Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Whispers Ride the Wind ❯ Chapter 3 ( Chapter 3 )

Disclaimer: Bleach and all its characters are property of Tite Kubo…I own only the fanfiction.

 

(Note: First portion refers to the past…second portion refers to current events. Thank you.)

 

Whispers Ride the Wind

-*- Chapter 3 -*-

 

 

“Did you see me get a hold of that freaky kid?”

 

“Hai! Gives me the creeps just by lookin' at him! Can't believe he didn't scare ya!”

 

“Yeah, well he ain't got nothin'. It's all show…the little stinker can't even make a sound. `s mute, that one.”

 

“Figures he'd be stealing then, huh? Can't the local magistrates run that…thing…whatever he is out of town? Your dad's one of `em, right?”

 

“Pft, they're too scared…told me to beat him into leaving the area. Ain't workin' though…damn punk ran off again. The local shopkeeper had said he saw him limping around the alleyway two houses over. Stupid kid don't know to take a hint.”

 

“Heh, maybe you gave him such a beatin' to the head that he's gotten lost in this area! Hell, I've lived here eighty years and I still can't remember my way `round `ere sometimes!”

 

“That's because you're an idiot.”

 

“Well if I'm an idiot, you're the bigger idiot! You come to me all the time to take ya over to that chick that lives just two blocks over where I live!”

 

“Hey, a man's gotta get some game somehow in this uptight neighborhood.”

 

“Well, the little retard was a good game for a while, right?”

 

“Heh, for damn sure! I'll be sure to have fun playin' around with him some more if I find him!”

 

- x -

 

Lost…he never got lost. The maze that was the weaving streets that lay throughout the Rukongai districts were mere child's puzzles that he could figure out with his eyes closed.

 

So if he managed to find a dead end with high walls while being chased by two angry teens, a few tall adults, and nosy onlookers, well that was just lack of judgment on his part. The bruises, cuts, and the occasional bloody lip would attest to that, but he still couldn't go against his instincts. Why his trusted intuitions kept putting him in such hopeless situations, he can't say, but it hurt like hell. Thank goodness he'd been able to get a quick kick to the shins or gut of the offender so that a moment of release was granted him and he sped off quicker than the eye could catch him. He wasn't keen on nursing broken bones by a cold water barrel at night.

 

Such a night like tonight…his lip finally stopped bleeding and the aches of his bruises on his back were fading. Numbness settled in and he heaved a heavy sigh…he was counting on having dinner that evening, but an ill-timed inspection from the local patrol of crazed citizens spotted him from blocks away. How he wished that his instincts gave him a more discreet place to hide during the day. Casually leaning against a merchant's stall wasn't exactly a beacon of sorts, but his hair certainly did the trick.

 

Soft mumblings of the family inside the house he was standing next to alerted him that it was time for bed. The moon was clearly out, providing enough light to track down some wild berries he spotted on the property behind this house. It was a natural occurrence of the vegetation in the area…it wasn't like this family was making a living off of them. So, yes, he'll be dining on what was freely available for the taking. He doesn't steal…and he doesn't get lost.

 

Sudden commotion from across the street gave him a start. He quickly ducked behind the barrel, confident that it would hide his small stature rather well.

 

Drunkards…singing…banging against the closed shutters of a few homes then getting angry when no one bothered to open the shutters. They swayed from one side to the other, relentlessly singing off-key. When a lady did scold them from her door, they chucked a broken sake flask in her general direction, missing by two houses. Ah, the nightlife…

 

`Pathetic.' It was his aversion…his abhorrence. He couldn't stand the smell of the foul liquid many adults craved. And he cared even less about the effects the liquor had on the weak mind. Some drunkards would beat their `loved' ones, others would drink their sorrows away `til nothing but an abysmal blank remained in their eyes and thoughts, and still others would insist that the heavy, consistent stench of sake in their breaths and on their clothes was not the sign of an alcoholic. Never mind their poor balance…their bloodshot eyes…their sagging skin…

 

(SMASH!)

 

He immediately bolted from his hiding spot when he heard the flask shatter against the barrel he was hiding behind. Dinner now seemed like a distant memory…

 

“THERE HE IS…I WAS RIGHT! GET `IM!!!”

 

He ran quickly through the maze of the alleyways…the main streets were too wide open for comfort. The huffing of his pursuers indicated that they were very close to him…he needed to lose them soon.

 

He dove under a fallen fence, running through the household's wet laundry before emerging on the other side of the neighborhood. At least he had time to keep distance between them as he continued to run while the moon lit the streets with its bright light. How he hated his hair at this hour of the night…

 

Not again. He halted upon coming to this dead end. High walls were the norm in this district apparently. Panting tiredly, he heard the distant shouts of his pursuers and knew his beating this time around might just end with him nursing a broken rib or two…if they were being generous.

 

Fine then…think. The facts: he was too short, the walls too high and flat to climb. Asking for help to either save him or help him was pointless. The neighbors would sooner rat him out than lend aid. `To each his own' is the common law…

 

More shouting, coming closer now…what were his options?

 

Trees. Why would trees matter now where apparently this district didn't believe in growing them? Still…his memory was good, and he did recall that an unusually tall tree was no small feat to climb, but he always managed it. All he did was—

 

“THERE'S THE SHORT, WHITE HOLLOW—GET HIM!!!”

 

He ran straight towards them, the shock on their faces clearly seen. Just as he was within their arms' reach, he pivoted on his heel and took off on a dead run. He pumped his short legs and small feet to make him go as fast as he could ever go. As the end of the narrow alley neared, his large teal-green eyes darted all about, carefully calculating the precise location—

 

“WE GOT `IM NOW! DAMN BRAT AIN'T GOT NOWHERE TO GO!”

 

And with one mighty vault, he lunged into the air, bounced off one wall to launch onto the other, then leaped from there to reach out with his short arm, and clutch the end of the roof with his small fingers. Breathing heavily, he groaned as he tried holding onto the rim, his form shaking with the effort…

 

“DAMN, SEE THAT?! HE'S A FREAK… A MONSTER! GET THE LOCAL SHINIGAMI THAT WAS TAKING SOME SWIGS OVER AT THE TAVERN!”

 

The mention of another chaser didn't sit well with him. It gave him the necessary stir to his gut to get the hell up NOW. So he did…hauling himself up as he swung one leg then the other onto the roof. Panting heavily, he took deep breaths and ignored the dry mouth, his instincts now in full gear and brazenly shouting at him to run like there's no tomorrow…in that direction. The rooftops were the sanctuary in place of the trees. The time for being put through their `game' was over.

 

But…he was rather unsure as to where he was going.

 

`Whatever…that tall, white tower in the distance is as good a landmark as any.'

 

- x -

 

“There, there now…here, another hankie.”

 

“Jyuushirou…you should have been there! Yama-jii just…there was just no COMPASSION in his eyes!”

 

“Hm, I take it he refused your twelfth plea for calling an alert because of the lack of your sacred liquor.” The sickly captain couldn't help hiding his mirth as he poured another cup of tea to his oldest and dearest friend.

 

Matsumoto bowed lowly on her knees to the Captain of the Eighth Division now seated next to Ukitake on the couch. “Kyoraku-taichou…I humbly beg—”

 

“Don't beg him for anything, Rangiku-san. This is the most sober I have ever seen him in all the ages I've served him,” remarked the Eighth-Division's fuku-taichou, sending a withering glare to the distraught man at the table.

 

“Nanao-chan! You make it sound like you served with me since my academy days!” exclaimed Kyoraku.

 

Sighing heavily, she quietly stated, “Its times like this that it seems that I practically birthed you, what with all the pains you've given me at every waking moment since I've served under you.”

 

Kyoraku blew his nose and tearfully drank down his tea. “Please, Nanao-chan…not now when I'm at my weakest—”

 

“Shunsuei, you should have known better that to get your hopes up. Yamamoto-soutaichou had specifically said that he wasn't going to interfere with Toushirou-kun's kidou.” Sighing tiredly, Ukitake leaned back into the sofa, keeping his cup of tea in his hands to feel the warmth. The chill in the air had still not dissipated since the Tenth Division captain had marched off. He added quietly, “I'm sure Toushirou-kun will return soon and sort this all out.”

 

“WHEN?!” cried out Kyoraku desperately, while tearfully giving a signal to his fuku-taichou. With a grimace, she complied with his unspoken order. “He's DISAPPEARED, probably to enchant the kidou further by banning all liquor in the world of the living! Heartless…so heartless. Where's the true justice in this world?!”

 

“Incredible…the petals do add more dramatic effect to his declarations, Nanao-chan,” commented Matsumoto as she observed in awe the scene of falling petals over a distraught captain giving his heartfelt speech.

 

Practically thrusting the flower petals into the air and chucking them as best as she could, Nanao gave up the pretense. She dumped the remainder of her basket of petals over her superior, in rank only—she was very certain his maturity was left behind when he left the academy. She lowly remarked, “I'm very set on burning all his hidden stashes of these flower petals!”

 

Ukitake sputtered lightly while he brushed off the petals from his uniform, clearly used to the clingy, fluttery petals. “Shunsuei, I think (sputter) you're letting your fears run wild. Just take the Soutaichou's advice and be patient—”

 

“But Yama-jii could have at least lent us Ryuujin Jakka's powers and dissolved some of the sake!” exclaimed Kyoraku unashamedly. “I'm sure the fires from the initial release alone could defrost a few thousand kegs of it!”

 

The petals were really starting to stick to everything now, Ukitake's frustration now evident as he shoved the mountain of petals to Kyoraku's side of the couch. He didn't even bother to hold back as he smacked his fellow comrade soundly on the head upon hearing the latter remark. `The audacity of this baka!' “—It's our mess, our problem— that's what Yamamoto-soutaichou had said the first time you brought that up. Not to mention that he was ready to use Ryuujin-sama on YOU for your absurdity! Honestly, Shunsuei, you tread dangerously when you insist on that!”

 

“Desperate times, my friend…” grumbled Kyoraku while rubbing his achy head. Not having his precious liquor was giving him now an awful headache. `Damn the withdrawal…' He suddenly turned to Ukitake, imploring, “Why don't YOU go for me? He'll be more willing to listen to you and won't even attempt to draw his shikai on you—”

 

“NO.” Ukitake's firm remark was all that he gave as he stood up, looking ready to leave, prompting Matsumoto to scramble quickly to her feet to stop him. Dangerous foes still lurked the shadows to claim her spirit particles…

 

Kyoraku certainly was determined as he pined for aid on his knees, going so far as to grasp the hakamas of his closest friend. “PLEASE! For all the times we've shared as schoolmates…friends…comrades…partners in crime…at least SPEAK with the old man!”

 

“No need…you've spoken loudly enough the times you've approached me, Shunsuei-kun.”

 

“YAMAMOTO-SOUTAICHOU!” exclaimed Ukitake as he bowed to his general respectfully. “What a surprise!”

 

Standing straight up, Kyoraku tipped his hat respectfully, adding, “A surprise attack, eh Yama-jii? You hid your reiatsu so well…it would seem you're sneaking up on us.”

 

(SMACK!)

 

“A stampede of a division can cross your path with no problem, Shunsuei-kun—your guard is terrible,” stated the general after giving the audacious captain another smack on his throbbing head with his `cane'. “Were you even aware of having that particular class at the academy? Don't think I don't remember hearing your snores…”

 

“That is true…Shunsuei even had his drool run a river on his desk during his classes…” lowly remarked Ukitake as he recalled those far-gone days at the academy.

 

“Oh for the love of justice, isn't anything considered sacred anymore?!” cried out Kyoraku while his head throbbed painfully—apparently Ryuujin Jakka added its own weight to the blow for good measure. Lesson learned: do not treat the Lord of Fire as your personal defroster.

 

Matsumoto and Ise Nanao looked on at the oldest members of the Seireitei Corps with shared awe. Whenever they were in the presence of these esteemed members at formal gatherings, none of their present banter and relaxed air could be sensed. It was a rigid, solemn atmosphere that reigned supreme…never a moment of levity other than from Kyoraku-taichou and barely a semblance at that. So here and now, to see them in such an informal setting and acting very…ordinary, well…it was a shock. But Matsumoto was quickly brought out of her stupor when she heard her name spoken.

 

“Hai?” she blurted out automatically in response.

 

The heavy weight of the general's stare was upon her now, and she quickly scrambled to address him properly, going so far as to kneel on her knees and lowly bow. If the general had paid a visit and her captain is not present to receive him, then this would bode ominously for her. “Forgive me, Yamamoto-soutaichou for my disrespect…Hitsugaya-taichou will return—”

 

“—when he's done `venting'?” interjected Yamamoto with one brow raised with a knowing stare. “Any pray tell, why would my Tenth Division captain be forced to vent away from you? And freeze all the sake in Soul Society while he's venting?”

 

The moment to depart was obvious. Kyoraku took Ise Nanao by the arm and with a cheerful wave to everyone else, he happily called out, “I'll be of use in this hour of need and keep those bonfires away from your division's gates, Matsumoto-chan! Jyuushirou…Yama-jii…a pleasure to bask in your presence—we must do this again soon!”

 

Shaking his head at his comrade's quick exit and even quicker thinking, Ukitake thought that perhaps he should remain if only to serve as a buffer to the clearly overwhelmed fuku-taichou. “Yamamoto-soutaichou…we were just discussing the matter privately prior to Shunsuei's entrance—”

 

“Then she won't mind explaining it once more to me.” And with that, the great General of the Thirteen Corps Division sat down comfortably on the couch, his cane set on his lap and his eyes boring a hole through Matsumoto's bent head. “Please sit down, Jyuushirou-kun…burn these blasted petals if you must. This isn't a formal inquisition…merely a curiosity I wish to indulge in.”

 

Sitting on her heels and slightly relaxing upon hearing his remarks, Matsumoto carefully lifted her gaze to see the two elderly men make themselves comfortable on her couch, all the petals draping the floor. When both eyes were set on her, she could only reply with a bashful grin, “Eh…heh…where to begin?”

 

“Preferably before the moment Hyourinmaru was used to freeze the sake,” prodded Yamamoto patiently.

 

Confused, Matsumoto retorted, “But…Taichou didn't call upon Hyourinmaru, I mean, I didn't sense Taichou release his sword…”

 

“Ryuujin Jakka begs to differ,” sagely remarked Yamamoto, “hence, my curiosity.”

 

*-*

 

Author's Private Corner (03-14-08):

 

It's been an age, ne? Please forgive me…battling a cold and workload plus finishing up the latest chapter on my other fanfic, this story was on hiatus until I could get to it, which was sometime last week. Here's to my fruity labor over the weeks to bring you this chapter release!

 

As many can note, I've taken an artistic liberty with the honorifcs and such—correct me if you deem necessary. Also I went in a different direction with regards to the oldest members of the Shinigami corps, that is to say, placing Ukitake, Kyoraku, and Yamamoto in a very informal setting and thus having their behavior reflect that. There is a strong bond between them, so I wanted to emphasize that with this rare moment behind the impenetrable masks they don as captains of the corps. There will be more moments such as these, especially when I take off in my own direction with regards to Hitsugaya's early years, in which I'll be breaking away from the usual fandom, but hopefully you'll like the result. Keeping them in character will be tops on my list, so please feel free to correct me should you find it too `out there' to be believable.

 

I've also wanted to emphasize that I'm going with the storyline laid out in the manga canon as I've seen very little of the anime which is now focusing on Hueco Mundo (time flies!). If I don't make reference to events in the anime, you now know why—I'm watching what I can on fansubs…mainly those with Toushiro! Nothing beyond the Soul Society arc, though…it's just as well.

 

Moving along, as always I wish to thank all my readers/reviewers (signed/anonymous) for your support…to those keeping me on their alert lists, cookies to all of you are served warmly from me to you…THANK YOU!

 

Until next time, I'll keep plugging away at this, slowly but surely! Ja ne!