Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Rules are Meant... ( Chapter 43 )

[ 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).

Before he could protest against looking at anything Atonomatsuri wanted to show him, Yachiru handed a page to Ayasegawa who had seated himself at an artfully concealed desk.  He immediately began to copy the list.  For some reason Zaraki actually looked at the piece of furniture and noticed the desk was beautiful.  Made of carved rosewood it was both deceptively delicate and overtly strong, much like the man sitting at it.  It didn’t surprise him that his 5th seat would choose such a setting for his work.  Not that he begrudged him, if it meant he was now free of the damned paperwork.  That was worth any price.

The fifth seat wrote quickly and within a few minutes he handed them both the list, neatly written in elegant calligraphy, with the relevant details.  On holding the list in his hand, Zaraki knew this was the key, but he wondered how much more information Yachiru was withholding.

“What else, kid?” he asked.  He knew she would tell him everything, but some times she wanted to be coaxed to reveal all the information.  “Who judges?”

“There are three judges for each part.  One is the person who made up the test.”

That made sense.

“The other two are chosen randomly, but only Captains, Assistant Captains and Third seats are allowed to be judges,” was the startling revelation.

“Third seats?” Ayasegawa had the pursed lips of some one who wasn’t very happy about what they were hearing.  Did he feel slighted?  

“On the first three ranks can be included as judges because they’re judging Captains.  It’s meant to be peers who decide and anyone below a third seat should tell their captain if they can bankai,” Yachiru said and then looked at her subordinate.  

Ayasewaga appeared torn and then shrugged.  The man was, as always, careful with sharing information.  “Why include third seats?”

“Because we’re missing three Captains and two Assistant Captains, if you count Captain Pickles friend, the Sleeping ‘Princess’.”  The sly emphasis on the word ‘Princess’ was a good indication of how Yachiru felt about the Assistant Captain of Fifth Division.  “Any person selected can only judge three competitions at the very most.  Captains can judge three, Assistant Captains two, unless they don’t have a captain which means they can judge three and Third seats, judge one unless they don’t have an Assistant Captain which means they can judge two.”

Feeling his eyes starting to revolve at the complex explanation, Zaraki went through it slowly.  Then again.  Then once more.  Almost giving up, he went through it backwards and decided he had straightened it out.  “Let’s put it this way: Izuru should be only able to judge two, but because Ichimaru buggered off, he can judge three.”

“That’s right Ken-chan.  I knew I explained it properly,” his subordinate beamed at him.

“What happens with Fifth Division?”  Atonomatsuri was sticking her beak in, but the question was relevant.

As he repeated the question he watched Yachiru scan the papers and she shook her head.  “I suppose the Third seat can judge twice.  Do you think whoever it is will have to make up the challenge as well?”

Interest in the set up of other Divisions had never been his strong point.  Why would he bother?  He’d risen as high as he ever wanted to go and didn’t aspire to replace either the Old Man or join the Zero group.  Why he’d bother finding out about third seats made no sense.  Fighting them would be the only interest and he doubted any of them would be any test to him.  

His attention was caught by the flutter of paper that Yachiru was reluctantly holding out to him.  “You’ll have to read this Ken-chan.  There are rules, and exceptions to the rules and one-off rules,” she shook her head.  “I think Captain Great and Captain Casanova must have gotten bored at one point.”

That was bad news.

“Idle minds are the devil’s workshop,” Atonomatsuri said quietly, but she was wrong.  The problem with clever people is boredom could lead to ideas, and Ukitake bored would be far more dangerous than Kyoraku drunk.  

“Can’t you explain it to me?”

“I could try, but I’m getting sleepy and the words are getting muddled in my head.”  She bit her lip and then said, “You’ve got to win, Ken-chan.  I’ll never forgive you if you lose.”

“I won’t lose,” he said with an assurance he only half believed and took the pages outlining the rules with a mixture of reluctance and foreboding.  Reading it would put him to sleep, he was sure of that, but if he didn’t read it, he’d be at a disadvantage.  Either way, it wasn’t going to be a pleasant evening and he would be advised not to drink.  Bloody Kurotsuchi!  The man was forcing his life into the twin punishments of sobriety and reading.  Where was the fun in that?

“Wisdom cannot be found in the bottom of a bottle,” was the sage advice of Atonomatsuri.

“I thought that was forgetfulness and it can,” he sniped back.  It was a conspiracy.  Every moment made it clearer.  “And I’ll drink if I feel like it,” he announced.

“Does that mean you’re thirsty?  Do you want more tea, Ken-chan?” was the quick offer by Yachiru.

How were the bird and the girl communicating?  “Oh, hell,” he grumbled as his cup was refreshed and he sipped at it.  

Lifting his eyes from the paper he was studying, Ayasegawa made Zaraki’s hopes sink even further as he said, “Trying to work out the possibilities isn’t going to be easy.’

“I never thought it would,” was his grudging reply.  

“But I can give some hints.  ,” Atonomatsuri said, unperturbed by their earlier interchange.  “And you still need to fight me for training purposes.  You promised earlier.”

“And how would you know about the tests?” mocked Zaraki.  “Are you a mind reader?  I still don’t believe you can foretell the future and you’re pretty dodgy on recalling the past.  As for fighting; later.”

“Why must you block me when I’m trying to help?  We’re in this together, you know.  All for one and one for all.”

“And all for nothing.  Go on then, hint if you’re so keen,” Zaraki didn’t believe that he’d receive much help, but he wasn’t sure what the bird knew.  She might surprise him and provide some pointers.

“I’ll jot down some possibilities, Captain,” Ayasewaga said as he lifted a brush, one eyebrow quirked interrogatively.  “Writing this down made me consider a few alternatives.”

As he nodded, Yachiru chimed in.  “I’ve got some ideas too.  Let’s have a competition to see who gets them right.”  Then her face fell as she realised what she was saying.  “I mean, I know this is serious, but I don’t want to think about that.  Serious things aren’t much fun.”

“With your help, how can I lose?” Zaraki pretended an assurance he didn’t feel.  “Anyway, it’s only Kurotsuchi.  I doubt even his daughter will try to help him.”

Yachiru brightened and picked up a pencil and some paper.  She looked at the list and began writing, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth.  

With immense reluctance Zaraki picked up a pencil and paper, preparing to write.  He hated the way the pencil felt between his fingers and the unnatural cramped position he needed to hold the thing in order to write.  It would only take minutes and he’d need to rest his hand, he was sure of that.  Another reason why he avoided paperwork!

“For 1st Division,” Atonomatsuri said chattily, “it would be easier if it was centred on truth.  Maybe you’ll have to answer some questions truthfully and have a lie detector hooked up.  If either of you fail, you fail the test.”

Scrubbing at his eyes with one hand he considered the suggestion.  It seemed simplistic and while it was a possible solution, it didn’t seem probable.  Knowing the old man, it was more likely that he’d try to combine truth and innocence, but how he would manage that was not easy to imagine.  Truth was not always innocent, nor did the innocent always speak or even represent the truth.  And how did anything qualify as innocent?  There was always the sexual purity angle, but he was certain that aspect would not be included.  So what sort of innocence was left?  Were ignorance and innocence the same?  And there always remained the question of truth.  Truth was not a constant.  It varied with each person and was problematic at best.

A few words caught his eye and he picked up the pages Yachiru had given him.  Unbelievingly he read “Two Divisions may combine their test, if it is so agreed by the respective Captains or representatives of these Divisions.  In this instance both Captains, or representatives will be judges of the result and the test may compromise of two parts.”

“Ah, Damnation,” he said aloud and then kept reading.  Now he knew he had to be as knowledgeable as he could about the rules and their exceptions.  Some of the deviations made him wonder what Ukitake normally did to relieve boredom.

“I did tell you that there were exceptions to the rules,” Yachiru said, her voice as level as she could make it after she read the passage at which he was glaring.  

“I know Ukitake has a complex mind, but why did he have to do this to me?”

“He’s not doing it to you specifically,” Atonomatsuri told him.  “He didn’t expect this would ever happen.  Who would be stupid enough to take the name of Champion of the Seireitei when it was thought a new traitor had been discovered?  Only an idiot, like you, would be foolish enough to volunteer.”

“What bloody choice did I have?”  The echo of his voice rang through the room.  Immediately he wished he hadn’t spoken so loudly.  

“What did ‘Suri say?”  Yachiru seemed keen to know the answer.

“Nothing,” he said and yawned loudly.  His yawn stopped midway as he saw something else that didn’t bode well for the results of the competition. “I don’t see how I can get ready for any of these tests.  They can come in any order and how can I guess what a Captain’s abnormal mind might think is a good test?  For all I know, Aizen already wrote out a test in case this ever happened and that will be used.”

The sudden lull in the room made him look closely at his friends.  He didn’t like the way his 5th seat nodded in agreement.  He was very perturbed to see his assistant captain shake her head vehemently.  Both reactions made him wish he hadn’t voiced that stray thought because if that was the case then both Ichimaru and Tosen might have followed the lead of their ‘master’ and also written instructions.  As the 5th Division’s assistant captain was not able to participate anything Aizen left might be used and it was certain to be as devious as that man’s mind.  Kurotsuchi shouldn’t have any trouble working it out, given that his mind was so abnormal that thinking like an overly systematic planner wouldn’t even be a slight stretch.  But would Izuru and Shuuhei respect their previous captain’s wishes?  Anything from Ichimaru could say one thing and mean another entirely.  

“No.  It would have to be disqualified, Ken-chan.  Those animals are not part of us anymore and nothing they left could be used,” Yachiru ventured.  “They don’t count as Captains or Shinigami.”

“According to the rules, it’s possible,” he told her.  The rules were quite clear.

Grabbing the papers out of his hand she read the clause that had made him decide that any preparation was useless.  “That’s wrong.  It has to be taken out.  It was only meant to be used if a Captain died, not if a whole bunch of them decided that they wanted to rule the world.”  All their planning would be futile.  The few rules he’d read made that clear and he didn’t want to waste any more time thinking about possibilities.

“It can’t be too bad Kenny.”  It sounded like Atonomatsuri was trying to reassure him, but he didn’t believe her, either.  

“I need to sleep,” he said and walked to the door.  “Make sure you lock up when you leave and I want this office guarded night and day.  I want my private conversations to be private.”

Not waiting for a response, he walked to the nearest wine merchant and purchased a large jar of sake despite the protests of the vulture.  Her squawking only made him determined that he would drink enough to get him to sleep.  The tea was sitting uncomfortably in his stomach and the buns seemed to have reformed into misshapen pebbles that moved sluggishly through the wash of liquid.  Tea and buns!  Why hadn’t he objected earlier?

“It’s not the food and drink that’s causing problems for you, Kenny.  You need exercise.  Physical and mental exercise that I can provide.”

“Can you wait until we’re alone and won’t be disturbed?”  Knowing how impatient the bird could be he didn’t want her to take him into his mind while he was on the street.  “Let me get back to my quarters.”

“Very well.  But we have to do this.  The training I give you today may save your life tomorrow!” the bird proclaimed.

A small snigger escaped his lips before he could suppress it.  

“Stop laughing at me Zaraki.  You need me.”

“Need.  You need me or you cease to exist.  I need you, why exactly?”

“We’ve been over this before,” sighed the bird.  “You’ll lose tomorrow and that will only be the beginning.  I heard you talk about strategy, but you’re refusing to plan a strategy to deal with these challenges you have.”

That remark made his temper flare.  “How can I plan?  I don’t know how all these people think; I barely know some of them.  And the challenges can come in any order, so if I plan for one, it might never happen.”

“What?”

That one word provided some comfort to Zaraki.  The bird didn’t know everything like she constantly pretended.  Instead of snarling at her and mocking her ignorance, he decided that for once he would explain, but clearly and without using long words or difficult concepts.

“There can be 11 challenges.  Each Division prepares one challenge.  The details of that challenge are kept strictly within the Division, except for the independent evaluator.”  This stuff he remembered because it seemed like an effort had been made to keep the thing as fair as possible.

“What’s the independent evaluator?”  

It was a good question.  “The person is selected at random from the seated Shinigami.  If selected the person cannot be one of the judges.  Their role is to make certain that the challenges are fair and can be achieved within the time frames.”

“Kenny Boy, do you know how Loki was punished for his crimes?”

Loki?  What was a Loki?  And why was the bird talking about whatever it was, probably a male of some kind, now?  And what crimes?  Was she going to talk about some obscure book written by a long dead Russian author that concentrated on an idiot’s guilt over some woman’s death?  If so, he didn’t want to know.  He didn’t feel guilt over the death of anyone he killed.  And why was it important she talk about it now?  He had to sleep and get ready for tomorrow.  And drink lots and lots of sake.  In answer he shrugged.

“A snake dripped poison onto his forehead for all eternity,” the bird told him with a trace of vindictiveness in her voice.  “His loving wife held a bowl to collect the poison, but when she had to empty it, he felt the full effect of the punishment.”

This wasn’t about the story he’d been thinking about.  “Who was getting punished?”  It seemed like the wife had the worst part, holding the bowl over the stupid sods head.  Whatever he’d done, his main crime was getting caught.

“What?  Loki was getting punished for the death of Baldur,” the bird elucidated.

Loki and Baldur?  Two names not to give kids, obviously.  Baldur?  If the guy ended up in the Seireitei what would Yachiru call him?  The temptation to call the guy Baldy would be too great, but what would she call Madarame?  Or maybe she’d call him Boulder.  

“Are you paying attention, Zaraki?”

He could hear she was getting testy with him.  “Why are you talking about these people?  Am I likely to meet them?  Are they going to be some of the judges?”

In the following quiet he could hear the bird inhale deeply.  Great, she was going to talk, probably at length.  If he was home he could at least lie down and drink while she raved on about the new issue.  

“They are people in Scandinavian mythology,” she began with false calm.

That told him nothing.  “Mythology.  Fine.  Got it.”  He’d pretend to try to show interest.  

“I was using the example to indicate that I feel you are releasing information like a snake releases its venom, drop by drop.  Drop by drop fills the tub.” Was the bird obsessing about snakes or venom or she wanted a bath?  It was hard to tell.  With Atonomatsuri anything was possible.  

“Snake.”

“Are you randomly repeating words or listening to what I’m saying?”

“Randomly,” he began and then noticed what he was saying.  “Why do I have to listen?  I was the one who was explaining.”  The bird had some attitude.  She hated it when he interrupted.

“Too slowly.” The high pitched shriek hurt his mind.  

The comment incensed him.  His explanation was much clearer than some of hers had been!  And the creature had accused him of being impatient.  That was one characteristic they shared.  

A small smile pulled at his lips.  “Patience.”

“Is an operetta by Gilbert and Sullivan.  Or a card game.  I fail to see the significance,” the bird rejoined tartly.  

“About as relevant as Locust and Boulder,” Zaraki sniped back.  “I was saying you should have some patience, Atonomatsuri.”

He had finally made it back to his quarters and as he spoke her name, the bird appeared, her feathers puffed out in anger, the clock face in one eye whirling dizzily as her gaping beak seemed to sneer at him.

“Kenny!”

“Atonomatsuri.  If you want me to finish, shut up!”

The bird’s breath shot out of her with shock and she stood still as she craned her head to look at him.  She was definitely looking better, he noticed.  Her eyes gleamed matching her feathers.  Again he wondered if she had grown.  Her bulk had increased but it wasn’t only that.

“You’re getting fat,” he said, purely out of malice.

“And you remain ignorant of how to interact with females,” the bird shot back.  “I’m not getting fat.  I’m increasing my muscle mass so my flight and fight responses are better.”

Fight and flight?  It should be in the context of something else, but Zaraki couldn’t remember what it was.  “That’s what you say,” he said quickly so the bird couldn’t continue.

“That’s what I say and what is true.  When you first set me free I could hardly do either because of the confinement under which I was kept….”

Even though he didn’t mean to, Zaraki groaned.  “Can’t you let one day pass without mentioning your bloody great suffering?”

“If you can act in a manner that doesn’t indicate gross stupidity,” was the smart answer.

“Yeah.  Sure.  I already do.  Now if you want me to finish….”

“I’ve been anxiously awaiting your revelations.  I’m sure they will be much more interesting than St John’s.”  She gave the impression of crossing her wings and waiting impatiently.  One taloned foot tapped on the floor in a jarring rhythm.

The vulture had lost him again.  She kept throwing these peculiar references into her conversations with him and rather than indulge her in asking questions he was now ignoring them.  One day, if he ever felt the need, he might ask.  Experience had shown that the explanations didn’t help.  They were just unnecessary words, or another method to indicate her superiority over him.  It didn’t matter.

He let the flow of words out in a rush, keen to get the matter cleared up as fast as possible.  “No one aside from the Division and the independent auditor know the details of the challenge,” he saw the bird prepare to interrupt, but he kept on speaking.  “The challenges are drawn randomly by Division number.  If I only have to finish six, then planning a strategy for all of them would be a waste of time.”

“Random?  They don’t start with the 1st Division?”  Once again Atonomatsuri sounded confused.

“That would make it easy, wouldn’t it?  Remember who designed this.”

Zaraki stared at the spirit as she closed her eyes and shook her head.  Then she opened one eye and suggested, “You could do a little bit of planning.”

“Yeah, when am I supposed to do that?  When I’m training with you, reading the stupid rules or sleeping?”

“Oh.”

“Let’s get to it then.”  The sooner he finished with her, the quicker he could open that jar of sake.

“Get to what?”

Impatiently he drew his zanpaku-to.  “What you insisted on.  Training.”

“Oh, that.”  

Of all the responses he’d expected, he didn’t expect the stark disinterest that she was now showing.  “You made me agree.  You were almost jumping up and down about how important this was.”

“Yes.  Yes, I was.”  The distraction in her tone was indicating that she had something on her mind.  

“Is it?”

“Is it what?”

In a fit of irritation he said “Orange?”

Her reply provided the proof she was paying him only minimum attention.  “It could be orange.  Let me think about it.”  

“Blast it, you blithering carcase.  You make demands, I agree and then you act like this.”  There was no chance he was going to ignore the fact that she was ignoring him.  

“I’m not acting.  I’m thinking,” the indignation in Atonomatsuri’s voice grated on his nerves.  What basis did the bird have for being annoyed with him?  

“You said you wanted to get me used to using your other form.  What do you want to do?  Think or fight?”

“I always prefer thinking to fighting, unlike someone else I know.”  The pointed remark didn’t worry Zaraki.  It seemed silly that she would even make that statement because it served no purpose.  

“You’re wasting time and my hearing.  You can think later.”

Lifting her head higher she stared at him as if assessing him.  “Time spent in thought is never wasted.  It is those who act without thinking who squander their lives.”

Wrinkling his brow, Zaraki tried to place the adage.  Not that he was interested but it seemed unusual and he stared unseeingly at the bird.  “You made that up,” he accused.

She preened, satisfied.  “I think it’s good.  I can see it now, written in a book of memorable quotes.  Could you write it down for me Kenny?”

“Write it yourself.  What am I?  Your secretary?”  He sniggered slightly as he imagined the bird trying to handle a brush and paper.  She’d have to use her claws as her wings would be of no use unless she dipped them in the ink.  Then she’d complain about her inky feathers and wipe them over something and he’d end up spattered with ink.  It might be worth it to watch her attempts at writing.

“Certainly not.  Any person I employed as a secretary would have a better fashion sense and at least have a modicum of breeding.”

“Breeding or brooding,” Zaraki sniped back.  “That’s what birds do.”

“Are you accusing me of being a chicken or some petty farmyard fowl?  You forget who I am,” the pique in Atonomatsuri’s voice made it clear she was displeased.

In spite of himself, Zaraki sighed.  “No, I never forget.  You won’t bloody let me.”

He fell silent.  The time was passing too fast and too slowly at the same time.  He desired for the whole damned challenge to be over, but his scant knowledge of some of his fellow captains made him feel disinclined to discover their idea of an appropriate trial.  Once again his attention was absorbed by trying to work out some of the possibilities.  He had to trust that they would be impartial and not rely too much on working out sums or reading tedious papers on boring matters.  He felt a surge of relief as he realised that Hinamori wouldn’t be involved.  That female might include something like cooking or calligraphy.  

“Are you listening to me, Kenny?”  The bird was pecking at his feet and he hurriedly moved them, not wishing to experience the beak in the foot again.

“Orange,” he blurted out.  

“Are you hungry or thirsty?  Why the sudden obsession with that colour?”

Shrugging he tried to pretend she’d misheard him.  “I said outrage.”

“No you didn’t.  You said orange.  Is the stress getting to you, boyo?”

Squinting at Atonomatsuri didn’t make her any smaller and he flinched at the new name she’d given him.  “Can we fight?”

The shift was so smooth this time that it was only the difference in the light that warned him they had moved into her world.  “About bloody time,” he said and unsheathed his zanpakuto.  “Yawn, Atonomatsuri.  The words were barely out of his mouth and he was again holding the heavy blade.  On this occasion he managed to bear the weight without showing any external sign of struggle.

“Let’s get on with it.”  There was no sense of eagerness either in the demeanour or voice of Atonomatsuri, but he ignored that and they began to spar.

Instead of the usual enjoyment he felt at holding his sword in his hands and fighting, his attention kept wandering to the possibilities of the following day.  Without making much attempt he broke through Atonomatsuri’s guard and pulled short of cutting her.  At the same time he felt the glancing contact between her beak and his thigh.  

Stepping back he swung at her, but she ducked and the swing went wide almost forcing him to spin around due to the weight of the blade and the lack of expected contact.

“Not good.  You’re not concentrating.”

“Yeah?  Well neither are you,” he shot back.

“No.  I’m not.  I’m tired and worried.”

Surprised at the candour he replied, “I’m tired.”

With a trace of humour, Atonomatsuri glanced at him.  “But not worried.”

“No.”

“And when you dream of Hollows tonight?”

“I won’t.  I won’t dream if I drink enough sake.”

“Please,” she said and a few minutes were spent frowning before she continued.  “Please, don’t.  Have one or two cups, yes.  But you’ll need your wits, all of the lack of them.  And you have to read the rules.”

“You ask so prettily,” was his return jibe.  Couldn’t she ask without making it seem like he was a drunken idiot?

“You don’t care about niceties.  Why should I?” Resignation coloured her words.

“Are you going to count how many cups I drink?”

“Yes.”

Damn.  If he was ever in the situation where he felt someone was counting his drinks he either drank more to spite whoever was dumb enough to try and control him or drank less and didn’t enjoy it.  

“Forget it.  Drink what you want.  Do what you want.  It doesn’t matter.  You’ll win or lose no matter what I say or do,” they had returned to his quarters while they were talking.  

“Hey, I thought you’d nag me for a good hour,” he said.

She shook her head.  “I’ve tried to help you.  It obviously is too late.”

Hearing her say the words made him stop and wonder.  Then his anger began to build.  “I’ll do this on my own.  Get out of my head bird.  Go away and when I’ve won we’ll talk again.  Until then, don’t bother me.”

“I won’t,” she said and vanished.

After getting comfortable and lying on the bed he filled his cup with sake and quaffed it quickly as he leafed through the rules, trying to make sense of them.  For some reason the drink didn’t taste as pleasant as normal, nor did it soothe him like it normally did.  Nor did the second cup.

“What’s the point of a third cup?” he thought.  “If I’m not enjoying it, there seems no reason.”

The water he drank didn’t make reading the rules any easier and every so often he found he’d nearly fallen asleep as his head jerked forward.  Eventually he reached the last page.  Whether he would remember them all seemed doubtful.  He would carry them with him throughout the coming days, but he’d probably need to read them each night.

Closing his eyes to think about some of the more tangled reasoning he found the knocking at the door was interrupting his thoughts.  Removing the pages from his face he noticed the sun was casting shadows on the floor.  He must have slept and too soon it was morning.  

----------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------
Author’s Note:

There is an overabundance of literary allusions in this chapter.  Blame the bird.  I’m uncertain if anyone is interested in them, so for now, until I hear otherwise, I won’t ascribe them.  If you do want this information, let me know and I will try to include the sources in the future, if I remember what they are.

In case you are going to ask, no, there will be no complete copy of the rules included in this story in the immediate future.  It wouldn’t be fair.  Maybe later, once the whole challenge is over.

The challenge will commence in the next chapter.  I promise, hand on heart (and fingers crossed behind my back).  

Please review.

MS
Converting /tmp/php5qEKgL to /dev/stdout