Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Whispers Ride the Wind ❯ Chapter 4 ( Chapter 4 )

Disclaimer: Tite Kubo's work is great and definitely not mine to own but to enjoy.

 

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

 

Whispers Ride the Wind

-*- Chapter 4 -*-

 

 

“Well, if you do see him again, let me know. I've paid for the services of a Shinigami candidate to hunt him down. We're certain the malformed child is part Hollow, so he'll take care of the problem once and for all.”

 

“Magistrate, how did you find a willing candidate?”

 

“They are always some milling about the market after their academic classes are over for the day.”

 

“Sir, are you sure it's wise to go to that extreme of hiring a potential Shinigami to meddle in our affairs?”

 

“It's a small price to pay. I'll not have the name of our subdivision sullied within this district because of the filth that sees fit to roll in from the outer districts. Unacceptable.”

 

“I agree with the Magistrate! Our subdivision can't afford to have others speak ill of it because of the presence of such a minor pestilence.”

 

“At any rate, if the child persists on remaining in this area, we will be forced to take more drastic measures. I'm not above informing the Shinigami district patrols if need be. Those arrogant fools need to do their job better.”

 

“Agreed, Magistrate!”

 

And so here he found himself once again high up a tree. He was very thankful that this district believed in keeping its vegetation unmarred. Walking the rooftops at night had worn him out, the constant danger of being out in the open plus the very real risk of falling and breaking each bone in him had always been in his forethoughts.

 

He swung his legs up to his chest, resting his chin on them as he stared out at the nearby well-to-do neighborhood. It was no wonder they wanted him gone…they were living in the better parts of Soul Society, benefitting from their close proximity to the Seireitei. Hard crime was non-existent and petty crime was at a minimum, making many leave their doors unbarred, a simple lock from the inside suffice. The people were generally relaxed and looked out for the other when help was needed. And the district was known for producing and/or housing a number of spiritually-awakened individuals. Life flowed smoothly and comfortably for them here, West Rukongai District #1…Junrinan. And his instincts led him here of all places

 

`As close to nobility as you can hope for living in Rukongai.' That was the passing comment he often heard here, the pride evident in their voice. Again, it was no surprise that they wanted him gone, his more than peculiar existence creating a stain on their proud reputation.

 

He scratched his head for the twelfth time that half-hour, regretting ever using that mud by the water barrel to cover his striking features. It was easier to wander around at night if he didn't have such an obvious target as his hair, so in his infinite wisdom that only a child of his stature could conjure, he spreads globs of the wet dirt through his hair, hoping it would dim the brilliance of his natural color. It was messy and smelly, but he really was starved. The only times he could hope to get food that was once again free for the taking (fruit or bread falling off carts when making their nightly deliveries did come under that category) was by doing so amidst the eyes of these vigilant people. He was careful, though, to keep his `winnings' to a minimum and picking them as few times during the month as possible. He was constantly hungry but it just couldn't be helped…for now anyway,

 

It was unbearable now, the itching. He was sure a rash was coming down his back the longer he waited for nightfall to catch up to him so that he could wash up. It was a risk, he knew, to go down from his high but safe perch. The next `scratch-fest' five minutes later sealed his decision, though.

 

Quietly and carefully that not even a leaf fluttered out of place, he came down the tall oak a branch at a time, each time assessing the area below to be sure no one was around. He was wary of each bush that rustled, of each floating remark from a far off conversation. He pushed on until finally reaching the soft earth below, his heart pounding loudly in his ears.

 

He walked warily a few paces at a time until finally he reached a brisk pace. He took a corner and walked on in the shadows of the back alleyways, thankful that in this district no dangerous criminals lurked around. Sighing with relief, he wound his way around the local neighborhood until finally reaching a particular location that had good vegetation in the form of large bushes and even taller trees, though its branches were too high for him to climb.

 

By this area, a humble home had a rather inviting water barrel that he normally dipped into at night. Seeing the area and home somewhat deserted, he carefully made his way to it and dipped his hands into the cool, refreshing water. Relief washed over him as the irritated skin on his neck and back felt the cool liquid run down freely to alleviate the rash. Taking a good gulp of the refreshing liquid, he began to rub his face clean, his thin and dirty yukata also getting a good cleaning as best could be had.

 

(SMACK!)

 

He distinctly heard that sound as he struggled to bring the teetering world back into focus. Trees all around, the bright, blue sky beyond them…faces…one too many.

 

“See? I told ya it was that freak the local magistrate was talkin' about!”

 

“Think we'll get a reward for this?”

 

“Pft, `course we will! Better us than givin' it to a stranger from the Shinigami academy!”

 

Dazed but certainly not confused, he blinked rapidly to rid his hazy eyesight, carefully moving his arms and legs to discreetly crawl away. Neither his proudest moment nor the least painful, but he knew better than to let an opportunity pass him by. The idiots were too engrossed in arguing amongst themselves about who was to claim the reward that they paid little heed to him escaping.

 

Unfortunately they weren't the only ones there.

 

(THUNK)

 

He had thought that the hard smack that still rang in his ears and left his cheek and head throbbing was painful, but having a large foot come down on your back hard was infinitely worse. Not to mention it left little room for breathing.

 

“STUPID IDIOTS! You almost let him get away!”

 

The arguing duo quickly stammered in response, “Er…so-sorry! You ju-just do what you were hired to do, okay?”

 

“I don't need you to tell me my job! Now go do yours and stand guard! I can't stand the damn bystanders that get in the way of everything…”

 

The two settled to keep their grievances to themselves and stand post by the small fence gate around the corner of the house. Looking down at the small body below his foot, the soon-to-be Shinigami smirked and swiftly yanked the slim body up by the hair, bringing the hacking form closely to his face.

 

“Damn, they weren't kidding about the hair! You're not much to look at kid, but hey, you're a problem, and I solve problems. So don't take this personally… sometimes life just plain sucks, you know?”

 

The only response he could make (because, hell, it damn well hurt to breathe now, especially with his scalp on fire) was to soundly but effectively spit in the man's open mouth. He was terrified, that was for certain with the way his heart pounded right through his small chest, but he felt that the small smirk he managed to make was well worth it. Really, he had so little that he could call his own.

 

The tighten grip on his scalp became fierce as it twisted the silken strands between unforgiving fingers. “THAT was a STUPID thing to do, little bastard!”

 

And the sword he held in his other hand came down swiftly over the boy's head…but suddenly stopped.

 

It was a simple cane, one that she hardly used because her bad foot had healed ages ago. Yet she was glad to keep it around when the weather turned bad and caused the ache to come back. Plus it also had other uses…mainly to defend her home and small family.

 

Successfully stopping the downward swing of the man's sword, she held her cane to her side and very quietly stated, “Put the boy down.”

 

“Ma'am…I'm doing your little neighborhood a favor AND fulfilling my duty appointed by YOUR magistrate. DON'T interfere!”

 

She sternly retorted, “You're not in the neighborhood…you're on my property. And as for fulfilling duties, I'm doing the one duty I gladly take pride in, and it's not by using violence to solve problems.”

 

“MA'AM…the magistrate—”

 

“I never cared for what nonsense that old carcass spouts! And you can take that all with you along with your hooligans off my property now!” She quickly calmed and softly added, “Or must I call upon my own connections to be rid of you? Don't think that being in the Shinigami academy will keep you immune to other means of discipline.”

 

“Obaa-chan! The district magistrate is coming right now. Do you need me to do anything else?”

 

Seeing the academy student pale slightly upon hearing that, she calmly called out to the girl by the gate, “Yes, run along inside and bring me the bag I use for maladies. Be quick, Momo.”

 

“Hai, Obaa-chan!”

 

Dealing privately with a local magistrate was one thing, but a district magistrate held power above and beyond even over his head. Angrily he threw the boy down and wordlessly stomped off to avoid further humiliation. It wouldn't do for fellow classmates to hear of him getting a formal reprimand from the academy's instructors because of a complaint made by a district magistrate, especially one so respected as the one from Junrinan.

 

So now aside from the throbbing on his face and scalp, or the searing headache pulsing behind his eyes, his hard breathing became even more labored as he felt the distinct pain race up his right leg. He was pretty sure walking normally wouldn't be in his near future. Not that he cared at the moment. He was just thankful that the fool was long gone and silence reigned once more. The man's voice was very irritating to his ears…

 

“My goodness, you are such a tiny thing, aren't you? And yet you're the biggest piece of gossip to hit this part of town in a long while.”

 

He had paid little attention to the old woman whilst in the clutches of that unforgiving hand. Now wearily looking up to her from the ground, he curled further into himself and blinked hard to clearly see her…and her cane. That small piece of wood had proven long ago to be very painful indeed…

 

“Now don't let those precious eyes show fear…I only use it on the filth that just left my property.”

 

Well, at least she hadn't called him trash. That was…different.

 

She kneeled next to him, careful to leave enough space for someone to walk between them. Setting her cane far and away from her, she leaned a bit and extended her hand to him, softly remarking, “Here…take this old woman's hand. I will leave it up to you if you want me to touch you. But I do so hope that you will…you must be very tired, what with staying up at night to drink out of my barrel.”

 

Her words didn't register in his thoughts, the feeling of fatigue very heavy on his limbs and mind. His hand reaches out tremulously…and stops. He wanted…wanted…no, needed… He faintly brushes her hand…it was all he could hope to do.

 

“You may call me `Obaa-chan'. You don't have to be afraid anymore.”

 

It was all he could hope to hear.

 

- x -

 

“Interesting.”

 

That could be interpreted in many different ways. Either he found it informative or he was making up his mind to line up with the other Shinigami that wanted to string her up by her long hair. She chose to think positively.

 

“Hai, Yamamoto-Soutaichou. I had wanted to clear up my…eh, I meant to clear up matters before it became too extreme, but heh, of course, I was uh…very indisposed the following morning after such a late night—”

 

“Hm, from what Shunsuei had said to me, you were all `dead drunk to the world of the living dead'…his words exactly,” calmly cut in Ukitake as he sipped his tea serenely. “There was not even the luxury of a hangover…so he said.”

 

“He certainly talked a little too much,” grumbled Matsumoto lowly, silently vowing to have words with her gabby drinking comrade. Sighing heavily, she once again bowed lowly on her knees before the general. “Please, Yamamoto-Soutaichou…if you wish to punish anyone for the disruption this incident has caused, please lay the blame entirely on me. I will accept full responsibility for my lack of conduct as a fukutaichou.”

 

“Now Matsumoto-san, he already said that it was not necessary.” Ukitake set his cup down and looked to his old teacher for confirmation, only to see the elderly Shinigami seemingly pensive. “Sou-taichou? Is there something wrong?”

 

“It's not a kidou,” quietly commented Yamamoto, his gaze fixed on his `cane'. “From what has been said by eyewitnesses, the reaction was instantaneous. I had not been certain, but your words now lend credit to that allegation.”

 

“I'm afraid I don't understand, Yamamoto-Soutaichou,” replied Matsumoto confusedly.

 

“Allow me, Sou-taichou.” Pondering momentarily on how best to explain it, Ukitake continued, “As you know, kidou has many different levels of activation. Some of the more basic levels require a mere flick of the wrist along with a bit of your reiatsu. Others that are more complex require an extensive amount of reiatsu along with a good many ritualized wording. These two of course is just the extremes from opposite spectrums…it all varies with the individual's knowledge of the kidou and how much strength his or her reiatsu possesses. It can be very simple to very complex in its inception and execution.”

 

“So…this means…that…I'm confused,” she solemnly remarked.

 

He sighed heavily as he further explained. “Focusing on Toushirou-kun, it basically comes down to the simplest of facts…time. You had mentioned that the instant you brought the sake cup to your lips, after your…altercation with Toushirou-kun, it began to freeze along with all the other alcoholic beverages at the tavern. It had been confirmed by other reports that it had also spread quickly throughout the area then the region. Do you understand now? A kidou of this magnitude would be impossible to enact within a timeframe of a matter of seconds.”

 

“Hence…this is no kidou.” Yamamoto's tone turned cold upon continuing, “Aizen had fooled many with not a kidou, but with the actual use of his zanpakutou's abilities.” He paused to collect his drifting thoughts and shook the darkened look from his face. “To that end, whatever Hitsugaya-kun released was no kidou but some form of his zanpakuto's ability.”

 

Matsumoto understood the obvious similarity but it just wasn't possible. “But…Aizen physically released his zanpakuto. I'm very sure Taichou hadn't pulled Hyourinmaru out…you can't ever miss that spirit energy level even when it is sealed.”

 

“True, but he was furious when he had left the tavern, correct?” The lieutenant sheepishly grinned and made to pour more tea to her guests without any word. Ukitake grinned himself and considered his theory. “If he were infuriated enough, he could have just shunpoed off at a distance and just released Hyourinmaru then.”

 

Turning to the captain at his side, Yamamoto asked, “Ukitake-kun, you do remember back in the academy…of what I had said about my zanpakuto?”

 

Churning through memories accrued over the centuries, Ukitake finally came upon one distinct comment his teacher had made to him and Kyouraku when they were practicing on the shikai of their zanpakuto. “Yes…the zanpakutos that were defined by a particular element, especially those of the strongest magnitude, were not meant to be restrained which was why they were considered volatile…and unpredictable. That even the great Ryuujin Jakka was not to be released needlessly as its very nature was unusually…willful.”

 

Wrapping her mind around what was said, she carefully conclude, “Then…Ryuujin Jakka…along with Taichou's Hyourinmaru…they have traits unique to their nature?”

 

“Yes…that is an excellent synopsis of what they are. And I do believe that Hitsugaya-kun is just coming to realize the very truth behind that.” Standing up, the others as well, he made his way to the door and calmly remarked to Matsumoto, “I believe it to be in everyone's best interest, especially your own, to keep in mind just who Hitsugaya-kun is the wielder of. I can honestly confide to the two of you that even Ryuujin Jakka would not take Hyourinmaru lightly when the prickly dragon of ice is…disagreeable.”

 

“Disagreeable? I'd hate to see him `livid'.” Ukitake then turned to Matsumoto with a growing smirk and firm pat on the back. “You do know best on how to rile the worst individuals…or beings as is this case, ne?”

 

Groaning loudly, it finally sunk in that the truth behind the icy wrath plaguing the whole of Soul Society was revealed to originate from an elemental zanpakuto whose special abilities were apparently tapped into by one mad-as-hell wielder. `Sheesh, real genius to figure that out, old girl…Hyourinmaru is a part of Taichou; anger feeds anger. And to boot, Hyourinmaru is unpredictable due to its nature—one prickly dragon that can harness the untamable ice and water elements. Makes damn sense now! Dammit, why does Sou-taichou explain this all to me NOW?'

 

Sensing her rising displeasure, Yamamoto turned around, his aged eyes smiling. “Suffice to say that Ryuujin Jakka saw fit to warn me just now as well…willful as always. Ukitake-kun…our `gift' to Hitsugaya-kun is proving to need an adjustment. Come.”

 

Understanding dawned on Ukitake as he made to follow his old teacher out of the office. If what Yamamoto had said was accurate, then indeed his services will be needed. Before he left completely, he paused by Matsumoto's slumped form against the doorframe. “Now, Matsumoto-san…this is no way to keep the spirits up. You should see how Shunsuei copes under the direst of circumstances. He may seem to flake off at times, but when the worst comes down, he's quite unbreakable…the wall I lean on.”

 

“STOP LICKING THE DAMN FLASKS! IT'S NOT GOING TO WORK!”

 

“BUT NANAO-CHAN!!! I CAN TASTE JUST A LITTLE BIT OF THE SAKE—”

 

“HAVE YOU NO SHAME, TAICHOU? ARGH, LET GO OF THE BOTTLES! THEY'RE WORTHLESS NOW!”

 

“NOOO! IT'S MY BEST YEAR!!! YAMA-JII…HAVE MERCY ON ME!!!”

 

“Of course…walls are known to crumble…from time to time,” murmured Ukitake tiredly as the feuding lieutenant and her captain stomped down the corridor to chase down a general with nary a glance to them.

 

The distant beat of drums as a loud crowd burned bonfires and effigies outside the division's gates only brought forth a pained groan from her delicate throat. She had the distinct notion that they were pressing for her to abdicate her existence in Soul Society…at least, that's what the Eleventh Division was chanting.

 

She massaged aching temples that rivaled many a hangover she's had in the past. “What else…PLEASE, for all the holy sake in the world, WHAT ELSE?!”

 

“Ano…Matsumoto-fukutaichou…”

 

The curses coursing through her thoughts would make even Kenpachi blush.

 

* - *

 

Against the muses (04-30-08):

 

Now I'm at war…with my muses! I said I'd put this on hold, but nooo! These muses went strictly against my guidelines and forced this chapter out of me. Looking over it, I'd have to admit they were right to do so!

 

Wow, this didn't fight me as much as I thought it would. Thankfully my storyline is of the simple variety…I'm already pummeled by my main fic! As you can see, I moved the story along to the point where Toushirou meets Granny and by way of her, Momo. I've decided to keep pushing the timeline forward until perhaps when Toushirou finishes with his academic schooling. So, we still have a ways before I finish this up. Hopefully it'll be a good read for all. You may note already some of my artistic liberties at work here, especially with the nature of elemental zanpakutos, but I don't think it to be too farfetched. It's not against canon manga (I've not seen many anime eps for BLEACH so I'm basing my fic for the most part on the manga) so it should be okay. Tell me what you think!

 

This was a fun read, especially with Matsumoto under serious pressure, and in a way, she was scolded by the general. Yamamoto had pity for her though and kept it minimal. So…who could it be now that wants to speak with our troubled lieutenant? It's easy to figure out…for me!

 

Thanks to all for the reviews/alerts/faves—this is serious fuel to my muses! I appreciate all support in all its forms SO MUCH. Continue to do so if you can…THANK YOU!