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While helping wash the morning’s dishes, Sōsuke eavesdropped on the preparations for the trip. Apparently, the barrier was more than just an obstacle to be climbed or surmounted in some mundane way. It could not just be travelled around via some alternate route, as it surrounded the entire district.
The barrier was also--somehow--lethal.
Sōsuke must have passed through this barrier before, when he travelled from the Maggot’s Nest to Onigawa’s cottage with the two captains, but he had no memory of any checkpoint or wall or other any kind of hinderance anywhere along their journey. They had passed through multiple districts. Was this barrier somehow invisible?
Was it Kido?
Sōsuke half-remembered something in one of Onigawa’s books that she’d forbidden him to read--something about a thing called a ‘ward,’ which could account for a permanent placement of a spell. It would also explain why, when travelling with shinigami, the spell had not been triggered. Wards were the sort of spell you could set with conditions: if a person has x amount of spiritual pressure, stay dormant. If not, activate.
Wards were not naturally occuring, however. Someone had to deliberately place them.
As Sōsuke suspected, the Reverend had not told the truth. This barrier had not always been there, like a mountain or a stream, it was deliberately placed by someone for a reason.
The question was: did the barrier exist as a protection, to keep people safe from something on the other side; or had it been set as a trap, to keep people locked into a particular place?
#
After proudly waving Sōsuke off the next morning - that shunpo, excellent technique; the boy was such a quick study - Jūshirō returned to the cottage to wake Onigawa. Or at least that had been the plan. As it turned out, she wasn't to be woken.
Initially, Jūshirō feared for the worst, considering the half-frozen state he'd found her in the night before. It wasn't unheard of for shinigami who'd collapsed with critical reiryoku levels to snore, and Onigawa was certainly comatose in some way shape or form. And then he found the empty sake jars concealed under her wet clothes.
"Sensei," he admonished, gathering them up. There had to be eight at least. "Your liver!" The only reaction was an extra deep rattle. Jūshirō sighed and turned towards the kitchen. Since he needed Onigawa to reinforce the barrier, he wasn't going to be able to train until she woke up. That left him with household chores, or jinzen.
Sōsuke hadn't left him much to do. Jūshirō pottered for while, making himself breakfast and some more tea. While that was brewing, he considered washing Onigawa's clothes, realised he had no idea where to even start and contented himself with simply hanging them on the fence outside where they wouldn't go mouldy. They'd undoubtedly be frozen stiff before midday but well, it probably wouldn't do them any harm. He also threw a couple of handfuls of rice out for the chickens, just in case Sōsuke had forgotten before he left.
Full of rice porridge and tea, and feeling like he'd at least contributed something to the running of the household, Jūshirō then sat down to meditate. Sōgyo no Kotowari bounced him the moment he opened his eyes, sending a small tidal wave of water splashing over his head.
"Late!" they declared, as another one came his way from the opposite direction.
Despite still coughing and spluttering from the first one, Jūshirō managed to dodge the second. "I know, I know!" he cried, paddling backwards and trying to keep both spirits in his line of sight. "I'm sorry."
Sōgyo no Kotowari accepted his apology eventually, and Jūshirō was allowed to stand atop the water and at least wring his hair out. It was a good thing the gross physical effects of being in his inner world didn't carry over into the real one or he'd spend all his time soaking wet.
The pair of ningyō circled his feet for a while and then bobbed to the surface. "What do you want to do?" they asked, their webbed hands waving slowly back and forth as they trod water.
Jūshirō ducked his head to hide a smile. "Oh nothing really. I just wanted to spend some time with you."
Sōgyo no Kotowari exchanged looks and then chorused, "Playtime!" and dove beneath the waves. Jūshirō had just enough time to grab a breath before he was grabbed by the feet and yanked down himself. He came back up laughing, hearing answering giggles echoing around him and his heart swelled. For all their difficulties, there was something intrinsically joyful about his zanpakutō that he couldn't help but love.
As Jūshirō had hoped, their play session also proved useful. Dodging their swords and individual waves was far too easy, so the spirits had to coordinate to catch him off guard, and avoiding them definitely improved Jūshirō's reaction times.
Then one particularly well strategised attack left him trapped with waves incoming on all sides. Desperate to avoid another dousing, Jūshirō struck out with his reiatsu and the water whipped into a funnel around him. For a moment, he simply stood there, not quite believing what he'd managed to do. It was a safe space, like standing in the eye of the storm; the pressure of his reiatsu keeping the walls of water at arms length and flattening the water beneath his feet.
But would it last?
Stepping into shunpo, Jūshirō held onto its form, taking it with him as he zig-zagged across the water. Somewhere outside, Sōgyo no Kotowari called to each other and suddenly Jūshirō was being bombarded by flying blades. Some glanced harmlessly away, others he only needed to touch with a flick of reiatsu and the natural spin of the water took care of the rest. Nothing penetrated. No matter how hard they tried, none of their attacks could get through. Even their lightning failed, so long as Jūshirō kept the water at arm's length.
It was a shield! Finally! Jūshirō had known there was one in here somewhere, but to have it work like this, to function properly, was a huge relief.
Now, if he could just get it to work in the real world.
Eager to try, he left Sōgyo no Kotowari still happily playing and went to waken his old teacher.
She proved even more grumpy than he remembered, though that was probably the hangover talking. After being told to 'Fuck off and make me tea, you ungrateful bastard,' Jūshirō beat a retreat to the kitchen and put a kettle on to heat.
As he was waiting, several loud thumps came from the porch outside. Jūshirō jerked around and stared at the door. He couldn't sense any reiatsu out there, and with the snow as deep as it was, non-shinigami visitors were unlikely. Could it be some kind of animal, attracted to a possible food source?
Curiously, he pulled the door back and peered outside. Piled haphazardly on the end of the porch were several packs which Jūshirō recognised as Sōsuke's from earlier that morning. Now though they were bulging with supplies.
Of the boy himself, there was no sign. Playing hooky, probably, and Jūshirō didn't blame him in the least. He'd have done the same at that age.
Smiling in remembrance, Jūshirō began bringing the stuff indoors. He had no idea where it went, but it had to be safer inside the cottage than out. One of the bags had a brightly wrapped parcel tucked into the top of it.
Not wanting to pry, but unable to resist the temptation to see what Sōsuke might have bought for himself, Jūshiro carefully opened the cloth. Inside was a small pile of delicious-looking mochi. Oh, his favorite! Were they a fondness of Sōsuke's too?
Promising himself that he would give the boy enough coin to buy twice as much the next time he went, Jūshirō quickly helped himself to a couple of the sweets and rewrapped the parcel. Then he poured the tea. It was time to get moving. Onigawa should be awake by now and Jūshirō needed to start training before the day was entirely wasted.
#
They set off at the same time. The cook and the head priest went in one direction and Sōsuke, loaded down with supplies to restock the cottage, in the other.
It was Ukitake’s fault, really.
If Sōsuke hadn’t had the ability to flash step, it would never have occurred to him that he could drop off the supplies at Onigawa’s backdoor and still be able to catch up with the cook and the old priest, who were travelling against the snow, moving at a snail’s pace.
As he doubled-back, Sōsuke told himself that what he was really doing was making sure the old priest and his dear friend, the cook, were safe. If they didn’t have enough spiritual pressure to pass through, they’d die. Sōsuke had plenty to spare. Surely, it was the right thing to do to tag along behind them to make sure they got through alright?
To be fair to Sōsuke, he was right to worry.
Even though it wasn’t visible to the naked eye, it was clear when they came to the barrier. Sōsuke had been keeping his distance, staying hidden in the treetops above the two travellers, flashing between the uppermost branches, which was why he was the first to notice. As they came out of the mountain path into a valley, there was a strange strip of land where no trees grew. The barren space was a kilometer wide and followed the natural curve of the land. Whoever set these wards was very clever. If the path hadn’t come to an abrupt stop and the ground had not been covered in a recent snowfall, the demarcation might not have stood out so starkly.
Quietly, Sōsuke dropped to the ground, crouching behind a large snow-covered berry bush.
Date seemed ready to just try to bully through, but the old priest grasped his hand and said firmly, “Together.”
“I got all the way to the Academy once,” the cook grumbled.
“But not alone.”
Date grunted unhappily. “Fine.”
They made it halfway before something went wrong. A deep thrum reverberated against Sōsuke’s chest and suddenly the air seemed filled with a strange kind of heavy static. The old priest cried out, his arm beginning to disintegrate.
Sōsuke didn’t hesitate. He flashed to them in an instant.
The static heaviness dropped so fast, it almost sucked the breath from Sōsuke’s lungs. Both Date and the old priest collapsed into the snow at Sōsuke’s feet in relief.
The old priest cradled what remained of his arm against his chest. “Sōsuke?”
“Are you okay, Reverend?” he asked, kneeling down beside the old priest. “I know some healing… though, only very basics. You’ll need to see a real healer at the patrol station.”
The old priest’s arm, at least, wasn’t actively hemorrhaging. In fact, it didn’t seem to be bleeding at all. Whatever had caused the injury had simply vaporized the flesh...and even the clothes around it. It reminded Sōsuke of the snowflakes, how he could break their chemical bond with his reiatsu. Only this… this was terrifyingly more powerful.
Who would do this to people?
Date pulled himself upright and brushed the snow from his traveling cloak. “I knew that drunk old witch was keeping this kid for his foreign magic. We oughta take him with us, Reverend. Send him on to Academy with one of the station’s shinigami.”
The old priest accepted Sōsuke’s help upright. “Were you following us?”
“I overheard that the barrier might kill you,” Sōsuke said carefully. This was not a lie, so he continued: “I was worried.”
“Thank fuck you were here,” Date said, giving Sōsuke a pat on the back as he knelt down to inspect the head priest’s injury for himself. “Pardon my French, Reverend, but without this kid, we’d be toast.”
“Let’s get to the other side and we can discuss next steps,” the head priest said, using Sōsuke’s shoulder like a crutch on one side, and Date’s on the other.
Once they were under the shelter of the tall pines, Date and Sōsuke helped the injured priest lower himself onto a large boulder.
“I don’t know why we’re even having a discussion,” Date said, raking the last of the snow from his dark blonde hair with his fingers. “It’s obvious this kid has power.”
“He’s not free, however,” the head priest said, his hand carefully probing the edges of his missing arm. “He’s had plenty of opportunity to leave his master and yet he continues to refuse. We’d be stealing a slave, Date, absconding with someone else’s property.”
“Ain’t the first time I’ve stolen something,” Date said. Crossing his arms, he leaned his back against a tree. “I’m from Inuzuri. Theft was our day job.”
“Yes, but we’re not talking about a jug of water! We’re headed into a patrol station full of shinigami who are sworn to uphold the law. Shinigami captains sold this boy to the former Kido Commander. Given that provenance, I somehow doubt they’ll take kindly to--”
Whatever else the old priest was about to say was cut short by an inhuman roar.
Timbers crashed as something huge moved through the pines. Date swore. The old priest wobbled to his feet. Sōsuke had Hadō Eleven, byakurai, pale lightning strike, ready at his fingertips.
A face broke through the canopy. No, it wasn’t a face, but a bony… skull? The structure was not human, however, it was too long, with too many teeth.
“Aim for the mask!” Date shouted as he tossed a bit of shattered timber at the creature.
The beast brushed off the attack like it was swatting flies.
“Run!” the old priest commanded. "Get to the station! Get help!"
Like so much good advice in his life, Sōsuke truly intended to heed it. But, the creature locked eyes with him and he found his feet rooted to the ground… not in fear, but fascination. Behind the skull-like mask were distinctly human eyes.
Sōsuke could see them so clearly because the creature stood only inches away from his face now, its putrid breath hot on his face. Its shadow-body hunched over Sōsuke, staring at him curiously, hungrily. Because of those eyes, Sōsuke was not at all startled when it spoke. Granted it was a screechy, desperate wail of hunger-fueled nonsense, but the words were understandable enough, “You smell so delectable, little one! I must devour you!”
All Sōsuke needed to do at this distance was to raise two fingers. With those double-hinged jaws opening, he would have had a clean shot, straight through to the back of the monster’s head. A shift to draw a clean line of Kido lightning and he could have easily sliced the mask in half, from the inside.
But, those eyes….
Somehow there was a person inside this monster.
That’s when he noticed the hole. Like the one that a zanpakutō filled, that Ukitake had talked about. These were not only people, they were shinigami.
The shift from Hadō to Bakudō was effortless. When the monster raised a fist to smash it down on Sōsuke, a triangular shield stopped the blow.
Sōsuke felt rather clever, except the onslaught didn’t stop.
The once-human monster didn’t seem to appreciate that it had been shown mercy. If anything, being stopped like this only served to further enrage it. It rained down blow after blow, testing Sōsuke's ability to keep up with the pounding.
When, unexpectedly, the remaining manacle snapped his wrist, Sōsuke's concentration was lost. He took a claw to the chest. Flesh tore into bloody ribbons. Searing pain almost overwhelmed his ability form the words needed for a shield.
Almost.
A wobbly spell kept a second clawed fist from finishing the deed.
But, finally, Sōsuke found it in himself to run.
In retrospect, it was a fool’s errand, a child’s naive trust in a mentor that had Sōsuke running back towards Onigawa.
He wasn’t thinking much at all beyond horror and the fact that, somehow, this one monster had multiplied into many. Yet, in between desperate attempts to ward them off without the use of his left hand, some corner of Sōsuke's mind held onto the image of those human eyes. Surely, if these monsters nipping at his heels were once people, Onigawa would have the skills to save them.
She would know how to free these poor, lost souls from whatever hell had trapped them in the bodies of monsters. Surely, they were some kind of mistake--hunger gone too far, like how his body craved a meal after expending too much reiatsu.
Onigawa would fix them.
And then she’d see that he wasn’t what she thought he was. He’d seen the lingering humanity and thought to save it.
After all, he wasn’t a murderer.
Sōsuke had never been more grateful to see Onigawa’s cottage on the horizon.
Despite learning that the more he used his new shunpo technique the more these hungry monsters would materialize, Sōsuke broke into a burst of speed. She was going to kill him for bringing trouble to her doorstep. Especially right now, but what else could he do? It couldn’t be right to kill these people--they were people!
Stepping out of high speed into the open plains of the prairie, Sōsuke shouted a simple plea, “Help!”
She’d sensed his coming. Onigawa was already on her feet, one hand, palm out, holding the barrier up, the other using Hado Eleven to cut across the advancing horde with a condensed beam of bright white energy.
Masks shattered. Screams of pain filled the air, desperate hollow, echoing cries.
“What are you doing!?” Sōsuke all but threw himself in her line of fire. “You’re killing them!”
“What the fuck do you expect me to do, boy?”
Backing away, Sōsuke blinked, feeling tears on his cheeks. “Save them!”
“What??”
He didn’t have a chance to explain himself, to point out the holes, the eyes! It was all so overwhelming that Sōsuke forgot to pay attention. A giant hand swatted him like a fly. Sōsuke went crashing into the open field. The air was knocked from his lungs. He struggled for breath as spots clouded his vision. He couldn’t muster the energy to fight the unconsciousness that threatened to overwhelm him.
What did it matter, anyway?
He didn’t understand anything anymore.
Maybe it would all make sense in the next life.
#
The technique transferred over easily to the real world. Jūshirō stood in his self-made eye of the storm, finally able to protect himself and direct his attacks without fear of inadvertently getting struck by his own lightning. Moreover, he was able to add to the technique, opening sightlines so he could press the advantage and snapping them closed again in defense.
Around him the storm seethed, brought into existence through the sheer weight of his reiatsu, so much larger and more controlled now Mimihagi was properly integrated. Water swelled beneath his feet. Groundwater and snowmelt, not as biddable as the ocean, but it answered his call nonetheless.
Sōgyo no Kotowari's fierce triumph echoing in his head, Jūshirō moved through his kata, lightning following the arc of his blade. As it did in shikai, his sword was a conduit, a way of attacking at a distance, but that meant accuracy was all the more important.
At some point he was going to need to train against someone, though that wasn't going to be easy. A 'bankai' like this was going to be lethal to anyone with insufficient power. Shunsui would do it, and survive it easily, Jūshirō was sure. Especially if he'd achieved his own bankai. And he'd have the advantage of his shadow techniques.
With that in mind, Jūshirō sheared open the curtain of water around him and hunted for patches of darkness, sending lightning stabbing down into them. It was good practice since moving water meant constantly shifting shadows, but in truth it would be impossible to cover every one of them. What Jūshirō needed to combat someone like Shunsui was to create calm.
And the best way to do that would be through reiatsu.
Shooting an apologetic thought at Onigawa for the strain he was about to put on her barrier, Jūshirō began to crank up the levels, trying to force it downwards but onto rather than through the water. It worked, after a fashion, certainly reducing the quantity of waves and thus shadows. As a strategy, it was one he should definitely practice.
What about Genryusai-sensei? In theory Ryūjin Jakka should be vulnerable to this amount of water, but Jūshirō wasn't naive enough to think that would be true. To take on someone with the head captain's level of power would take monstrous amounts of water, probably more than Jūshirō could call. But he could try. That was the point of this training after all, to stretch himself and his techniques to prove that he did possess something of the scale of a bankai.
More water rose at his bidding, flooding up until Jūshirō was standing halfway to the dome's sky high roof. Waves too rose, and in direct contrast to what he'd tried against an imaginary Shunsui, this time Jūshirō wanted them higher, fiercer. It made holding his own position exponentially more difficult and none of these imaginary opponents were going to keep their distance. Jūshirō was going to need to keep his shield up, control the lightning and potentially engage in swordplay all at the same time.
Which was why katas existed. The ones he was supposed to be practising, not playing around concocting imaginary enemies in his head.
He pulled his reiatsu back with a snap, expecting the water levels to slowly start to fall, only for them to explode outwards as the barrier suddenly failed. The sticky rancid touch of hollow flooded in from outside, along with the lingering sensation of Onigawa's reiatsu and Sōsuke's too.
Distracted, Jūshirō tried to keep his feet, managed it through sheer luck and pulled his technique back into shape around him. He had people down, more hollows incoming and absolutely no back-up on the horizon. It wasn't exactly how he'd planned to practice his skills, but he was more than happy to use it.
Onigawa was already down, comatose not dead. Scooping her up under one arm, Jūshirō slammed a tonzanshō into place around the hollows, temporarily trapping them inside the inverted pyramid. It wouldn't last, he'd not used an incantation, but it gave him time to scour the battlefield for Sōsuke.
He found him unconscious out in the fields, drenched to the skin from the storm raging overhead. Going by the unnatural angle of his manacled wrist, it was probably broken. Had he tried to fight? It seemed likely. But neither he nor Onigawa could stay here.
The cottage was out of the question. Not only was it several miles away, but that was the direction the hollows were coming from. And they were still coming. More of them, pouring down the mountainside and coming their way.
Was something driving them? It was the only thing that made sense.
A few steps of shunpo in the opposite direction and Jūshirō could lower his charges into a dry river bed. It scarcely qualified as shelter at all, but it kept them from being easily spotted and if he knew where they were, he could keep them safe as he fought.
Finally free to take the battle to the hollows, he headed back towards the cottage. And only just in time. His bakudō was collapsing, the hollows he'd trapped inside, scrambling out through the unravelling side.
Water rising beneath his feet, Jūshirō lifted his swords, channeled lightning and unleashed it at the hollows. It stabbed across the battlefield, hit the first hollow, exploded it and leapt to the second. From there it kept going, the impact reducing as it went, but still enough to have an effect. Hollows went down like grass before a scythe and Jūshirō let rip again, aiming for those further back in the crowd. Again he decimated them, the air filling with screams and the stench of burning flesh. It was vile, but it was working.
Slowly, he began to push them back, further away from the riverbed. Some few got through. Jūshirō took them out with kidō, unwilling to even risk a stray bolt of lightning hitting Sōsuke or Onigawa.
Further still and he was within striking range of the cottage when the sky above it suddenly ripped apart like a jagged mouth. Hollow reiatsu blasted out of it, sending Jūshirō tumbling backwards. When he righted himself, it was to see several menos grande stepping through the garganta. Drawn by the reiatsu released by the dying hollows, no doubt.
For the first time, Jūshirō began to feel worried. One menos he could handle. The five that had come through so far were going to be more difficult. Especially if they turned their attention on him.
As though they had read his mind, the gillian turned as one towards him, a telltale red glow beginning to form in their mouths. Cero!
Anything weaker and he would have tried using his shikai, turn the power back on them. But a cero? He couldn't take the risk. Not if there was any chance it might damage Sōgyo no Kotowari.
Cursing, he briefly considered shunpoing backwards, remembered at the last minute where the river bed was and headed straight for the menos instead. The cero released when he was almost upon them. They slammed one after another into the waves he'd dragged up in front of him. The power and heat turning water to steam and blasting it back at Jūshirō. He yelped, and rammed unincanted enkōsen through both his swords.
It was enough to save him from the worst. A step of shunpo and he was past the menos, turning on one foot and slashing back at them with lightning. The first one staggered as a chunk exploded from its body and the one beside it smoked a little, but they were far too strong to be driven back like the smaller hollows had been. Jūshirō was going to have to come up with something far stronger if he wanted to defeat these.
But what? His strategy against Shunsui would be useless here. As would the one against Genryūsai-sensei. Menos wouldn't drown, they didn't burn.
They also had really annoying cero!
He dodged, and the cottage took the brunt of it, burning wood and tile exploding into the air. The cero kept coming, slicing through the chicken house and the vegetable plot, destroying everything it touched.
Cursing under his breath, Jūshirō lunged at the menos, not expecting to do more than stab it maybe. To his surprise, his blade sliced straight through its mask like it was nothing but a simple hollow, and the menos disintegrated with a fading scream.
"Hah!" Jūshirō cried in triumph. There were definite benefits to having captain level reiatsu it seemed.
Right, up close and personal it was then.
Of course, it was never that easy. For all that menos were slow and stupid, they were a long way off the ground and if there was enough of them, it was easy to get caught in the crossfire. Jūshirō stayed in close, dodging kicks, flailing claws and stabbing tongues, looking for the right opening to destroy masks.
He was down to the final two when a new flavour of reiatsu entered the battlefield. Heavier than the menos' by an order of magnitude, it collided with Jūshirō's like magma meeting waves.
Jūshirō startled, almost tumbling from the menos' shoulder. He'd only felt that kind of reiatsu a few times before, back during the last war when that Vasto Lorde had driven hundreds of powerful hollows out of Hueco Mundo.
An adjuchas. Which was heading towards the riverbed.
A single blow finished the menos he was fighting, which left only one. Jūshirō abandoned it, and dashed after the adjuchas. Like most of its kind, it was vastly smaller than its brethren, not much taller than Jūshirō himself, and a deep forest green in colour. When Jūshirō dropped down in front of it, it backed up a step or two and squinted at him.
"Not a captain," it said in an identifiably human voice. Its horned and masked head tilted to one side. "But close enough to make for good eating. Got any final wishes shinigami?"
They were so human, and yet so far from human. It had taken Jūshirō forever to get his head around that. Killing them was a mercy, the only mercy anyone could give.
"Only to cleanse the souls you've devoured and give them another chance," Jūshirō replied, raising his swords and his reiatsu. He'd have to be careful with any water and lightning this close to the riverbed, but he'd already proved that that set of techniques needed far more practice to be truly useful in this kind of context.
"Then I'm sorry to disappoint." Sonido was so much faster than shunpo. Jūshirō had forgotten. It was instinct that made him block the blow, and only the fact that he had two swords stopped him from being disemboweled as the adjuchas' other hand swiped for his belly. Claws screeched across metal, and Jūshirō leapt backwards. This was not going to be anything like so easy to defeat as the menos grande.
And he definitely couldn't do it here. If that adjuchas fired a cero, it could easily take out the riverbed.
Punching a shakkahō straight into its face, Jūshirō kicked it in the head on the way past and shunpo'd for the hills. Thankfully, it followed him. Though Jūshirō only had time to be grateful for a split second before it caught up and kicked him out of the air. He tumbled towards the ground, using hastily grabbed groundwater to turn his fall into a controlled slide.
The adjuchas was on him again immediately, hard and fast, not Jūshirō's forte. He wasn't strong, physically, and he knew it. His strengths lay in his wits and his reiatsu, not brute force. On that front, this adjuchas had him beaten.
He retreated again, hoping to give himself enough distance to reassemble his bankai technique, or at to least think, but the adjuchas was having none of it. It stayed in his face, blow after blow raining down. Jūshirō felt himself beginning to tire.
Desperately, he whipped up a wave, smashing it into the back of the adjuchas. It staggered, but hardly slowed. Lightning channelled up the blade had more effect, making the adjuchas bellow as fire coursed across its skin. A second later though it was back him, claws like daggers stabbing and swiping at eyes, chest and belly. Any part Jūshirō left uncovered for a second.
He retreated again, and again. At least this way, if he lost, it would be further away from the riverbed.
Then cero! Not from the adjuchas, but the single remaining menos. Jūshirō had forgotten it was there and had retreated straight back into it. Bright red and screaming, it clipped the left side of his body, sending burning agony pouring down his arm and drove him staggering to one knee. He really wasn't used to fighting alone.
The adjuchas had dodged the cero too, pulling back half a hundred yards. Seeing Jūshirō down, it threw back its head and laughed, a scarlet ball beginning to form in its own mouth. Another cero, only this one would be stronger. Jūshirō forced himself to his feet, exhaustion and pain turning limbs heavy and his head cloudy. He'd lost control of the water again, and anyway, the adjuchas was far too strong for that technique to be effective.
But there was one thing he could try. And if it didn't work? Well, he was a dead man anyway.
Painfully, he lifted Sōgyo no Kotowari.
The cero hit with blinding power. Jūshirō felt the sword in his left hand buck and then it was absorbing the power, the tabs across the chord chiming as it gathered it in, backed it up and then, spinning, he sent the blast hurtling towards the menos grande. It hit the giant straight in the mask, shattering it in an instant. With a wail, it began to disintegrate.
The adjuchas flung itself past Jūshirō and began tearing at what was left of it. Feeding hungrily on the dark rancid smelling flesh.
Jūshirō took the respite for what it was, a chance to get away. He staggered for the hills again, and only made it as far as the treeline before his chest started to seize. Damn it! No! He couldn't afford to get ill now!
Fighting back the urge to cough, he kept going. He had to draw the adjuchas away as far as he could. The nearest shinigami outpost was the one he'd sent Sōsuke to in the next district up, if he could make it there, perhaps they could send for help.
A wordless bellow came from behind him. Jūshirō spun on the spot, almost toppling over, and stared back across the plain. Someone was fighting the adjuchas.
Jūshirō shook his head, sure he must be seeing things, but no, it was definitely Shunsui. Those swords were absolutely unmistakable, even if the reiatsu signature was different.
Oh, so that was what gaining bankai looked like from the outside!
A punch of power sent the adjuchas flying, and a moment later all Jūshirō could see was Shunsui. Big hands settled on his shoulders and a familiar voice said, "I'm sorry I didn't get here sooner."
Sooner? Jūshirō hadn't been expecting him at all! The panic that had been threatening to bring on an attack, faded. "Shunsui, I-" he began, but that was all he managed to get out before Shunsui interrupted him. "There's more up in the mountains, do you want me to handle them?"
Mountains? Oh. "No, leave them to me, they're only minor hollows," Jūshirō replied. He was tired, but he could handle that much.
Shunsui definitely seemed to think so. With a nod, he was gone, back to fighting the adjuchas. Jūshirō turned towards the mountains and stepped tiredly into shunpo. All of him hurt, especially down his left side. More burns. Not fatal, but painful.
The further he got from the fight, the colder it became. Snow quickly piled up around him, and he was starting to think he'd missed the packs of minor hollows completely when he suddenly sensed them up ahead, huge numbers of them, all heading towards him at speed. And behind them, something else again, with reiatsu as caustic as the adjuchas and ten times more powerful.
It didn't feel like a hollow, though honestly, with the way Jushiro's day was going, it was probably a Vasto Lorde.
Torn between doing what he'd promised Shunsui he would do, and staying alive long enough to warn Shunsui what might be coming, Jūshirō hesitated for a moment too long. Hollows burst over the top of the hill and poured down the slope in front of him. But they weren't attacking, they were being driven
A moment later, he saw what was driving them.
Or more accurately, the someone, with long dark hair and a white haori stained black with hollow blood. A haori that, as the figure spun to decimate a whole section of hillside, Jūshirō could see read 4.
Relief gripped him. Of all the people to run into out here, he'd never have expected Unohana. And, was that her bankai?
#
Sōsuke woke with his face pressed into Onigawa’s chest, her arm curled protectively around his shoulders. The body beneath his cheek was clammy and the sound of her heartbeat was irregular and slow. There was a strange dip in her yukata, just at that spot where he’d seen the dark slash of a tattoo, the magical mark, the one they never discussed, ever.
Despite the pounding pain in his head and the searing fire in his wrist, Sōsuke shifted enough to pull back the fabric to look at her skin.
A hole.
He quickly covered her skin back up. “Don’t die, sensei,” he said, but not out of affection. “If you do and you become one of them, I’m _allowed_ to kill you.”
Onigawa’s hand was like a claw where it knotted into the cloth at Sōsuke’s back. Her voice was a barely audible croak. “Why wait? Just do it. You know you’ve always wanted to, you little monster.”
Monster? Him?
He almost laughed out loud at the thought.
With effort, Sōsuke untangled himself from her body. Every muscle protested. His head felt heavy with the effort to even think. Somehow, they had ended up together in the basin of river bed, which, inexplicably was dry. Likewise, the heavy snowfall seemed to have evaporated somehow, as bits of rock and winter-drained reeds had been exposed.
His head spinning, Sōsuke peered over the edge of the shallow ravine.
He wished he hadn’t.
Everywhere was death. He could smell it in the air, hear it in the desperate cries of the dying.
A storm of destruction raged. In its epicenter stood a once-kindly white haired demon that struck down lives without hesitation.
Other monsters had appeared on the field. One seemed wild-eyed with long black hair that swirled with each joyous, murderous slash of a blood-soaked zanpakutō, whose cackling laughter Sōsuke swore he could hear. She seemed to be death incarnate.
The other new monster wore a familiar face, but it slid from shadows like the Boogie Man.
The ‘cavalry,’ then. The so-called ‘good guys.’
Murderers.
Monsters.
Sitting back down beside Onigawa, Sōsuke rubbed his aching head with his good hand. “You people are such hypocrites,” he told her. “You know those things were people once. Someone’s brother or sister or father… or….”
He looked at Onigawa’s hole.
He thought about a mother he never knew.
Not knowing quite why Sōsuke began to cry. Suddenly, he couldn’t stop. His whole body wracked with sobs.
That was how they found him, hiccuping for breath and nauseous from…
Hatred.
A hatred so deep, it felt as if is own soul had been punctured.
#
Sōsuke had no clear memory of being lifted from the river bed or taken in strong arms to what remained of Onigawa’s cottage. He threw up on someone. The word ‘concussion’ was bandied about and he was told not to try to think too hard.
Or, maybe that was a joke, given that it was Kyōraku who’d said it.
Regardless, it wouldn’t be a problem. Sōsuke had no energy for thought.
He sat on the porch, the only part of the structure still intact, covered in a pile of Onigawa’s furs salvaged from the wreckage. Onigawa herself had been laid out beside him like a corpse. The killer with the flower name had instructed Sōsuke to hold Onigawa’s hand “so that it might bring her some comfort.”
Despite the ludicrousness of that idea, Sōsuke had done as he was told. It was easier now that his wrist had been healed--something else he had little memory of.
Though he was told she’d been stabilized, Onigawa’s hand was cold and stiff. Her pulse present and steady, but very faint. Sōsuke gripped her tightly, wondering if he would be able to sense her life slip away. Likewise, he watched Onigawa carefully for signs that she might begin becoming a monster. Secretly, he hoped she would. Now that the fight was over, Sōsuke had questions, so many questions about these monsters--Hollows, he’d heard someone say. He was particularly curious how swiftly Onigawa would be cut down if she became one. Would anyone hesitate? Would they even think of the woman she once was?
Sōsuke doubted it.
After all, the three shinigami seemed almost jovial after their murder spree. Kyōraku had been slapping Ukitake’s back in such an obviously loving way that Sōsuke was grateful when Unohana--yes, that was her name--told Kyōraku to just kiss him already.
They did so under the cover of the traveling hat.
Unohana found one of Onigawa’s sake jugs and they passed it around between them with cheers of “bankai!” to replace the usual “kampai!”
Sōsuke nearly threw up again, but for a very different reason.
No one had come to admonish him yet. Sōsuke suspected they might forgo a lecture, given the state they found him in. Tears still occasionally dripped from his eyes. His nose refused to stop running.
None of it was remorse, however.
Currently, the tears were, in fact, grief. He mourned the loss of his books--massive water damage, not one of them salvageable. Gods damn it all.
Ukitake lowered himself down beside Sōsuke. He offered a soft, concerned smile and a chipped bowl of something that steamed in the frigid air. “Tea?”
Sōsuke let go of Onigawa to take the bowl with both hands. A cautious sip revealed a fairly decent brew. He glanced at the pile of lumber that was once his home.
Ukitake gave a little embarrassed shrug. “Shunsui used some embers from the… er, coop to make a small fire. We should eat something before we make the journey back. I mean, it’s a shame to waste them, don’t you think?”
Was it? “I never liked the chickens.”
“Ah, well, I guess that’s alright, then,” Ukitake said awkwardly. After a few moments, he started again, “It’s been so good of you to sit with Onigawa. Unohana has a shikai that can heal, believe it or not.”
“That is hard to believe,” Sōsuke said dryly. The tea gone, he set the cup down on the wooden planks. “What’s the point of something like that?”
Ukitake startled. “Well, it’s tremendously important. It can save lives! It’ll certainly save Onigawa.”
Because Onigawa’s life was one of the ones that mattered.
A tear leaked out.
Sōsuke knuckled it away angrily.
It was stupid to cry over Hollows. He didn’t even know who they once were. Why did he even care? Clearly, no one else did. “I’m an idiot.”
Ukitake’s hug was fierce, bone-creakingly strong. “Oh, Sōsuke, I know you’re blaming yourself right now, but you mustn’t. How were you to know that Hollows are attracted to power like yours? Shunsui said that the cook and the old priest only made it to the outpost because you led the Hollow away from them. And you defended them with Kido barriers? I’m impressed! Not many people your age have that kind of courage. I do wish… that is, the only mistake was bringing them here, but, again, the impulse is understandable… I don’t think even I knew how overtaxed the Seal had become or how… sick Onigawa was. In her prime, she would handily defeated those Hollows… well, at least until the Adjuchas showed up, at any rate.” He gave Sōsuke another squeeze, “Anyway, the point is, no one blames you. Not really.”
Not exactly a strong finish. Sōsuke wiped his nose on Ukitake’s shoulder. “I never want to be a shinigami.”
“I know it seems scary right now, but you’ll change your mind. Besides, that’s something fate has already decided, I’m afraid. A zanpakutō is born for every shinigami. Why, yours might already be out there!”
Sōsuke's tone was as dark as Ukitake’s had been hopeful: “I’ll refuse it.”
“Um, that’s not really an option either,” Ukitake said softly, stroking Sōsuke head gently. “Listen, let’s not talk about this right now. Shunsui and I have talked a bit already and we both agree it’s too soon for Academy. You’re ready in terms of power, but you’re… not ready in so many other ways. You’re going to need some time to decompress, to just have a normal childhood. And, now that your reiatsu is basically undetectable and under your control, you can!”
Into Ukitake’s shoulder, Sōsuke grimly spat out the first profession that occurred to him, “Send me to a farm. I want to be a farmer.”
“I… okay, but we hadn’t been thinking to put you to work. You really need to just, you know, be a kid. Farming is difficult labor, Sōsuke. It’s a hard life!”
He tried not so sound sarcastic, but Sōsuke was sure he failed: “Harder than prison?”
Ukitake let out a breath. “No, of course not. You’ve already had a much harder time of it, haven’t you?” One last squeeze, and Ukitake finally let him go. “If that’s what you really want, I’ll send word to my cousin who keeps track of such things. I’m sure one of my kin owns a farm.”
#
Once it was clear that there was nothing more he could do, Jūshirō left Sōsuke on the porch and went to find Shunsui.
"I think we broke him," he said as he sat down slowly beside the fire on what used to be the chopping block. Unohana might have healed his burns, but it still felt like every muscle in his body was screaming at him.
Shunsui stopped stirring the steaming pot in front of him for a moment and tipped his hat back. "Hmm?"
"Sōsuke," Jūshirō qualified and leaned forward to peer into the pot. "He wants a to be a farmer. Is that stew?"
"Vegetables, from what's left of the storeshed," Shunsui replied, waving a dripping stick in the general vicinity of a smallish crater. "And he might have to rethink. I can do salt-mines, but not farms."
"That's okay, I'll handle it," Jūshirō said. The scent of cooking made his stomach growl and he eyed the chickens dripping fat into the flames hungrily. Surely one of them had to be done by now?
"I thought all you Ukitake were fishermen," Shunsui said, picking one up and inspecting it closely before handing it over. "All nets and hauling anchors and such."
"We are," Jūshirō replied, taking the food gratefully. "But unlike some families, we do occasionally marry out." That earned him a raised eyebrow. "Well, you have to admit, your clan are a touch insular." The chicken was a bit tough but tasted delicious. Jūshirō licked his fingers clean of fat and pulled off another piece. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure my aunt on my mother's side has a tea plantation down south somewhere, and honestly, I think it would do Sōsuke good to get away from both of us for a while. He doesn't need the manacles anymore and this whole interlude has only traumatised him even more."
"I won't argue with you there," Shunsui agreed. He sighed gustily, and picked up his own chicken. "But even so, you think it'll be all right to send him out there alone? We still don't know why he was in the Maggot's Nest."
Jūshirō bit back a surge of anger. "That boy over there is in tears because he saw us killing hollows, Shunsui! Hollows! And you still think he could be a danger to anyone else, civilian or shinigami? Whatever happened for them to confine him that place, I can assure you it wasn't for murder. Sōsuke doesn't have in him to kill."
Shunsui was holding up a placating hand. "Fine, fine, whatever you say. I'm just worried that a simple farmer won't know how to handle him, is all."
"He'll be fine," Jūshirō said, calming a little. "It'll give him a chance to make friends, have a proper childhood. Goodness knows he never got a chance to do that in prison."
Shunsui sighed again, and nodded, leaning back against a pile of wood. "You're right. I'm sorry. I keep getting caught up in all this…" He waved a finger in circles above his head.
The Kuchiki business. Of course. Jūshirō felt most of his anger melt away. There hadn't been time for him to check on developments before he left Seireitei, but it had definitely been causing Shunsui problems. "How are things going with the investigation?" he asked gently. "Have they charged anyone yet?"
"Charged, tried and imprisoned," Shunsui said, his gaze firmly on his chicken. It should have been a triumph, though he sounded far from happy about it. "Muken. Fifteen hundred years. She'll never get out, of course. By the time her sentence is up, there'll be nothing left of her."
Jūshirō flinched. He seen a couple of those walking corpses while working security at Central. Shunsui was right. You had to be unimaginably powerful to survive that place for more than a couple of hundred years. If the Maggot's Nest was where Seireitei sent people to forget them, Muken was where they sent them to die.
"I'm surprised they didn't execute her," he said trying to be supportive. The chicken in his hand was growing cold and yet Jūshirō found he was nowhere near as hungry as he had been.
Shunsui's shoulders hunched. "So was I," he muttered. "It seemed cut and dried enough once Onmitsukidō were through with her."
That sounded like Shunsui had had to settle for a scapegoat. "I'm sorry," Jūshirō said, "I know you wanted to find the real-"
Shunsui's hand across his mouth silenced him, and he followed his lover's admonishing gaze to where Unohana was just visible around the other side of the ruins. Realising what he'd just almost done, Jūshirō winced and mouthed sorry against Shunsui's hand. Shunsui rolled his eyes and lowered his hand, allowing Jūshirō to continue, "I suppose, on the upside, that means you can go back to the 5th." Until he got his promotion that was.
"Not so much," Shunsui replied and took a quick bite of his chicken. As he chewed, he added, "I'm acting Captain at the 8th."
"Acting… Captain!" Jūshirō repeated, sitting up straight. "Why didn''t you- You should have-" He looked around. "Where's your haori?"
"Um, I forgot it?" Shunsui waved his hands as Jūshirō opened his mouth to lambast such irresponsible behaviour. "In my defence, I only got it a few weeks ago and when your message came, it sounded urgent so-"
"Not that urgent!" Jūshirō protested, horrified. A captain's haori was a vital mark of the rank, never to be taken lightly. "Much as I am eternally grateful that you arrived when you did, all the letter said was that we needed to talk about Sōsuke and that you should join me when you had nothing urgent-"
He stopped speaking, a sudden thought occurring to him. "You had overdue paperwork, didn't you!" he accused. Shunsui's wince was all the answer he needed. "Of all the irresponsible-" he began.
"But there's piles of it, Juu-chan!" Shunsui protested. "Piles and piles, and my lieutenant is so mean. He won't do any of it for me-"
"All of it, you mean," Jūshirō put in sharply, then sighed. "I feel sorry for whoever they've got working for you. Is it still Yoshiyuki-san?"
Shunsui nodded sadly.
That probably wasn't going to be a good fit going forwards. Yoshiyuki was used to working with the likes of Shihōin-taichō, efficient and hardworking. Faced with a lazybones like Shunsui, he was going to struggle. Maybe Jūshirō could give him some tips.
"We should get back as soon as we can," Jūshirō said firmly. "Did Unohana-taichō say if Onigawa-sensei was fit to travel yet?"
"I think that's what she's doing," Shunsui replied, perking up a little. Apparently the change in subject was a welcome thing. "Something about needing to reorient herself?"
Jūshirō couldn't begin to fathom what that might mean. He glanced over at Unohana and, leaning forward so he was closer to Shunsui, whispered, "I had no idea she could fight like that! Did you?"
Shunsui shook his head. "Yama-jii used to call her First Kenpachi occasionally, but I always thought he was joking. You should have seen what she did to that adjuchas, Juu-chan, it was terrifying."
Jūshirō could believe it. Back on the mountainside, he'd taken one look at the way Unohana was fighting and kept well out of the line of fire. She didn't look like she was going to stop for anything, hollow or shinigami. "How did you get her to stop?" he asked, genuinely curious.
"I didn't," Shunsui said, with a wary glance over at the 4th division captain. "Onigawa did. And she called her Yachiru."
That was curious. Jūshirō added it to the list of things he needed to research, along with the exact nature of the Soul King and how, precisely, one gained entry to the Royal Realm.
Still, mention of Onigawa opened up a whole different can of worms. "I'm amazed Sensei was able to do anything at all, considering what happened to her seal." Jūshirō shook his head, guilt creeping up on him again. "When she said she wasn't supposed to be doing kidō, I thought she was talking for legal reasons, not medical ones. I wish she'd told me. I never would have asked her to make the barrier for me."
"If she didn't think she could do it, she would have said," Shunsui shot back. "And you said yourself that she seemed to be doing okay until the hollows arrived."
Jūshirō thought back to how Onigawa had been that morning - and goodness, was it really only this morning? It felt like eons ago, so much had happened. Back then, she'd appeared tired, but no more so than Jūshirō might have expected for someone who'd tucked away that much sake.
Maybe that was the clue he'd missed. And the seal, of course. The moment he saw that he should have realised. Seals like that weren't designed for heavy usage.
He sighed wearily, then oofed when Shunsui nudged him in the ribs. "I still say the best bit was when Unohana asked you the name of your bankai. Your face was a picture. I thought you were going to blow it."
Jūshirō grimaced, but welcomed Shunsui's attempt to change the subject. The question had been totally unexpected, though it really shouldn't have been. It was the first thing anyone in authority asked when a new bankai was claimed. Not that Jūshirō had claimed his; Unohana had simply assumed. Which on some levels was wonderfully convenient since it meant that Jūshirō hadn't needed to lie to her face about having it. In fact, it would have been perfect if he'd thought to come up with a name first. As it was, his bankai was now officially called called Sōgyo no Kotowari: Storm Surge, which wasn't very original but adequately descriptive. It shouldn't raise anyone's suspicions in any case.
"I should take some food to Sōsuke," Jūshirō said, standing up. "Getting him to eat something would be a good first step in helping him to feel normal again."
Maybe by then Unohana would be able to summon Minazuki. As far as Jūshirō was concerned, the sooner they all got back to Seireitei and civilization the better.