Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Daydreams Come True ❯ Nemu Kurotsuchi ( Chapter 26 )

Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I just borrowed the characters.

 

Please be warned, after the fluff of the last chapter, this one is brutal. There are parts of this chapter you may want to skip as they contain graphic images. I wish I didn't feel compelled to write them.

 

 

Nemu Kurotsuchi

 

What did normal emotions feel like? Did other people feel the air brush past their skin like she did? Did food contain the same taste? Was her sight the same as the people around her? Did their ears hear sounds the way hers did, or was she missing something? Her father, (no, her preferred to be called Mayuri), Mayuri said her hearing was better than any normal person, but what did that mean? The man was known to sacrifice anything he felt unimportant in his pursuit of perfection. Was his hearing better than hers and he had given her inferior hearing because he always took the best for himself? He had not seen any problems with modifying his body to his requirements; so why did she resent it when he wished to improve hers?

 

Nemu did not know how old she was. Knowing there was no point, she didn't ask. As years had passed she had defined what she could ask that might gain an answer and the questions that would receive a disgusted look and possible beating.

 

Her earliest memories were of him informing her that she was not like other Shinigami, that she was his creation and thus owed him more loyalty than most daughters owed to their fathers. As he made her, so he could cause the end of her existence. He did not mention death as he seemed to take pleasure in telling her that she would not experience death, like other people. The one time she tried to ask him about how her death would be different, he sneered at her while slapping her hard across the face.

 

“Don't be a fool. How can something that was created, who does not really live, die? You are an experiment that I have permitted to exist. Be grateful,” was his cruel answer. She daren't hold her cheek but hastily lowered her eyes, aware that there was no point in questioning him further. Not for the first time she wished he didn't despise her, that he cared for her, even if it was as an experiment which had not failed.

 

The words he uttered made her question her existence. If she was created, if she didn't really live, what was she? She could not recall a child hood; she was born fully grown as empty as a blank page on which he could write anything he wished, or so Mayuri had told her. She existed in a society populated by souls but was she a soul or did she possess a soul? What was a created soul?

 

Another time she had asked him why he had created her and he had answered her, very briefly.

 

“I created you in my own image. I breathed life into the clay and the spark of life answered my summons and thus you were created. Even so, you disappoint me. I expected so much more,” was his answer. Nemu wondered if she should be hurt by his words, but as he always spoke to her like that she nodded meekly. There would be no further information forthcoming unless he felt the need to impress someone with his reasoning. For now, that seemed unlikely.

 

The other members of 12th Division basically ignored her, even though she was their assistant captain. If they had a question they would go to Akon or another of the seated officers. Whenever she ventured an opinion, and that was only when her captain wasn't present, they appeared to listen but paid no heed to her suggestion. They had learnt too well from their Captain how to treat her. At least they didn't beat her or touch her like he did, but their studied disregard made her wonder if she was needed. Occasionally, when in 12h Division and her father was absent she questioned whether she still was there, or if he had disassembled her and instead of not surviving, as he had threatened, she existed as a formless ghost that wandered through the halls and rooms observing all, but being part of nothing.

 

Growing tired of drifting through her own division, she now left it when no one required her to do some menial task. Freed from the contempt she roamed around the Seireitei, hiding when anyone came near, fearful they would notice her and report her actions to her father. She became adept at finding those shadows that seemed to hide her slender body well and while she wished she had the ability to merge with the walls of buildings like Mayuri, she found that she could see and overhear many private moments between people when they thought they were unobserved.

 

As she had been told many times that she had no life other than that granted to her by her father, she began to try to experience life vicariously, through watching other people, seeing their moments of happiness and misery. None of these emotions seemed to affect her, but she craved to feel some of what these people did. She did not question whether watching other people was right or wrong. Why would she do so? Her father had made an art of observing others, trying to find a flaw which he could use to his advantage, an art which he constantly practiced.

 

Watching him perform experiments on his unwilling subjects, she heard their screams and protests as he cut them or probed their fragile bodies. Often he would point our how superior they were to these poor beings who could not withstand simple pain or understand that their demise served in the quest for knowledge. Their deaths at his hands were more valuable than their short lives spent seeking pleasure could ever be, or so he told them and Nemu over and over again.

 

“I am a scientist,” Mayuri would explain, tapping himself on the chest proudly. “They are just a collection of nerves, cells, emotions and reactions. It is through their end that they become truly useful and worthwhile. They should thank me for selecting them for study, instead of calling me names and spitting at me.”

 

Who was right; who was wrong? All her life, she had been instructed to believe whatever her father thought she should believe and for a time she had done so without question. Events in the last few years had caused her to wonder how it was possible to determine which was which. Ultimately someone would suffer and be judged wrong through some set of logical conclusions. It was interesting to see how people could use logic to justify their actions for right or wrong.

 

Mayuri believed his experiments were essential, but on occasions she had heard his subordinates speak of the tests he formulated and they did not seem to agree with his ideas.

 

“He goes too far. We could learn so much more if we studied these creatures while they were still alive and watched them for days, or even months. Reducing them to their base components is not science; it's simple butchery.”

 

“Are you going to try to tell him to stop? Remember what happened to the last person who protested? The tests he executed on Sakurai when she spoke out of turn? I didn't know he could be even more inventive in devising ways to extend the moments of anguish as long as he did.”

 

That explained something Nemu had trouble grasping in the past. During the research they had mentioned she had questioned why her father was going to such lengths on someone he knew: a subordinate who had been kind to her, listened to her suggestions and treated her as if she were someone. Nemu preferred the way she treated her, but one time, when her father had caught them talking he ordered her away and told her that fraternisation with subordinates was a sign of weakness.

 

From the start of his tests, the other members of 12th Division had gradually excused themselves from participation as the excesses increased until eventually Mayuri and Nemu were the only ones in the room with the dying woman. She no longer screamed as her skin was torn from her body, or her remaining limbs further mangled by devices meant to compress. Many of her internal organs were exposed to the air and her kidneys had been removed for no plausible reason. Mayuri had used every means to keep the woman alive during the procedures, giving her drugs to keep her conscious. Her whimpering had ceased hours ago and aside from the occasional twitch, she gave no signs of life.

 

Watching her father try to obtain the results he thought he should obtain, she wondered if she had been brought into the world through such pain and seemingly clinical insensitivity. How had her body been formed? She was a combination of a gigai and a gikon, so how could she be anyone's child? Mayuri might have created her, but did that make her his daughter, or not? They shared the same blood, but as he had altered his body so much, was he still the same man, or was he the son of himself, or another one of his creations? Did the man he once was still exist in the adjustments he had made, or had he been lost years ago when his last touch with humanity had been shattered by some unknown incident?

 

Often, when alone, she would ask all these questions. Question after question about her existence and the existence of others would course through her brain, but rarely did she arrive at an answer. There was little evidence to support any conclusion.

 

“She can teach me nothing more,” Mayuri said as he walked away from the woman who had dared to oppose him. “Put her down, Nemu and dispose of the worthless remains.”

 

“But Mayuri, I don't want to, I mean…,” Nemu tried to deny her father but he simply ignored her and walked out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him. Rushing to the door, she tried to leave, only to find he had locked it behind him. Unsure what to do, she hesitated. Killing Hollows or enemies was not an issue; that was her role. To kill someone who had once been kind to her was something she didn't want to experience.

 

“End it,” a ragged voice begged her. At first she couldn't work out was talking to her until she looked at the form that barely resembled a living soul. What could be recognised as a face seemed to be looking in her direction. “Please, finish it.” The final word was little more than a whisper.

 

Nemu stood near the suffering woman. She observed the wounds her father had made during his `research'. With the amount of damage inflicted she would not be able to survive, no matter how skilled the surgeon who tried to repair the broken body. All but one of her limbs had been severed and at one time Mayuri had commenced cutting through the neck. He had stopped before he reached the jugular as another idea presented itself to him. She could see the artery pumping sluggishly, exposed to the air.

 

“I'm sorry,” she told the woman as she sliced through the blood vessel.

 

Immediately she realised her mistake as the blood erupted from the cut skin, spurting over her face and hands, spraying out wildly and then it abruptly stopped. There had been little blood left in the body after the 12th Division Captain's attentions, and the woman had died quickly.

 

Nemu stood there, near the body, unsure what to do next and wondering about the tiny lurch in her stomach. Going to the sink she washed off most of the blood and then cleaned where the blood had sprayed. Then she washed the body, stitching the wounds together neatly, trying to reconstruct the woman who had become unrecognisable through the mutilations. Eventually she felt she could do nothing more. She wrapped the remains in a white sheet and then went to the door, and finding it was open, asserted her authority for a time. The body received correct burial, but mainly because the other members of 12th Division had wished it.

 

Later she found her father had televised her `murder' of Sakurai to all 12th Division, muting the request for death and her care for the body afterwards. The distance between her and the other members of 12th Division became problematic after that. Some believed that she had killed her subordinate for pleasure, while others understood that the death was caused by compassion. Either way, it did not change much in the way she was treated, except there were some members who would talk to her, as long as no one else observed the conversation.

 

Her father, of course, despised her for her display of sentimentality. It was hard for her to accept she had been sentimental. She researched the word but the explanation did not seem to explain how she'd felt.

 

Recalling this incident, months later, she remembered her hands moving over the corpse, trying to restore identity and she realised that her father had not been performing research, he had been exacting revenge. The injuries he had inflicted had all been designed to humiliate the woman and to serve as a warning for others. It had taken her a long time to work this out, or maybe she had known this to be true, but until now she had not felt brave enough to accept that her father had fewer redeeming qualities than she originally thought. She believed that she should feel grateful to him for granting her existence and form, and tried to convince herself that she cared, but she was still struggling with recognising and categorising emotions.

 

Hiding in the shadows as she did, one time she had overheard the 11th Division Assistant Captain tell Captain Kenpachi Zaraki that she loved him. It was a chance and causal remark in response to his providing her with a large bag of those sweet things that she seemed to enjoy so much. It had been many years ago and it made her wonder how she felt about her `father'. As she was still unsure what love was, it was hard to decide if she loved her creator, either as a man, a captain or a father. She witnessed the enjoyment that the two highest seated officers in 11th Division seemed to take in each others company and wondered what it would be like if she could share that easy friendship with her father. That would mean that they would both have to change, to be different people and even if she tried to fool herself into believing that Mayuri would change, it was unlikely he would change that much, or be willing to change enough.

 

Hearing a cool interchange between Captain Kuchiki and his sister had made her wonder if the distance and lack of interaction would be preferable to the `relationship' she shared with her father. Unemotional, implied respect and on Rukia's part there was an intense desire to please. Nemu tried to please her father, but that was because of duty rather than any other reason. Rukia seemed to feel too much and her brother too little. Was this normal between siblings?

 

Another time she had witnessed a kiss between Assistant Captain Ichimaru and Rangiku Matsumoto. No words of love had been mentioned, but her research indicated couples who kissed, especially those who kissed like that, liked each other. The way that Rangiku Matsumoto locked her arms around the neck of the man, the way she eagerly lifted her mouth to his was a contrast to the relaxed manner in which the Assistant Captain kissed the woman in his arms. After the kiss he whispered something in her ear to be granted a direct look and a simple nod. They left shortly afterward, going separate ways. Thinking about that occasion, she recognised that didn't feel any desire to kiss Mayuri like that, so she did not feel sexual desire for her father. That love was not meant to be for the parent, but she was still trying to work out how she felt.

 

Recent events had affected her father, and thus made her life less easy. The coming of the ryoka had excited the man and he had prattled on about new experimental subjects coming to him, willingly, to participate in his research. It did not seem correct that people would wish for him to torture them, but she did not contradict him. That would only bring pain and a flood of words that would rattle against her ears and make her head ache with the violence of his disdain and disgust.

 

Even so, she had not escaped unscathed. He had been furious at the interruption of his interrogation of the 11th Division 3rd seat by the Captain of that Division. Even while there, Nemu had tried to say something to him even though she knew he wouldn't like the interruption. The normal response of threats did not surprise her, but did make her feel sad. If she had been permitted to ask Ikkaku would he have answered her? He had looked at her when she came into the room and didn't immediately turn his head away until he saw her father. For a moment she wondered if the man had smiled at her, but that couldn't be true. No one smiled at her, except for the 11th Division Assistant Captain. She smiled at everyone. No one else would smile at Nemu, except in mockery.

 

That wasn't true. Realisation struck her like a thunderbolt and she understood something that she had not allowed herself to comprehend until this time. She didn't know if people smiled at her. The early training by her father, not to look him directly in the face unless directly ordered to, had become her normal behaviour. She saw the Assistant Captains smile because she was so much shorter and Nemu did look her directly in the face on occasions. Ikkaku Madarame had been within her normal range of sight and that was why she had noticed his gaze. When she was unobserved she would look people directly in the face, to see their expressions. How could she tell if people were smiling at her?

 

Mayuri had spent an hour abusing her, yelling insults at her, slapping at her when his rage over powered him and she accepted it, as she always did. He didn't like to appear weak in front of anyone but for some reason Kenpachi Zaraki made him feel uncomfortable, less assured of his infallibility. Maybe it was his smile, his size or something else.

 

Finally the news that the 11th Division Captain had lost his fight against one of the ryoka and been injured stopped his tirade and cheered him up considerably, as did the news that Renji Abarai had also suffered a humiliating defeat. “Of course they lost. They're not as well prepared as I.” He explained that the ryoka were blood thirsty ignorant wretches who had come to invade the Seireitei for some foul purpose which only he would be able to counter.

 

Then he'd had his idea. He'd capture the ryoka, either some or one, and that would prove his superiority over all the other Shinigami. On a map of the Seireitei he'd plotted out where the ryoka had been sighted. Instructing Nemu to triangulate the strongest encounters to the weakest he looked at the map and allowed a self satisfied smirk to decorate his features. When the news had been received that two of the ryoka had been captured he had sniffed disdainfully. “Two are travelling together. I will capture them. They are close Nemu, I can sense it. Here, make these preparations and I'll go and scout the area.”

 

As usual she had obeyed, marshalling the newest members of the Division into a room. New people didn't know how most of the Shinigami regarded her and followed her instructions, until they found out her real position. They waited, excited about being allocated duties by their captain in person. Many of them hadn't seen their Captain very often as Mayuri didn't mingle with the ground troops very often. Excited quiet chatter erupted in spurts and would then quieten.

 

When her father entered the room the atmosphere became even more fraught with excitement. The promise of a seat was one she didn't understand. As far as she could remember seats were awarded on abilities, not as rewards. There was something wrong with this, but she dared say nothing. To speak would incur her father's wrath once again and she didn't wish to experience that so soon.

 

Even as she watched the events play out and saw the people who had accepted the assignment used as human bombs, she did not protest. Mayuri wouldn't listen and she didn't want to speak. She hadn't known them and any remonstrance would enrage her father.

 

But the ryoka resisted. They managed to shield against the blast. She could not permit her surprise to show but was even more amazed when they did not meekly submit to her father's demands. When he disclosed his name and rank she had been sure that they would have felt the awe that she sometimes experienced at the power her father wielded, but they seemed unimpressed. When he offered the girl the inducements for becoming his subject, Nemu could not prevent a shudder from rippling through her bones.

 

Mayuri would insist she remain through the whole process of the experiments and she found that even though she was meant to be accustomed to these, she felt increasingly sensitised to the horror that resulted. She dared not mention it to anyone, especially Mayuri, as she knew he would take her apart once more. The last time he had done that he had kept her conscious the whole time he made changes to her. She had felt each alteration running through her disconnected nerves as he improved her lungs and heart; at least that is what he told her he was doing. He had informed her that she would feel everything because of the way he had made her. Her pain receptors did not dampen any reflex and no endorphins were released into her bloodstream. Injuries were to be felt, so he could judge which were most effective to be used as torture. At first she hadn't screamed, believing that her father wanted her to prove her bravery and courage, but he continued, twisting, prodding, using implements on her that caused pain unlike any she experienced before, until her tolerance was at an end and then she shrieked.

 

The screams caused her father to chuckle happily. “Even you, Nemu, even you who have been constructed to withstand more pain than any human, can be made to scream. In future I grant you permission to scream as soon as I commence this work, but never in public. The sound combined with the indications from my monitors helps me assess the effectiveness of my methods. In front of other people you will show the superiority of my creation by not uttering a sound even if I nearly destroy your worthless body.”

 

He would use some of those methods on the girl, she was certain, once she was in his power. And there would be nothing Nemu could do to help.

 

Once again the ryoka shocked her, enlisting one of the Shinigami from the hated 11th Division to remove the girl. Why had he agreed? Was it because the girl had protected him, or was there a subtle plan at work here engineered by Kenpachi Zaraki? She shook her head trying to work out why she had imagined such an absurd idea. Captain Zaraki was never subtle. From her encounters with the man she was unsure if he knew the meaning of the word. Other Captain, especially Captains Kuchiki, Ukitake and Unohana were very subtle in their management. These idle thoughts were distracting her and she moved almost too late to place herself between the Quincy and her father.

 

It did not even shock her to feel the blade of her father's zanpaku-to slice into her. As the agonising pain ripped through her she tried to hold on, but in spite of her resolve, she remembered the girl; she knew the suffering her rather would inflict on them if he had the chance and she let go. It was a conscious decision that she made. Her father would blame her and beat her. He could even destroy her, but if she could believe that she had helped someone without any thought of reward, perhaps she might feel something. One selfless act might cut through the barrier to the emotions she wished to experience. Mayuri would triumph without her help, she knew that, and she was only extending the Quincy's life by a short time.

 

As she tried to remain upright her father reacted and he slapped her to the ground. Then another thought came to her. If she could distract her Captain, she might provide an opportunity for the stranger to escape. Consciously she acted weak, as weak as Mayuri always told her she was, asking for his assistance, for medicine and attention. She had tried, but while her father stomped on her injured body the Quincy remained, watching her humiliation and her father's brutality.

 

Closing her eyes she felt a slight tinge of anger. She had tried to help, but he didn't seem to be able to work it out or seize the opportunity. Her father continued his tirade, and as he explained about the poison she knew she had made a mistake. Her sacrifice for the boy had been for nothing as he had been made immobile by the poison. How had she managed to forget? Had any sensible thoughts crossed her mind?

 

Once more everything changed and the boy suddenly became a different person. His reiatsu soared and his power began to rival that of any Shinigami she had met. Mayuri, obviously in a last ditch effort to win, used his bankai. As she watched the fight, becoming increasingly uncertain who she wanted to win, she saw her father shot, a gaping jagged hole ripped in his body which would mean death for anyone else, maybe even for him.

 

Disbelief ripped through her body. He, the man who was her creator, might die. At last those emotions she had courted so assiduously were unleashed. Hate and love worked within her as she watched Mayuri battle and she wished, if at least not for victory, for his survival. Finally she could acknowledge that she did love the creature that had tormented her for many years but it wasn't simple love. Hate, contempt, fear, longing for approval were all present as well as a mix of other feelings that warred within her as she watched. She had been so wrong about emotions. It wasn't the simple matter of experiencing one feeling for a person; many complex and intertwined sensations encompassed how she responded to her Captain.

 

With relief she saw him reduced to his liquid state as he retired, defeated, from the challenge. Looking at the Quincy she experienced another new emotion, gratitude. He could have killed her father, if he had so desired, but had not done so. Providing him with the antidote to the poison was not enough to express the debt she felt to the boy. Only because of his defeat of her father was she able to understand a small part of the emotions that other people seemed to experience.

 

As she warned him and watched him leave she considered that there might be some flaw in all the information she had been given about the ryoka. They were not the evil people that had been represented to her. It was hard for her to believe that the Quincy or the girl had any involvement in the death of Captain Aizen. All the major fights she had heard about had resulted in the Shinigami participants remaining alive, even when they were defeated. That did not sound like the actions of people who had already killed one Captain in cold blood.

 

How did these stories begin? She decided to undertake some research into the way rumours started in the Seireitei. It might produce unexpected results.

 

Author's Note:

 

As normal this chapter did not unfold as planned. After the first 500 words the descent into the underbelly of the 12th Division commenced and I could not prevent the rapid fall.

 

Of course, you might have been expected this chapter to be from Captain Kurotsuchi's point of view, but why stick to that? Yes, there will be a chapter from the 12th Division Captain's viewpoint (maybe) when I can think of something random enough. A game of chess between Mayuri and Zaraki, (huh?); or he can disclose his deep longing for cheese. (Hey, I have a deep longing for cheese. Let him have a fetish for anchovies or tuna). Perhaps he may wish to adopt Toshiro or fall in love with Momo. (A bit too random there?)

 

For a change I'll tell you who won't be featuring in the next chapter: Mayuri Kurotsuchi, Uryu Ishida, Orihime Inoue, Madarame Ikkaku, Kenpachi Zaraki, Toshiro Hitsugaya, Yuzu Kurosaki, Yamamoto's beard, Aizen's glasses, Tessai or Shinji. It's way too early for Shinji anyway. Then again, a chapter featuring Yamamoto's beard would be decidedly peculiar.

 

Please review.

 

MS