Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Name Game ( Chapter 46 )

[ 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).

“It’s not bloody obvious.”  Why keep quiet?  He only had two hours to do this and playing stupid guessing games wouldn’t help.

‘Think: dragon,” the bird hinted.  “If I help you too much that would be cheating and we don’t want any accusations of that.”

“The kid?  The kid owns a fan with a dragon on it?”  He looked at the fan again and noticed that the dragon was white with a few touches of green.  In looking at it closely he saw the minute scrawled script on the side, so close to the edge as to be almost invisible.  If he had not been looking so closely he would have missed it.

“My Captain, to help in summer.  Matsumoto,” the inscription read.  The fan had been a present from Hitsugaya’s assistant captain.  He’d heard once that the 10th Division Captain passionately hated summer.  Now that he knew the answer it seemed clear.  Without hesitation he wrote down Captain Toshiro Hitsugaya’s name next to the word ‘fan’.

Having hopefully correctly guessed one owner’s identity he felt his spirits lift.  Maybe if he concentrated and thought about things carefully he could work this out.  If Atonomatsuri condescended to at least make sensible suggestions, it could be done.

He scanned the objects fixing them in his mind and hoped for inspiration.  

As his eyes passed over the scroll for the third time he seemed to recall seeing it on the wall of someone’s office.  He wasn’t in the habit of visiting the other captains, but occasionally he would, if there was no other option.  The scroll had hung behind the Captain’s desk and he’d glanced at it, decided the writing was too difficult to read and then forgotten about it.  Now he knew the meaning of the words it seemed an odd choice, but perhaps not.  The captain.  Which one was it?  As he endeavoured to see the face of the person on the other side of the desk, his mind kept slipping past the face to the coat the person was wearing.  There was no face.  

Of course there was no face!  The Captain was wearing a helmet and the man had a sense of honour that almost rivalled Kuchiki’s.  The respect in which he held the Captain-General would mean that his long term friendship with the traitor Tosen increased the feeling of betrayal. The words may as well have been engraved in marble.  

“Captain Komamura owns the scroll,” he told the bird without any prompting as he wrote it down.

“And Tosen gave it to him,” the bird said.  “Don’t you remember he told you that when he saw you looking at it?  Ironic, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he replied without thinking.  Whether he remembered or not, it didn’t matter.  Not wishing to be drawn into a discussion about irony it seemed easier to agree with the bird and the wisdom of this decision was repaid speedily.

“You should remember the bonsai,” was her next remark.  “You saw it on a very special occasion.  An occasion that changed your life forever and the bonsai was part of it.”

He almost smiled.  Trees were not high on his list of things to memorise, even small ones.  It seemed to be a Japanese maple.  The leaves were at that stage of bright green which meant they had only recently sprouted on the plant.  The plant roused no sign of recognition within him and the only special occasion he ever thought about was the day he met Yachiru.  Other days were nothing compared to the importance of that meeting and the way it had changed his life.  There had been no small trees dotting the landscape on that day, not that he would have noticed them if there had been.  The killing, the blood, the sky and the clouds would stay in his memory forever, as would the appearance of a small pink haired child who showed no fear of him.

Giving into the impulse he looked at Yachiru who was looking directly back at him.  She smiled and waved  excitedly and when reminded sternly of her duty by the assistant captain of 8th Division, dropped her hands and tried to look serious.  As soon as Ise turned away, Yachirue poked out her tongue and made an evil face.  He almost laughed but intercepted a stern look from Soifong and turned his attention back to the challenge.

His gaze dropped to the pot that held the diminutive tree.  The startling blue glaze made a hazy picture of a white ceiling form in his thoughts along with the recollection of a throbbing pain in his skull.  The rustling of papers and a thirst that made his throat clench with the desire for water brought it all back.  He hadn’t noticed the plant at the time because his head ached so much from the hangover, but it had stood on the table in Retsu’s room.

“Retsu owns the tree, doesn’t she?”

“Of course she does.  See, if you concentrate you can work things out.  And that was one of the most important days of your life.  The day you learnt my name.”  There was no mistaking the pride in Atonomatsuri’s voice.  “I knew you’d remember the significance.  I’m touched, Zaraki.”

He almost said, “In more ways than one,” but stopped himself in time.  If the vulture wanted to believe that he attached as much importance to that memory as she did, fine.  It might sweeten her nature and that could only benefit him. The bird was too sentimental.  

Things were improving.  He had three of the 11 and he was certain he was correct in all the designations.  Looking at the rest of the items it seemed unlikely he’d be as lucky with selecting the owners.  An idea came to him and he decided to ask her opinion.

“I know Hinamori least of all.  The only thing that seems obvious is that she was obsessed by her captain.  Should I.....we, try to work out which thing is hers first, or leave her to the end?”

“You’re actually asking what I suggest?”  The bird sounded suspicious.

“Yeah, I am.  You might understand the girl better than me, or picked up something I didn’t notice.”  A small amount of flattery might go a long way with the vulture and it was easier than apologising.

“Leave her to last.  A process of elimination will make it easier to match her.  I suggest we try to work out who owns the pebble.  ‘The pebble in the brook secretly thinks itself a precious stone’. ” she responded brightly.  He had not heard her this animated for a long time, if ever, unless she was preparing to annoy him.  Or maybe it was because she had yet another change to use an adage.  Were there many sayings about pebbles?  The sinking feeling in his gut indicated that there probably were.

He walked along the table until he was standing directly in front of the pebble.  It was still small, still flat and still white.  No matter how much he searched his memory he could not recall seeing it before, but would he remember a pebble?  Pebbles were unimportant.  Looking up it seemed if he looked at the faces of the possible owners, it might help him.  

First he looked at Captain Ukitake.  The man was frowning slightly as his gaze was fixed on the Captain of the 12th Division.  Following his gaze, Zaraki observed that the man had his face very close to the table as he studied the swords.  It seemed he was trying to look under them, possibly in the hope that there was some identifying mark on them that would hint at the owner.  Could it be that Ukitake owned the swords and objected to such a close examination?

Soi Fong had a set look on her face which could mean anything.  Briefly he wished she’d used the dolls he’d given her as her contribution, but admitted that would have almost been cheating.  Would she own a pebble and imbue it with importance?  It didn’t seem likely and she wasn’t looking in his direction anyway.

Then he noticed the steely gaze of Yamamoto.  He was looking past Zaraki, over his left shoulder.  Zaraki turned to see what he was looking at but only saw a bunch of observers who were huddled together and talking quietly.  They seemed to be writing on a piece of paper as they occasionally looked up and at the table.  There seemed to be some vendors doing a brisk trade in binoculars so the audience could closely observe the objects.  If he blocked their view that should make it more difficult, but then he saw that most were being mobile and moving around to see past the obstructions.

“I think they’re trying to work it out too,” Atonomatsuri said.  “It is quite an interesting challenge.”

Zaraki snorted.  Interesting!  If stupid games were interesting then this might be, but he wasn’t convinced.  He looked closely at the people huddled together and was relieved to see that at least they weren’t members of his division wasting their time.

As he observed more of the audience he noticed that a number of them were huddled together chatting and writing down words on paper and some of them were his men.  Then he recalled a chance comment made by the Old Man on the previous day and groaned.  Had he decided to turn this into a money making venture after all?  What was he offering as a prize?  If it was sake, there would be many takers.  He noticed Ayasegawa and Madarame working together.  He’d ask them what the prize was once this was over.  

“Focus, Kenny.  The pebble.  Who would own a pebble?”

“If Aizen had removed it from his sandal, I’d say Hinamori owned it,” he guessed.

“Not a bad suggestion, but I think there is more significance to the pebble than that. ‘I was like a boy playing on the sea-shore, and diverting myself now and then finding a smoother pebble or a prettier shell than ordinary, whilst the great ocean of truth lay all undiscovered before me’.”

“You’re a bird, not a boy.”  And she’d told him she was female.  Was she having a gender crisis?  Would it matter?

A loud sigh assailed his ears.  “I may not be a boy, but Isaac Newton was!!  Look for the ocean of truth.  Look for the significance in the pebble.”  There was no doubt the vulture was becoming frustrated.

Significant pebbles.  Precious pebbles.  The importance of teddy bears.  Oceans of truth!  The bird had a peculiar view of the world.  In her reality the cushion might end up being the foundation of a new religious cult, for all he knew.  Or a doomsday machine constructed by a mad scientist.  The only mad scientist he knew was standing opposite him staring at the pebble, so it wouldn’t be his.

Realising the way his thoughts were flowing, he coughed loudly and stared at the pebble again.  It still meant nothing.  Why would anyone find such a thing of significance?  The only time he noticed the little rocks were when they crept into his sandals and became annoying.  Maybe Atonomatsuri was a reincarnated pebble.  Only irritating when you knew about her.

“Where do pebbles come from?”  

She had asked that question.  Where do pebbles come from?  Why was that important?  Pebbles existed.  They were there.  Was she going to tell him about the sex life of pebbles?  If so, he thought he might pass.  For some reason it didn’t interest him and he didn’t think  pebbles reproduced.  Then again, sometimes he’d start with only one pebble in his shoe and end up with many.  His mind shied away from considering the significance of that line of reasoning.  He eyed the pebble suspiciously, wondering if it wanted to make its new home in his sandal and start its own little pebble tribe.

A sneer cut through his face.  The bird had finally made his lose his mind.  Making him think deeply about pebbles had led to these ideas.  It had to stop.  Now.  

“The least movement is of importance to all nature.  The entire ocean is affected by a pebble,” the bird said triumphantly.

Ocean and water again.  When the bird got an idea stuck in her decomposing brain, she wouldn’t let it  go.  

“It’s a pebble we’re talking about.  Not an ocean.  And stop using adages.”

The bird coughed gently and then said, “A fine quotation is a diamond in the finger of a witty person, but a pebble in the hands of a fool.”

Zaraki smiled.  “Yeah, we both agree on that.  You’re admitting you’re a fool.”

Atonomatsuri squawked loudly and then hissed.  “I am not a fool!”

“But you said....”

“I meant you, Kenny.”

He crossed his arms and pretended to be staring at the pebble.  “You ask questions that mean nothing, use borrowed words to explain and then you’re surprised I don’t understand.”

The silence that greeted his remark was strained.  It was obvious he had offended her, but he was tired of the games she constantly played, her constant assertion of superiority.  She kept telling him they had to work together and then insulted or abused him.  Were all zanpakuto’s condescending and difficult?  He was certain that his must be the worst.
“I keep expecting more of you,” Atonomatsuri said slowly.  “You are my Shinigami and we were created together.  I am you, you are me.”

The bile that rose in Zaraki’s throat made him gag.  Yeah, sure he knew all that, but it was easier to pretend that she  was only an annoying thing that had chosen to live in his mind and make his life difficult.  Being reminded that they shared the same essence made him feel like immediately objecting to the facts.  But to do so would be to renounce his code and that he wouldn’t do.  One of the things he didn’t understand was why she knew so much that he didn’t and seemed to pick up things faster.  Recalling that strengthened his belief that they were not a reflection of each other.  They were simply tied together through mischance.

“You are you and I am me,” he said in a low growl.  “You’re an accident.”

“That is a terrible thing to say, Kenny!  That’s the type of hurtful thing a parent says to a child when they want to demonstrate their power.”  There seemed to be a great amount of pain  in the birds voice.

If he replied the situation would degenerate and once more they would return to the ongoing argument.  He was growing increasingly tired of fighting her with no satisfactory outcome.  If it had been a physical battle, he would have enjoyed it and welcomed the ongoing competition, but this word battle seemed endless and while he didn’t fear defeat, he didn’t anticipate victory.  

They’d both lost sight of where they were.  Kurotsuchi was looking smug as he had obviously noticed Zaraki’s distraction.  He’d appeal to the birds hatred of the man to try to get her back on his side.  “The Clown is looking happy.  You don’t want that joke of a Captain to win, do you?  We’ve got to finish this challenge and  I’m not talking about anything else, understand?”

A long and weary exhalation indicated that the bird had heard him and might see reason.  “I’ll help you Kenny, but only because I don’t want that man to win.  I can’t tell you the answer, because that would be wrong.”

He almost yelled at the bird that  ‘No one would know and how could it be cheating?’  Instead he calmly clenched his fists and waited for her to tell him whatever it was she was going to say.

“Little bits of water wear away a rock,
Little bits of toenail wear away a sock.”

Certain he might has misheard her, he repeated the words she had spoken.  Another comment about water and rocks though he was unsure why she was mentioning socks.  Then it struck him and he cursed loudly aloud only to have everyone stare at him.  It was obvious and if Atonomatsuri had just mentioned the action of water on rocks earlier, he would have understood.  A pebble might be the one of the last remains of a boulder or a mountain which had been worn down over time due to the actions of the weather.  It was a reminder that what was once great can be reduced to something small and seemingly insignificant.

“So you’re saying that the pebble is important to someone because it was once really big and important and now it’s not.”

“Yes!”  The bird seemed pleased that he understood, but he thought he detected a trace of impatience in her voice.

Immediately he dismissed Kuchiki as a possible owner.  He would not wish to be reminded because it would be a sign of humility and the man was not humble. A reminder that even the greatest could be reduced to the lowest level would not sit well with the man.  As he considered it an idea came to him.

“Do you think Kuchiki owns the coin?  If it is as valuable as you say, he would like owning something that rare.”

“I wish you could pick it up so I could examine it.  It looks like an Anglo-Saxon gold coin depicting Coenwulf King of Mercia (796-821).  They’re rare.  And expensive.”  Atonomatsuri’s voice was hushed.

He felt a frown wrinkle his brow.  “Why do you know so much about coins?”

“I had a lot of time on my hands, Kenny.”

It still didn’t make sense.  She was with him all the time and he didn’t spend much time ion libraries or reading.

“But how can you....”

“If you want the answers to important questions you’ll have to achieve bankai.  A girl has to have some secrets.”

For a moment he thought the last comment would be followed by a giggle.  When he heard what followed,  he knew he would have preferred the giggle.

The bird gave a small cough and said, “To whom you tell your secrets, to him you resign your liberty.”

He remained silent.  By now he would have thought there were no adages unsaid, but she constantly seemed to find new ones.  She had to have some way of gaining this information but he knew it was futile to try to get her to explain anything.  She could be as stubborn as the old man when she wanted to be.  He’d learnt there was little point in arguing with Yamamoto.  The guy refused to fight him and he hated being locked in cells or when any of his privileges as a Captain were revoked.  While Atonomatsuri might not be able to do either of those things, she would make his life unpleasant until she was appeased.

“Fine.  Be like that,” he said and then laughed when he noticed the petulance in his voice.  Petulant.  The bird was making him act like a child and he didn’t like it but it was either laugh or become enraged and his anger only amused the bird and gave her the opportunity to act superior.  He turned his attention back to the pebble.  The coin could wait.

“I bet the old man owns the pebble.  It’s the sort of thing he’d use when he wanted to remind someone how unimportant they are,” he said.  Even as he said it he felt a lack of conviction in his assertion.

“You might be misjudging him, but you might be right about it belonging to him.  Captain Yamamoto created this place, he made changes, but even he has to know that nothing is permanent.  A rock cannot last forever, nor can a Captain or Commander.”

Zaraki found he was nodding his head.  If he included the old man, only 4 of the original 13 Captains remained and he was certain that many of the vice captains had been replaced also.  

“None of the others seem likely.  I’ll put his name down with a question mark next to it.  But we better get moving.  4 out of 11 objects,” the bird reminded him.

Looking at the other objects, Zaraki found he was puzzled.  Nothing seemed to fit.  Briefly he considered that the book might belong to Kyoraku, but that would be too obvious.  He was certain that Soifon would not own the pillow.  Hinamori might, it was a very girly thing, but it didn’t seem to fit either.  The his eye rested briefly on the swan and he shuddered slightly.  

“What’s wrong, Kenny?  Did a vulture walk over your grave?”

“Only over my mind,” he replied and looked at the swan again.  The intricate paper folds were exact and the object should be pleasing but for some unknown reason he didn’t like it.  It was pink, which might be the reason he detested it, but pink was a colour he had learned to live with.  He’d had no choice.

“Do you know anyone who does origami?” The bird seemed interested and it was a good suggestion.

“No.  Folding little pieces of paper into distorted shapes isn’t interesting,” he said.

“It’s because your fingers are too big,” was the quickly reply from Atonomatsuri.  “You need clever dexterous fingers and a clever mind to do origami.”

“I’m not interested,” he said with seeming disinterest but her words had made something jar at the back of his mind.  Clever dexterous fingers.  Paper.  

“I don’t think the person who made this is the owner,” slowly the words emerged.  “I think it is a keepsake.”

“Do you think Yoruichi.....” Atonomatsuri asked excitedly but he shook his head and then quickly responded in the negative.

“I’m sure she could do that if she wanted to, but it doesn’t seem energetic enough for her.  I’m thinking of a person who was very good with paperwork and a manipulator of people.”

“I’m pretty sure you don’t mean Ichimaru and Kira wouldn’t keep anything that belonged to the man.  The only  person who would treasure something would be the unconscious girl.”  There was complete assurance in the bird’s voice.

“I don’t know the girl but she was fixated on the man.  What she saw in Aizen I don’t know..”  his voice trailed off as he acknowledged that while he hadn’t trusted the man, or even liked him very much, he’d done nothing about it.  Aizen had nearly ruined Abarai by his treatment and while he hadn’t been very interested, it should have provided some warning to him.  

“We’re guessing all of these, and we might not be right, but if we leave anything blank it will count as a mistake,” he said after glancing at the rules.  “Five done, 6 left.”

A loud announcement drew his attention away.  “One hour has passed.  You only have one more hour to decide your answers.” Ise seemed pleased to be making the announcement and he gave her a toothy grin.  Her eyes passed over his face speedily and it made him grin even wider.  The temptation to swear loudly and upset her passed through his mind but it wouldn’t help him work out this problem.  Looking at her, an idea struck him.  

“The pillows belong to Kyoraku,” was his claim.

Loud laughter greeted his words.  “You think that Captain Casanova owns that pair of lips?”  The bird fell silent immediately she had said it providing Zaraki with the time to look at the object.  If you took away the shape, the pillow looked like it would be quite comfortable, but it was evident that originally the pillow had been owned by a female.  Knowing the man’s sense of humour he considered that any participants would expect a female to own it.  He could not imagine either Retsu or Soifon owning the object and it seemed a little over the top for Hinamori.

However,  a man who was content to walk around in a cheap women’s robe worn as proudly as a captain’s coat could own it.  Zaraki recalled that his previous assistant captain had also been a female, and from all accounts, she had rather peculiar tastes.  After her death the Captain might have kept the pillow as a reminder of her, or because he liked it.  With him, who could tell?

“Maybe your idea is not so wrong after all,” the birds words broke the silence between them.  She then proceeded to outline her reasons which were remarkably similar to his own.

“We agree,” he said.  

“On this matter,” was her tart reply.  “I’m positive Soifon owns the swords.”

It was a logical deduction but it didn’t seem right.  Looking closely it appeared that the swords were no longer used as weapons, but mounted for decoration.  That did not sound like the second division captain.  She would use weapons, not put them on display.  If she had owned them, it was highly probable that she would have exhibited them in her office but he could not recall seeing any noticeable display of weapons.  Mostly, it seemed too predictable for the weapons to belong to Soifon.  The only easy guess so far had been the fan, if anyone was paying attention, and it struck him as odd that there was one item that was obviously easy.  Possibly Ise had decided that one easy guess was permissible or Hitsugaya had left the selection of the item to his second in command.

“You’re wrong,” he said once he’d thought about it.

“What?  You can’t be serious.  Obviously they belong to her!  Who else would prize swords like these?  You’re being contrary to annoy me, that’s why you’re saying this.”  There was no mistake that Atonomatsuri was becoming angry.  In a perverse way this both pleased and irritated him.  To anger the bird proved that she wasn’t in control as much as she liked to pretend but he didn’t want to have to go through the process of soothing her ruffled feathers again.


Author’s Note

Finally managed to finish the chapter  and while it is not as long as I would like, I wanted to post it and start on the next chapter.  

A  number of people made some very interesting suggestions about which person owned which object, but while many of them were logical, they were too easy, far too easy.  Easy would be nice, but predictable.

This chapter was written on my interim netbook as my laptop is now being passed to another family member.  As usual it has been a challenge learning a new operating system and new Word configuration.  I suppose it will mean the end of my complaints about Visturgh, I mean Vista, which is no bad thing.

The next chapter will be completed before the end of the month, all going well. I promise and yes my fingers are crossed, but you’re not meant to notice.

Please review.

MS










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