Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Drowning in Sake ( Chapter 41 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Tite Kubo owns Bleach.  I just borrowed the characters.  I do own Atonomatsuri (the bird) and Piecrust (the jerk).

Once again Zaraki felt stymied.  The bird freely offering help and Yachiru sitting there with a worshipful expression on her face not aimed at him but at the spirit of his zanpaku-to.  That was wrong.  A good daughter should listen to her father and not confuse him with leaps in logic that he didn’t follow.  Worse, he felt shy about asking her what she had worked out about his zanpaku-to.  Sure, the kid was smart and picked up most things quickly, but what was unusual about not being able to seal his spirit and her name?

The calm voice Atonomatsuri used was hard to recognise.  It was stripped of the bitter, hurt tone she normally employed.  The recrimination, anger, frustration, pain and hopelessness weren’t there, making her sound like a different person, one he had not dealt with previously and he was unsure how he would manage with this one.  “Just ask her, Zaraki.  Merely ask and she will reply and perhaps you will understand.  I had hoped that you could arrive at this breakthrough without assistance, but I forgot how our emotions blind us to simple solutions.”

He snorted at the mention of emotions.  Females brought everything back to ‘feelings’ because they weren’t logical and followed instincts instead of measured tactics.  Couldn’t they comprehend that their thinking was sloppy and led them to make mistakes because their judgement was clouded by reactions rather than reason?  Yachiru usually didn’t make it so obvious that she was subject to the female flaw, but he knew Atonomatsuri was never free of experiencing some mood or other, usually one that he associated with everything bad.

But it was strange hearing her speak to him like that.  No insults.  She implied that she accepted that it wasn’t his fault he didn’t understand.  He felt like checking the date to make certain that it was 1st April because this had to be a joke.  His shoulders alternately tensed and relaxed as he tried to decide if he should follow her suggestion, or stubbornly try to work it out on his own.  The trust was there, but how could he rely it, or her?  The level was too shallow and hadn’t been tested and it wasn’t strong enough to blindly accept any pronouncement made by the bird.  But now Yachiru was backing her up and that made him uneasy because it changed the balance between them.  More often it was Yachiru asking him to explain something to her and he was uncertain how he felt about asking for her viewpoint on something, especially anything to do with this secret.

“Why are you looking at me like that, Ken-chan?” Yachiru said making him realise he was frowning at her, as he tried to think of how he could broach the question.  

“Uh, Yachiru.  What did you mean?  Thanking the vulture?”  There, he’d asked.  Now all he had to do was dread the answer.

Her eyes looked at him for a moment as if she couldn’t believe he was asking the question.  That was one of the things he’d worried about, but she knew more about him than anyone else.  In this instance it seemed she knew more about him than he did and that didn’t seem fair.

“She saved you, when you were fighting Icchy.  She made him join with his spirit just too late so he didn’t kill you and made you realise too late so you didn’t kill him.  And maybe you needed to be nearly beaten.”

A chill ran up his spine.  He didn’t want to think like that or hear her say those words.

“If Icchy hadn’t almost defeated you, you wouldn’t have tried to get stronger.  You’d never have tried to talk to the spirit of your zanpaku-to because no one’s gotten close to beating you for so long,” Yachiru looked at him and shrugged a little.  “Ken-chan, you were getting a little lazy about fighting and you always told me that a good fighter is never content.”

Without thinking about it he found he was nodding in agreement.  No one had presented a challenge and he didn’t see the point of trying harder.  If he’d had a chance to fight other captains, which might have kept him up to the mark, but fighting only subordinates made him indolent.  The rules about fighting in the Seireitei needed to be changed otherwise they’d all lose their edge.  Look how easily a bunch of ryoka had decimated much of the fighting force, and his Division in particular.  He had to keep them and himself up to the mark.

Yachiru hadn’t finished.  He thought her eyes were shining strangely as she said softly.  “’Suri made me late so I crawled up to you after you’d finished fighting and you didn’t kill me.  I think that’s what happened.”  

The silence that descended on them from that comment made him freeze as he contemplated what she’d just suggested.  If Yachiru had crawled into the battle zone on that day, when he was drugged with the scent of blood and the exercise of his muscles, the fierce pleasure he’d felt as he plunged his blade through yet another body as his mind repeated the death mantra, would he have killed her too?  But she had emerged when all the others were dead and he was sitting down, with his zanpakuto leaning against him.  Too late for the battle.  Just in time to pull him from the overwhelming chanting he kept hearing in his mind.  She had awakened him to the world he had ignored so easily for so long.

As much as he wanted to believe otherwise, he had a niggling sense that if she had crawled up to him a few minutes earlier, Yachiru would be dead and he would be insane.  His throat began to hurt.

“And what about Baldy?  The first time you fought him he was always late in anticipating your movements and too late to realise he’d made a mistake in trying to fight you.  You almost killed him, but remembered your promise to me about letting people live.  That time you were almost too late but instead the timing was perfect.”

Zaraki swallowed hard.  If Yachiru would stop talking, now, that would be good.  Anytime in the next 5 seconds and he’d be happy.  If his throat hurt less he’d tell her to be quiet.

A fevered whisper crept to his ears.  “You were too late to prevent that man from trying to hurt me so I was forced to defend myself, but by that time it was too late for him.  Those timing issues combined and made him die, Ken-chan, by your hand and made you a Captain.  It worked against me but for us both.  It was necessary that you see the truth.  You had to arrive late.”

“No more, Yachiru,” Zaraki said his voice heavy with the inability to refute any of her evidence and the words felt like shattered crystal as they emerged from his throat and mouth.  The old guilt stung, clotted and stinking in his mind as he was shown once again how he had failed her.  His neck stiffened and tightened, becoming taut and inflexible.

“If she hates you so much, why did she do so much good?”  The whisper curved around the room, lingering as the meaning began to dawn on him and he felt the truth invade his mind.

That made his head snap back and he felt his eyes open wide as he stared at the ceiling as if he’d never seen it before.  The pull made his muscles rasp against the bone but he refused to show any sign of discomfort.  The muscles and bone continued to slide painfully against each other and he felt the bones throb.

“Don’t get the wrong idea, Kenny,” Atonomatsuri squawked loudly, her voice pitched high and urgent.  “I had to do something.  I only did it to amuse myself and ur, be…… be…, be…..because you’re my Shinigami, as much as I hate to admit it and I have to keep you alive.  And I like Yachiru and Madarame.  I always have.  From the first time I saw them.  It was for them, not for you.”

The throbbing pain in his neck moved higher.  He hadn’t even noticed his neck was sore, or his back before he’d come to his office.  His shoulders were bunched around his ears and the muscles knotted there as the absolute need to refute everything that had been said fought with truth.  Aching eyes and jaw, blurring vision and a sudden momentous cramp in his left leg made him wince.  Water, he needed to drink water.  That was the cause of his problems.  Dipping his head deep within the water he could slake his thirst and keep drinking until everything else fell away.  It would ease the raw wound that had formed in his throat and wash away the foul taste he had in his mouth.

Getting to his feet, forgetting the pain in his leg he staggered out of his office and toward the nearest water butt, the noise in his head was grinding on his nerves.  Without further thought he plunged his head into the cold fluid and began to gulp if quickly, greedily, barely taking a breath between mouthfuls.  Then pushing his head further below the surface he drank more, almost inhaling the liquid until a sharp blow on his back made him react instinctively.  He pulled his head out, shaking the water from his eyes and hair, roaring in anger at whoever had dared touch him.

Ayasegawa stood there, holding his zanpakuto, still in its scabbard, the handle of the blade pointing toward his captain.  His expression was carefully controlled and while it was obvious that he had hit his captain, the reason was not.

He was a convenient target and Zaraki took advantage of it.  “What do you want?” he snarled.  “Stop staring at me and get out of my sight.  Go and spend time with Kurotsuchi’s daughter, or whatever she is.  You seem more concerned with her than your Division.”

The words had the effect he wanted as he saw Ayasegawa’s knuckles whiten as they held his blade, but the man pressed his lips together and said nothing.

“So you don’t deny it.  Why don’t you ask to be reassigned to 12th, huh?  It would suit your nature rather than the rough practices of my Division.  You only stayed in this division because of Madarame, we both know that.”  Zaraki was saying words without thinking, only seeking an effect, an anger that might match his own.  

The 5th seat’s knuckles whitened further and a crease formed between his brows as he observed his captain through narrowed eyes, but he still remained silent.  

“Or is it because you like to be the prettiest man in the 11th, except Piecrust is almost as good looking, isn’t he.  You don’t like the competition and you goaded Yachiru to attack him by telling her she should have marked him more.  You probably told her to go for his face, after you arranged to get him drunk and overhear your conversation with Madarame.  You’re behind that particular debacle, aren’t you?  I can see your slender fingerprints all over that clever bit of work.  Discredit the fool, nearly get him killed and into the bargain he gets maimed.”  As he spoke he became more convinced that what he was suggesting was true.  

Showing a great amount of control, the man placed his zanpaku-to against the wall and then faced his captain.  “And you were trying to drown yourself,” he said quietly but firmly.

What was the man saying?  He’d only been trying to quench is thirst which had been drying his throat and causing him to imagine things.  If he wanted to drown himself, he’d do it in sake.  “No.”

“Which is my answer to your accusations also.  No.  None of it is true,” his measured tone remained unwavering and cool.  “The first time we met, I admired the way you fought Ikkaku and then spared him, encouraging him to improve.  At first I dismissed you as nothing more than a hulking brute, and it was almost too late for me to change my mind, but I did.”

Too late.  Those words, that name again.  If he’d managed to seal the blade how different would his life be?  All the same, he didn’t want to be reminded about his lack of choice.  It was infuriating and before he knew it, he raised his fist and punched toward his subordinates face.  Using his contaminated blade was out of the question.  The way he was feeling he was uncertain if he wanted to wield that thing ever again because it was a reminder of too many things he didn’t want to think about.

After ducking the blow, Ayasegawa stated, “Not the face, Captain.”  That was the odd thing.  It wasn’t a request or a demand, but a simple statement that carried a certain weight.

He nodded.  “Below the neck only,” he agreed.  What did it matter where he hit the guy?  It didn’t fuss him where he was struck.

The two fists that thudded into his chest he ignored, though the blows were not inconsiderable.  He didn’t dodge because he knew he could take the guy.  He’d fought him before and could predict his attacks.  For a laugh he stood there and let the man strike him, a chop to the neck, feint to the left as he was kicked behind the knee.  There were a number of attacks and still he stood there, waiting to see what he’d try next because he wasn’t feeling any pain.  He refused to feel pain after all those words had leeched into his mind and made it shut down.  It was a pleasant change for his mind to remain quiet while the movement around him drew all his concentration.  And other stray thought he stifled as being or no importance.  Then he became aware of something wrong; an attempt at a hip throw that didn’t work because he wasn’t off balance or moving.  The last move made him frown.  Why had Ayasegawa tried that?  They’d worked on that move together many times and he’d emphasised that it wouldn’t work on a stationary foe.  Ayasegawa was a better fighter than that and never wasted an expensive move like that when he knew it would fail.  That was one of the things he’d admired about his 5th seat.  He was mostly an economical fighter, using the best move to oppose or attack, but now he was acting like a man who would try a sudden move to shock a reaction.  Then the man patted his cheek, like he was a child.

He patted his cheek?  “What the hell are you doing?” he thundered, grabbing for his shirt only to find he was clasping air.

“Oh, you are there.  I thought you’d fallen asleep,” was the sarcastic response.  “It’s insulting to try to fight an opponent who stands there and does nothing.  I hit you and I may as well be pretending to touch you for all the effect I was having.  What am I meant to do?  Draw glasses and a moustache on you while I wait for you to react?”  The man was angry, his words delivered with the stinging slap of an offended friend.  

“Okay, we’ll fight then.  Get ready,” Zaraki yelled, cracking his knuckles and bending his knees, limbering up slightly to prepare for a bit of exercise.

A pink blur appeared in front of him and hand on hips Yachiru stood there shaking her head at her captain.  “No, Ken-chan.  No fighting.  Not now and not Pretty Boy.  The rules have arrived and I’ve glanced over them.”

Zaraki stood still and looked down at his assistant captain, wondering how she would react if he lifted her up and put her out of the way while he did have the fight she was trying to forbid.  She was too late anyway; he’d committed himself to this fight.

“Or at least use your zanpaku-to and let Pretty Boy use the kido part of his,” Yachiru said steadily, her eyes not leaving Zaraki’s for a moment, despite the startled gasp covered by a extended cough from the 5th seat.  “You’ll need the practice, I know you will.”

Once more her steady gaze affected him more than any cut from a blade.  

“Assistant Captain, I don’t know what you mean,” Ayasegawa fanned himself with his hand, the denial sounding unconvincing.  “My blade is a normal zanpaku-to and I’m still trying to learn it’s name…” he continued and stopped suddenly.

Yachiru had turned her gaze onto him.  She looked at him immovable and then her lips curved the merest inch.  “I would like to see Mt Fuji.  I hear there are peacocks there, either purple or blue,” her voice was cool and her eyes flickered.

Zaraki wondered what the girl was gabbling on about.  “I’d never heard that Mt Fuji had peacocks and there are enough damned birds in my life,” he averred and shook his head.  Birds, more birds.  He thought vultures were bad, but a flipping peacock would be an irritation beyond even his ability to handle.  While he was one of the most even tempered people he knew, when it came to dealing with problems, a peacock would have to be a snob and a damned pain in the neck.  For a strange moment he was almost grateful he had a vulture.  At least she could look scary when she wanted to.  And though she was ungainly she could fly faster than he could run.  “What’s this about coloured peacocks?”

Ayasegawa looked slightly unwell.  The word slightly was an understatement as he’d turned a delicate shade of green and it didn’t suit him.  Drawing a silk cloth from his sleeve the 5th seat dabbed delicately at his face, obscuring it for some time and then he smiled at his assistant captain in a sickly manner.  “This is to pay me back, isn’t it?”

The firm shake Yachiru gave with her head was emphasised by her tapping her foot and crossing her arms.  “I don’t think you’re supposed to keep things like that from your Captain.  It must be in the rules somewhere, and you know lying to both of us is wrong.  Don’t worry, we’ll pretend we don’t know, but you have to practice and so does Ken-chan.”

The pieces of the puzzle were gradually becoming clearer.  Not only Madarame but Ayasegawa knew the name of their zanpaku-to’s and were possibly able to draw on some of their other attributes.  

So why did he feel a sharp pang that Yachiru knew?  And possibly Madarame, but no one had told him?  He began to have an inkling of how hurt Yachiru must have felt when she found he’d been talking to everyone but her about his zanpaku-to’s spirit.  From being one of the intimate confidantes to being excluded from the most important discussions of a friend’s life.  The main thing that he wondered about was why she hadn’t mentioned it before.  It wasn’t like her to keep these things bottle up until it was almost too……

Did everything have to return to that?  

“Can you see it?” Determined to put all the other things aside to think about later, he turned his attention to Ayasegawa.

“Sssseeee it, Captain?”  It was unusual for his 5th seat to stutter, but not surprising in the current situation.  “See the spirit?  Get it to manifest?  Is that what you mean?”

He felt like casting his eyes to the sky, but it was probably understandable.  The man liked to keep his secrets, but in the past, when asked directly, he had never lied.  “Yeah, that’s what I mean.”

“Not yet,” was the almost apologetic reply.  “Every time I talk to him, he, I, we,” the words came more slowly and stopped.

“You’ve got a male spirit?” Zaraki felt a lick of jealousy.  

“Yes, but we don’t get on,” Ayasewaga confessed.  

Without meaning to, Zaraki snorted with laughter.  He had been disgusted by his spirit and furious over the shape, sex and features.  The inability to find common ground with Atonomatsuri had felt like a failing to him, especially after talking to Retsu who was perfectly attuned to the spirit of her zanpaku-to.  That had made him imagine that each person who had contacted their spirit had formed a bond that strengthened as time passed, but if he had bothered to ask just one of his subordinates he might have found out he was wrong.  His 5th seat, who appeared composed and more devoted to his appearance than Zaraki liked, had trouble with his spirit.  Talking about it flustered him, making colour rise in his face.  He didn’t miss the man trying to smooth his hair as he made the confession.  

“It’s not my fault!  I’ve tried to be accommodating,” he said and then a frown darkened his features as he cocked his head.  His lips drew together and he shook his head as if in answer to a comment that Zaraki couldn’t hear.  Then his lips moved quickly, too fast to work out what he might be saying, but he did not seem happy.  

As if becoming aware of what he was doing he looked at Zaraki and Yachiru and held his hands up.  “He’s impossible.”

“I know how you feel,” Zaraki said.  

“I’m not impossible,” Atonomatsuri informed him loftily.  “Yachiru thinks I’m special and she worked it out.”

“Yachiru thinks ice-cream is special,” Zaraki told the bird wryly, but was forced to acknowledge in his mind that she was right.  

“Zaraki.  Listen.  Yachiru wants to talk to you about what you are about to face in the next few days.  Listen to her closely and I’ll try and fill in the gaps.  Ask her nicely, to read it aloud, that way the gorgeous one can hear as well and he might help you gain an advantage.  You’ve underestimated him until now.  Don’t do it again,” Atonomatsuri again spoke to him in that rare voice, the one that showed sense and control.

In spite of himself, he nodded.  The bird was making sense and the more he knew about what he was to face, the possibility increased that he would be able to work out what preparations he might need to make.

Yachiru had not said anything for some time as she was watching both men closely.  “I feel left out.  My spirit won’t talk to me, or tell me its name.  I don’t even know if it’s a girl or a boy,” she said, suddenly downcast.

“It’s a girl,” said Ayasewaga decisively.  “A male would never permit training wheels to be added,” he continued as if to provide an explanation for his assurance.

“A girl?”  Yachiru brightened and then her mouth turned down again.  “But a boy would be fun too and why would a boy not like the wheels?  They’re cool,” she said soulfully.  “Tomorrow I’m going to talk to it and maybe it will answer.”

Not wanting to get involved in a discussion about how to talk to zanpaku-to’s again, Zaraki intervened.  “You said something about the rules?”  His assistant captain nodded and held up a sheaf of papers which were crowded with writing.

“There’s lots of information here.  I haven’t had a chance to read them through, but we should,” she urged as she waved them around.  A few papers escaped her fingers and all of them bent to the task of picking them up.  One was caught by the wind and blew against a building.  Yachiru grabbed it but looked slightly worried as the paper was tugged by the breeze and it threatened to rip.  She shoved it into the bundle of papers she was holding, not checking if it was in the right place, but securing the rest of the rules in a roll which she placed carefully under her sash, making sure it was secure.  She nodded, satisfied that this time there would be no mistake, but he was still not certain that the sash would protect them for any length of time.

“Inside,” Zaraki ordered.  “We don’t want to lose anything and it’s more comfortable.  Besides, he,” he said jerking his thumb toward his 5th seat, “might have to check some of this in our records and rule books.”

“Thanks, Captain,” was the sarcastic reply.  “It’s nice to know how valued my contribution to the 11th is.”

“Oh, shut up.  You want compliments, talk to your zanpaku-to,” Zaraki said expecting and smiling at the exasperated sigh he heard.

Entering the office again, Zaraki put all the earlier revelations out of his mind.  Later was soon enough to think about them.  Much later was even better.  If he thought about them now he’d reach for the sake bottle but he needed to keep a clear head so he once more placed the kettle on the burner and made tea.

“Captain, why are you making tea?” Ayasegawa asked, his eyes round with surprise.  He put down the sake bottle he’d automatically picked up and gathered up some tea cups.

“Because I’m thirsty and you’re too lazy to get off your arse,” Zaraki replied.  “Or even if you’re not, I want it within the next 5 minutes and don’t need to wait until you finish primping to get moving.”

“Ken-chan, why are you being so cranky?” Yachiru asked.  “Pretty boy is collecting the cups.”

Even as he tried to deny it, he knew it was true.  The earlier discussion he’d had with Yachiru had unsettled him and it was difficult to shake off the feeling he’d been used.  Was still being used by something or someone who either had no sense of humour, or a sense of humour so warped that it became less funny the longer the joke went on.  Why him?  There were other people who deserved this sort of attention; people who actually gave a damn.

“Tell me about the rules,” he shot back.  If he made her talk, maybe she’d stop asking questions.

Author’s Note:

More delays!  And you’re all wondering about the rules and other matters relating to the competition.  Next chapter will provide some information, honest.  Would I lie to you?  

Please review.

MS
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