Chapter Text
"What you are asking for is no longer possible."
Plucking a wayward flower petal from his bowl of sake, Shunsui looked up at the zanpakutō spirit sitting across from him. The blanket between them was littered with the hanafuda cards he'd used to win even the right to ask his question. A hundred hands later and that was not the answer he'd been expecting.
"No longer?" he asked carefully, flicking the petal away.
Katen Kyōkotsu inclined her head towards the far end of the garden, where a tangled mass of white bone and scarlet flowers marked the place Shinken Hakkyōken lay hidden, safe from Central 46's prying eyes.
Rage rose in Shunsui's chest at the memory of his sister-in-law's murder and, in response, the shadows seethed into motion, reaching out with midnight fingers across grassy banks and flower beds.
Unlike those in the real world, these shadows moved independent of any light or structure to cast them, for Shunsui's garden had no boundary wall, only a border of ever deepening darkness that always made Shunsui's skin creep when he stared at it for too long. It made him feel like he was being watched.
He shuddered and looked away.
Was it possible that something did lurk within those shadows?
With a sigh, he resigned himself to investigating. If Katen Kyōkotsu was telling the truth, it wasn't like he was going to have much else to do. Like say, bankai.
Jūshirō was going to be disappointed. He'd envisaged them both being captains, Shunsui knew, each working whatever angle he could find to make their dreams for change come true.
Perhaps Shunsui could be his lieutenant instead.
A sharp gust of wind whipped the hat from his head. Shunsui grabbed for it before it could be sent tumbling across the grass and glared at his zanpakutō spirit. "What was that for?" he demanded.
"You were getting maudlin," Katen Kyōkotsu replied, taking a dainty sip from her bowl. "And giving up far too soon, as usual."
Shunsui grimaced as the barb hit home. It was a fact that he tended to take the easy route when confronted with a problem, but he didn't see how taking her word at face value was the same as giving up.
"You're the one who said bankai wasn't possible any more," he protested, replacing his hat and screwing it as tightly to his head as it would go. "What else am I supposed to do?"
She levelled a look at him over the top of her sake bowl. "You could start by asking why."
Oh. He hadn't thought of that.
He tried it.
The answer she gave was yet another thing he'd not been expecting, and he left that place with his mind in a whirl.
Shinjū - a suicide pact. Hideously dangerous, not only to the enemy but to the wielder as well. Of course he couldn't involve the Divine Sword in something like that. At least, not without protection.
Luckily he knew just the person to speak to when it came to wanting to know about shields.
#
It was going on a week before he managed to touch base with Jūshirō. They met up in an izakaya halfway between the 5th and Central. Shunsui arrived first and so was relaxing in the corner, their drinks and snacks already on the table by the time Jūshirō swept in just ahead of what looked to be some wild weather.
"Goodness me," he said, removing his dripping cloak and handing it off with a grateful nod to a serving boy to take somewhere to dry. "That's working up to be quite the night." As he sat, Shunsui caught the scent of ozone lingering around him, as though he was the source of the storm not the sky.
"Wet is it?" he asked brightly.
Jūshirō gave him a slightly jaundiced look across the table and continued gathering wet strands of hair back into his hair-tie. "I see you managed to avoid the worst, as usual."
Shunsui gave him a lazy grin and reached out to pour him a bowl of sake. Steam rose from the surface of the clear liquid. "I will admit to swapping a training session for document delivery. It's hardly my fault the work day ended before I could get back."
Jūshirō's tut of disapproval was well and truly ruined by his amused smile. "I have no idea why Captain Ayaoni lets you get away with such behaviour," he said.
"Must be my rakish good looks," Shunsui tossed back, putting the sake jug down close enough to Jūshirō's hand that he should take the hint. Sure enough Shunsui's bowl was soon refilled and he picked it up, leaning back against the wooden backrest.
Around them, the usual early evening crowd had been swelled by the weather, and the area around the bar was jammed with patrons, none of whom were taking an interest in them. Even so, Shunsui lowered his voice before he ventured, "I have something I need to speak to you about."
Jūshirō's brows rose and he glanced back over his shoulder, no doubt undertaking the same security sweep of the bar that Shunsui had just completed. "Do you want to talk here?"
Shunsui wobbled his hand from side to side. "It's probably as safe as anywhere. Hiding in plain sight and all that."
"You should join the eighth, talking like that," Jūshirō replied, before scrunching his nose. "On second thoughts, perhaps not. They're a little too clever at ferreting out secrets."
"And I'm hardly ninja material," Shunsui continued, "Though it is that particular matter that I want to speak to you about. I-"
Before he could get any further, Jūshirō held up a quelling hand. "Let me," he said, and muttered a kidō Shunsui didn't recognise. The sound levels around them surged very slightly before settling back in a way that made Shunsui frown. Whereas before he'd been able to catch the odd word or two of conversations around them, now they all sounded garbled.
He raised a questioning brow at Jūshirō, who shrugged and flushed slightly. "Just a little something I learned from the captain. It's a privacy screen."
Useful. And something Ayaoni-taichō probably would have taught Shunsui if the fifth wasn't so damnably focused on combat kidō. The restrictions of his current position chafed at him and added an extra bite to his next words. "What do you know about shields?"
Jūshirō looked at him, surprised. "Not much more than you, I should imagine. Though I suppose I might know a few extra barrier spells these days."
"No, not kidō." Shunsui gestured the idea away sharply. "Shields. Your shikai release talks about them. All that 'waters rising to become my shield' and such, how does that work exactly?"
Every scrap of colour drained from Jūshirō's face at the question, enough for Shunsui to rerun the words in his head. Perhaps it had been a little unsubtle. For all their closeness, even they didn't discuss the workings of their inner worlds with each other. Some things were too intimate even for lovers.
He sighed and tried again, this time adding a little context. Jūshirō, tolerant soul that he was, listened carefully as Shunsui explained the broad outlines of what the problem seemed to be, interjecting the occasional question that managed to narrow the problem down without intruding on the specifics of such a taboo subject.
Finally, when Shunsui was done, Jūshirō sat back and, after a moment of silence, said, "I'm really not sure I can help you."
Slack-jawed, Shunsui stared at him for a long second. Never, in all their years together, had Jūshirō ever refused to help. Though this wasn't a refusal as such, was it. "Can't, or won't?" Shunsui asked, trying to keep the snap from his voice. He'd thought he'd made it clear that this was both their futures at stake, if Jūshirō's plans truly relied on them both making captain.
"Can't," Jūshirō reiterated, frowning, and honestly given the distress in his voice and the way he clasped his hands together on the tabletop, Shunsui had no choice but to believe him. "You see, my shield is inbuilt. Inside me," --he paused, looking supremely uncomfortable before pressing on-- "I have two spirits. One is Mimihagi, or so it says, but for as long as I can remember, there's always been two: a shield and a blade."
Shunsui's heart sank. It hadn't occurred to him that Jūshirō's stowaway might be changing his relationship with his zanpakutō, though in retrospect he probably should have. It was part of the Soul King, after all, and hideously powerful. Which was why Ukitake wanted rid of it, before it consumed him entirely.
None of which helped him with his problem at all, unless he somehow managed to hijack a passing godlet or rip his own soul in half to make two of himself. Damn.
Downing his sake in one gulp, Shunsui thumped the bowl down on the table and stared at it morosely. When his sister-in-law had come to him, he hadn't thought twice before agreeing to hide Shinken Hakkyōken. Now he was… not regretting it exactly, because he could never regret helping someone he loved, but maybe wondering if he should have thought it over in a little more detail before he selected that specific hiding place.
If Katen Kyōkotsu had given him even the slightest hint… but she hadn't.
And now it was too late. No solution meant no bankai, which meant no promotion. Ever. Unless he gave up the sword, which he swore he would never do.
A hand closed over his where it was fisted on the table top. Shunsui looked up to find Jūshirō regarding him with aching amounts of understanding. "We'll find a way. There has to be one, it just needs a little time and effort to uncover it." Long fingers, warm where they covered Shunsui's own, tightened. "And in the meantime, I will take the vanguard."
#
Jūshirō closed the door behind him, pressed his back against it and tried not to cough. It wasn't easy. His chest ached from the stress of the evening and the cold wind that had practically blown him back to his quarters. But worse than both of those was the promise he'd made to Shunsui. The promise he couldn't possibly hope to keep.
When he'd walked into the izakaya this evening, he'd planned on telling all, only for his lover to get there first, and then how could he possibly add to Shunsui's pain by confessing that for him too, bankai was out of reach. It would have destroyed him to hear that, and he'd had so much pain recently, too much of it at Jūshirō's instigation; the news of the Ise woman's execution, which should have been handled better; Jūshirō's insistence that they claim all the children from the Maggot's Nest; the confrontation with Genryusai-sensei; all of them were his fault one way or another.
And now this. No, he could no more have told the truth than he could have drawn his blade and run his lover through.
Pushing off the door, one hand still pressed to his chest, Jūshirō stumbled across the small room towards the medicine chest against the opposite wall. The long-suppressed cough got him before he made it halfway, ripping through his lungs like it was he who'd been stabbed. He fell to his knees, still coughing, fighting to inhale between each racking tear.
Finally he collapsed entirely, ears ringing and vision rapidly darkening, though not so much that he could miss the bright splatter of blood across the tatami. Seeing that, he nearly panicked and it took every ounce of willpower and experience to stop fighting, to allow his muscles to unlock themselves so that his lungs could empty properly and air could come rushing back in, if only in shallow, gulping breaths around the still persistent urge to cough.
Once he could move again, he crawled the rest of the way to the chest, numbly wrestled open the middle drawer on the second row and extracted one of the twists of brown paper inside. His medicine; rare, dangerous and mixed for him by Unohana-taichō, and only to be taken when it was truly needed.
With shaking fingers, he unwrapped paper, pressed it to his open mouth and sucked. The fine powder burnt like fire in his throat and he dropped his head back against the wall, shivering as the medicine began to work its magic.
And it had to be magic. Jūshirō could think of no other reason as to why, here in the real world, his lungs simply stopped needing to be filled, why his body no longer felt like it needed to breathe. Logic determined it should be impossible, and yet there it was. And here he was, propped against the wall of his room, heart thundering, head reeling, and yet chest resolutely inert.
It didn't last for long, thank all the gods. With a rattling huff, he drew in a single breath then, a minute or two later, another, and slowly slowly he began to breathe normally again. Tension seeped out of him, loosening his shoulders and leaving his hands tingling. He screwed up the brown paper, ignoring the bloody imprint of lips across it, and, when he felt steady enough, rose to go and find something to clean the tatami. It would never do to allow the blood to leave a stain.
As far as bankai went, he'd deal with that later.
#
Jūshirō was deeply asleep, still recovering from his attack, when a stranger saying his name brought him upright with a jerk. The sight of a black-clad Onmitsukidō operative kneeling beside his bed made the defensive kidō he'd been halfway to casting die unspoken and he swallowed back nerves instead.
"Can I help you?" he asked, desperately trying to remember if he might have done anything to give himself away. But those were the thoughts of a guilty person, unwarranted since neither he nor Shunsui had done anything to feel guilty for. Yet. Except perhaps remove the children from the Maggot's Nest, but that whole mess had been settled months ago.
"Your presence is required at Onmitsukidō headquarters," the operative intoned.
Another frisson of fear wormed its way through Jūshirō's gut. "Am I permitted to ask why?"
Silence was the only reply. Jūshirō took that to mean ‘no’ and hurried to dress, doing his best to ignore the operative who was apparently not going anywhere until Jūshirō went with him. Did that make this an arrest? And if it was, should he try to leave a warning for Shunsui?
No, that would risk drawing attention where none might yet be directed. Better to cooperate for now, until he knew exactly what was going on.
#
The only thing stopping the room being a cell was the lack of bars on the door. Still, Jūshirō paced its narrow confines, wondering how long he was to be kept in isolation like this. So far it had been hours, the only relief coming in the form of a spartan meal delivered by yet another black clad operative almost indistinguishable from the first. Jūshirō had sat himself down on the single cushion and done his best to eat, but worry made him pick at the food and eventually he'd pushed it aside, contenting himself with just the bowl of tea that had been served along with it.
That though was now long gone, and Jūshirō had nothing to keep his mind away from spiralling possibilities. This being something to do with his family seemed unlikely since Onmitsukidō only got involved with the nobility, even the lesser ones, if there were serious criminal issues and the Ukitake as a rule were a law abiding bunch.
The division then. Jūshirō tried to imagine the upright Captain Katamura doing anything illegal and failed entirely. The man wouldn't even let Jūshirō buy him lunch in case it led to accusations of favoritism.
Which led him to the only other situations he could think of: that Central had discovered Shunsui was hiding the Ise sword; that someone had finally after all these years connected the disappearance of an obscure Rukongai god with Jūshirō's miraculous survival; or, and this one scared him the most in some ways, something had happened with little Sōsuke-kun.
It was such a distinct possibility. They'd done their best to hide the child away, but Captain Shutara was a woman of capacious resources. She was more than capable of tracking him and if she went after him again, Jūshirō could easily see Sōsuke trying to fight back, and attacking a captain would be enough to see him tried for treason, child or no. That alone would be enough to get his guardians pulled in by Onmitsukidō for questioning.
A sudden burst of agitated reiatsu was followed by several raised voices down the corridor somewhere. Jūshirō pressed his ear to the door, trying to hear what might be happening, and was almost caught in the act of eavesdropping when the door was suddenly slammed open.
He jumped back, just in time not to be run over by the imposing woman who strode through it. Shihōin Hiruko wasn't tall, but she made up for it in sheer presence. Everything about her screamed predator. From the large golden eyes glaring out above a nose that could almost be described as beaky, if one was feeling particularly foolhardy, to the kisaki no tsubasa, the Queen's Wing, she wore on her arm. The claw-like device purportedly allowed her to fly, and fit well with the cap of white-streaked hair brushed back from her high forehead, clinging to her head and neck like feathers.
Tonight, in that uniform, she was instantly recognisable as Onmitsukidō's commander-in-chief. Jūshirō knew her better as the captain of the 8th division.
"Shihōin-taicho," he said, dropping to one knee. Shihōin might not be his captain, but he knew when deference was due. But even as he greeted her, his stomach was sinking further. If the commander was involved, then this was something serious.
"Ukitake," she replied in an exasperated tone he recognized from over a decade of captain's meetings. "Why in all the gods' names has Katamura been falsifying dangai records?"
"W-what?" Jūshirō startled, head jerking up. Every ounce of his surprise must have been obvious on his face because he didn't think he'd ever been so comprehensively blindsided in his life. "Katamura-taichō- what?"
He was met by a very satisfied expression in golden eyes. The captain jerked her head. "Now that was the reaction I was looking for. See girl, sometimes the best method is to shock the truth out of them."
The slight black-clad figure beside her took a step forward and cocked her head slightly. Eyes more amber than gold studied Jūshirō from above a face-concealing mask. "You definitely did that," she said after a moment. The voice was young, though not a child's, and carried an undertone of amusement.
Shihouin-taichō snorted. "You've not met my granddaughter, have you, Ukitake." She gestured to him irritably. "Come on, stand up, boy. Introduce yourself properly."
Jūshirō did as he was instructed, bowing low as he should to the Shihouin heir. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Shihoin-sama."
A quick tug on her mask revealed a bright, if slightly lopsided smile, set in a pretty face. "We're not at a banquet, Ukitake-fukutaichō, you can call me Yoruichi-san."
It was true that, militarily, he did hold a higher rank than her, but the Shihōin were True First and the Ukitake barely nobility at all. Jūshirō glanced at Captain Shihōin, who simply rolled her eyes as though she'd heard it all before. "Yoruichi-sama?" he ventured.
He got a sound like strangled hiss for his trouble but, before her granddaughter could say anything else, Captain Shihōin held up her hand. "He's made his decision, girl. Learn to meet people halfway."
"Yes, grandmother," Yoruichi replied with a duck of her head as she stood back, pulling her mask up again.
That over with, the captain's full regard returned to Jūshirō, who did his best not to wither beneath it. "Back to Katamura. You say you had no idea he'd been tampering with the dangai records."
Strictly speaking, Jūshirō hadn't actually said that, but he wasn't about to argue since it was true anyway. "No idea at all," he said, then paused, racking his brains for any snippet that might shed light on the situation. "I don't even know why he would do it. If he did." Sudden doubt assailed him. "Are you sure it was him? Did he confess?"
Did you catch him red-handed, swooping down like a hawk from the midday sun?
"Not yet. But it's Hikifune who discovered the evidence, and I've no reason to doubt her." Shihōin was frowning into the distance, her eyes sharp like she could see through the walls.
"Hikifune-fukutaichō?" Jūshirō asked, his head spinning as he tried to understand what the lieutenant of the 12th had to with all of this.
"Captain, as of last week," Shihōin corrected and, oh my goodness, that was some news that Jūshirō hadn't heard.
"Captain Shutara's dead?"
His attempt to keep the relief out of his voice failed completely he suspected, since Shihōin-taichō turned a narrow-eyed look on him. "Not overly fond of her, were you?" she said, adding, "Not that I blame you. Bit of a strange bird, that one. Anyway, she's none of our concern now, not where she is. Katamura and her other hangers-on are an entirely different matter however."
Katamura was a Shutara hanger-on? How was that even possible? As far as Jūshirō knew, the pair of them despised each other. They'd certainly never exchanged more words than necessary at captain's meetings, and Jūshirō knew for a fact that Katamura regarded most of Shutara's experiments as ill-founded at best. 'You don't do that to your colleagues!' he remembered Katamura ranting one time. 'And especially not to those under your command. You have a duty of care to everyone in the lower ranks.'
It was a position Jūshirō entirely endorsed, which was one of the reasons he'd held his slightly stiff-necked captain in such high regard.
"I'm sorry, I still don't understand," he said, finally accepting that there had to be more pieces to this puzzle than he currently had access to.
"No one's expecting that you would, if you're not in on it," Shihōin replied. "And though you've given me your word that you're not, we're going to need a little more than that, I'm afraid." Turning, she headed for the door. "Now, I have business elsewhere. Yoruichi here will take over your questioning."
As she left, another figure stepped into the room, and this one Jūshirō didn't recognise at all. He was about Yoruichi's age, dressed in a standard shihakusho, and with a head of tousled yellow hair had a generally unkempt air about him that put Jūshirō strongly in mind of Shunsui on a bad day. He was also carrying a strange white humanoid-shaped piece of wood in one hand and Sōgyo no Kotowari in the other.
At Yoruichi's gesture, he handed the zanpakutō to her, leaned the wooden thing against the wall and bowed politely to Jūshirō. "I am right in thinking that Ukitake-fukutaichō-san has yet to achieve bankai, yes?"
"Erm…" Jūshirō flicked a look at Yoruichi, who didn't even bother to make eye contact. That wasn't exactly reassuring.
Doubt slipped sticky fingers through Jūshirō's mind. Why did they want to know about his bankai? Had they found out about Mimihagi? Was all this about Katamura simply an elaborate ruse to get him off guard?
If it was, he couldn't see their angle.
Rather than end up entirely paranoid, and since no-one had brought out the thumbscrews yet, Jūshirō decided to answer truthfully. "Yes. Though I am close to-"
"That's all I needed to know," the young man put in. "This," he continued, pointing to the human-shaped thing leaning against the wall, "is a tenshintai. It will forcibly manifest your zanpakutō spirit and allow it to be questioned. Do you understand?"
Jūshirō stared at him and then at the thing against the wall, feeling vaguely horrified at the whole idea. "Um… no?"
The young man huffed and turned to his companion. "Can you explain it to him better, Yoruichi-san? I thought I used small enough words but he's obviously stupid."
"Don't be rude, Kisuke," Yoruichi told him, flicking him around the ear as she sauntered past. He flinched and grabbed the offended part, frowning at her as she picked up the... tenshintai, was it? --and turned to Jūshirō. "It's really quite simple. You stick your zanpakutō into this. It forces the spirit out of your body like bankai training does, and then we question it. Unlike their wielders, spirits have got no reason to lie, so we tend to get a straight story out of them."
That all made a horrible kind of sense except Jūshirō had absolutely no idea what would happen if he tried. Manifesting his zanpakutō spirit had been his main problem with attaining bankai in the first place. Mimihagi and Sōgyo no Kotowari were too closely entwined to permit it.
"You want to do this now?"
If they did, and he succeeded… Jūshirō's chest compressed at the very thought and he put a hand to his throat as his cough threatened a return.
The young man, Kisuke, shrugged. "Unless you've got a good reason not to do it."
"Like perhaps you're worried what your zanpakutō might tell us," Yoruichi added, taking a step forward. A slight movement over by the door clued Jūshirō in to there being more guards in the corridor. Backup, in case he tried to escape, presumably.
"No, no, I just...." Jūshirō racked his brains trying to think of some excuse. Anything that might put them off, in only for a little while. "It's just, I had a rather nasty attack last night and Unohana-taichō has warned me not to do anything too strenuous in the immediate aftermath." It was grasping at straws, but it was all he could think of right now. And honestly it wasn't entirely untrue. The way Jūshirō's chest felt right now, another attack could be imminent.
At the mention of the 4th division captain's name, Yoruichi and Kisuke immediately exchanged worried looks and turned their backs, dark and light heads pressed close together as they exchanged hurried words.
"Will it hurt him worse if he's sick already?"
"I have no idea. I've not used it often enough to tell."
"Probably best to check with her first then."
"Good idea. If we kill him by accident, she might get mad."
"You're right," Yoruichi agreed with the air of a decision made. Turning back around, she levelled a look in Jūshirō's direction. "Looks like you've got a raincheck, lieutenant, at least until we clear it with Unohana-taichō."
Jūshirō tried not to let the relief show in his face. Since she smirked back at him, that probably meant he'd failed yet again at hiding his emotions. Onmitsukidō were disturbingly good at reading people.
"But you're staying right here until it's done," she added, and lifted her hand, the one holding Sōgyo no Kotowari. "And I'll hang on to this. As insurance."
#
Not having his sword wasn't much of an inconvenience; it had been years since Jūshirō had needed physical contact with it to sit jinzen. The moment the door closed behind the pair, he sat himself tailor-style on the single cushion and dropped easily into his inner world.
Utter darkness quickly surrounded him, and a silent stillness that pressed on his inner ear. In this place, no breath passed his lips, no touch caressed his skin. It was if he hung unformed in infinite nothingness.
Then the darkness split, revealing a single giant eye, its pupil a deep storm-wracked grey. Mimihagi.
They wish to seperate us.
The statement didn't come in the form of words but knowledge; one minute unknown, the next known.
'You saw?'
I see all. Know all. What is to come and what has been. There was a pause, long enough for Jūshirō to recognise it for what it was: hesitation. Except, I did not foresee this.
An event that Mimihagi hadn't known about could only mean one thing.
The boy's contraption must contain some part of the Soul King.
Mimihagi's concurrence settled into Jūshirō's mind. They'd discussed this before, many times. Jūshirō had long accepted that Mimihagi either would not or could not share all it knew with him and so he rarely asked, but in the early days, when Jūshirō had first discovered the strangeness of his inner world, he'd wanted to know it all. That was when Mimihagi had explained, slowly and carefully, the exception to its omnipotence. Its original self. Any past or future which contained a part of the soul king was hidden from it.
'What will happen if I do what they ask?' Jūshirō enquired tentatively.
I do not know. WE do not know. We have no desire to hurt, but hurt may occur if our power is released uncontrolled. Our shield cannot offer protection from ourselves.
Jūshirō suppressed a shudder at the thought.
'Then I will try to stop them.'
And I will try to find the safest path forward.
Jūshirō opened his eyes to discover himself still alone. He sighed, letting his head rest against the wall.
For the life of him, he couldn't think of an excuse to avoid this line of questioning. But neither could he risk Mimihagi's power being unleashed in such an uncontrolled way. The shrine had acted as something of a container for it, then later Jūshirō's body had served the same function. Without either, it would be akin to the Soul King suddenly arriving in the middle of Onmitsukidō headquarters. It was entirely possible the power would destroy Seireitei itself.
And he couldn't simply tell them about Mimihagi either. Jūshirō might serve the Gotei freely and willingly, but he was under no illusions about it. Informed of such a powerful being, there would be some who would stop at nothing until they possessed it for themselves.
So, no. If that was the only other possible solution, then he would simply refuse to co-operate and take whatever punishment was deemed fit. He could only hope that Shunsui forgave him his hubris in facing this alone.
As the grinding solitude continued, Jūshirō's gaze inevitably turned to the tenshintai still leaning beside the door. Such an innocent looking contraption to contain some essence of the Soul King. How had it been accomplished? Or was this thing some part of the Shihōin regalia.
Curious now, Jūshirō stood up and wandered over to take a closer look. He'd thought the doll had been constructed, but this close, it looked more organic, like it had been 'grown' into a human shape somehow. A pair of ridges marked where the bottom of the ribs might be were it truly human, and another bisected the upper part of the torso and pointy head. The only other detail was a cord that hung in a double loop from one shoulder to the other. All in all, the thing was very unprepossessing, though definitely strange.
It also felt odd in terms of reiatsu. Like there was something buzzing inside it.
Reaching out, Jūshirō touched a finger to the surface. It was cooler than a living thing, but still warm to the touch. Warmed by the power within? Jūshirō had no idea, and no way to find out. And even if he did, it was entirely possible he wouldn't understand. Science had never been a passion of his, even at Academy, though he had the utmost respect for those who chose to pursue it. Even if it did turn them a little odd.
Like that Kisuke boy. And Captain Shutara.
Briefly, Jūshirō found himself wondering all over again if she was dead, or had simply retired to better pursue her experiments in peace. He did rather hope for the former, even if it did make him a bad person. Knowing Shutara was gone for good might help Sōsuke-kun sleep easier at nights.
But that kind of thinking wasn't getting him anywhere right now. What he needed was a solution to this problem. How to allow a part of the Soul King to manifest into a false body without destroying Seireitei in the process.
Perhaps, as it is already a part of me, we can become one with it.
Jūshirō blinked as the knowledge landed in his brain. This was another thing they'd discussed in the past: the separated parts of the Soul King were more than capable of merging again.
Is there enough inside it? How can we be sure?
Place your hand on the doll.
Jūshirō did as he was told and felt a strange tugging behind his heart. It went on just long enough to become almost painful before it faded to nothing again.
Well? he asked.
It will do well enough for the shinigami to be convinced.
That was good enough. It would have to be. No sooner had Jūshirō retaken his seat than several sets of footsteps sounded in the corridor and a moment later the door drew back. Two people entered: Kisuke, who was carrying a large box, and a handsome young man who Jūshirō didn't recognise wearing a 4th division med kit bag.
"Yoruichi-san sends her apologies," Kisuke said, placing his box on the floor. "She's needed elsewhere. But Unohana-taichō's given permission for us to question you, so long as Ogidō stays in the room." He glanced up at Jūshirō, grey eyes alight with something like glee. "If you're ready, that is."
"I am," Jūshirō replied, hoping it wasn't a lie.
"Excellent!" Twisting on the spot, Kisuke leaned out through the door and a moment later he was handing Jūshirō Sōgyo no Kotowari.
Jūshirō's fingers closed around the sheath with an odd sense of relief. Although he didn't carry his sword everywhere, he didn't like to be separated from it. Especially when it was involuntary. "What do I do now?" he asked.
Kisuke stood up, held the tenshintai by the top of the head and said, "Draw your sword and stick it through this. You won't have to thrust hard. It's designed to accept a blade easily."
Jūshirō did as he was told, aiming for where the heart would be. For a second, the sword stuck there, then it seemed to quiver in Jūshirō's hand and he felt that odd tug again before the whole thing exploded in a burst of reiatsu. Everyone jumped back and when the smoke cleared, both tenshintai and sword were gone and in their place stood two humanoid shapes. Superficially, they resembled the thing that had produced them, in that both had pointy heads, ill-defined bodies and were vaguely whitish in colour, but these new creatures had eyes much the same green as Jūshirō's own, mouths as toothy as a shark's and reiatsu that was entirely Sōgyo no Kotowari's.
They were also only about three feet tall.
"Um..." Jūshirō said, casting a worried look at Kisuke, who didn't look perturbed in the slightest. In fact, he was hunkered down fiddling with something in his box.
At Jūshirō's hesitation, he looked up and a brief frown skated across his face. Then he glanced at the two miniature spirits and the expression resolved into a sly grin. "I'm guessing they don't look like that in your inner world," he said, holding up a hand before Jūshirō could do more than utter a mild sound of protest. "Not that I'm asking. It's just, I've seen this before, when a spirit can't exist in its natural state out here, the manifestation can get kind of random, and since your zanpakutō is probably some kind of fish thing, air's probably not the ideal environment for it." He stood up, bringing with him some kind of measuring gauge. "It's definitely them though. The reiatsu's a perfect match."
Definitely them. Jūshirō took another look, his first look at his zanpakutō spirit. Was Kisuke right? Would it have been some kind of fish if Mimihagi hadn't been a part of him? He definitely loved the sea, in all its aspects, though especially the spring storms that swept across the bay, filling the sky with flashing forks of lightning so bright they eclipsed the lamps warning unwary sailors off the rocks.
Would a fish thrive in that kind of environment?
If the water were its shield, then probably.
"Yes," he said, feeling the truth of it, the truth in it. The truth of his zanpakutō's name.
'Sōgyo no Kotowari', a high child-like voice said in his head and, as it spoke, the spirits conjured by the tenshintai shimmered and took on a firmer, more defined shape. Still strange. Still not entirely human with their toothy mouths and non-existent noses, but there were at least hands now, even if the fingers were webbed and covered in silver scales.
Kisuke, who'd been watching, pulled an fascinated expression. "Looks like this might pay off for you too," he said. "Makes you wonder if you couldn't use this thing to force bankai." He chuckled, attention turning back to his box of tricks as he turned dials.
After a moment or two of all of them simply standing there, Jūshirō ventured, "Weren't there supposed to be questions?"
Kisuke looked up, blinked at Jūshirō and, when the distracted fog cleared from his eyes, yelped, "Crap, yes! Hang on, I need to call my boss."
That turned out to be Toisaka-gundanchō, the head of the Interrogation Corps, an entirely non-descript man who frankly Jūshirō would have walked past in the market without looking at twice. The questions he asked, on the other hand, were astute and pointed, quickly cutting to the heart of a matter.
Sōgyo no Kotowari answered each of them slowly and apparently thoughtfully, their high pitched voices strangely at odds with the seriousness of their tones as first one and then the other were subjected to questioning. And throughout it all, Toisaka failed to live up to his reputation as a cruel torturer. He was thorough, yes, but not unkind, seeming to understand that zanpakutō had an almost childlike understanding of the way the world worked.
From what Jūshirō could piece together from the line of questioning, the events under investigation had happened several years ago. Someone, possibly a member of Central 46 or one of their family, had either ordered or bribed Katamura-taichō into altering the dangai logs in order to cover up some kind of unauthorised activity. Presumably something that involved the previous captain of the 12th division since Toisaka seemed very interested in any and all interactions between Katamura and Shutara.
He also wanted to know if Jūshirō had ever been asked to do anything similar by any of the council members he'd interacted with during his duties. Thankfully the answer to that was a simple 'never'. And even if they had, Jūshirō wouldn't have been able to help them since only those of captain rank were able to access the records at all.
It all wrapped up more quickly than Jūshirō could have dreamed. Toisaka-gundanchō indicated to Kisuke that he was finished, gathered his papers and rose from behind his desk. Jūshirō had to scramble to attain his own feet so he could dip a respectful bow as the Chief Interrogator strode from the room. A moment later, his attendants followed him, carrying the desk between them.
As the door closed, there was a burst of reiatsu and when Jūshirō looked round, the spirits had vanished and Sōgyo no Kotowari and the blank tenshintai were tumbling to the floor. Kisuke caught both before they hit the ground, and frowned slightly at Jūshirō as he handed the sword back over. "Sorry not to give you a chance to say goodbye, but we've got a lot to get through by the end of the day."
"No, that's fine," Jūshirō assured him, even as his heart twinged with sadness at the possibility of never seeing them again. "I understand that you're busy. Are you questioning the rest of the division?"
Kisuke's expression turned squirrelish. "I can't really say. I'm sure you understand. Ongoing investigation and all that."
"Of course, of course." Jūshirō waved him off. "It was foolish to ask." And indicative of how stressful the last few hours had been that Jūshirō had even done so. He really should know better. "I don't suppose you happen to know if I'm free to leave."
"That I can tell you," Kisuke replied with a touch of relief. Standing up with his box jammed under one arm and the tenshintai tucked under the other he said, "The answer's yes. Your escort should be here any moment. They'll make sure you get home in one piece."
And no doubt hang around afterwards to check he didn't try to make contact with anyone suspicious, Jūshirō added for himself. "Thank you," he said out loud, nodding a bow. "It's been… enlightening."
The grin he got back for his trouble was impish. Kisuke dipped a deeper bow. "Same here," he said. "Good to meet you, Ukitake-fukutaichō." And with that, he fair scampered out of the door, drawing it closed with his foot behind him.
True to Kisuke's word, the promised escort did quickly arrive and Jūshirō was soon back at the 9th. The division grounds were scarily quiet. The normally bustling training grounds deserted, the barracks doors closed and even the editing department was all locked up tight.
As they walked across the quad, Jūshirō wondered exactly how many of his people had been taken in for questioning to leave the place looking like such a ghost town, only to realise, with a sudden heart-stopping stomach-dropping thought that, with Katamura most probably under arrest, it was going to be down to him to find out! About everything. And to handle that everything when he had found it out!
In fact, as of right now, he was, in all but name, the captain of the 9th division!
Thank goodness they had another three weeks until the next issue of the Seireitei Bulletin was due out.
#
Over the next few days Jūshirō was simultaneously run off his feet and having the time of his life. There was so much to do, so much to manage. Katamura-taichō had run the kind of tight ship that saw all decisions going through him, so Jūshirō was basically starting from scratch and making it up as he went along. Not to mention the sudden new dimension of having to monitor security for all of Seireitei and not just Central.
For hours upon hours he ate only when someone pressed food into his hands and slept where he dropped once the last of his energy was spent. There was no time for worry, no time for second-thoughts, and there was certainly no time for thinking about his zanpakutō, bankai or otherwise.
Then the formal charges dropped.
"Treason," Genryusai-sensei intoned from the front of the meeting hall.
Silence thick with apprehension fell over the room as everyone came to same terrifying realisation: if Onmitsukidō had found one traitor, they'd be looking for more. In the next few months, any and all misdeeds were likely to be investigated and that put every one of the gathered officers in jeopardy. The Gotei 13 might be an army but it was far from immune from the back-stabbing politics common in any other large organisation.
Jūshirō's heart skipped a beat, his gaze immediately seeking out Shunsui in the line opposite. He towered over his diminutive captain making it easy to make eye contact, and Jūshirō could hardly bear the sudden flicker of fear he saw there.
And he wasn't the only one. Several people were shooting uneasy glances at the place the 8th division captain unusually stood. Today it was occupied only by her stalwart lieutenant, Yoshiyuki, who remained unbowed by all the attention. Presumably Shihōin-taichō was already out hunting.
A strong aristocratic voice suddenly cut through the silence. "Katamura's behaviour was not unexpected, surely, from one who came from such a place." Kuchiki Hiromasa was so old, he was more prune than person, but that never stopped him from speaking his mind.
Jūshirō immediately dropped his gaze to the floor, knowing better than to risk catching anyone's eye with that kind of comment in the wind.
"Eight east is hardly Zaraki. And anyway, the Rukongai have provided some of our best troops." That was Kuruyashiki, 7th Kenpachi, captain of the 11th and one of Shunsui's regular drinking companions. He was a big man, with an even larger appetite for sake, whose scruffy outward appearance concealed a sharp strategic mind and the kind of instinct for battle that had allowed him to hold his division for centuries.
He was also Captain Kuchiki's nemesis. They invariably found something to disagree about at every meeting, though so far neither had ever actually come to blows.
"A subject I'm sure you would know more about than most," Warishita, captain of the 3rd and Kuchiki fanboy, shot back, "considering the unfortunate circumstances of your birth."
Jūshirō winced inwardly. That was fighting talk, especially since rumour had it that Kuruyashiki's father was more likely to be a particularly strapping member of the household guard than his mother's legal, and somewhat diminutive husband.
"Enough!" Genryusai-sensei's staff slammed into the floor. "Katamura's origins have no bearing on this matter, only his behaviour as a captain of the Gotei. With that, he has brought shame on all of us. Let this be a lesson. Dismissed!"
And that was pretty much that. Denied details of the exact charges, the meeting broke up with the captains heading towards the exit in a kind of fast-moving gossiping scrum. Jūshirō did his best to catch up with Shunsui, who'd been swept ahead of them, only to be pulled up short by a touch on his arm.
It was Chōjirō, the 1st division lieutenant. "Ukitake-fukutaichō, the sōtaichō would like a few words with you."
Jūshirō cast a nervous look back at his old teacher, who, as he often did, looked asleep standing there leaning against his staff. It was all an act though. Jūshirō knew that from bitter experience. Genryusai would be watching and listening to all of them, ready to pounce on the slightest wrongdoing.
But Jūshirō wasn't that boy any longer, and neither, despite what Jūshirō affectionately called him, was Genryusai his sensei. He was the commanding officer of the Gotei 13 and Jūshirō was a lieutenant whose captain had just been charged with treason. It was time Jūshirō faced that fact and got on with things.
Any temptation to ask Chōjirō what the sōtaichō might actually want vanished in the face of this moment of clarity. Not that there would have been much point in asking; Chōjirō's loyalty was to his Captain, forever and always.
Jūshirō huffed out a sigh, dipped a bow, and said, "Thank you, Chōjirō-san."
Chōjirō nodded back and withdrew, leaving Jūshirō to approach his commanding officer alone.
"You wished to see me, sōtaichō?" he said, dropping to one knee in the correct manner for a junior officer reporting for duty.
With his head bowed, he couldn't see when Genryusai opened his eyes, but he felt it. The regard of such a man didn't rest lightly on anyone.
"I did," came the reply. There followed a pause, long and considering. Jūshirō did his best not to fidget. Then, "It has been decided that the 9th is no longer a suitable posting for you."
Despite himself, Jūshirō startled, looking up, and met with surprisingly kindly red-brown eyes. "Sir?"
"Katamura has proved a grave disappointment, and though no blame can be attached to you for his behaviour, Seireitei's security, and especially that of Central 46, has been deemed too important to risk."
In other words, certain people in Central wanted Jūshirō gone and the sōtaichō was doing it the least painful way possible. Jūshirō bowed his head again. "I understand, sōtaichō-san. May I ask who will be taking over the 9th?"
The answer would tell him a lot, and not only how worried he should be for his soldiers after he left. Currently, as far as Jūshirō knew, there weren't any vacant lieutenancies so, if they weren't planning to fill his position with a straight swap from another division, it could mean a demotion. That would be a hard blow to take if it came, but Jūshirō would stand it, somehow.
"It seems Osanmi-chan passed the captain's exam several months ago and has expressed an interest in taking over the Seireitei Bulletin. It has been recommended therefore that she is promoted to captain, and that she take one of the 8th division's fourth seats, Muguruma Kensei as her lieutenant."
Which meant either the position of lieutenant at the 13th was open, or fourth seat at the 8th. If Jūshirō were Shihōin-taichō, he'd want him at the 8th, close enough to keep an eye on.
But a joint fourth seat. It had been almost a century since Jūshirō had had to share a rank with someone else.
"And me?" he hazarded.
"The final decision is yet to be made," the sōtaichō replied. "And before it is, I need to know how close you are to achieving bankai."
Oh. Because of course, the reason Osanmi-san had sat the captain's exam was so she could relieve Isoarashi-taichō.
Jūshirō didn't know the 13th division commander very well, but he knew enough to know the man wanted to retire. Probably on the grounds of ill-health, going by the number of times he'd seen the tall florid-faced captain entering Unohana-taichō's offices.
So they were looking to Jūshirō to take over from him instead of Osanmi.
Which would never happen if he couldn't achieve bankai.
In fact, he wouldn't even get this lieutenancy if he couldn't tell the sōtaichō right now that he was close. And if he told the truth, that bankai might be forever out of his reach, he'd be demoted to fourth seat in the 8th division and would probably never gain higher rank again.
As a rule, lying didn't come easy to Jūshirō. He didn't like doing it, even when it was for a good reason, and he knew that his discomfort with it showed on his face. Now though he needed to lie better than he had in his whole life, because he needed this position, this chance.
Without it, he may never get to the Royal Realm, and never get a chance to reunite Mimihagi with the rest of the Soul King.
And, if it turned out in the future that bankai was impossible? Well then, he'd cross that bridge when it came. As of right now, he still planned to get there, so really it was hardly a lie at all.
Lifting his head, he spoke the words loud and clear. "I'm almost there, sensei. I give you my word that I am very close."
"Good." The base of the sōtaichō's staff tapped against the floor. "Then the decision is made. Your new post as lieutenant of the 13th division will come into effect immediately."
Jūshirō ducked his head again, heart thundering in his chest. He'd got away with it! He could hardly believe his luck. And now he'd have the time he needed to make it true.
"I will schedule your captain's exam for a year from now. Presumably that will be long enough."
It would have to be. "Yes, sensei. And thank you for giving me this opportunity."
Genryusai made a quiet snorting sound. "Don't thank me, boy, thank your new captain. Apparently he's amused by you having the same names or something. Anyway, he's waiting for you outside. I'd go catch up if I were you."
"Yes, sōtaichō, sir." Jūshirō leapt to his feet and with a final deep bow, hurried from the room. It was time to introduce himself properly to his new captain.