichigo Kurosaki, Kensei Muguruma, Shinji Hirako… and the bloody, pale body of Sosuke Aizen in the trunk. Upon arrival at the hospital, Isane had put the two injured fighters straight into emergency, and advised the other three to carry to the body to the morgue and guard it.
After a clean-up crew had identified the entrance to the caved in vault a few hours later, the Kuchiki’s and Renji had made their way to the hospital also, Byakuya’s celebrity status clearing a path for them so he could check in with Isane, and shortly after with Ichigo… and Aizens body.
There had been a moment of deep silence when the group looked over Aizens still face together.
“What’s the appropriate thing to say at a time like this?” Ichigo murmured.
“Perhaps nothing at all – enough words have been spoken over this man and his ambitions.” Rukia replied softly, her frustration and relief overtaking her, as hot, angry tears filled her eyes.
“The lesson he gave us should not be forgotten, however.” Shinji said clearly, his statement earning a nod of agreement from everyone.
No, they wouldn’t forget Sosuke Aizen. They would never forget how easily they had been fooled, how carefully they had been pulled apart at the seams time and time again by him. They wouldn’t forget how fragile their peace was.
Nor how strong they could be, combined.
Renji put a warm arm around Rukia and pulled her close, his face stern. Shinji turned away, followed by Kensei as the two left to go find the rest of their band of mercenaries. Byakuya gave a nod to Ichigo, then turned to go, leaving the three younger people to guard the body. He paused for a moment:
“Kuroasaki… did he say anything before he died?”
Ichigo froze, his loyalties torn as he considered how to word his answer.
~
“This… drug… was… YOUR discovery… Kis…ke…Har…a….”
Then, with a final, gurgling rasp… he was gone.
Ichigo turned to Kisuke with wide, betrayed eyes. “You? You created the drug? All this pain… You?-“
“Yes.”
Ichigo struggled to form words as his sense of right and wrong, his base for trust and loyalty was ripped and broken. Kisuke… had created the drug to begin with? He had been not just the ‘finder’ of the alloy… but the mind behind Kyoka Suigetsus creation??
“How… could you do it?” Ichigo has rasped, turning his sword towards Urahara. “All this pain.. years of it… it was you… you could have… you didn’t…”
Ichigo watched as Kisuke knelt down and offered a bow of complete submission.
“I apologize.”
“That’s not good enough!!”
“I know. But what would you have me do that hasn’t already been done?”
Ichigo gaped at him – his fury and pain forming a ball of ice in his chest.
“You could have told us the truth from the beginning.”
Kisuke said nothing, just dipped his head further.
“… I should have. But I felt that the damage was already done. There was nothing to do but assist you all stop the man who had betrayed me, and stolen my creation.”
Gritting his teeth, nearly cracking them with tension, he spat out “Why this drug? Why did you create this in the first place? What possible use could it have to you?”
Kisuke looked up at that, and Ichigo saw a face he didn’t recognize anymore.
“I made it… because I could.”
~
Ichigo shook his head in answer to Byakuya’s question. “No.” He replied softly. “He didn’t say anything.”
Over the next forty-eight hours, emergency services, under the guidance of Komamura and with supplies funded by the Kuchiki organisation, the city began to pick itself up. Yumichika was discharged, and with Ikkaku, the two went searching for Kenpachi. However, the big captain was nowhere to be found.
Nanao had arrived at the power plant at the same time as Hanatarous’ ambulance and had immediately rallied the plant workers sheltering in the underground bunker to get back to work and get the city back on track. She’d held in her own panic and concern until several hours later when she’’d received a coded text from Yamamotos’ right hand man, Chojiro Sasakibe – that had clearly been sent to all Chiefs and assistants, advising them of the Captains’ survival. Nanao allowed herself a moment to cry, a moment to feel sweet, painful relief – before she straightened her shoulder, and got on with her job.
Rukia had jumped on board with the fire departments to assist in search and rescue through her old connections during her time with Juushiro’s people. Renji had joined in with the Eleventh Hour, helping with coronary work to collect all of the dead bodies scattered throughout the city, and taking them to a large, industrial freezer that was capable of holding the excessive amounts of the dead – which the morgue simply couldn’t handle.
Byakuya had stepped into a decision-making capacity until the other leaders were able to take the reins – calling in favours from the Shihoin and Shiba corporations, as well as speaking with the national Government bodies as they brought in emergency personnel and supplies to help out with rebuilding.
Mayuri Kurostuchi had been found, crushed below several feet of rock and rubble – but had somehow miraculously survived, and was currently in ICU being intubated. His assistant, Nemu, had been a godsend, coordinating the autopsies of the dead to fast track the insurance claims – which would help the families of those citizens who had lost so much, to have some hope of financial recovery.
A small private plane had quietly landed at the international airport on the southern end of the city several hours later. Four passengers were escorted immediately to Seireitei General, where one of the travellers was treated for poison, and another was treated for a septic gunshot wound.
Toshiro and Kira were met by a furious Komamura, who told them to remain isolated in their homes – curfewed until they could be appropriately disciplined by Yamamoto and Kyouraku at a later time. Toshiro had only asked one question during his entire dressing down by the Commissioner:
“Where’s Rangiku?”
Komamura had grimaced and responded, “There hasn’t been any sign of her.”
No one in the city really considered what might have happened on the outer edges until hours later, when Komamura sent out an investigatory team to respond to an aborted call for help from Muken Prison. When the team arrived – they went pale in shock.
The front gates and the entire western wing of the prison were a crumbling, charred mess. Clearly, a large explosion had ripped through the buildings, and the quantities of dead bodies spoke to a force of at least twenty overtaking the guards. They called for backup and waited for Lieutenant Iba to arrive with several more men in riot gear – though, it was obviously far too late for that.
As the force entered the prison – they found most of the inmates, fortunately, still locked up – screaming at them for answers. Iba ignored them, his gut telling him to head for the burning wing – the Maximum-Security wing. Guns up, they rounded the corner…
…and found carnage.
The primary cells were all busted open. There was a body by the furthest cell, still and… strangely positioned. Iba ran forward, shouting to his men to check the other bays, but he already knew the truth. Reaching the downed guard, Iba turned him over and reeled back, swearing viciously. The man’s face had been chewed off.
“Sir! No sign of any prisoners – but there’s spent rounds everywhere. Aizens people were definitely here!”
“How many?” Iba said quietly, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“Looks like three inmates are gone, sir.” One man said, pulling a clipboard from the nearby office and reading it loudly, “Tier Harribel… Grimmjow Jaegerjacquez,” Iba scowled – of course it was Grimmjow. Who else would disfigure a person so horribly.
“… And one ‘Ginjo Kuugo.”
Iba looked up at the man with a raised brow.
“Who?”
“There he is!”
“Fuck… it’s about time – Captain!”
Ikkaku and Yumichika approached the man carefully, senses on high alert, regardless of the fact that he was sitting hunched over in an alleyway, Yachiru tucked safely between his leg, munching on a chocolate bar.
“Are you two alright?” Yumichika asked, directing the question to Yachiru. The girl nodded with her usual enthusiasm, seemingly not at all ill-at-ease with their current position.
“It’s been two days, Captain. It’s time to come in.” Ikkaku said brusquely.
“Yeah, Yeah… I hear ya.” The big man groaned, his voice raspy and hoarse for disuse. He grunted and got to his feet, stretching, and stretching until his joints crackled and popped. Picking up his sword, he whistled to Yachiru sharply and began walking out of the alley as the girl scrambled up his shoulder and hung on.
“So, fill me in – what’s been happening since the enemy gave up the fight? Aizen was taken down., yeah? Killed, I hope?”
Yumichika was a little taken aback, but Ikkaku took it in stride that it seemed Kenpachi had simply moved past his… whatever the hell had happened… and was now ready to resume working as though nothing had changed.
“Aizen is dead – he was killed night before last, at the power plant.” Ikkaku answered, “Kuchiki – the girl, not the Princess – killed Yammy. Hisagi took down Barrigan.” Kenpachi whistled softly at that, impressed. He would have to have the kid over to the 11th to do some training. “There’s been no trace of Gin, and it seems between you and the other defenders, the incursion force was almost fully wiped out.”
Yumichika picked up, “And you took out Nnoitra.” It was a statement, not a question, and Kenpachi grunted – as much of an agreement as he was going to make.
“Can we go check on Re-Chan?” Yachiru asked brightly, tugging on Kenpachi’s hair lightly.
“Yeah, sure kid.” He grunted, a hit of a smile cracking his stiff face.
Neither of them noticed the sudden, tense silence from Ikkaku and Yumichika.
“uh… Captain…”
“We should bring her some pretty flowers! To make her feel better!”
“Captain?”
“Yeah, good idea… I wonder where I can get Yarrow around here-?”
“Captain!” Ikkaku snapped, and Kenpachi turned, noticing how far his two subordinates had fallen back.
“What?” He asked, that strange, broken feeling inside him beginning to churn again, moving faster at the look they were giving him. “Spit it out!”
“Sir… Uh… It’s about Ms. Unohana…”
The churning. The churning…
“What about her?” He didn’t even recognise his own voice.
“Isane looked everywhere – every bed and room, every security camera… but… she’s gone, sir. When an orderly came to check on her this morning, Ms. Unohana wasn’t in her bed.”
“Gone.” Kenpachi repeated softly.
“Yessir. She seems to have taken Minazuki, too.”
Kenpachi gritted his teeth at that. Putting everything together. Retsu was hurt... injured badly, but she had the skills to heal herself. If she had left, had taken Minazuki with her… then…
“Gone.” He said again. This time, there was no churning. No anything.
“Kenny?” Yachiru asked, sensing the change in the big man.
“Captain?” Ikkaku queried, his stance ready for anything.
Kenpachi took a deep, steadying breath, letting it out slowly and shook his head. Looking down at his hands - The scars, the fresh wounds, the dried blood… his blood… her blood… together. Like they were supposed to be.
Together.
She’d left him. She’d left him right as they’d found each other, at last. What was so bloody wrong with them being together, that she had to go and do a stupid fucking thing like leave?!
Kenpachi gripped the hilt of sword and swore viciously, feeling his chest ache. Had she planned this all along? Just another way to tear at him? To hurt him like she’d hurt him in the past? Was this what he got for trusting her?
“It doesn’t matter.” He gritted out, the words tasting so bitter, so cold on his tongue that he wanted to wretch. “She doesn’t matter.”
When they didn’t say anything, he whirled on one foot and began walking in the direction of the barracks.
“None of it matters.”
SEVERAL WEEKS LATER - THE COUNCIL ROOM
Shunsui rolled his shoulders and groaned, earning him a glare from Nanao. He was bored and he wanted to go and lie down with a cold drink and a soft woman in his arms.
“Toshiro Hitsugaya, Izuru Kira – do you all agree with their punishment?” Yamamoto’s gravelly voice played across the room. Nods of agreement from everyone present. Even with his injuries, the old man still knew how to command a room. With a jerky wave of his injured hand, Yamamoto ordered the doors open, and the two young men entered. Once they stood before their peers, Yamamoto began.
“Toshiro Hitsugaya. Izuru Kira. Several members of this council have come forward to speak on your behalf against the charges laid on you both, for the act of abandoning your posts at the time you were needed most.” The two men stared steadily ahead, resigned to their fate, and unafraid.
Shunsui snorted from his chair, impressed with their resolve. Yamamoto glared at him before continuing.
“As such – this council has decided upon clemency for your acts of treason. You will each be fined, your movements restricted and your… journey… must be stricken from any record. No one will speak of it. Is that understood?”
“Sir.”
“Yessir.”
“Very good. Now, please take your seats.”
Toshiro sat quietly, his heart still sore over the loss of Matsumoto. She had been missing since the invasion – and the last thing he said to her was “I’m depending on you.” What kind of message was that, when he’d left her in the middle of the night? Still, Momo was safe, recovering with Nel at their family home – and even if he’d been sentenced to prison, he was convinced that he’d done what was right.
Looking around, he took stock of the missing faces, and felt his heart drop further. Isane had stepped up to Unohana’s seat and was doing a suitable job. The Doctor still hadn’t been found – and something about the way Yamamoto had called off the search so quickly was sitting ill with him.
Hisagi was sitting carefully, his body still fighting the poison. Juushiro and Shunsui seemed to be fully recovered, as did Byakuya, Renji and Rukia. Komamura and Iba looked tired, having taken on the enormous task of running the city during its most delicate hours. Mayuri was absent, his body still in traction, and his ever loyal Nemu was busy handling the lab.
Zaraki was missing – and there was no representative from the 11th filling the seat. Was it a message?
“I have another item to bring to the table.” Yamamoto barked, breaking Toshiros train of thought. “Of course, the decision is not ours, but the citizens of this city – still I would like you to hear my choice before it goes public.” The table remained silent, listening curiously.
“As you know I’ve been your interim leader for several years, ever since the last mayor disappeared – presumed dead – and Aizen had his fruitless ‘election’. It is past time that this city had a Mayoral Candidate, and I step back to continue working as I was meant to - from beyond the city limits, with the greater government.” He had everyone’s attention now, but his gaze stopped to rest on one person in particular.
“I would like to put forward Shunsui Kyouraku as my recommendation for Mayor in this City.”
Murmurs and nods of approval, before a light round of applause began and Shunsui half stood in his chair, gently bowing his acceptance to Yamamoto – clearly this had been discussed prior to the meeting.
“I humbly accept.” He said quietly, hooded eyes pained.
“So enthusiastic.” Juushiro murmured, trying to hold back his shit-eating grin. Shunsui just glared at him.
“Very good.” Yamamoto nodded and waved a hand to have him sit. “There is one last thing, that I think must be said here – as it may seem minor but will have rippling consequences for all of you.”
The attendees fell silent once more. Yamamoto cleared his throat and hesitated. Juushiro and Byakuya looked at him sharply – the old man never hesitated.
“It seems that Kenpachi Zaraki will be taking a sabbatical.” He said firmly. Confused looks from the gathered chiefs. Yamamoto continued. “The 11th Hour will be under the administration of Ikkaku Madarame and Yumichika Ayasegawa for the next twelve months. Captain Zaraki will be taking a year.”
Byakuya frowned, thinking hard. “Taking a year for what?” He finally asked.
“For whatever he needs.” Yamamoto said quietly. “That man has earned it, more than you’ll know.”
Ichigo stood outside the 11th Hour barracks with Orihime, Ikkaku and Yumichika. It was a perfect day, sweet breezes and not a cloud in the sky. Kenpachi finally stepped out with a rucksack on one shoulder and Yachiru on the other, dressed in his usual black, sunglasses firmly in place, his large black motorcycle glinting in the sun.
“Dunno why you came.” He grunted at the small party smiling at him. “It’s not like I’m dyin’.”
“Gotta make sure you have your GPS all set.” Ikkaku muttered sullenly. Yumichika patted his shoulder in support and offered them all an understanding smile.
“A year is a long time!” Ichigo laughed. “Plus, we brought snacks – for the trip.” He held up a small, pink backpack – the perfect size for Yachiru to sling over her shoulders. The girl stepped out from behind her father and grinned. “You’re so thoughtful, Ichi!” Orihime giggled at Ichigos wince – he hated that nickname. Taking the backpack, Yachiru looped it on her shoulders then scrambled up onto the waiting motorcycle.
The big man looked over to her, and she nodded. Ready. Kenpachi mounted the bike without preamble, kicking it to life with a loud roar. Making sure Yachiru had her helmet buckled firmly in place, he gave one last nod to the waiting party.
“Alright. Be seeing you.” His voice was soft over the rumble of the engine. A nod from each of them… and it was time to go.
With a roar, the motorcycle gently rolled away, before picking up speed onto the main road and disappearing around a corner, Yachiru’s delighted laugh flowing behind them like a farewell banner.
Ichigo turned to Orihime and smiled softly, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they said a quiet good bye and headed home.
Ikkaku scuffed a shoe, unable to look away from where the bike had disappeared.
“He’ll be ok.” Yumichika said quietly, linking his fingers through his lovers. “He just needs time to sort through his heart.”
“I know that.” Ikkaku replied just as quietly, giving Yumi’s hand a soft squeeze. “I just… I can’t stand seeing him go like that.”
“Like what?”
Ikkaku finally broke his stare and gave Yumichika a sad smile. “Like a man who doesn’t remember what he’s living for.”
The two of them spent several more minutes in silence, leaning on each other, gathering comfort from each other as they considered their captain, and the secrets he’d held for so long.
“Do you think he’s looking for her?”
“No.” Ikkaku bit his lip thoughtfully. “I think he’s just looking for something beyond Yachiru that brings him any kind of feeling anymore. I think... I think he’s looking for his soul.”
Yumichika elbowed him gently, and laughed, “That’s pretty deep, there, Ikkaku - I never picked you for a poet.”
“Shuttup!” Ikkaku growled, before pulling him in for a surprisingly searing kiss, right there in the street. He pulled away, and gazed softly into Yumi’s eyes, showing him all the love, he possibly could – determined to never have him question it. Yumi smiled, his own love reflected clearly in the smile he wore.
Life was returning to normal, and the ‘terrorist attack’ – as it was being called by the papers – was becoming a story, and a tragedy. Just another tile in the wall of their history. Students went to school; people learned and grew and worked. Businesses thrived and fell. Traffic ebbed and flowed.
The seasons changed one after another, relationships blooming and flourishing, while others withered and died.
Life, as it was, continued.
And they all would never forget it - the ones who kept the city together during its greatest threat. They quietly thanked each other for being there. For doing what was right when there were so many reasons not to. For holding the line when all seemed lost.
Peace, that fragile, trembling thing, was strengthened by the bonds they had with each other.
As the two men made their way back inside, the sun rose higher in sky, lighting the city in a beautiful glow. And they knew, beyond a doubt – that if trouble ever threatened again…
They would be ready. They would all be ready.
Together.
THE END.
Notes:
Thankyou.
Thankyou so much for making it to this point.
Thankyou for reading and (hopefully) enjoying this story.
I hope you'll forgive the ending, and read onto the Epilogue... I promise it's worth it.
Chapter 41: Epilogue
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Epilogue
1 YEAR LATER...
(Give or take a month)
“Would you stop fussing!”
“I’m not fussing – I’m grooming.”
“Should the Groom be doing that?”
“Well maybe if you’d hurry up and put a ring on it, I would!”
Ikkaku scoffed at that, rolling his eyes with a notable blush and allowing Yumichika to finish tying his tie ‘properly’.
Today was important to him – well, it was important to a lot of people – but it wasn’t every day you got invited to a wedding for a pseudo-celebrity and had the chance to end up as a ‘What Are They Wearing’ op in a magazine. The sun was already hunting the horizon, and if they didn’t get there before the ceremony, while the light was good – Ikkaku would never hear the end of it.
“Finished?” Ikkaku asked when those slim fingers finally stopped dancing around his throat. Yumi opened his mouth to snap a reply but was cut off by a familiar voice.
“As if he’d be finished trying to make your scrawny ass look good.”
Ikkaku’s eye widened as they both turned to take in the hulking, grinning form of Kenpachi Zaraki.
“Baldy! Yun-Yun!”
…And Yachiru Kusajishi.
The pink haired pre-teen flew into the barracks running into the open arms of the two men with a cry of delight as they greeted and welcomed her warmly. After a moment, Ikkaku broke off, straightening his shoulders and marching up to Kenpachi, standing toe to toe with the man.
“You got some balls just waltzing back in like you own the place.” He growled in challenge.
Kenpachi removed his sunglasses, eyes gleaming in excitement, and that familiar, shark-like grin spreading across his face slowly.
“I do own the place, cue-ball. You looking to take me on for the title?”
Ikkaku said nothing, just grinned, his own fighting spirit ignited, and the two began to shift their weight in readiness-
“Nooo – NO! Absolutely not.” Yumichika interjected, coming between them with a firm hand pressed directly on Ikkaku’s face, and a wagging finger far too close to Kenpachi’s teeth to be safe.
“We are on our way to a wedding, in case you’ve forgotten, and I won’t have you two showing up bleeding and bruised on the front cover of the tabloids.” Yumichika loved to fight – but being a social butterfly took precedence at just this moment.
“Yeah! That’s why we’re here too! Me’n’Kenny got an e-vite.”
Ikkaku lifted Yumi’s hand off his face and grinned at Kenpachi.
“Good to have you back, Captain.”
Kenpachi nodded, and Ikkaku saw the smallest hint of warmth, and friendship in his eyes. He sighed in relief – clearly, the year off had done what no amount of booze or work or fighting could have.
Kenpachi has found his lust for life again.
The enormous open rooftop at the fanciest hotel in town might have been the perfect idea for a dream wedding – but for over eighty guests in haute couture – it was also a little… warm.
Yumichika, Ikkaku, Kenpachi and Yachiru rode the elevator to the top, quietly ignoring Yumi’s constant preening and primping.
“If you put on any more lip gloss, you’re going to reflect the damn cameras.” Ikkaku sniped.
Yumi ignored him, put the little stick back in his pocket, and swanned forward at the precise moment the doors opened, making a spectacular entrance into the pre-wedding security check.
“Invites, please gentlemen.” A black suited, sunglassed man said politely, waving a magnetic wand over Yumi’s front and sides.
“Looks like you’ve got this under control.” Ikkaku said to the security team, who promptly straightened and gave him a respectful nod. Everyone knew the 11th.
“Yes sir,” The polite guard answered, waving his wand over Ikkaku. “I was taught never to take my eyes off my target – no matter…who… I’m…” The man trailed off as his mouth slackened and his hand dropped to his sides. Ikkaku smirked and sniggered as he listened to the quiet gasps of the security team and other waiting guests in the small checkpoint.
Kenpachi Zaraki stepped into the light – and was looking good.
The big man lifted a lip is disdain and eased his collar with one finger. The tailored black suit fit him perfectly. Dark shoes polished to a glassy shine. Long, long, long legs tapering to a firm waist and broad heavily muscled chest, hidden behind a simple, black button-down shirt. His black suit jacket, belt with simple silver buckle and lack of a tie only set off the look further, making the scarred, rugged man seem chic, sleek and mysterious.
Yumi appraised his masterpiece with a critical eye. It had taken less than an hour to find this outfit - thanks to his online shopping prowess – and they had managed to get to the store just before closing, wearing the thing straight out the door, into a taxi and off to the ceremony.
Kenpachi had only complained once – and that was quickly squashed by the simple comment: “Imagine the look on Kuchiki’s face.”
Yachiru walked beside Kenny with all the contained excitement of a puppy going for a walk. The adorable pale pink dress flared demurely from her waist, giving her a slightly more grown up, yet still childlike fashion that she preferred. A short sleeved fluffy white camisole covered her shoulders, and her bubble-gum pink hair was neatly pulled back with a white pin.
“Cap…Zarak…Sir!” The polite security guard said sharply, standing to attention and practically radiating excitement. “It’s good to see you back, sir!”
“Yeah, yeah don’t get your panties in a knot.” Kenpachi groused, running a hand over his wild black mane – which no amount of Yumi’s products could possibly control in such a short amount of time.
The small group entered the rooftop like a rock in still pond.
Yumichika peacocked himself proudly, showing off his designer suit for the snapping photographers, as Ikkaku was relegated to bag bitch, nearby. Kenpachi stood still as a rock – and just as excitedly. Staring down his nose at the assembled gossiping masses, until he spotted a familiar face and decided to play it safe.
“Yo – Kurosaki!”
Ichigo whirled from his position at the front of the neatly lined chairs and stared at the man coming towards him with a look of shock and happiness.
“Kenpachi!” He ran over and grabbed the offered hand, shaking it until he winced and grinned like a mad man. “I can’t believe you made it! It’s great to see you!”
Kenpachi smiled evilly and squeezed the hand a little tighter. “Really? If you’re that excited, we could always take this-“ he glanced around as he was about to say ‘outside’ and corrected himself “-downstairs? I’m sure Kuchiki’s got a couple of things we could use to fight with!”
Ichigo just laughed heartily, not even surprised by the man’s one track mind, and deeply moved to see him back and grinning over the joy of a fight. His grin sharpened and he surprised Kenpachi when he squeezed right back and said, “Maybe later. I’ve got something I have to do first.” Kenpachi’s excitement ramped up at the promise of a fight with Ichigo, smirking hugely as the man walked back to the front of the petal lines aisle.
“Find a seat on the groom’s side – and try not to kill anybody, ok?” Ichigo called back, clearly still happily reeling from the surprise appearance. As the big captain carefully made his way to a seat in the back – a row that was still blessedly empty – He took stock of his surroundings. A habit, and a handy one at that.
The open rectangular rooftop was raised several stairs above the elevator bay and security checkpoint. The waist high glass fencing surrounding the area was bedecked in pale pink and white flowers, garlands and ribbons. Two columns of white silk wrapped chairs marched in neat rows down the dark wood panelled flooring, lining a deep red carpet that ran the length of the rooftop from the elevator area, to a large, flower draped archway at the far end. The view from the rooftop was gorgeous – the city laid out in the mid-afternoon sun like a carpet of jewels, glinting and reflecting light to the distant blue horizon beyond.
Kenpachi noted several familiar faces and pretended to ignore the shocked looks of those who recognized him. He saw Shunsui and his assistant Nanao sitting near the front, chatting comfortably with Juushiro Ukitake and an unfamiliar, bored looking man. A small blonde teen on the other side of them tapped the man’s arm rapidly and pointed right at Kenpachi, clearly asking who he was.
When the man’s silver gaze met his, something shifted between them, and Kenpachi felt his hackles rising, his killing edge sharpening, and his tongue flicked out to lick a single, sharp canine. The man narrowed his eyes, and his mouth thinned – clearly feeling and sending the same threatening vibes.
As if sensing the change in the air, Juushiro turned to his guest and flicked a glance towards Kenpachi whispering softly in his guests ear, until the man murmured a reply, and turned away, placing his hand softly in Juushiro’s. They smiled gently at each other, and Kenpachi scoffed, knowing another potential fight had just been squandered.
On the groom’s side, he noted Iba, who gave him a stiff nod – clearly trying to contain his excitement – and Hitsugaya, sitting next to that Momo Hinamori girl. Toshiro turned in his chair several rows ahead to give a nod of greeting – which was quickly returned – then twisted back to continue chatting quietly with the guest on his other side, a tall well-built young man Kenpachi remembered as friend of Ichigos. Yasu…chado…?
The seats began to fill up as the string quartet by the archways played slightly louder, the music filling the air. Kenpachi stopped trying to recognise faces and realised he should probably be watching the actual ceremony itself. The seated, murmuring crowd hushed as the wedding march began to play, and everyone turned to watch the bride arrive.
Kenpachi raised a brow. I have to admit he thought to himself, the girl scrubs up well.
“Kenny…” Yachiru whispered, hushed, “She looks beautiful!”
Kenpachi grinned and took off his sunglasses, locking eyes with Byakuya for just a moment, as he escorted the bride down the aisle. His scarred face crinkled with glee as the noble looked away hurriedly, blushing like a princess. Kenpachi chuckled to himself, amused that the stick was still firmly up Byakuya’s ass – and still clearly preventing him from coming out of the closet.
Yamamoto stepped up to the archway in a traditional Kimono, a small book in one hand as he smiled gently, ready to officiate the wedding. Camera’s flashed and people ‘awwed’ over the simple white gown and train the bride wore, as Kenpachi looked to the grooms side, please to see Shuuhei and Kira putting a supporting hand on the groom. And it looked like he needed it.
Kenpachi had never seen Renji Abarai as overwhelmed as he was in this moment – his wedding day.
On the bride’s side, Orihime and Ichigo grinned and beamed as Byakuya shook Renji’s hand firmly (if that wince was anything to go by) and formally retreated to his seat. Rukia handed her bridal bouquet to Ichigo, and turned her violet eyes on Renji. At that moment, Kenpachi watched all the colour return to Renji’s face, all the tension ease from his shoulders. He saw love radiating between the two so heavily, that even his cold heart could feel it – and he knew:
They belonged together.
The ceremony began, with several humorous anecdotes from Yamamoto and a set of weirdly specific and technically accurate vows from Rukia that had several people smothering laughs. Renji’s vows were traditional and deep, and Kenpachi would see the approving nods of the Kuchiki family members – clearly, Renji had some help in this matter.
As the rings were exchanged, Kenpachi clearly heard Yumichika gasp from several rows away at the diamond on Rukias finger. Another Kuchiki heirloom, most likely. Tears flowed as Yamamoto offered his final words before saying: “I now pronounce you, married. You may express your love for all to see.”
Renji bent to kiss Rukia awkwardly, before wrapping his arms around her and lifting her off her feet to the applause and hoots of the assembles guests. They kissed long and lovingly, before breaking apart with matching grins and waving at the crowd.
“Do you think we’ll ever have love like that, Kenny?” Yachiru asked, her eyes wide and a little wistful.
The moment froze for him, and he shook his head, clearing any negative thoughts for a later, less joyful time.
“You will, kid.” He said softly. “You will.”
“Look, I still don’t get it – but I’m not complaining.” Iba slurred, slapping Renji on the back in congratulations. “Why would you *hic* wanna have a reception here, when you coulda had the fanciest place in town?”
Before the groom could answer, Toshiro stepped up, holding a single beer bottle. “And what’s wrong with this place?” He sipped his delicately, watching Iba.
The Lieutenant babbled what sounded like an apology, before Ikkaku rescued him by dragging him away to play pool.
“He’s right though,” Toshiro said quietly, looking up at Renji and Shuuhei, “Why did you choose this place? I offered you my best bar downtown – it has a massive function area – very popular with celebrity parties at the moment-“
Renji looked around the crowded Snowball Bar, with its chalkboard menus and well used pool tables. He eyed the worn booths and tables that were just starting to creak with age. He took in the strange assembly of people – from the stiff, upper crust Kuchiki nobles, to the scarred, fun-loving friends and chosen family. He could see the pillar where he’d drunkenly carved his and Rukia’s initials one night, and the dent in the far wall where he’d taken a swing at Ichigo the first time he’d misunderstood his relationship with Rukia. He took in the booth where he’d finally taken her out on an official first date – spiling his beer all over her, and the pool table where she had absolutely sharked him out of twenty dollars.
All their memories. Their history. Looking back to Toshiro with a grin, he answered.
“Because this is our home.”
Across the bar, Kyouraku sat with Kenpachi and Juushiro, flanking him as they railed him with questions about his ‘sabbatical.’
“So where did you go?”
“Did you meet anyone?”
“Was the food good?”
“Were they hot?”
“How was the exchange rate?”
“I need details.”
Kenpachi swung his head back and forth between them, growing more and more frustrated until he finally slammed his drink down and snapped his teeth at them, effectively shutting them up. Juushiro laughed first, then Kyouraku joined in, guffawing merrily before Kenpachi finally felt himself chuckle, completely lost in mood of the moment.
“How about you two answer some of my questions.” He said softly. It wasn’t a request.
“What do you want to know?” Shunsui asked, wiping a tear from his eye.
“First off, I don’t give a shit what’s happened since I’ve been gone – Ikkaku emailed me the important stuff. After Aizen died, the Espada disbanded, the Arrancar remained in Hueco Mundo. Blah blah blah.” He parodied. “But what about those escaped ones? Grimmjow? And the other two?”
The two men’s faces darkened at the mention of Aizen, but it was Juushiro who answered.
“Harribel has made it known that she intends to return to Hueco Mundo, to try and organise the remaining forces into a more legally compliant body. We’re not considering her a threat for now. Ginjo-”
“-We’ve got nothing to tell you about Ginjo.” Kyourku cut in smoothly, sipping at his beer to end that line of questioning.
Too Smoothly… Kenpachi thought, watching them over the rim of his own drink.
“And Grimmjow is playing hide and come get me with Ichigo, keeping the kid on his toes.” Juushiro finished with a stiff smile.
“Sounds like he needs a hand.” Kenpachi growled, the thought of tracking down the notorious killer only sounding more and more enticing.
“He’s fine as he is.” Kyouraku chuckled, turning his head to watch the gaggle of young people dancing and laughing as they surrounded the happy couple with love and shouts of encouragement. He saw Renji lift Rukia off the ground for another searing kiss, which she broke away from to yell at everyone victoriously “That’s my husband!!” Everyone cheered and hooted.
Kyouraku stood up, swaying slightly on his feet. “We want to keep him focussed on Kurosaki.” He said with a hint of a slur. “As long as he is, he’s harmless to anyone else – he doesn’t want to hurt anyone but Ichigo… and himself. Sound familiar?” With a last knowing smile, he whirled away, cheering as he saw Shinji Hirako, Kensei Muguruma and Rojuro Otoribashi walk through the doors, slinging an arm around Shinji and steering him to the dance floor.
“And that’s your new Mayor?” Kenpachi asked dryly, raising a brow.
“As of next week, it’ll be official. This is his last night of…” Juushiro saw Shunsui run crotch first into a low table and sighed as a howl carried over the music. “… debauchery.”
Kenpachi watched as Nanao scurried over and began hissing in his ear, gripping his shoulder and sitting him firmly in a nearby chair.
“And what about those two?” Kenpachi asked, surprising himself with the question.
A deep sigh from Juushiro, just as the dark, scruffy man from earlier stepped close behind him, placing a territorial hand on his shoulder. Juushiro covered the hand with his own and answered softly.
“Those two… are oil and water. They fight… they break up… they kiss and make up… but honestly? After a year of watching it – even knowing how deeply they feel for each other – I don’t think it’s very healthy.”
Kenpachi glanced at the man over Juushiro’ shoulder, who acted as though Kenpachi didn’t exist, yet seemed to be aware of every move he made. Kenpachi snorted. “You’re one to talk about healthy relationships, Ukitake. From what I heard – didn’t this guy try to kill you?” Ikkaku had filled him in on that little tidbit on the trip to the bar.
Juushiro flushed, but it was Starrk who answered dryly. “Not everything is as black and white as you seem to think, Mr. Zaraki.”
“You don’t see what I’ve seen and still believe that shades of grey matter.” He scoffed, finishing his beer and turning to look for Yachiru – knowing she’d be stuck on Byakuya like a burr.
“Sounds to me like nothing really matters to you, Mr. Zaraki.”
“Starrk…”Juushiro said softly, squeezing his hand.
Kenpachi turned and looked down at the man, appreciating his unflinching stare, but not about to let this ex-Espada… this ex-enemy… speak to him like that.
“Be careful, Espada.” He growled, leaning in threateningly. “I’ve killed worse things then you, and still managed to show up in a better-looking suit.” With a smirk, he walked away, mentally cursing.
Less than a day around Ayasegawa and I’m already sounding like that asshole!
Across the room the reception raged like a wild party more than a dignified upper echelon soiree. Toshiro watched with narrowed eyes as Kira attempted to unsuccessfully flirt with Momo. The girl took pity on him, and invited him to dance for a moment, but he seemed to lose all momentum, and ended up doing some sort of Macarena/Single Ladies hybrid. It was, frankly, horrific.
Shuuhei had disappeared – but Ikkaku had seen the man dragging Kensei into the bathrooms, fingers tugging at his pants hurriedly, grinning like crazy. He’d had the same idea – but Yumichika was loathe to get busy in ‘filthy places’, as he called them.
Komamura had arrived late and left early, escorting a very tipsy Yamamoto home, and wishing the happy couple a promising future. Byakuya stood near the pool tables, listening to Yachiru chattering away as she neatly pocketed every ball in its pocket, making Rose’s eyes pop in surprise. There was no sign of Urahara or Yoruichi, but gossip held that a family tragedy had occurred shortly after the war, and neither of them had left the Shihoin compound since.
The night was filled with laughter, good company and the feeling of warmth that came from comrades enjoying a peace well earned. Even Nemu Kurotsuchi showed up, dragging along her ‘date’, Uryuu Ishida. There was so much teasing and innuendo, that if not for Chads intervention, the boy would have stormed off, leaving without giving well wishes to the bride and groom.
Kenpachi looked around, seeing the smiling faces, the comfortable easy way these people drank and laughed and flirted. He saw a life outside of his own – a world of wholesome, living people that believed in hope and joy, and a future brighter than their past.
But that wasn’t him. That wasn’t his life.
He’d spent the last year in constant movement. Learning. Fighting. Growing – well, as much as he wanted to. And after all his efforts, forgetting was the one thing that just wouldn’t happen. The best thing in his life was the pink haired kid that just didn’t let him give up. The little spot of light in an otherwise dark and instinctive world of fighting and blood. And she fitted in with them all so well – so perfectly.
But him?
After all this time, he still didn’t belong here.
He had finally moved past it. Finally found his way back to his own sense of joy – and it just wasn’t the same as theirs. He’d hardened his heart, sharpened his sword, and decided to move past her.
But there was no escaping the memories of this city – and while the good ones were so very sweet, so very tempting – they were chipping at his defences, seeping in through the cracks and aching like fresh wounds. When he was here, he could still hear her voice. Still taste her blood in the air as they fought, her lips as they kissed. He closed his eyes and saw the sun dancing across white cotton sheets, hiding and revealing her as she reached for him, love in her eyes.
A false love. A lie.
Shaking his head with frustration, Kenpachi downed his beer and moved away from where he’d secluded himself in a far booth. Time to go. Time to put this city, and all it’s memories in his rear-view mirror. Time to say goodbye… for good, this time, to get as far away from this PTSD inducing city and off to a new life.
He’d had a lot of opportunities while he’d been away – seen a lot of chances to start fresh. But he had held a seed of hope that there might be someone waiting for him here. Something to ground and still him. Something to make him put down roots and stay.
But he was wrong.
As he made his way past the happily dancing people, hoping for an exit without resistance, her heard the double doors to the bar swing open wide, and an ever widening hush, like ripples in a pond, ebb from the entrance.
In the doorway, framed by the glowing lights and the lightest drizzle of summer rain, stood Retsu Unohana.
Time stopped.
Her long, dark hair flowed like a curtain of silk down her back. A simple, pale, strapless dress brushed at her knees. And those eyes – those haunted, deep blue eyes – they caught him, seared him, rendered him completely at their mercy. Days, Weeks, Months had passed. Hours and minutes and every second of his waking life she’d been somewhere in his thoughts.
How on earth had he ever thought he could move past this woman, once he’d finally had her in his arms? How had he ever thought to hate her? Discard her? Seeing her there, looking like she always did in his dreams – he knew with a sudden terrible clarity, that he would never - could never - stop loving her.
No one moved. No one spoke. Several stunned faces turned from her to him and back again. No one had seen Unohana since the day she’d disappeared – the day the war ended. And now, here she was at Renji and Rukia’s wedding reception, looking different and determined and haunted and so goddamn beautiful he could barely think.
“You’re late.” He said, not knowing how his voice was even working with the dry, hopeful, bitter taste in his throat. All eyes turned to him, most in confusion, but with a widening sense of understanding and shock. On still dancefloor, Yumichiki gripped Ikkaku’s arm, one hand to his mouth as tears filled his eyes.
“I got lost.” She replied in a husky voice.
She walked towards him.
He walked to her.
The crowd parted like the Red Sea.
“You think this makes it all ok?” He snarled, passions ignited by her – the need to fight and fuck and kiss and breath her. To drink her in like a sweet, violent poison.
“No.” She replied, her eyes sparkling with everything he’d missed – everything he thought she’d taken from him. “But if I ask your forgiveness – will you give it?”
Taking one final step, they stood toes to toe in a combative stance, her head tilted to stare up at him, his looking down, lips curled in anger. His heart thundered in his chest, drowning out every other sound, every other person, every other thought but how close she was to him, after all this time.
The party was silent. Not a movement, not a sound. All eyes were locked on them, waiting for his answer like the million-dollar question. Juushiro grabbed Starrk’s hand without glancing away and squeezed it tight. Shunsui ducked his head, grinning widely – he knew exactly what the big, lonely warrior would say to the beautiful, deadly killer.
With a speed bordering on unnatural, Kenpachi gripped the woman by the arms bent down, pressing his lips so firmly against hers he tasted blood. The taste of her… the feel, the smell – it overwhelmed his senses, sending him reeling and falling all over again… as if he’d ever stopped?
Pulling back, his scarred lips trembled as he locked eyes with the woman he loved more than fighting. More than winning. More than life itself.
“I’ll give you everything.” He whispered. “You already own my heart. You always have, woman. And there ain’t nothing you can do that will make me stop loving you.”
Unohana let out choked breath, tears filling her eyes as she finally whispered the words: “I love you.”
Wrapping his arms around her waist, he lifted her effortlessly up against his chest, kissing her with all the months of longing that had passed. As she wrapped her arms around his neck, Retsu closed her eyes and drowned in his kiss, pushing back just as hard, determined to prove beyond a doubt, that this was love, after all.
The bar erupted into spontaneous wolf whistles, cheering and clapping, with Rukia, Renji, Ichigo and Orihime hooting and hollering like a gang of hooligans. Ikkaku and Yumichika, along with every person connected to the 11th Hour began cheering like the final goal of a championship sports match, pumping their fists and screaming in (quite frankly) lewd enthusiasm. By the pool tables, Yachiru watched her father and Re-Chan with wide eyes, and an even wider smile.
“Kenny is so happy…” She murmured out loud, her words nearly lost to the ruckus.
Beside her, Byakuya watched the display like a stage show and muttered with exhausted patience “It’s about time.”
Around the bar, people got caught up in the excitement, they hugged and kissed with abandon, dancing wildly as the music began to play again, connected to the hype and good feeling brought on by such a dramatic moment.
As the music swung, and the bar began to jump with movement, Retsu slowly pulled away, her lips full and bruised, fingers tangling in his hair as she looked at him like a woman starved, mapping every shadow, every line of his face with eyes that saw everything.
“I’m sorry.” She said quietly, her words full of genuine sadness. She knew she’d hurt him badly. Knew that after the heat of the moment, perhaps that forgiveness wouldn’t come so quickly.
“I know ya are.” He rumbled, squeezing her tighter to him. “But I ain’t ready to forgive you just yet.”
Her face fell – but her resolve was iron clad.
“You’ll just have to show me just how badly you missed me.” He said, grinning that sexy grin that made her knees turn to jelly. Eyes hooded, panting slightly, Unohana wanted nothing more than to have him right then and there.
“When can I start?” She purred, voice silky with need.
Kenpachi swallowed hard, his cock pulsing in his trousers, already aching for her – he hadn’t been with anyone since their last time together, and his immediate response made that painfully obvious.
“Let’s-“
He was cut off by Ikkaku and Yumichika, interrupting them to cheer and say how pleased they were for the happy couple. Distracted, Kenpachi released Retsu, letting her slide down his body – a mistake - as the friction on his trapped erection was slow torture.
The two cast longing glances at each other, then looked down at their hands and shared a private smile. Linking their fingers, they joined the party.
Behind the bar, Toshiro ducked his head lips curling softly, secretly happy for the odd pair. Each of them was so unique, so troubled and dark, but so full of love for only each other. He was glad they’d found each other in this way – they looked… happy. A shadow fell over his eyes, and his smile faded.
He just wished Rangiku could have been there to see it.
Grabbing a few extra bottles from under the counter, he stood up and jumped back when he found Kyouraku leaning too far over, watching him like a kid watches a monkey at the zoo.
“What?!” He snapped his emotional dials too far out of whack to respond with the proper amount of respect for the soon to be Mayor.
“You look so saaad, Shiro!” Shunsui said in a baby voice, and for an instant, Toshiro saw red.
“Don’t call me that. Don’t ever call me that.” He snapped, determined to ignore the man.
“Ok! OK! I’m sorry! I just wanted to show you something.” Shunsui slurred, holding up his hands defensively.
Toshiro rolled his eyes, about to walk away, but decided he shouldn’t go pissing off government officials at a wedding in his own bar… especially now his penance had finally ended.
Shunsui searched his pockets for a moment, muttering to himself, before exclaiming ‘Ah-ha!’’ and pulling forth a single piece of glossy paper. He handed it to Toshiro, saying in a voice much less inebriated than it had been ten seconds ago: “This was taken two days ago, in London.”
As Toshiro focused on the glossy, slightly blurry photograph of a tiny, street side café, his eyes widened in shock at the image of gently held hands and the way the love clearly showed on the smiling, contented faces...
…Of Gin and Rangiku.
The night continued as a celebration of love and life. Kenpachi and Retsu drank and talked about his time on the road, avoiding discussing her absence until they were alone. He told her about climbing mountains with Yachiru and visiting hidden villages in the mist. The ancient trails he’d gotten lost on and the martial arts masters he’d tracked down to fight and learn from.
She sat beside him, or on his knee the entire time, smiling and greeting old friends, sipping her drink and hugging in comfort and solace with those whose grief she had missed during her absence. Yachiru had been the first in line, hugging her so tight she squeaked, and shaking a finger at her to never leave them again.
Retsu smiled at that, looking at them both warmly, and replied. “I promise.”
Yachiru had held onto an edge of her dress for another hour as they talked and caught up, as though afraid to let her go.
Eventually the night began to wind down, and the music put out a few sporadic hits to use people’s last ounces of energy out before heading home.
A familiar tune began to play, and with tired grins, nearly every remaining guest tiptoed to the dance floor on tired feet, knowing it would be the last song of the night.
Retsu finally stood, taking Kenpachi’s hand and tugging him gently, a mischievous smile on her face.
“C’mon big guy, let’s go – show me what moves you’ve got.”
He raised a single brow. Was she serious?
“I don’t think so.”
Laughing with the heat of a woman in love, she tugged him again, knowing he allowed himself to get dragged to his feet. As she turned, holding his hand above her head, he felt himself being lead to the centre of the dance floor and groaned.
Kenpachi Zaraki did not dance.
Looking over her shoulder, she grinned at his amused, regretful face and called back with a laugh “Just shuttup and dance with me!”
As the song wound up, and her feet began to patter around him, Kenpachi grabbed her in one arm, spun her around and dipped, kissing her soundly, before setting her back on her feet and standing still as a tree, tapping one foot in time – the most concession he was willing to make.
Staggering, Retsu let out a shocked breath and asked, “Where did you learn that?”
He flashed her that shark like grin and replied, “You won’t make me dance, woman. But I can take you for a whirl whenever you want.”
Raising her hands to his cheeks, she pulled him down, placing the sweetest, softest kiss on his lips, then his scarred cheek, then his lips again. A promising kiss.
“Whenever I want?” She asked softly as the music began to fade, and the dawn stretched gentle fingers through the sky. “For how long?”
He smiled at her – an honest, open smile that showed the man he was, and the man he would always be. Scarred lips, a hand to her cheek, and voice that offered pain and pleasure… and love.
“Why don’t we start with forever?”
Fin.
Notes:
And that's all she wrote, folks!
You marvelous, amazing people - I can't love you enough for being with me till the end! THANKYOU for reading, thankyou for commenting! If you enjoyed this story, please - LET ME KNOW ABOUT IT!!
Will there be more? Will we find out why Unohana left - and what she was doing? Where are Gin and Rangiku? What happened to Nel? And who is this mysterious 'Ginjo Kugo?'
Well...
.... I feel a little mystery is a good place to end...
...for now.
xx Kim
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