Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Who Falls? ( Chapter 8 )

Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I just borrowed the characters.

I do own Atonomatsuri, for my sins.

 

Insults and adages ahead.

 

Warning, swearing etc, but no romance. Don't like, don't read. .

 

 

Who Falls?

 

As Zaraki lay there, unconscious or dying, images flashed through his mind. He remembered the struggle to stay alive when he first reached Soul Society. The constant battles, some which he caused, others which were brought to him. The first meeting with Yachiru after one of those battles. The day he entered the Soul Reaper Academy and gained a seat in the 11th Division. Images from those days were reassessed by his mind. He lingered over the memory of killing the captain in front of the majority of the division, and replacing him as the captain of the 11th Division. That had been the pinnacle of his ambition, then.

 

Things had changed with the arrival of the ryoka and the `death' of Aizen. Zaraki flinched as he remembered his defeat by Ichigo and the triple betrayal of Seireitei. His brain forced him to remember the two failed attempts in calling Atonomatsuri. His final memory was of successfully calling Atonomatsuri, which now appeared another item to add to the list of disappointments. How do you measure success? The catalogue of failures that occurred after Zaraki had accomplished his ambition was something he normally refused to think about in any detail. Now he had no choice.

 

“I must be dying,” Zaraki thought. “Why would I be thinking of these things unless death was close?”

 

He struggled to open his eyes and failed. He wondered where his energy had gone. “What the hell did that vulture do to me? What sort of poison does she have? Why can't I open my eyes?”

 

Zaraki tried to lift his hands, but found he could not even feel his limbs. He lay there, inert; waiting for death and lost consciousness again.

 

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“Head hurts. It's throbbing like the last time I had a hangover. Damn, I hate headaches. Who was I drinking with, this time? Why does my thigh feel like I have a sword sticking into it?” Zaraki awoke, the complaints forming in his aching brain.

 

He opened his eyes. A strange light shone, adding to the pain in his head. He quickly shut his eyes against the glare. Where in damnation was he? He was uncomfortable. What was underneath him? He rubbed his temples, which sometimes helped when he had a headache. The pain eased, but not enough. He slowly reached under his back and pulled out the item that was causing the most discomfort. It felt like a wooden object that rattled as he moved it. He placed it on the ground without bothering to open his eyes. If he waited the pain might ebb.

 

As he waited, he refused to think of anything. Thinking just made the throbbing in his head worse. Zaraki prided himself on his ability to block out any thoughts when necessary. Emptying his mind of all activity had not been easy at first, but he had persisted. It was more restful than the infernal, incessant, internal dialogue he had originally experienced.

 

“The mind can deceive,” he thought, then cursed as he realised his mind had deceived him into thinking. He forced his brain to remain passive.

 

Gradually the pain ebbed from his skull. As the pain passed, his discomfort increased and he removed a number of objects that he was lying on. He did not bother opening his eyes as he would be able to look at them when he could cope with the light.

 

Finally he decided it was safe, he would try again. As he opened his eyes, he was relieved that the light did not encourage his headache to worsen. The strange light, the sky scape above, the destruction below, were observed but not noticed. Instead, Zaraki noted that he didn't have the insatiable thirst he normally associated with a hangover. Slowly he sat up. Unnoticed a bell dropped from his hair to the ground. He looked at his thigh. The skin was visible through the shredded fabric of his shihakusho. A black indentation was visible, surrounded by swelling. It felt hot to the touch. What had caused that? He looked at the rest of his leg and noticed many more cuts and stab wounds, some quite deep. His clothing was ripped, jagged holes exposing his flesh. He touched his face to find more scratches and cuts. He shrugged and looked at the objects that had caused him discomfort. A broken clock, a torn book, the handle of a sword, half a teddy bear, a broken sake bottle and a wad of ripped and shredded fabric.

 

“What is this weird collection of objects doing here?” Zaraki asked himself. “Why am I so reluctant to remember what happened?”

 

As that thought passed through his mind, he remembered the whole sordid mess. He quickly looked around to see if Atonomatsuri was anywhere. He'd kill her quickly if she was still asleep. She dared to poison him! The wound still pulsed with pain, but not enough to inconvenience Kenpachi Zaraki!

 

He couldn't see anything that resembled Atonomatsuri but was aware he was still in that weird, nightmare world. Zaraki didn't want to be there. Boredom, even paperwork was preferable to spending any more time with Atonomatsuri.

 

Zaraki slowly rose to his feet and stretched. He felt his joints crack and his muscles complain at this treatment. His thigh throbbed when he put any weight on it. What was in that poison? The leg might slow him down if he had to fight and he sometimes relied on speed as well as his strength. How long had he been unconscious? He couldn't work out how much time had passed. He was not normally this stiff after sleeping rough.

 

“Must be the poison. I suppose I better find the hellish shrew,” he thought. “I don't trust her, but she got me into this world. I suppose she knows the way out.”

 

He walked to where he had last seen her. Observing the area, he could only see a tangle of broken objects.

 

“How to find her?” he mused.

 

He drew his zanpaku-to and prodded at the ground. Maybe he would delay killing her until he got out of here, as he didn't want to be trapped here forever. First, in order to get out, he had to find her.

 

“Atonomatsuri,” he said aloud.

 

His memory had not failed him. As he said her name she appeared, dazed, as if awoken from a heavy sleep. She quickly staggered to her feet and moved away from him with as much speed as she could muster. He observed that her wounds had not healed completely and Atonomatsuri did not look well. She still bled the disgusting mixture of blood and maggots from the deeper cuts. The smaller injuries appeared to have healed while she slept. For a brief second he wondered if he looked as bad.

 

“I don't want to fight at the moment, Zaraki. A wise man chooses his battles,” she croaked.

 

“I want out of here,” Zaraki rasped. “Now.”

 

“I can't do that, Zaraki. If you leave now, you will never call me again, never release me. I will again be trapped in that zanpaku-to. You will ignore my screams and disregard my voice. I know you hate me and want to be free of me. I'm sure you would take pleasure in the thought of my agony. Another twisted victory for Zaraki. Another creature tortured by your actions. If I let you go now, I will again be in the hell you created, forever,” Atonomatsuri's sincerity surprised Zaraki.

 

“She didn't even use an adage,” he observed to himself.

 

He moved close to her. She backed away and disappeared.

 

“Not again. Not again, Atonomatsuri,” Zaraki hissed.

 

As she reappeared, Zaraki realised he did not know what to say. She was right. If he could leave now, he'd never release her again. After the last few hours he realised he didn't care if he achieved bankai. His reiatsu and skills as a fighter would be enough. He, Zaraki, would give up hopes of becoming stronger by using his zanpaku-to, as long as he didn't have to stay another second in this bizarre place with the weird bird. The fight had been interesting, but not interesting enough. He'd held back, had not removed the eye patch, but had fought honestly. He guessed that Atonomatsuri had also held back. Why, he had no idea.

 

He removed his eye patch and rubbed the eye underneath. “You don't get to choose the battle this time, Atonomatsuri. I'm bored with this place and I have other people to fight. Let's get this over with.” He lunged at her with his full weight behind his zanpaku-to. He thought the power of his attack and the force of his reiatsu might overwhelm her and allow him to finish this battle quickly, but he was too late.

 

“The angry man will defeat himself in battle as well as in life. You kill me and you will never escape,” she shrieked dodging his lunge, just in time.

 

“I don't believe you,” Zaraki turned quickly and again tried to stab her, but again she evaded him.

 

“Why isn't she too late? How is she evading my blows,” he wondered briefly.

 

“I'm telling the truth, Zaraki. Kill me and you will die here. Thus does conscience makes cowards of us all,” Atonomatsuri was again airborne, maintaining the distance between Zaraki and herself. He was forced to keep pace with her.

 

“Get down here and fight, Atonomatsuri,” Zaraki yelled, losing his patience.

 

“Using my name won't make me land. My name is a powerful tool, but it doesn't control me completely. I keep telling you Zaraki, you don't have control in this world,” she responded, haughtily.

 

“But you don't have complete control here either, because I can't be controlled, you corrupted remnant.” He jumped, slashing his sword at her, but missed. He landed badly jarring his wounded thigh. The pain in his thigh intensified and the headache returned. “Damnation. Blast. Hell,” Zaraki spat in disgust at his weakness.

 

He slumped to his knees, squeezed his eyes shut against the light, dropped his zanpaku-to and put his head in his hands to try to ease the pain. He was oblivious to everything around him except the pressure in his skull. Distracted by the pain, Zaraki didn't notice what action his adversary was taking.

 

The impact from his jump had loosened another bell in his hair which now dropped, unnoticed, to the ground.

 

“Mustn't show weakness in front of the enemy,” he thought when the pressure eased, slightly and he could think again.

 

He opened his eyes scowling at the light. To the right he could make out Atonomatsuri's shape. She looked different. He put his hand down to where he had dropped his zanpaku-to. His hand did not come into contact with the well known metal of his blade. He moved his hand a bit further, and then looked down. His zanpaku-to was gone!

 

Zaraki glared at the vulture. He could see the zanpaku-to in her beak. He climbed to his feet, wincing as his headache intensified with the movement. As he moved toward her she flapped her wings and flew straight up, again out of his reach. The zanpaku-to seemed to cause her some problems with her balance, but as she wavered, she stubbornly retained her hold. She flapped away from Zaraki, increasing her speed as she adjusted to the weight and compensated for the balance. She didn't look back.

 

Zaraki cursed. “The bloody bird. Not content with poisoning me, she's now trying to steal my zanpaku-to. But she is my zanpaku-to, sort of. How do you steal yourself? Oh, why is this all so friggin' complicated? Why did I get the deranged one? Why couldn't I get the dragon, or the baboon, or something that reflects my true nature, like a tiger? Instead, I get the pink vulture. It's ridiculous for the captain of the 11th Division to have that as a zanpaku-to. She's a gross embarrassment. But she knows the way out of here,” he grimaced.

 

He tried to follow, but was hampered by his leg and the debris on the ground. Burdened as she was by the weight in her mouth she still managed to outdistance him. Zaraki, watching her and not where he was going, tripped and fell, his right temple hitting a metal object with a resounding thud. It jarred him and encouraged another burst of pain from his head. Unnoticed, another bell dropped from his hair onto the ground. Blood tricked into his right eye. He wiped it, irritably with his captain's coat, but the blood continued to flow. He replaced his eye patch to prevent the blood from annoying him further by making his eye sting.

 

“What in Hades is happening?” he groaned aloud.

 

He saw Atonomatsuri in the distance. She was not paying any attention to him, just flying further away. He stood. There was no choice. If he wanted to recover his zanpaku-to and leave this hellhole, he would have to pursue her. He followed as quickly as he could, hampered by his wounds, picking his way over the ground and kicking a path through the debris. It was not easy. His head was still throbbing and he had to keep a watch on where the bird and blade were headed. Atonomatsuri managed to remain airborne for some time, perhaps an hour, sometimes wavering, sometimes almost plunging to the ground as the blade caused her to unbalance. He was relieved when she landed and quickly tried to make his way there.

 

When he arrived he was breathing heavily. “The poison must still be in my system,” he thought.

 

Atonomatsuri watched him approach, warily. Even though she had briefly rested she was panting from the exertion of flying.

 

Instead of rushing her and reclaiming his zanpaku-to, as he originally planned, Zaraki stopped two hundred paces from her. He could see that the zanpaku-to was firmly grasped by one of Atonomatsuri's feet. Her beak was poised ready to attack if he came closer. It was easy to see that she was exhausted, but Zaraki did not feel his normal self, either. The fight, the poison, the pain in his head, the long and difficult walk to catch up to her had tired him more than he would acknowledge. Maybe it was time to talk again.

 

Zaraki was surprised at the thought. “Talk! I, Zaraki, prepared to talk rather than fight? Next I'll enjoy tea ceremonies. Better to die,” accidentally he spoke these thoughts aloud. Oh, bugger. Was he losing all control?

 

“Better to die. Die another day. In the short life of man no lost time can be afforded. Death and life are in the power of the tongue. All who died are equal. Death squares all accounts. A brave man dies but once, a coward many times. War is death's feast,” Atonomatsuri gabbled. Her eyes, already disconcerting, now appeared swollen and she was swaying slightly.

 

“Enough. Not one original thought. Don't you remember, I hate adages,” Zaraki grunted.

 

“Too much exertion. Too muc…” panted Atonomatsuri as she collapsed.

 

Zaraki stood there considering the situation. He could probably overpower her and quickly retrieve his zanpaku-to. If she died he might be released from this world, but he'd already attempted to kill her. It wasn't his preference to kill someone already wounded. He preferred to kill them while fighting. He hadn't enjoyed stabbing her earlier when she refused to fight back. Was she dead? Could he return to Seireitei without her help?

 

“I'm not dead, Kenny,” a weak but jeering voice said.

 

“Don't call me that,” Zaraki snapped without thinking.

 

“I'm getting better, Kenny,” malice dripped from Atonomatsuri's words.

 

“I said don't call me that,” Zaraki snapped again, his hands involuntary forming into fists.

 

“What's the problem, Kenny?” Atonomatsuri's head wobbled. “Kenny doesn't like to be called Kenny. He prefers the macho name Kenpachi Zaraki. A rose by any other name. But, all the same, he's just Kenny,” she sniggered.

 

Zaraki felt the heat of rage pulse through his body. “I am Kenpachi Zaraki, not Kenny! How dare this vile body of a decomposing nearly dead vulture insult me and call me Kenny? Doesn't she know what I'm capable of doing? Doesn't she fear my rage? If I get out of here I'll never call her,” his angry thoughts, and her words, disturbed him.

Acting on his anger and forgetting his original reluctance to kill except in battle, he stepped nearer, intending to snap her neck. She was a bird. He'd killed his share of birds that way.

 

“That's so ridiculous. You remind yourself who you are! “I am Kenpachi Zaraki, not Kenny”“; Atonomatsuri's imitation of Zaraki was cruelly accurate. “So you'll never release me and you're going to snap my neck as if I were a simple chicken. It ain't that easy. If wishes were horses, then beggars would ride,” Atonomatsuri commented.

 

“By the way, I'm not psychic. That would be funny, me psychic and you psycho,” she snorted. “You were talking aloud. Bad habit to get into, Zaraki. The lunatics are taking over the asylum. I don't fear you, Kenny. I know very well what you are capable of doing. I was with you when you did most of it. Losing control again, Kenny. It's just so funny,” she laughed raggedly.

 

Her words, forced him to recognise that he was losing control over himself. That realisation was enough to stop him moving any closer. He slumped to the floor and rubbed his face with his hands, angrily trying to remove her image, her words, and the recent events from his mind. The angry rubbing caused his cuts to reopen and he again mopped the blood with the shredded remains of his captain's coat. Her words were affecting him more than sword blows.

 

Zaraki felt so….powerless. He almost retched at the thought. Him, powerless! What power did he have here? Atonomatsuri had his zanpaku-to. He relied upon his zanpaku-to to fight. He had fought with that blade before he entered the Soul Reaper Academy. It had been with him when he met Yachiru. His zanpaku-to was his constant companion. He used it in his battles. It was closer to him than any living being, even though it was only a tool. He trusted the metal of his blade.

 

Why was he thinking this way? He had must have been weakened by her poison. The poison was affecting his brain, making him soft. He didn't know how to escape. She constantly called him by a hated name and refused to stop even when he was ready to kill her.

 

“Feeling bad, Zaraki? Feeling sick? I forgot to mention that little side effect of my poison. It may cause nausea. If symptoms persist, see your doctor,” the last comment seemed to amuse Atonomatsuri.

 

“Maybe your nausea is caused by something other. Did you have to swallow something that disagreed with you? Your pride perhaps? Pride cometh before a fall. Who falls, Kenny? Who falls?” Atonomatsuri asked the repeated question in an unusually soft but intense tone. She still wobbled and appeared unsteady, her eyes were glazed.

 

“Who falls? Riddles! Words! Questions! Say what you mean!” the words erupted from Zaraki, filled with the bitterness and anger of his earlier thoughts. The nausea returned.

 

He knew the nausea was caused by his feeling of powerlessness. No poison could make him feel ill and sick of himself at the same time. He shook his head, trying to dismiss the thoughts.

 

“Who falls? You fall, Kenny. You fall,” Atonomatsuri quietly hissed the words.

 

Zaraki's head shot up as the words registered. He stared at Atonomatsuri, dumbfounded. What was she saying? What the hell did she mean?

 

“You fall and you fail, Kenny. We can't work together. You've proven that now. Well, prepare for death because I'm not releasing you from here. You can stay here and rot, but don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I will stay with you, until the end. We will be as united in death as we are in life. In death I will be released, forever. Let those who God joined together, never be put asunder.” The words were not spoken in the usual tone. There was despair evident in Atonomatsuri's voice.

 

The feeling of nausea overcame him. No control, no power, death in this place. His stomach lurched at the thought. His last days to be spent in the company of a critical, hate filled creature that irritated and disgusted him. The bile rushed to his mouth and he gagged. He spat the liquid that filled his mouth onto the ground and tried to steady his breathing.

 

“Fear, Zaraki?” Atonomatsuri started to say.

 

“No, not fear,” Zaraki cut in quickly. “What do I have to fear?” The last words came out with less conviction than Zaraki wished.

 

Something she said was reverberating in his mind. He seized on that thought to distract his thoughts. “United in life. What did that mean? And those other words sounded like something from a Christian wedding. I've heard them somewhere before. What is she trying to tell me? What does it mean? Twisted bloody bird.”

 

Atonomatsuri continued to yabber on, but Zaraki ignored her.

 

“She constantly mentions death as if it were an obsession. Is she insane? Sane enough to know how to rouse my anger and use words that distract me. United in life, death will release her. Joined together,” he mused, scratching his cheek. “A suicidal zanpaku-to? If she was suicidal she would have let me kill her by now.” An idea started forming in the back of his mind, but it wasn't clear, yet. Atonomatsuri's voice distracted him.

 

“Shut up for a moment. I'm thinking,” Zaraki requested without raising his voice or looking at her.

 

“Always a first time,” Atonomatsuri yawned. She opened her beak to make another comment.

 

Zaraki glared at her and slid closer his hands reaching for her throat but he was too late. She shut her beak and quickly moved away. Self consciously she started preening her feathers, occasionally glancing at him reflectively, as if she too were considering the situation.

 

“That creature talks too much, but what exactly has she told me? A bit about her powers, about her pain and the constant “you will die here” speech. She says she has the power in this place. If she has the power, then I shouldn't be able to hurt her, but I have. She says she has control but she doesn't control everything here, because she can't control me. We can't work together, but we are united. Too many contradictions. Is even half of what she says, true? Whenever she says something that doesn't mock me that possibly is where the truth lies. She said she'd work with me, but that was before we fought. Now she says it won't work. She gives up too easily. I can't kill her with the zanpaku-to, I believe that, but she doesn't like me to touch her. Maybe I can kill her with my hands. I can't kill her with the zanpaku-to anyway because she has it. Death, death, death, death. She questions my sanity?” Zaraki leaned back and looked into the ruined sky scape and landscape. All he could see was destruction and Atonomatsuri. Another thought struck him.

 

“What is this place, Atonomatsuri? Don't lie, this time,” he said quickly as she opened her beak.

 

She rubbed her eyes with her bedraggled wings and paused before she answered. “Work it out yourself, Zaraki. Wisdom is the principal thing: therefore get wisdom; and with all thy getting get understanding,” was all she said. She yawned again.

 

“Interesting. You won't tell me. That's a contradiction, you festering eyesore. You told me that this was your world. Now you won't tell me where we are,” Zaraki observed.

 

“Clever, Kenny, clever. I thought your attention span was shorter than that. Time ripens all things; no man is born wise,” she responded her head resting on her chest. Zaraki noticed the signs. She was tired.

 

“So, this is not your world,” Zaraki grinned at her. “Whoever created it must be insane.”

 

“I've always thought so, Kenny. It's your mind, after all.” Atonomatsuri said, nearly dozing. As soon as she said the words her eyes shot open as did her beak.

 

The shock at what she said staggered Zaraki. It was obvious to him that her fatigue had made her careless and she had revealed something she meant to keep secret.

 

If she spoke the truth, this wasteland of destruction was his mind. Zaraki needed time to think about this. Maybe, just maybe, she was lying.

 

 

 

Author's Note:

 

I didn't kill off Zaraki, but you probably noticed that. It's rather hard having a corpse as one of the main characters. Zaraki'd just lie there and his action would be limited to festering and decomposing. I'm sure Atonomatsuri would have plenty to say. It would get boring, fast.

 

Reviews, please. It would be a shame to end the story here, wouldn't it? Bwahahahahaha.

 

MS