#writing_getsu

[getsusun]

Zangetsu had to teach Hichigo a lot of things. And, since just-awakened zanpakuto spirit had some... Difficulties with concentration, the best course of action turned out to mix lectures and calm activities with sparrings.

[getsusun]

Butterfly on a pin

a little blood, character is being impaled on a metal beams

It was horrifyingly wrong to see Whumpee – his rival, the constant source of annoyance - like this. Stuck, impaled on a rusty, disfigured pieces of metal, body pierced in many places.

But the most horrifying – and strange – thing was that the young man was still alive. Caretaker took a deep breath and forced his eyes back on the suspended body. The mask on Whumpee’s face was soaked with blood – judging by stains, it was leaking from his nose – and from the ears too. Not from the mouth. Which, taking into account that at least two metal beams were going through skinny abdomen, was strange. Also, a big twisted piece of metal was peeking for at least a hand’s length from Whumpee’s chest, meaning that at least one lung was pierced, probably with heart too.

- How the hell you are alive?

The question fell from Caretaker’s mouth without his consciousness being involved. The Whumpee slowly blinked and tried to raise his head, but instantly stopped and shuddered, a quite whimper reaching Caretaker’s ears. The second attempt was more successful, and now Caretaker had a full view of two bright green eyes, currently sunken deep into eye sockets and bloodshot.

These eyes had the same expression as the dog Caretaker had seen long ago had. The dog was run by a car, and poor animal’s viscera were falling out of its squashed middle. Caretaker tried to heal it, really tried, but he was too young, and dog too unlucky. It died in Caretaker’s arms, not making a single sound besides a quiet whine.

Caretaker had undergone a lot of training to his psi powers since that, both with a few decades to grow up and gain some experience, but still he was pretty sure that the Whumpee must be currently dead. And surely not breathing, slowly and shallowly, but with chest moving as if there were no foreign objects in his lungs and ribs.

Since there were no logical explanation, it must have had something to do with either psi powers or hi-tech. With how the border between those two could blur, Caretaker was not exactly sure, which was the case, but leaned towards the latter. So he went around the madman’s sculpture that the impaled on metal debris Whumpee currently was, looking for at least a hint of an answer.

There was another shudder going through a thin body, and another whimper, but Caretaker was already behind the Whumpee, with a mostly full view on what, supposedly, was wrong. Namely the Whumpee’s shield, a tight-packed piece of hi-tech, allowing him, well, “jump” – teleport on short distances, grab an artifacts out of Caretaker’s hand, and overall to be a menace. The shield, dull-blue of it battered and scratched, was currently displaced from its usual – as far as Caretaker has seen – place on Whumpee’s back, angled away, and there were. Fuck. There were bloody pins, long and spiky, attached to the shield’s inner part. Those pins probably were intended to be inside Whumpee’s back, administering a neural connection to a brain.

So, while Caretaker was no expert in hi-tech, and therefore could not determine the exact technical details of what was happening, he got a gist of the problem. The Whumpee was using the shield to teleport. With shield being either damaged or ripped from his back – or may be both – the result of teleportation somehow ended up in combining Whumpee’s body and a bunch of metal beams and shards. ...It probably really hurt. And since Whumpee was still here, he probably could not teleport away.

Which raised the question of what Caretaker could possibly do in current situation. Because, although Whumpee was a menace and an annoying obstacle on the way of one too many of Caretaker’s missions (and not only his, Caretaker had heard a lot of complaints and curses towards “fucking red-head Whumpee”), calling a capture-and-remove squad was not the best idea. Especially with all Coalition’s operatives marked as “better taked dead than alive”. Caretaker didn’t want the Whumpee dead. They had a sort of… Mutual understanding, which developed from not going for the fatal attacks (which Caretaker preferred never use anyway) to reluctant almost-partnership when met with monsters of both psi and hi-tech origins.

And even if they were not on such civil terms… Caretaker was not leaving anyone to die like that.

Caretaker finished the circle and stepped closer. There was another sound, now almost resembling words, and the Whumpee shuddered again, clearly trying to get Caretaker’s attention.

- You… Probably should not try to move. At all.

- P-pl...eas...e, d-augh… D-dont leav- - Whumpee’s voice shattered and drowned in a hacking cough, but this time the words were distinguishable. He was trembling now, seemingly anchored in the air in points where the metal was combined with the flesh.

At this moment Caretaker really, really wished he knew how to hypnotize someone to sleep. Unfortunately, his psi powers were not exactly suited for such things…

- I am not leaving, and I am surely not leaving you like this, - stated Caretaker, trying to make his voice sound both certain and calm, while feeling none of the above.

There was another shudder that went through Whumpee’s body… No. It was a sob, realized Caretaker with a sudden terror. Whumpee was crying, his mask getting wet not only from blood but from tears too. Caretaker could not make him to go to sleep, but may be he could project at least a little calm and sympathy? And anyway with physical contact scanning the aura is always easier and more pristine…

Caretaker reached over with his left hand, trying to touch the only part of other’s body that was both reachable and without inanimate objects in it – the right arm of the Whumpee. It was apparently a bad idea, because the moment Whumpee saw – or more precisely, understood – what Caretaker was trying to do, he pulled back, like Caretaker’s hand was fire.

- N-no! You cant… A-agh!

Now there was, in fact, an inanimate object combined with Whumpee’s righ arm. When he moved, his arm kind of… Flickered for a second, and ended up at the same point of space where another metal beam was. It didn’t flickered, and despite how hard Whumpee shuddered, the flesh at the place of the connection seemed to now be anchored to the metal.

Fuck. It must have hurt. Caretaker forced himself to breath in and out and tried to stop freaking out, which did not really went well. Now instead of helping he just made the Whumpee to hurt more, and to be stuck more, and – wait, was this blood starting to soak his jumpsuit around the metal sticking out of the flesh?

Luckily (if only Caretaker could call the current turn of events such), it did not looked like a lot of blood, or an amount adequate to the situation. But still.

- C-can’t to-nngh-uch. Me. Q-quantum int… Interference, - mumbled Whumpee. Pronouncing words seemed to be difficult to him, and Caretaker was starting to feel a sympathy fathom pain.

So, the physical contact seemed to be out of possibilities. Caretaker did not wanted to know what it would have resulted in. It would have been good to know what the hell quantum interference was, but Caretaker was pretty sure that even if Whumpee could give a fast entry-level lecture on the physics of his hi-tech shield in general, in current circumstances it was out of question. Not like Caretaker would have understood much from it anyway.

- Try not to move, please. I am going to scan you now.

Caretaker was not leaving the Whumpee here. He did not yet know how, but Caretaker was going to help.

[getsusun]

Of sun and feathers

So, there are really big caves in which scientists built their laboratories. Like, really big. So big, that when Red is asked – well, ordered, since there is no option of saying “no”, even if he could speak – to teleport as far as he can, there should be no problems with him accidentally leaving the used area. And anyway, the controlling chip will make sure that Red will return if he turns out to be too far away. So, no problem here.

Since the labs are underground, there is no light down here (not counting some strange glowing mold in the lowest tunnels). And for some reason in addition to illumination in the buildings and tunnels there are a few hundred of giant lamps sticking out from the stone ceiling. The common opinion between mod souls is that it was either the part of another project or an inconsistency in orders due to which someone made those lamps without thinking twice. Scientists may know the real answers, but even if they know, they are not inclined to share. Anyway, no problem with giant glass construction up there too.

No problem on no problem should give no problem as a result, but in Red’s case it is usually the other way around. You see, it is kind of complicated to spot which way he needs to go in that other-subdimensional-dark-red-mist which Red goes through to teleport. Mostly because there are no pointers here – no compass to point to south and north, no sun or moon, and also – most importantly – no gravity which means there is not much difference between up and down.

You are getting where the story is going, right?

So, Red takes a good breath, because he already had learned that breathing that red mist is bad idea and his throat and nose are constantly burning even without it, closes his eyes, concentrates and tugs on that warm and wooly feeling under his ribs. The white walls disappear, replaced by familiar darkness and redness. Red feels dizzy for a moment, so he just waits for a second until he is more or less sure that he is not going to threw up from the first movement, and then he moves ahead, floating in the middle of nothing.

From the outside, as Kurodo mentioned, teleporting looks like a instant thing – Red disappears in the poof of dark-red smoke and reappears at the same moment in some other point. From the inside it was a little differently. For a few beats of his heart Red was able to move in any direction he wanted without any resistance from his surroundings. Then, if he continued to concentrate on moving, the mist seemed to become more and more dense, but Red also kind of felt that he was moving faster – which made sense.

Red was not going to overdo it – it was a sure thing that the scientists will want more tries, until they have enough data or until he passes out from exhaustion, either way. But not doing as he was ordered to was also warranted bad consequences, so Red moved, and moved, and moved until his chest was tight from too little of oxygen (but he was not suffocating yet), and the mist around barely budged. Then Red released the grip on that not-exactly-real-but-definitely-here thing in his chest, slipping back into the normal world.

There is a moment of total disorientation, the world spins around and then Red is falling down on suspiciously familiar outlines of buildings. Very small outlines, growing bigger and bigger with every second.

There is also the whistling of the wind in his ears, which is first time Red feels it, because there is usually not much wind underground, besides the small kudo-provided currents for ventilation. Red’s body tries to scream, which seems like a pretty normal thing to do in his current conditions, but apparently for screaming one needs to have air in their lungs, and Red has none, not able to take a breath, too deep in panic and with heart doing something like a thousand beats per second.

The black dots down on the ground become almost shinigami-shaped.

Red manages to think five words, forming one short “i am going to die” thought.

Then he pushes as strong as he can and goes back into the red mist, with almost no air in his lungs and totally disoriented. But even with urge to take a breath starting to really hurt Red still now has much more time to come up with a strategy to end up not-plummeted-to-his-death from falling from the height of… From a really big fall.

The thing is, teleportation can changes Red’s position and orientation in the space, but it saves the movement as it was at the moment of entering the red mist. It took a long time to adapt to, and Red still ends crashing into the floor or into a sparring partner or, on one memorable case, into a whole bunch of fragile scientific equipment.

So, in theory, think Red, fighting with himself to stay calm – or at least not in full panic – he just needs to go from facing down to facing up. Then the gravity will balance the vertical speed he already has, and the result will be zero. Um. And he probably still will be in the air, and if it would be too high, he will need to teleport down. Red slowly turns around into what he thinks would be a upwards position in the real world. Wait. He probably would not be able to teleport again, because using his powers two times in a row without a break is already unusual luck. Then… Then he needed to do it now, right? To move down as far as he can – but not too far, because if he ends under the upper portion of the cave system, he will certainly become a puddle on the top of one of the tunnels.

...He is so fucked right now.

On the last remains of oxygen in his lungs Red floats forward – so it would be down in the real world – for what kind of feels like almost the distance equal to the height he was at. Then he tries to brace himself, drops out back from the mist, and catches his last thought before everything goes dark despite the lamp on the ceiling of the cave system for a moment being so close that Red can distinguish separate glass panels.

He moved AFTER turning to face up.

===========================

A few minutes ago, testing room #7.

Kurodo had a bad feeling about this test. Red was too stubborn for his own good, so Kurodo was waiting for the moment when he will be dragging his friend’s half-unconsciousness body to their cell. But it was more or less normal outcome. Kurodo was for some reason more nervous than usual , and Red in contrast looked pretty calm.

Kurodo just really, really hoped that Red’s unexplainable ability to not teleport inside of a solid objects would not fail today. It never did before, but Kurodo’s imagination was sometimes… A little too good, and while it was useful for his powers, currently it made him uneasy.

At least it is not Ahiriku who is in charge today. This shinigami one is pretty chill by Kurodo’s standards, not prone to torturing and no expecting to be entertained in other ways. But you never can be too careful with shinigami, so Kurodo stands still with a pen at the ready. It pays off to be favored by scientists as not very smart, but obedient and literate assistant. For some reason labs are a little understaffed, and many shinigami here do not want to do a boring work of writing down the raw data.

- Test number one, long-distance teleportation, first run.

The shinigami’s voice is bored, the machine in front of him is humming and blinking a small green dot on the radar screen, currently showing a small zero in the data field. Kurodo glances on Red through the glass wall, and then returns to watching the screen. A quiet bang, and the zero on the screen morphs into a pretty big number. A big number which decreases really fast. And the green spot on the radar seems to stay as it was in its center.

- What the hell? Is it broke alre-

Kurodo rushes ahead and hits the emergency-failsafe button on the panel board at the same moment there is a much more loud sound of something shattering on a distance.

The papers which was in Kurodo’s hands a second ago are on the floor, but he could not care less. Because the green point on the radar finally moved from the center a little to the side. Because the radar shows Red’s chip, and Kurodo did activate the mechanism which should have send the signal to it to make Red teleport into the safety chamber, and since it worked, Red should be here, alive, not falling to his death.

Because Kurodo may be not the brightest candle in the chandelier, but he can connect two dots on how many directions someone can go from the zero point for projection of their position to stay at the same place.

There is some shouting following Kurodo’s escapade, and some explaining, and then – thankfully (it is a fucking blessing that it is not Ahiriku or one of his friends in charge) – some running as fast as Kurodo can, but it all merges into one gray monotony. And then there is the safety chamber, constructed soon after a first few – well, actually, it was closer to ten, but the scientists started to pay attention only when Red started accidentally breaking an equipment instead of his own bones – which should in theory stop any impulse Red still has after teleporting.

Kurodo freezes and tries to make his brain work.

Red is still in one piece, which is good.

There is a lot of blood, which is much less good, especially with the most of it pooling around Red’s head.

There are also a lot of glass shards for some reason, which is not bad on its own, but it is bad that some of them are inside Red’s skin.

And most importantly… Kurodo goes down on his knees and presses two almost-not-trembling fingers to Red’s neck, and finally breathes out. Red is alive.

And Kurodo will take care of the rest.

[getsusun]

Looking at my old drabbles of Zaraki Kenpachi / Old Man Zangetsu (+ rusty_paths au) and. They are so much not like I am writing now. (For example, this is not my active OTP anymore, though I still like it.) They may be are not very good or plot-consistent (well, they are drabbles)... But they are so *alive*. Don't remember the year when I wrote those, but it was quite a long time ago, I think?

Kinda want to translate them to English to find new inspiration, but I am afraid the live and emotions will be lost...

> After Yamomoto the next in front of Evil stepped Kurosaki, and Zaraki was having none of it. They - he - were not going to hide behind the kid's back again. Only Zaraki didn't make it. Or rather, was beat to it. Nameless appeared from nowhere, emerged from flows of reitsu filling all around. For a very, very long moment the world was frozen - Kurosaki, Uhwach, the thin black shadow between them. And then the Chaos prevailed.

[getsusun]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Bleach (Anime & Manga), Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Noba/Old Man Zangetsu | Quincy Zangetsu Characters: Noba (Bleach), Old Man Zangetsu | Quincy Zangetsu Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Cyberpunk, Porn With Plot, Accidental Stimulation, Cyberpunk 2077 Slang Summary:

Nova has his highly illegal implant malfunctioning, but he also has a chance to meet the most famous ripper of the Soul City - the mysterious Sword. During the maintenance Nova finds out that he may have a little... Unexpected reaction on Sword's techniques. (And voice).

[getsusun]

Out of those two, who can possibly wreak more chaos over Seireitei?

From the one side, we have Getsu:

Less then hundred years short from being a thousand years old zanpakuto spirit with reading as one of his favorite hobbies.

Calm. Concentrated. Introverted. Can be seen meditating on the top of (former) Sokyoku hill.

Is concerned over all (yes, including Senbonsakura) zanpakuto spirits wellbeing. Can and will intervene when witnessing shinigami abusing their weapons.

Has lectured countless shinigami over concept of active consent and consent overall. (Usually when being in the form of shinigami himself, Ri Hanaro from the Thirteen Squad, but it is the story for another time).

Strongly disapproves of any alcohol consumption.

Is wary of scientists. Especially ones who engage with studying souls.

Has a long history with Kuchiki clan. Usually ignores it. Captain Kuchiki ignores him too.

Respects the concept of walls. Excluding the ones that belong to Kuchiki.

From the other side impatiently bounces on his feet Noba:

Not even full hundred years old mod soul who sometimes has difficulties with understanding of the concept of "personal items"

Can teleport, thus can infiltrate (almost) any part of Seireitei. Has no concept of "if the door is closed you are not supposed to be on the other side of it".

Likes to party with other mod souls, usually brings his own boose, since his metabolism makes it pretty hard to stay drunk and even tipsy. (No one asks where he gets so much alcohol. And why it looks so old.)

Hates the scientists. Won't go to Twelve's Squad territory unless there is no other choice.

I actually do not know the answer. Well, the easy answer will be "if you meet those two together on the war path - RUN." What were they up to separatedly:

Accompanying Yachiru in her quest of catching carps from Kuchiki's pond. Repeatedly. (Getsu. He also convinced her to relocate most of the fish to Ukitake's pond. Excluding the ones they ate.)

Fighting Kenpachi for fun. (Also Getsu.)

Being the reason the lower floors and labs of Twelve Squad were flooded. Repeatedly. With water, mice and semi-sentient slime. (Nova.)

Demonstratively breaking through Kuchiki's guards to visit a graveyard on an anniversary. The security gave up and started to turn the kudo spells off on this day, but the protection somehow activates back just to be loudly broken. (Getsu. He is making a point.)

Teaching Chad to smoke. Smoking weed with Chad. Facing the consequences. (Nova. Getsu was the consequences).

Making sure that Ichigo's gang will not be caught (too soon) when running through Seireitei. Wreaking more chaos. (Nova, with assistance of others. Getsu was busy teaching Hichigo to zanpakuto.)

Becoming a psychotherapist for Quincy Emperor. (Getsu. Yes, he also has no idea how and why.)

[getsusun]

Love will construct a gravestone

1 whump point out of ten? probably? Timeline: something like eight hundred years before main bleach plot. Naumi Kuchiki rejected his zanpakuto and then died. (Hooray! Finally!)

For some reason, Koigetsu - Nameless now - still wakes up alive.

Koigetsu… No, Koigetsu did not existed anymore, after his master rejected him – and then died – zanpakuto did not feel that the name was his. Nameless spirit wandered through Soul Society, half-aware of his surroundings. At first he walked aimlessly, simply waiting for inevitable death, which for some reason had not taken him immediately after Na… After his former master cut all ties with him. Neither it happened when Nameless felt his former master’s reitsu disappear completely after a splash of energy from Hell’s gates. Nameless fell to deep, dreamless, death-like sleep soon after, not hoping – not wanting – to wake up, but for some reason he eventually did.

Judging by the colors of leafs and colder temperature, several months had passed while he slept. Or it could have been years, but it does not feels like it, so he decides to assume months. Soul Society is in early autumn, with sun still shining brightly but with earth halfway cooled down.

He ends up in somehow familiar landscape – groves and small fields, neat paths. His fingers tingle from proximity of kido barrier, and it is this feeling which finally allows him to recognize where he is. Pretty close to main Kuchiki manor. And… Cemetery.

Cemetery, where his former master’s grave would be. Even if Kuchiki were not entirely happy with Na… With him, a second seat in Sixth Division was a pretty high position. So the body would have been buried, if it didn’t disperse into reishi particles too son – and Nameless was sure that it would be not, since his former master was strong and powerful. Even without body, tombstone would be made, to immortalize the memory.

Nameless actually didn’t even know how exactly his former master died. May be there would be something written on gravestone. Or he can ask… Somebody from the Clan? May be… May be even stay there, to fix some of the things Na… His former master said or done. Or just spend the rest of the time he has left – whatever it would be, hours or days – in Kuchiki’s library. He would be quiet and almost invisible, he would not bother anybody.

And if Kuchiki will think that he had stayed on this side of life for too long… Well, they can kill him. Make it fast and not ugly. May be this time it will stuck.

But first. First Nameless wanted to see the grave. To grasp the reality of his former master’s death.

And the first step would be going through this kido barriers. They were good enough to detect Nameless even when he shifted his presence halfway to another layer of reality, almost not-existing for normal souls. They also technically should have let him in, since his reitsu would be as Nau… As his former masters. Theoretically.

Nameless squinted on colorful tangle of energy, and suddenly felt a strong urge to pick this kido lock. The feeling was like a mix between nervous need and exiting want. Well. It is not like he is going to break it, right? Just play with it a bit, warp a few minor energy flows to persuade them into ignoring his reitsu signature…

It was actually really easy. Nameless spent less than ten minutes, and he was sleepy and half-numb from exhaustion. The moment the barrier yielded to his prodding Nameless felt an echo of satisfaction. It was weak, but it was a positive emotion, something Nameless did not expected to feel at all.

Well. He could have become a little crazy, after all. No one could say he did not have a good reason!

Feeling a little guilty, Nameless ended up fixing the barrier and simply walking through. As he expected, kido did let him in, after just a little hesitation – must have been because of minor reitsu signature differences with his former master.

So. Cemetery. Nameless never was there before – his former master’s mother’s grave was far away, in small household where Nau… Where they spent their childhood. ...Do zanpakuto have a childhood? Did it counted like one, if Nameless was aging in parallel with his former master for some time? Not the point.

The cemetery had no fence, only a path of white sand marking the boundaries. Nameless went slowly, trying to catch the logic of gravestone’s placement. Seemed pretty easy – chronologically, from oldest to newest. There were names Nameless knew from old lessons on Clan’s history, or from diaries and records. Twenty five gravestones, the biggest ones, for previous Kuchiki Clan Heads. Others for Captains, Lieutenants and high-seated Gotei officers. Names, dates, the most remarkable achievements. Some didn’t have the last category – must have been something not for everyone’s eyes, even on Kuchiki’s lands. Be Nameless in better state, he may have tried to guess unwritten words, but the proximity of the newest part of the cemetery – the one where the new burials were made – washed the colors from Nameless’s world again.

There. Nameless was one gravestone from the beginning – or the end – of the line, and he remembered the face behind the name on the second last. Not yet old Kuchiki, accidental death, was considered a great poet and philosopher. Well, the place on this cemetery was given to him probably not for the literary successes, but for espionage activities on the good of the clan…

Nameless closed his eyes, breathed in and out and finally looked at the last gravestone.

And blinked, trying to make the world make sense again.

The name on the stone… It was not Na… His former master’s. And the date was two weeks later than his former master’s death, so it could not be that the grave was not here yet.

It was not here.

Kuchiki deemed his former master not good enough to be remembered.

For some time Nameless was just standing here, slightly wobbling from side to side (his left knee was starting to feel like in fire again. Seemed like it would not, in fact, heal anytime soon (or that he will be dead sooner than that)). It is hard to think, his thoughts like water drops leaking through the fingers.

No, it must be something else. Some type of error, may be. Or just a delay.

(It is hard to believe in it, but Nameless throws the doubts away).

Well, then he may as well fix it.

There is a small shed nearby the cemetery, half-hidden in tree’s shadow, where Nameless finds a pile of empty gravestones. They are not really heavy (at least for zanpakuto spirit), but his left arm is still not good enough for any consistent load, so it takes time to move one stone to the next empty spot. The previous grave does not look very fresh, so Nau… His former master’s body probably already dispersed into reishi particles. But Nameless would not let the world to forget.

Nameless sits on the earth near the stone, left leg awkwardly stretched out to hurt less, and looks at the empty surface. For a second he thinks about using the sword – but no, the other way would be better. Closer.

Nameless concentrates, and calls to the surface tingling in fingers on his right arm. Metal claws grow fast. They are dark, almost black, like his bankai blades, but unlike these ones, growing claws does not hurt. He leaves them pretty short, since they are not for fighting this time. The stone surrenders, crumbling under the pressure of live metal, and Nameless takes his time, trying to make every line smooth and clear.

The simple and repeated movements help to clear his mind, but they also make the fact of what he is doing – carving the name of his former master on the gravestone­ - closer and more… Real. For some reason – must be tiredness and overall sense of surreality – Nameless feels strange thoughts filling his head.

For example, that his former master has only himself to blame for the inscription on his tombstone being not ideal. It would have been better, if Nameless could use his left hand, and Nameless can’t because his former master broke his – their – bankai, and Nameless’s left arm, and now pretty often his accuracy of movements is really not great lower than elbow.

Nameless blinks and drops this thought. After all, he himself is also to be blamed for it. He wronged his master, so there was no other choice for him – or there was, but Nau… But his former master could not see it because Nameless was not good enough.

That… That certainly is an interesting trail of thoughts. Nameless frowns and tries to make sense of his mind. He feels conflicted. There is too much of everything, and so it all dissolves into a gray mix – pain, sadness, anger, despair, denial.

His hand slips, and sharp edge of stone cuts the skin on the finger pad. It suddenly hurts, even if Nameless should not even feel that small of a wound, and he looks at the drop of blood slowly sliding across the stone.

The inscription is actually almost ready, only the last date not here yet – because Nameless is not quite sure which one it should be. How long had passed from the moment his former master said the words of rejection and until the death found him? Hours, days? Weeks?

- It seems that even Hell is not good enough for you, Naumi!

The voice pushes Nameless out of his thoughts enough for zanpakuto spirit to grasp on the reality and dodge the attack in time. Aimed in his back sword clanks on the gravestone, leaving an ugly scratch over the unevenly carved words. The sensations drop on Nameless as a tsunami: strong distantly familiar presence nearby, another twenty or so reitsu signatures around, those much weaker, not shinigami-level. Most of them hide under kido barriers, which he feels like a sand creaking on his teeth.

Nameless stands and turns around in one movement, and half-stumbles, barely keeping balance. He does, in fact, know the man in front of him. It would be hard for anyone not to recognize white silk of scarf and smooth curves of bone in middle-aged man half gray hair.

- Lord Kuchiki.

Nameless bows politely, which is hard, because he still feels half-dead. It is even fun that these are the first words he had said since… Since he lost his name. Well, he did come to Kuchiki’s cemetery, so it is not that unexpected to see a clan member here. Head of the clan, from the other side…

Head of the Kuchiki Clan, who is currently looking at him strangely, as far as Nameless can see – and feel from reitsu, because the world again becomes a little blurry and the flows of energy a little too bright to be comfortable.

- You are not Naumi.

The name cuts on Nameless’s soul as a sharp knife, and it hurts, it hurts so much to even hear it, so he forbids himself from thinking about how there is no bond anymore, no soul to guard, no voice to hear.

- No, I am not.

There is silence for a few moments, and Nameless should have been realized that Lord Kuchiki must be waiting for an elaboration, but Nameless’s thoughts are a little too tangled into tight knots.

So he just waits until Lord Kuchiki starts speaking again. Guards – ninjas in purple clothes – still mostly hide under kido, but their presence now feels just a little less threatening.

- Then you must be Naumi’s zanpakuto spirit, Koigetsu.

Nameless startles and rises his head, looking into approximate direction of Lord’s eyes.

- No, I am not. He rejected me. I am not his anymore, nor is this name mine to own.

It should sound bitter and may be even angry, but his voice ends up being just tired. His old name sounds strange falling from wrong lips, but it also does not sounds completely wrong. He is not sure what does it means.

- And Clan rejected Naumi, therefore our cemetery is not a place for his tombstone.

Nameless forgets how to breath. “You’re a liar”, he wants to say, but he always knows when the lie is spoken, and the words just before were truth. Was… Was his former master deprived of everything, not only his life in Soul Society, but also his family, his clan?

- Why?

This time there is despair in his voice, and also pain, but Lord – and his guards – seems to take this tone as a threat. Ninjas, still invisible under the kido, move to surround Nameless, and Lord Kuchiki has his hand on katana’s handle again.

- Leave now, spirit, and do not invade my land again.

Nameless is frustrated, and exhaustion rolls over him like a big wave. He stumbles, grabs the gravestone to keep balance, and his metal claws, which are still there, stained by stone crumb, grinds on stone, striking sparks.

It seems to be the last drop in Lord’s patience. Short gesture – and ninja in purple clothes attack as a unite force, all strikes aimed directly on Nameless.

For a short, very short moment Nameless considers just. Not moving. Staying in one place, being pierced by a dozen swords. A loyal zanpakuto, dying on his master’s grave. Poetic. Simple.

Stupid and pathetic.

But then there is anger, not on Kuchiki Lord, but on Nameless himself. Was all he went through not enough? Were all the tortures not enough? The images flashed before his eyes: dark stone pit, cold water of deep lake, white pillars under a scorching sun, an acid burning his face, fire, hunger, pain, pain, so much pain…

“No”, decides Nameless, and dodges the strikes, may be very gracefully, but here the result is more important. “No”, thinks he, crushing the metal of someone’s sword – not a zanpakuto, not even an asauchi, dead metal crumbles under his claws, “I am not dying today.”

He does not attack, just defends and dodges, and then runs, and soon looses ninjas somewhere behind, their reitsu fading away. The short burst of energy allows Nameless to move far away to consider himself relatively safe, and he stops in the middle of the forest.

The autumn is bright around, leafs of all shades of yellow, red and brown. Nameless looks up at the sun, and laughs, feeling a little mad.

What the hell is next?

[getsusun]

Trouble is waiting, don't be rude!

Timeline: a little less than hundred years ago. Project Spearhead is closed, the remains of mod-souls became a part of Thirteenth Division. Was it a good idea? We'll see, but it is certainly a potential for shenanigans.

It is not the first big mission out of the Seireitei walls when everything goes to hell. Not even the second or the third one. It is the forth, when everyone had already calmed down and gain some confidence.

So there they were: sixteenth seat officer Kajomaru, fifteen unseated officers and three rookies fresh out of Academy, Nova and Kurodo. Considering that the whole Division consisted of something like two hundred shinigami, plus thirty-two mod-souls, twenty one was a pretty significant number for a team. Especially since their mission was almost a usual patrol, slightly spiced with evidences of people missing and strange footprints noticed in the forest.

Nova personally thought that Captain Ukitake was just playing safe. Well. Not like Nova was against it. Even with more shinigami that was almost certainly needed, he was a little worried about Kurodo.

Because, well. Kurodo could and will fight, Nova had seen that and knew that his friend would not hesitate to place himself between others and danger. Kurodo could fight any shinigami – at least for a while – with his versatile tricks and plain power-copying. But they were going on a patrol – to hunt for Hollows. And Hollows were not shinigami. You don’t need a complicated strategy to fight Hollows, you need to hit them and to not be hit by them.

Also, Kurodo’s stamina was bad. And Nova knew well that Kurodo would be much better back in Seireitei, doing paperwork and somehow solving problems which could not be solved with a good hit in head but required – unfortunately – more paperwork, and also going around and talking to people. Total magic, in Nova’s understanding, and much harder than fighting.

But Kurodo decided that he needed to get field experience, and Nova decided that at least with him nearby Kurodo would be as safe as possible. Well, on the second place, actually, since the safest would have been with Getsu. But Getsu was doing something else in his undercover as shinigami Hanaro Ri, and Nova was not going to disturb him unless it was strictly necessary.

Which it would be not, because they had a big team of okay fighters, and Nova was sure that everything would be all right.

So, back to the business. Their small group had spend ten days traveling to Fugai, which was the district by number… Was it twelve or twenty one? Nova was still somehow mixing up on what positions digits meant dozens and on what they did not. Must have been thirteen, because Nova heard one of the officers once said that going further than District Twenty in any direction meant at least a month on the road for shinigami and much more for usual souls.

So. They were in Fugai, District Thirteen to the east from Seireitei. Nova was still amazed by the sheer distances and the world in whole. To think that he thought the 12th Division underground facilities to be big and widespread! During these ten days they traveled by the road through cities, towns, forests, fields and even a small rocky area where no one lived except some really big ants.

It was nice. Well, it would have been even nicer if other mod-souls were here too, not only Nova and Kurodo, and also Getsu… But Nova knew that it would be too bold to ask from the world. May be it was for the best that Kurodo was here.

They finally arrived to the small city from which the reports about people disappearing came. The local folk were pretty tense, and Nova felt for a moment like it was more because of their uniform than from Hollows probably lurking nearby. Which would have been strange, because shinigami were protecting the souls without spirit power, right?

Kurodo and Kajomaru asked around for more info, got close to none and all squad went to explore in the direction that mostly answered the question “when were going all these people you never saw again”. An hour or so, Nova stumbled on a terrain, big clearing in the middle of the forest, that looked like something went wrong here. Like, really-big-fire and also may be meteor-falling level of wrong. Charred trees, scorched land, big rocks laying in strange positions, like if there was an explosion? And there was an area which looked like if something sliced the upper layer of land, creating clearly lined hole in the ground. But it all didn’t looked new, young plants already overgrowing the consequences of whatever happened here.

Kajomaru commanded to be on guard, and they were, but everything was quite and peaceful, except Nova felt something strange in the air, sour and bitter, and may be if he had a couple more minutes Nova would have realized that only he was feeling it, and therefore it must have been connected with his powers, but horde of Hollows literally fell onto their heads before that.

At this point Nova did get a slight feeling that this mission may not end up being all easy and without trouble. But he threw this thought away, because, a) fighting Hollows was what they came for, and b) Nova didn’t have much time to think.

Nova makes a short dash to avoid the bone-covered limb, long and sharp, hitting him into chest. The world blinks briefly, and Nova is suddenly ten steps further than he expected to be, almost stumbling into another Hollow face first. Fortunately the monster is facing the other way, so Nova strikes with his sword, separating spiked tail from black body which could have belong to a frog, if that frog was giant, black and with white skull on its head. The Hollow screeches, loudly and angry, and turns around, and while Nova dodges, two other shinigami at the same time cut into Hollow’s flesh, making enough damage for it to disperse in a short burst of black mist.

Nova throws a quick glance to the side - Kurodo is holding okay, evading the attacks of two Hollows at once, white fingers tightly grasping a handle of his wakizashi. The next strike of clawed limb is too fast, and instead of dodging Kurodo shrinks down, briefly transforming into someone short, and uses his newly obtained size to slip under the other Hollow, along the way cutting through its thigh.

- Hanaro, keep an eye on rookies! - Kajomaru yells from somewhere, and Nova follows his voice, moving through the battle field, shortcutting with teleports. He places more strikes here and there, distracting Hollows, and pulls one of the shinigami from under the blow of another spiky tail.

Three rookie shinigami, one of which was actually joined the Thirteenth Division after the mod-souls became its part, fight back to back with mixed success. No one is dead or badly injured, but the bold one has a scratch on his head, and the big one is clearly panicking, because the swings of his katana are looking more dangerous for his teammates than for the Hollows. At least no one is screaming or running for their life.

The third rookie, a solid build girl two heads higher than Nova (which is, unfortunately, not a rare trait to have, but Nova hopes to grow up in the future, now, when he is actually eating and sleeping as a human being), has a lot of determination in her eyes, and when Nova cuts the Hollow’s leg from the behind on the knee level, she severs the upper right limb of the monster. It doesn’t kill the Hollow, but it roars angrily, and it seems to help the big rookie to concentrate and to finally stop his katana from threatening to end up in his teammate’s leg.

Nova manages another look around, and there are a lot of Hollows. Big, small, strange-looking, a couple is even floating in the air, slowly flapping their wings. Their squad seems to be at least two people down, but not dead, and Kurodo is standing over one of the wounded, defending him from the greedily circling them hollows. Well, it must be Kurodo, because Nova is sure that this big-muscle-scary-looking guy was not in their squad.

Things are going mostly fine for some time. Nova manages to keep all the rookies in one piece (although the bald one DID tried to have his arm bitten off), and with common efforts they even managed to kill one Hollow and are working on another. But then Kajomaru is yelling something, and his voice cuts off into a scream, and a scream stops, and then there are more screams which start and stop.

And okay, at this point Nova did panicked a little, and the time begun flowing strange, both too slow and too fast, because he was diving in and out of teleports, trying to understand what was hapenning. Shield now in his arms instead of position on his back, Nova rushed to the spot where something strange was happening.

Kajomaru was laying on earth, no visible blood pooling under him. Two more shinigami near him, faces down, swords fallen out of their hand. The third one Nova saw falling, clutching to her side, scream cutting short. The nearest Hollow, medium sized wolf-alike creature, leaped for her, but Nova teleported unmoving shinigami away to where the rest of the squad formed a loose circle around the second wounded not-by-mysterious-something. The bodies – which felt like live ones, and were not dispersing into reishi particles, which was a good sign – followed, and Nova stumbled, slightly lightheaded. He was fine with moving one human at a time without tactile contact, shield was helping, but four in less than ten seconds were a little too much.

Hollow-wolf didn’t looked like a reason for four shinigami to be down. Usual Hollow, and Nova dodged another leap and sliced beast’s neck, disappearing before a clawed paw grabbed him. Unfortunately, it was not enough, and Nova continued dancing around the monster, trying to cut its limbs. While he was cutting the third one, the first one was already half-regenerated, and not each Nova’s strike was strong enough to separate the limb.

It takes almost three minutes, but Nova manages, and only one time Hollow blow hits him, making a long gap in clothes over Nova’s left shoulder. It stings, but Nova shrugs the pain and concentrates on the rest of the battlefield.

Shit.

Half of the squad was down, and this time there were pools of blood under some of the bodies, and most of the still fighting shinigami were not unscathed. Something roars, even more loudly and gloatingly, and there are even more Hollows popping out from nowhere.

Okay. So mission had gone to hell. Nova still could work with it. Nova still could work with it, even if his strikes are not even half that strong as of shinigami’s zanpakuto, even if their commanding officer is down, even if Kurodo is thrown out of his transformation and barely dodges the Hollow’s attack.

And may be somewhere on that point Nova thought about calling for reinforcements, but he didn’t actually had a way. There should have been hell butterflies, but Nova had no idea who from shinigami had them, and – more importantly – how to use them. May be someone had already sent them back to Division?

Then Nova remembered, that they were ten days away from Seireitei, and stopped thinking about butterflies, because while he had no idea how fast could they fly, he had a pretty good idea of how fast reinforcements can arrive. Shortly speaking – not fast enough.

Something bites into Nova’s chest, and he shudders from sharp wave of pain, but it passes soon enough, and Nova has no time to see what it was, because Nova is striking, dodging, jumping in and out of portals across all battlefield to pull out fallen shinigami from finishing blows. Overusing is not the word for how much Nova strained his powers, and his mask is wet with blood tricking from Nova’s nose, but he still can teleport, even if his shield is fervently hot to touch.

He has no idea how long it continues.

Breath in. Red darkness. Breath out.

Scream nearby, shinigami dropping his sword. Nova clutches the shield in his left hand, grabs shinigami’s arm with right hand and teleports with this alive cargo to where the other bodies lay.

Another sharp flash of pain, this time under the left knee.

Nova sticks his sword into Hollow’s eye, teleports on the monster’s back and repeats the process, severing the spine. Hollow’s death howl is muted in Nova’s ears, drown by the voice of another shinigami, which signals that one more human is down.

The fight goes on and on, and Nova is not even sure how many shinigami are still fighting.

At some point he sees Kurodo stumble, transforming back into his baseline body, blood out of mod-soul’s nose.

Another shinigami falls down, Nova finishes off two more Hollows, plus one half-bitten through shoulder, which would have become a bitten of arm, if Nova hadn’t teleport away from Hollow’s mouth. Sharp flashes of pain across all his body are getting annoying, but Nova has no time to think, no time to do anything but fight.

Another scream. Nova manages to concentrate Hollow’s attention on him, so the fallen shinigami are not being eaten alive, but it makes evading claws and fangs that much harder.

The next scream flicks the switch in Nova’s mind, because this is Kurodo screaming, and this is where the real panic starts, because Nova don’t have a plan further than ‘not to die’, its Kurodo who always has a plan, who knows what to do, and – much more important – Kurodo is screaming, and he is in pain, and then there is nothing, no sound, and Nova rips the distance into red splashes and the Hollow bending over Kurodo is dead, but Kurodo is not moving, and his eyes are closed and his nose is still bleeding, altogether with wide wound over his chest, shihakusho ripped apart.

Nova is scared, and exhausted, and his mind is kinda clouded, but he moves, because now if he stops even for a second, Kurodo may die, and Nova can’t let that happen.

At some point there is no one fighting Hollows beside Nova anymore.

It is a good thing that all the monsters concentrate their attention on Nova, because it means that they are not going for motionless bodies. It is a good thing, but Nova feels blood in his mouth, and shield almost melts through his clothes, burning his back.

Before, in underground labs, Nova would have thought that the reasonable thing to do in this situation would have been grabbing Kurodo and teleporting far, far away. Now Nova doesn’t dare to even admit this thought, because these shinigami are people too, not faceless figures in white coats. Also, Nova would not bear to look into Getsu’s eyes after leaving them for death.

It seems like Nova may not get to see Getsu again anyway.

Already half-familiar flash of pain bites Nova’s right hand, and it is suddenly much harder to hold the sword. This time Nova notices the source of hot agonizing feeling – a small thorn, the size of a fingernail, barely sticking out from his skin. Is it poisoned? But from where…

Nova fights, and fights, and the world blurs into mess of red-black of portals, white-black of Hollows and just red of his blood. It continues for an infinity, and then Nova is standing in the middle of the clearing, surrounded by Hollows, and there is something else in front of him, something that feels like danger and acid and blood.

It is taller than Nova, which, again, is not a rare trait to have. This Hollow is mostly humanoid, with proportions warped a bit and a mask riddled with cracks, and… Is it clothes it (he?) is wearing?

Not really important, because Nova can barely breath, and each shift of his ribs is painful and obstructed with overwhelming exhaustion and numbness. But Nova moves anyway, raising the sword for a strike, and then strange Hollow spits something small and fast, and it hits Nova in his neck, and the next moment Nova can’t move can’t breath why it hurts so much stopstopstop…

The white-clothed figure in front of Nova shifts closer and thrusts his clawed hand into Nova’s chest. It should hurt, but it does not, and then it suddenly does, and Nova feels like he is floating above the ground, and everything goes darker and darker, and then just. Disappears.

Nova passes out.

[getsusun]

There is silence, there is cold.

0.5 whump points out of ten. A little more than an eight hundred of years before main Bleach storyline.

It takes Naumi almost two weeks to require his zanpakuto actually to be present in shinigami’s inner world. Koigetsu can’t say that he is surprised. He also can’t say that he anticipated the call. Koigetsu returned to his shinigami, of course, not like there was a lot of choice. Things were already tense between them, and now, after…

white pillars / scorching sun / hands tied up / pain / humiliation / hot breath on his neck

Koigetsu shuddered and forcefully stopped this line of thoughts. While his back was healing, although Koigetsu could already feel that it would scar badly and that he was in for a long time of movements restricted by pain, it was not the blade of sword that made the deepest wounds. And these wounds were more on the souls than on the body. Koigetsu took a deep breath and tried to relax his mind.

He was standing on the top of one of the thousands of mirrors filling in Naumi’s inner world. Everything around was familiar to Koigetsu, the scenery he had spend all his time before they with Naumi mastered manifestation, and most of the time before zanpakuto spirit himself learned to materialize without help of his master. The cloudy darkness of endless space – was it really not that dark before, was it barely of light shade of gray? - and, of course, the mirrors.

A long, long time before Koigetsu loved them. The mirrors, all of different colors, could work as windows into the real world as much as in Naumi’s memories and thoughts, allowing Koigetsu to accompany his shinigami in everyday’s life with ease. Naumi himself, when visiting his inner world, could use the mirrors as a tool to master his emotions, to understand himself.

Naumi barely did.

Now, however, Koigetsu rarely caught a glimpse of image in the dark depths of the mirrors. They never reflected zanpakuto spirit fully, usually showing him a blurry humanoid shape instead. Now, when almost all his body was covered with cloth, Koigetsu couldn’t see more than a hint of movement. He prefers not to look into the mirrors much anymore.

While the mirrors varied in sizes, from small ones, barely of child’s height, to the large ones, ten times higher than Koigetsu was, and some wide enough to reflect a whole street, the one detail all of them had in common. They had narrow edges, not even flat ones – tapering into sharp blade-like lines.

When Koigetsu only started to be aware of his existence, when he first realized that he had a body, legs to walk and eyes to see, these edges were like streets for him. He had no footwear then, also no long sleeves and collar, and he felt light enough, like a feather, so he could step on sharp upper edges of mirrors and walk on them. He could sit on them, lay down, do whatever he wanted.

Koigetsu remembers quite clearly when did it changed. Well, may be not exactly the date – the year or even the decade, he still had difficulties tracking the passage of time. But Koigetsu remembered that it was soon after he mastered the trick of helping Naumi with manifestation. His shinigami was happy. Naumi was still in Academy then, just a student, but as a Kuchiki he got separate room, and Koigetsu had spent a lot of time in this room. Koigetsu was happy to be with his master, even if already not all Naumi’s choices of activities were quite… Pleasant. But it was enough that Naumi was enjoying himself.

That was what Koigetsu said to himself then, and that was what he thought he believed. But one night after returning to Naumi’s inner world a single misstep left Koigetsu with a deep wound on the sole of his foot. It was sudden and scary feeling, even if Koigetsu already knew pain. He, however, never before had cut wounds not from training with Naumi, and at that time wound from Naumi’s sword never hurt and never stayed for long. There was also rarely blood shed, at least more than a couple of drops of it.

The cut on Koigetsu’s foot stayed and scarred. He became more careful after, always protecting points of contact with sharp edges with additional layer of reitsu, and one day this protection just stayed, transformed into a pair of soft black boots. At that time Koigetsu was satisfied that at least Naumi was not affected by the strange behavior of mirrors. Also, with Koigetsu spending more time in manifested state, having a footwear was convenient.

Over the last hundred years Naumi’s inner world became a dark, lonely place. Koigetsu often contemplated on how it was his own fault. Zanpakuto should take care of their wielders, should support and help them to grow and master their powers. What had Koigetsu done wrong? Why everything seemed to became just worse and worse?

Strangely, Naumi didn’t actually seemed unhappy. Koigetsu felt him being angry – pretty often, on his elders, and on his – well, at this point their, considering how much paperwork Koigetsu had done over the last decades – Captain, and on Koigetsu himself. Bored. Joyful and satisfied, lately more often than not by Koigetsu’s expense, but… It still counted, right?

It is not like Koigetsu could actually die. Probably. Even with bankai broken – yes, Koigetsu was scared, and it was horrible and painful and wrong, but Koigetsu still could fight. Mostly. ...Good exercise in using his right arm instead of left one?

Koigetsu shuddered again and tucked his aching elbow closer to his chest. No, he could try to come up with any number of reasons, but the truth was that broken bankai was a big thing. A big bad thing which should never had happened.

Was it always that cold in here?

Lately Koigetsu sometimes felt a strange duality of his thoughts. One half of his mind diminished justified any tortures and cruelties Naumi performed, over his zanpakuto spirit and over others. The other half… The other half, which became stronger and stronger with every hit and every insult and each control collar being fastened on Koigetsu’s neck, was thinking about how it was not right. How it was not right for Naumi to be like that with his own soul, and – at the same time – how it was not right for Koigetsu to blame himself for all of it.

How it was wrong that Koigetsu loved being alone while manifested more and more. Away from his master. He shouldn’t be capable of being happy away from Naumi, and still. Somehow. He was.

Was it always that… Quiet?

Koigetsu frowned. He hadn’t paid attention before, but it was eerily quiet. It is not like Naumi’s inner world was a loud place, no, but there was always a peaceful hum of mirrors, and – and there were always echoes of Naumi’s thoughts, barely audible, not clear enough to distinguish words, but here, a background noise of emotions.

There was nothing now. Koigetsu could hear only his own breathing – a previously irritating, but lately calming habit of his, which he got after staying materialized for too long (after drinking tea with Juushiro, his mind suggests, but Koigetsu pushes that thought away). His breathing, occasional rustle of clothes, heartbeat becoming louder and louder with every passing second.

Koigetsu closed eyes and concentrated. The bond between him and Naumi was here, as it always was, but many years – decades – had passed since their bond was a thick and springy flow of energy. Now it is stretched to its limits. One moment it is barely perceptible, only the small fracture of reitsu from Naumi transmitting, the other moment – ready to burst from the volume of energy being drained out of Koigetsu. Koigetsu learned a lot about how to balance their bond, mostly through trial and error, and for a long time he was managing fine – they could fight, Naumi used shikai without thinking, they even had bankai, for hell’s sake!

Not anymore, apparently. Both about balancing and bankai.

The bond is weak, but it is here, and Koigetsu reaches out for Naumi, calls him – but there is nothing. A cold and rigid nothing, which is somehow worse than having energy drained out of Koigetsu.

- Master?

Koigetsu calls softly, long time of being used to speak seldom and quietly forcing his voice down. He feels how the bond shifts, reacting on his voice reaching to Naumi, and his shinigami should be able to sense that, but there is nothing, no spark of attention, not even an annoyed mental shrug. Emptiness.

Koigetsu spends a long time calling for Naumi. The time in inner world flows strangely, and what felt like days – weeks, even – could have been both hours and months in the real world. Koigetsu goes through negative half of spectrum of emotions, from anger to fear, from despair to denial. His throat aches, and it should be – must be – a fantom pain, because Koigetsu does not have a body now, is not manifested, but it still hurts.

Long, long time later Koigetsu not quite gives up, but more like spends all energy he had, mental and physical. He listens to the quiet of Naumi’s inner world for a while, surrounded by dark mirrors, and than whispers, softly, but with more power to break through the invisible shield to his master than he ever had.

- Can you hear me, Naumi?

Koigetsu does not care how furious could become Naumi after being called by name. Naumi may be his master, his wielder, but Koigetsu is also half of his soul, and even if he failed as a zanpakuto spirit, his shinigami should be still able to hear him.

Koigetsu waits. Calls. Waits and calls. But there is nothing.

Koigetsu feels like crying. But Naumi does not wants him to cry, and after dying from hunger, alone, in the stone pit Koigetsu really can’t anymore. But his eyes burn, and the scars in form of words on his wrists burn, and his back feels raw, like if the skin just melted, leaving inflamed flash exposed. The last one is not as far away from truth as Koigetsu would have liked. Yes, the pain lessened after Juushiro treated the wounds on his back, but it was still bad.

Koigetsu feels like a ruin. Wreck of a sword, like one of the debris that scattered on the earth when his bankai was broken. Koigetsu himself was broken, it seems, because what zanpakuto spirit he is, if he can’t even speak to his wielder anymore?

It takes a long time for the feeling of self-hate to stop being the strongest one. Even longer for sadness to settle into a calm shield around Koigetsu’s mind. But if he has something now, then it is time. A lot of time of being alone in the quiet darkness.

The darkness seems to become thicker, eating up even the sounds Koigetsu himself makes. At some point he starts speaking again, this time not to Naumi, to noone in particular. Quote poems from his memory, chapters from books he read. Koigetsu remembered a lot.

His voice dies down, and finally Koigetsu feels some kind of peace. He is getting sleepy, actually. Too tired to think, too tired to feel anything. Koigetsu is still standing on the mirror – not the same one, he may have moved around a little, trying to calm his thoughts. He is standing, perfectly balancing with the help of reflexes developed over the decades, but at one moment it seems easier to make one step ahead and just float in the empty darkness. Not much control and energy is required for that, and Koigetsu feels himself slipping into the sleep.

He wakes up – how long was he asleep? Does it matter? - and he is not floating, but falling down into the void, and it should bother him, but for some reason it does not. It is hard to think, and Koigetsu still wants to sleep – now even more than before, so he closes his eyes again. Not much changes.

[getsusun]

Their eyes are bored, their actions - cruel

Timeline: approximately a hundred years ago, in the middle of short cut of time when experiments on creating mod-souls were made. Not all experiments were successful enough for scientists...

Overusing teleportation sucks. Red hates waking up disoriented, dizzy, with spots floating before his eyes and soreness settled down deep in his bones. The worst is the nausea combined with hunger. Red is constantly hungry. Each use of his abilities drains energy reserves with the speed of galloping horse, and fainting means Red had overdone it, so the hunger becomes stronger, but even thinking about eating causes Red feeling of disgust.

Red blinks a little more back into consciousness, and it looks like food is not going to be a problem. Meaning that he won’t get any anytime soon. Because Red is tied – fixated to a laboratory stand by sturdy white straps. One over ankles, one over the middle of hips, one over each of forearms, one over chest, one over forehead. As always, much tighter than necessary. Red wiggles his fingers, all of them, trying to stir up blood from being stagnant.

It would have been even hilarious if it wasn’t so sad. Red is one of the smallest among all the mod-souls he had met, and almost all mod-souls are tiny, look much younger than any shinigami that visit underground laboratories and are mostly weaker. Excluding the ones whose modifications directly improves some physical capabilities, sure, but as much as Red knows from Kurodo, the number of mod-souls whose abilities are passive, meaning that they need no activation and work all the time, can be counted on the fingers of one hand.

One normal human hand, Kurodo clarified during that almost-one-sided conversation, and Red is going someday pull out some details over this remark. As soon as he will know enough words to sign the right question. Because with scientists making Red to use his abilities almost everyday his throat is never in good enough state to speak, usually not good enough to make any sounds at all.

Red has no idea why – must be something to do with the strangeness of in-between-dimension through which he moves during teleportation. While from the outside the time between he disappears and reappears looks no longer than a fraction of a second, from the inside it is longer. And, more often than not, Red simply can’t hold out without breathing. The air – or whatever is it inside dark and misty place in which Red spends long minutes – is oily and thick and also bitterly cold. After returning into the normal world Red feels the particles of that wrong air burn into nothing inside his throat, nose and lungs, as if being incompatible with usual reishi. And, even after a couple of jumps, Red’s throat also burns and aches for each attempt to speak.

Red blinks and concentrates on his surroundings. What was he thinking about initially? His mind is still a little fuzzy on the edges, which may or may not mean that he got another concussion after falling out of last portal. Right, being tied. At least this time none of Red’s limbs feel numb and cold, which means blood still flows over his veins. And also he must be here for a while.

It may seem like a pretty stupid idea, to tie up someone who literally can teleport himself elsewhere, but Red’s powers are not entirely his to control, meaning that he can’t use it without permission. Red does not know how it works either, only that there is no any physical devices – collar, bracelet, whatever – on any of mod-souls, but beyond the walls of training grounds – or, in some cases, laboratories – Red can neither teleport himself or anything else. Must be some sort of built-in fuse. If scientists were good enough to fabricate a real soul, shouldn’t have been a hard thing to provide some precautionary measures.

Also, as exhausted as he is now, Red is sure that no teleportation is going to be available to him for a while.

There is a rhythmic beeping nearby, and when Red looks down he can see a dozen or so gray sensors on his skin, connected with long cords to some kind of lab equipment to the left. Red’s stand is placed under a slight angle to the vertical, so he can see pretty much everything in front of him. So scientists are taking his vitals again. At least there are no hollow tubes going in Red’s arms. After blood being taken Red usually feels like a walking corpse.

It is quiet in the lab, if you don’t count rumble of plenty of devices, some mechanical, some looking more like strange plants, some – combinations of those two. Red looks around as much as he can with head fixated in one position, and there is noone nearby. No scientists, no test subjects. Nothing to see, nothing to do. The lab Red is in is empty, the narrow hallway separated by transparent walls from labs on the each side is empty, the lab across the hallway and the ones to the left and to the right from it are empty.

Red sighs, trying to distance himself from cramps of hunger, and closes his eyes. Kurodo did try to discourage him from sleeping after possible concussions, but Red is not looking forward to being bored out of his mind in immobilized loneliness. So sleep it is.

Red often dreams during sleep, but usually forgets what he saw pretty soon. Not much to remember anyway – some chaotic mess of colors, sounds and sensations, not making any sense. This time Red almost catches some picture while being thrown out of sleep by the sound of voices – something big and dark, with amber strings threading through – but it fades fast.

This time Red is not alone. The lights are lighter, and while there is no one in close proximity, something is happening in the lab across the hallway. There are three scientists… No, two scientists and an unfamiliar to Red mod-soul – still more white than gray shitagi indicates this one being created not long ago. They have short black hair and really no distinctive features Red can see at this distance, and they don’t look scared while being fixated on the laboratory stand, duplicate the one to which Red himself is tied.

Must be testing after powers being awakened, thinks Red, watching as one of the scientists, short and with katana on his obi – which is unusual, most shinigami here don’t wear their weapons – adjusts the device which Red already kinda knows what is necessary for. These ones, with round glass panels at the front of small boxes, standing on the long legs and possible to turn and tilt, somehow remembered what was in front of them and then could show it back – not in real, but as a small flat moving image appearing on the wall. Kurodo once said that it worked like a “cinema”, but Red had no idea what it meant and forgot the exact word Kurodo described these devices.

The short scientist pressed some buttons, and small red light starts glowing on the moving-image-remembering device. Laboratories were somehow enchanted so no sound was able to get away outside of their walls, but it for some reason worked only when doors were closed, and scientists rarely bothered, mostly leaving gaps for ventilation. So Red was able – barely, but able – to hear shinigami exchanging a couple of phrases.

Huh.

Long and hard-to-understand words aside, they said something… About something being not on the right level? And dormant, Red knew dormant, it meant sleeping. Also, what was the last one – waste disposal? There were no litter in the lab across the hallway.

The second scientist attaches sensors on black-haired mod-souls skin, not the same ones as Red has, bigger and darker ones. The scientist also moves closer some kind of device with a few funnels attached, and points them on mod-soul’s chest.

That is something new. Red hadn’t seen this device in action. Something naggs the back of Red’s mind, but he is still a little dizzy after teleportation overuse, so the thought does not reaches its conclusion before the short scientist turns the handle and funneled device starts working.

And the mod-soul on whose body it is directed starts screaming.

Red shudders, and steady beeping of his vitals hitches and accelerates into frantical noise, but Red barely notices, because all he can hear are the horrible, animal shrieks from the lab across the hallway. The other mod-soul is convulsing, and – and there is blood on their face, and Red sees clearly that it is not only from the mouth and nose, no, their eyes and ears are bleeding too.

Instinctively Red reaches out, willing himself to teleport near the dying – because no one less than dying would scream like that – but Red’s powers are blocked, and also he has barely enough energy to stay conscious, so his efforts are futile.

Red is not an idiot, he may not thinks as fast as others sometimes, but he understands now, understands about which “waste” the scientists were speaking. They are killing this mod-soul, not important why – had they not showed any kind of power? - and Red can do nothing. Hell, Red could have been the one under this hellish device effect, and – and may be he will, once shinigami will think him overliving his usefullness.

The other mod-soul still convulses, but now there are glowing lines crawling across their skin, clearly visible under white shitagi, and it looks like a light is shining from the inside of their body, and they are still screaming – they are still screaming – while scientists just stay nearby, bored and unaffected, like it is the view they witness everyday. It very much must be, realizes Red.

The glowing becomes brighter, and then – then the parts of mod-souls body, outlined with lines of light, start shift a little, like clothes spreading at the seam, and the funnels on a scientific device start to pull the light in. Somewhere at this point Red feels the sharp pain in his throat and realizes that he is screaming too – as much as he can. Red wants to close his eyes, and don’t want to at the same time, but he can’t, and he can’t look at dying mod-soul anymore, and can’t stop looking, and it is horrific and scary and wrong-wrong-wrong...

And then the frantically beeping machine near Red wheezes, and there is another scientists in here, Red didn’t manage to notice from where – were they somewhere out of his limited visibility all this time?! - and they have a syringe. Syringe with something glistening and this is bad and Red is suffocating, not able to take a breath, and the syringe moves closer and then there is a sharp stab of pain. Everything goes dark, but Red is consciousness for a while longer, not seeing, but still hearing wild screams of dying mod-soul, and Red is still screaming himself, hoarse sounds following him into the darkness.

He falls.

And falls.

And falls.

And then it is still dark, but Red feels warm fingers in his hair and familiar voice humming above him. Kurodo. Red awakens slowly, and they are in their small closet with the only lights being from small barred window and from under the door.

Red feels numb and bone tired. He also remembers clearly what happened before he was put to sleep. Kurodo must have felt the change in Red’s breath, because older mod-soul does not stir when Red rolls over, still with eyes closed, and buries his face in Kurodo’s belly.

- Was it first time you witnessed… This? - murmurs Kurodo, soft fingers gently stroking Red’s tangled hair.

Red nods and then shakes his head, not feeling like explaining that he saw scientists to get rid of other test subjects, but no mod souls, and there were no screams, no prolonged agony. The first sob breaks out of his chest. He must still be hungry and a little concussed – less than before, thanks to slightly accelerated regeneration, but Red mostly feels numb and a little sore in places where holding straps broke the skin while he trashed in attempts to break free. His heart aches.

- Sorry. I thought you knew. They take apart mod-souls which are irrelevant anymore and reuse parts of souls. It must be… Really painful to feel your soul being torn apart.

Red clings to Kurodo, and there are too many emotions bursting out of his mind. Rage. Pain. Sadness. Fear. Red now is afraid, mostly not for himself – although that too, he is scared of death – but for others. For Kurodo, with his soft voice and infuriating habit to stand between mod-souls and scientists hungry for fun. For Lion, nicknamed for his mane-alike hair and deep growling voice. For Ash, Leaf, for dozens of others. For each mod-souls who was created underground and never had to see the sun.

Red cries silently that night, and promises himself to train harder to tame his disobedient powers. And may be… May be one day he would be able to do something.

Kill a couple of scientists, for example. Shinigami were trying to create soldiers to fight for them? Well, they will get warriors.

[getsusun]

The bond is weak, the bones are broken

Timeline: uhhh... eight hundred and fifteen-ish years before main bleach plot?

Over the years, Kuchiki Clan had more than a few members who achieved bankai. Not many, because while almost every shinigami can, or at least had communicated with their zanpakuto, only a quarter advance to activating shikai, and only a small percent of them would be able to reach the final form of their weapon. But still a few. And, even if Sixth Division of Gotei-13 is silently considered to not exactly belong to Kuchiki’s, but be strongly bound to this noble family, never before there were simultaneously two Kuchiki with bankai at the same time.

Kuchiki always had a lot of strong fighters among their people. So it is not surprising that there are some training fields, far away for any settlements or any important objects on Kuchiki’s lands, adapted to withheld colossal amounts of reitsu pressure and lessen damage from all types of attacks one’s shikai or even bankai could possibly produce.

It was useful for when Naumi was learning to control his bankai. Naumi had a lot of reitsu, and while Koigetsu could control his own perfectly and taught his master everything necessary to do the same, shinigami rarely bothered to. Something about big-flashy being for some reason better than precise-effective. Long time ago Koigetsu thought that to be a pity. He would have been loved to see Naumi master bankai to the highest level. But now – now Koigetsu was bitterly happy that Naumi never learned the most deadly of attacks.

Well, Koigetsu tiredly thought while dodging Naumi’s strike and releasing small directed blow of reitsu to distract him, if Naumi thought that this was bankai training, his master was severely mistaken. Blowing up half of the training grounds was a step back, not further.

They already spent half a day here, and while Naumi, if a bit sweaty and covered with dust, looked full of desire to continue, Koigetsu long ago started to feel the world getting all blurry and gray on the edges. Koigetsu almost managed to break the last controlling artifact the night before, but it is still on his neck, feeding on reitsu and burning like a melting metal. Koigetsu needed just a couple of more hours of quiet concentration, but Naumi had training in mind, and so training it was.

Koigetsu hated collars, all and each of these diabolic devices. Hated the tangles of twisted seals of bakudo and intricate hado, limiting, binding and hurting him with every breath. Hated how after he broke one after one, Naumi just won’t stop. Where his shinigami was even taking these?

And they became harder and harder to break. Burning his fingers, sticking thorns into his neck, poisoning him. It was like two-sided game: Koigetsu tries to break controlling collars, while collars try to break him. For now Koigetsu won almost all rounds. Well, “won”. The victory tasted like blood, because there was a lot of blood – from bitten tongue and inside of cheek in attempt not to scream, from his nose and then ears when the pressure of hado became too much…

Koigetsu doesn’t want to remember the only time he failed to destroy the collar. Dematerializing – dying – from hunger, after what felt like months alone at the bottom of stone pit was bad. And it would have been worse, if Naumi had not decided that after dematerializing – dying – with that collar Koigetsu was non-responsive for too long. Naumi never used that collar again. And Koigetsu could not remember a thing between falling asleep in the pit and being forced awake in Naumi’s inner world by loud call of his master.

It was also the last time Koigetsu cried. Must have been the effect of Naumi’s farewell words.

Koigetsu does want to cry a little right now. His leg pulses with hot pain after every step, and finally healing skin over the burn on his cheek annoyingly itches. Koigetsu did not slept for a week, had not eaten once, and is starting to hate the sun, too bright for his sore eyes. Also, the collar he currently wears was active for almost a week, draining his reitsu reserves to strengthen itself.

Overall, Koigetsu wants to – need to­ - rest. If only Naumi had even slight intention to hear out his zanpakuto spirit...

It goes like this for a while longer: Naumi attacks, Koigetsu defends and dodges as good as his leg allows. Koigetsu does not really need to think for that sort of things, it is, overall, what he is made for. Especially since Naumi doesn’t try elaborate attacks or tricky kido. Just brute force, just strike after strike after strike, like an exercise to determine their stamina limits.

So Koigetsu fights.

And fights, even as his mind becomes numb and tiredness grows.

And fights.

And then it is over. Koigetsu falls on his knees, barely holding back a cry because of the hot wave of agony his left leg provides, and parries the blow from above which otherwise would have cut his body in halves.

It would have been actually easier if he did not, runs in Koigetsu’s mind. Yeah, dematerializing did hurt, and being half-awake and half-aware of surroundings for quite some time was not Koigetsu’s favorite feeling, but it was some kind of a break. And not hearing Naumi for a while – not doing anything for a while – sounded nice.

But no. Koigetsu blinked the dust away from his eyes – still annoyingly no tears – and clenched his fist, stopping the blade growing from his arm from shuddering. Not the most important part, but he had no idea how collar’s seals would answer on a forcible dematerializing, when an attempt of voluntary one left Koigetsu half-unconsciousness from pain. But mostly it was just that there was something deeply wrong with being purposely killed by Naumi now, especially in bankai. Koigetsu was not sure what exactly scared him, but the cold feeling in his chest – between the clavicles, from where the bond between zanpakuto and shinigami grew – signaled that it was a very, very bad idea.

It shouldn’t have felt like a big deal. Zanpakuto spirit was part of shinigami, even when having a separate mind and thoughts, and killing – destroying the physical body – manifested zanpakuto should have just return the spirit back into the inner world of their master.

But Koigetsu suspected that “killed” zanpakuto usually were not exhausted beyond the limits and tied via intricate kudo.

Also, to acquire manifestation ability – and bankai – zanpakuto and shinigami must have been reached a deep level of mutual understanding and trust. And Koigetsu was really, really not sure that there was any of each left in his soul.

Naumi pushes down, puts more weight on his own bankai blades, and Koigetsu barely holds back a scream. His arms burn, bones almost crushed under the tension of bankai pressing on them. And there is also something else – cold, mind-devouring feeling of cracks filling the blades – filling Koigetsu – and it won’t stop, won’t pause…

- Nau… mi… S-stop! Please!

A plea breaks from Koigetsu’s mouth, but he sees the excited anticipation in Naumi’s eyes, sees the cold, satisfied smile, and Koigetsu knows that his master would not stop. Koigetsu sees Naumi’s emotions and intents, but for some reason feels nothing, only emptiness, like if their bond went numb.

Naumi presses.

And Koigetsu screams.

His left blade shutters, debris of black metal flying apart, and there is blood too, but there is also dreading feeling of something twisting, warping in Koigetsu’s left arm. The agony is so strong that for some time Koigetsu is left blind and deaf to the world. There is nothing: no sounds, no colors, no light. Only pain, and queasy feeling of bones moving where they should not move.

Koigetsu feels wrong, wrong, wrong, and scared, and burning, and freezing to death, and it just won’t stop. His world narrows to the sensations in his arm, and nothing else Koigetsu is able to notice.

The agony lasts, and lasts, and lasts, and it does not makes better, but Koigetsu manages to alienate the pain a little, to build a fragile mental wall, and then he is able to see again. He is still manifested. Still on the training ground, well, on its remains, which looks like something big exploded here. There is also distant buzz in Koigetsu’s ears, which gradually becomes more legible and ends up being Naumi speaking. Because Naumi is, apparently, also still here.

Koigetsu has difficulties with formulating any coherent thoughts. The time is moving strange – Naumi is standing over him, then shinigami is much closer, then there is a short-lived agony of Koigetsu’s arm being touched, of bankai debris being pulled – to no avail – out of his flesh. Then Naumi stands again and his lips move, but while Koigetsu hears the words, he has no understanding of them. They are just a noise.

And then Koigetsu blinks, and the sky is suddenly much darker and Naumi is nowhere to be seen.

Thinking is hard. Koigetsu feels like his thoughts are heavy rocks, barely moving despite all efforts. Koigetsu really wants to rest. May be lay down – why is he still sitting on his knees, when there is so much land around? But there is some kind of strange voice on the edge of Koigetsu’s mind which forbids him from falling.

May be then if he just closes eyes for a bit… No, this desire is also firmly rejected.

Koigetsu blinks, forces himself not to leave eyelids down, and slowly shifts his head to look at the spot where hot pain pulses, almost soothing, like waves of ocean must be, gently rocking him into sweet darkness…

No, wait, no falling asleep.

Koigetsu looks and. And it is not good. The black metal growing from his left forearm is twisted, sticking out under the wrong angle. The blood mostly stopped, pooled into a small puddle half-absorbed into earth, half-dispersed into reishi particles. Koigetsu’s skin must be itching from the dried blood, but he does not feel it, weak sensation overcomed by pain. It is hard to distinguish anything in mess of black and red.

There is also something whitish sticking in a few places, and Koigetsu frowns for a while, too tired to thinks. Finally it clicks in his mind. Bones. Broken bones in addition to broken blades. Great.

Koigetsu slowly moves his right arm – and amazingly close to no pain follows, so Koigetsu looks, and yes, at least the right side of bankai dispersed successfully, leaving only a couple of dark lines of already half-closed thin wounds. That is not actually how it should work. Koigetsu forces his thoughts to move faster, and it is hard, but he feels a little more back into reality.

There is no such think as half of bankai. You either have it or don’t. Yes, it can evolve with time, adapting to shinigami or revealing new skills, but the base thing, the foundation stays whole. Koigetsu just knows it. Must be part of being a zanpakuto.

Koigetsu knows it, but facts are looking at him with debris of metal and bones mixed together. Right arm: no bankai. Left arm: broken mess. And Koigetsu has no idea what to do with it. It does not feels like he is still using bankai. Well, mostly. Koigetsu concentrates, and while Naumi certainly has his bankai deactivated, zanpakuto can detect reitsu slowly leaking from his own left arm.

It must be really broken then. Well, hell. There is actually close to none innate knowledge about broken bankai in Koigetsu’s mind. And all the fragments he remembers reading in books are not drawing a pretty picture. Mostly all the sources said that broken bankai can not be fixed, but there were some vague references on something called reforging… Which does not sounds like something Koigetsu wants to experience. And his gut sense mostly agrees with can-not-be-fixed part.

May be Koigetsu should be panicking, but he is honestly too tired on this point, so there is just weariness mixed with uncertainty. But he needs to do something, because sitting in the middle of nowhere with still if slightly bleeding arm does not looks like the best course of action even for Koigetsu’s exhausted mind.

But it is not like he has a lot of options either.

Option one would be dematerializing, returning back into Naumi’s inner world, only Koigetsu is unable to do so because of the collar… Wait. Where is the collar? Koigetsu touches his neck, and while it is sore and also slightly burned and cut, there is nothing here. Huh. Koigetsu looks around, and – and there are, in fact, small pieces of metal which is not his bankai, laying around. Must have been the explosion of reitsu which finally broke damn artifact.

Koigetsu moves to option two, because he actually does not to return back into Naumi’s mind. Half because it feels like it probably would not make the things much better, since with his bankai stuck in weird middle position between being activated and dormant, and it is Koigetsu’s business, like a zanpakuto, to fix it. The other half, however…

Koigetsu just does not want to do it, okay? Returning back into his shinigami’s mind means the bond between them, now stretched and barely perceptible, becoming strong – eh, stronger at least, and Koigetsu is fine as it is now. Just… It was something really wrong in Naumi’s feelings when he broke his zanpakuto. And Koigetsu is not ready to meet it. Yet. May be he will later.

After taking care of his bankai, which is still broken and hurts and pulses with hot pain after every breath taken.

What was the option number two, again?

Collecting his thoughts was never that hard before, but Koigetsu manages. He is manifested and his bankai is broken. He can’t – won’t – get un-manifested, so he needs either to fix himself or… Get help from somewhere else.

And Koigetsu even have a whole one place to ask for healing. Lucky him.

The last thought before Koigetsu forces himself to get up is about how it would be at least a rare and interesting case in Captain Unohana’s medical practice.

[getsusun]

The blade is sharp, but the blame is heavy

Something like a eight hundred and forty years before main Bleach storyline. The conflicts between Kuchiki Naumi and Kuchiki Clan are reaching their peak; but Naumi's attention shifts to obtaining more control over his suddenly rebellious zanpakuto spirit.

They are not quite on run, since no one in Gotei had said a word, and Naumi is still a Leitenant, even if the Captain of the Sixth would have preferred to have Naumi’s head as a fireplace decoration. Doubled, Koigetsu is sure, by a showcase with the sword debris. Bad luck for Captain Kuchiki – in Soul Society corpses stay put no longer than a couple of hours, dissolving back into reishi. About himself Koigetsu is not so sure. He saw shinigami to die and their katanas either break or stay whole and lifeless, not a zanpakuto but only a piece of sharp metal.

They are not on run from shinigami, but the fragile balance in between Naumi and Kuchiki Clan had been broken, and now there are assassins dressed in dull black emerging from the shadows. It is night, but they are definitely professionals, finding shadows in almost utter darkness. Naumi and Koigetsu are beyond the white stone of Seireitei walls, returning from a solo mission to West Rukongai, District Sixty-Two. Not exactly in the middle of nowhere, there are some villages nearby and a city in a hour of shunpo, but still no one will witness this battle.

Koigetsu is ready, of course. Hungry, tired from being materialized for too long, bearing a couple of fresh wounds, but ready. He is more accustomed to fighting Hollows – and Naumi, but Koigetsu had his share of battles with other shinigami, both from inside of Naumi’s mind and by himself. It feels wrong to fight people without zanpakuto, though. And all previous fights were more like sparring – without really harmful intentions. Well. From the side of Koigetsu, at least.

The assassins attack unexpectedly, and Koigetsu winces internally. Naumi will not be happy. Koigetsu should have been able to detect enemies from far away. He may be would have, if Naumi was not traveling so fast, or if Koigetsu was not so concentrated on keeping his body materialized, or if these were not people but hollows. So totally Koigetsu’s fault. He still immediately adapts – parries blows from all sides, meets one of the killers with powerful kick into their chest sending the assassin into air, knocks out another one, lets the third one to stumble over his own feet in attempt to strike.

They are, really, almost shadows to Koigetsu – concealed reitsu makes it difficult to distinguish one fighter from another, and even with moon being bright tonight Koigetsu barely sees more than blurry outlines. But Koigetsu has no time to reflex over his poor eyesight. Thanks to Unohana that he can see anything at all. Even full dematerialization and some time in Naumi’s inner world did not fixed the damage.

Koigetsu fights, and feels Naumi’s eyes on his back, and his gaze is a heavy, not really comfortable weight. Koigetsu forces himself not to think about it. Naumi trusts him. Trusts him to protect his master, trusts him not to miss a single blow. And Koigetsu will justify his master’s trust.

There is almost no use of reitsu in this battle. No fancy attacks and bright flashes, no kido of any kinds. Just shunpo and blade strikes, with addition of hand-to-hand combat and a variety of projectiles flying into Naumi – not Koigetsu, because Koigetsu moves too fast for assassins to take aim. Koigetsu intercepts everything thrown into his master, most often with his blade, a couple times with his own body, when the acting window is too short. Nothing that Koigetsu can’t take – he is obviously not taking metal anywhere near major body organs or large blood channels.

Koigetsu just can’t spare too much reitsu. It would have been faster to sweep away half of the enemies with one directed wave of reitsu, but it would have been left Koigetsu even more exhausted and hungry and tired. So Koigetsu manages. No reitsu, almost no shunpo, just really good speed of reaction and swordsman’s skill.

It was actually pretty stupid for this assassins to attack with so little advantage. There is only fourteen of them. May be, tiredly thinks Koigetsu, it is not an attempt in killing Naumi at all. Just a warning or the show of displeasure from Clan Elders. Koigetsu even feels a little sorry for assassins. Well. They at least have a choice. Probably. Koigetsu is not exactly sure how this sort of things works for not-zanpakuto.

Not longer than ten minutes and all assassins are down, some nursing broken bones – arms, legs and Koigetsu is pretty sure that he broke at least a couple of ribs and two noses, others pressing on their wounds to keep the blood mostly inside, a two or three unconscious. No one is dead and no one is injured too seriously, but also no one is able or willing to continue fighting. Koigetsu actually feels a little bitter – he can fight until his body literally crumbles apart, and he will, Naumi made sure to check it… Many times.

It was actually a pretty hard task in the state Koigetsu currently was in – to hold back his punches and measure the level of force to not kill someone accidentally, while neutralizing all enemies. Especially considering that assassins were not shinigami. Well, they did have some reitsu, may be even to the level of officer of rank from eighteen to twenty, but still not very sturdy. Koigetsu blinks away blurry spots dancing on the edge of his vision. Now, when he is not actively fighting, Koigetsu can concentrate on particles of reishi around and also breath slowly and deeply. It actually helps and the world becomes more colorful and clear.

- What do you think you are doing?

Koigetsu suppresses the shudder which arises from somewhere between his lungs. Naumi looks pissed. Like, really, I’m-gonna-break-your-arms pissed. Naumi is scary like that.

- What… is wrong?

Koigetsu forces the question to actually sound, but his voice is still too quiet. Naumi hears, however.

- I ordered to kill them.

That… Is not what Koigetsu expected. Criticism for being too slow, sure. Reprimand for not detecting enemies at time, may be. But not this.

- The enemies are neutralized… Master. We can continue moving.

The last world had not fell from Koigetsu’s lips and he already feels his mistake by the sharp peak of reitsu around. This is bad. This feels like a new wounds coming along, new experiments on how durable zanpakuto spirits are, and Koigetsu is so, so tired of this all.

- Oh, I see. You are in charge now, aren’t you? Ordering me what to do? Don’t forget your place, Koigetsu!

Koigetsu loved to hear his name from the mouth of Naumi once. Now it tugs painfully on their bond and makes the scars on Koigetsu’s wrists burn. It also makes his breath come faster and his heart pound. Not in a good way.

Naumi finally moves to one of the still conscious assassins and kicks him into stomach.

- You. On your knees.

Koigetsu barely stops from kneeling himself. The assassin obeys but stays silent, even if broken arm – and dislocated shoulder, if Koigetsu sees right – should be a nuisance.

Naumi pulls off assassins’s mask, and Koigetsu sees the face previously hidden – not exactly young, with wrinkles and a long scar across the bridge of the nose. It may be the nerves of angering Naumi, but Koigetsu suddenly sees almost as clear as before the unknown-acid-incident. Not a face Koigetsu knows. Just some man with not the safest line of work.

- Koigetsu. Kill him. That is an order.

There is a splash in reitsu from two other assassins - anger-pain-denial, but Naumi draws his katana, and the reitsu erupts from him, pressing the assassins into the earth. They do not move. No one moves, they just watch Koigetsu slowly walking to the kneeling man. Koigetsu even still has the blade in hand.

- ...No. - It comes out so quiet, that Koigetsu barely feels the word leave his mouth, so he repeats louder. - No, Master. Naumi. It is not a Hollow. Shinigami exist to protect people, not to kill. Zanpakuto are made to purify the lost souls. Please.

Koigetsu breathes out the last word, but the tug of the bond between him and his master has nothing merciful in it. It hurts, it hurts to disappoint Naumi, it hurts to oppose him, it hurts to resist his wishes.

Naumi stays silent for a moment. Then he does something Koigetsu had not felt his shinigami to do for a really, really long time. Naumi reaches out for their bond, reaches out for Koigetsu, and this short glint of acceptance, of uniting, of being the one sinks Koigetsu deep down, into quiet happiness of having his master back, of loving and being loved, into…

Into seeing his own sword-holding arm moving to strike.

There is not much Koigetsu manages to do at this point. Only to aim and to angle the blow just right to make the death fast and as painless as it may be. The severed head falls without any sound, and the body thumps on the earth.

- Good zanpakuto. Wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it?

Naumi’s voice is satisfied, but being praised by him, which Koigetsu so desperately desired before, feels like staying under a cold rain. There is no feeling of fulfillment which usually follows destroying a Hollow, just an emptiness and strange detachment from the world. Koigetsu welcomes the familiar blurriness which follows his eyes refusing to work right. Everything around is once again nothing but a shadow colored by flows of reitsu.

Naumi does not pay attention to other assassins, and they scatter without a word. Only two of them Koigetsu feels – but not sees – to look back, and it must mean something, but for some reason Koigetsu has no strength to care anymore.

They continue moving, leaving behind a small spot of blood-soaked grass. The body of dead assassin dissolves into reishi almost momentarily, leaving behind only a pair of long daggers, dim and without any life or mind inside. The clothes must have been an analogue of shinigami’s uniform, thinks Koigetsu, because he needs to think about something that is not the feeling of human life stopping on the edge of his blade. The reishi in shihakusho blend with shinigami’s reitsu so the uniform becomes the part of shinigami. There are many useful effects to this, and the person to invent it was probably a genius – Koigetsu read something on this topic in one of Ukitake’s books. It was a really long time ago though, and there was not a lot of information besides the name – Senjumaru Shutara. Not even zanpakuto description or name mentioned.

There is something wrong with their bond, Koigetsu thinks suddenly, without any connection between this thought and the previous one. Koigetsu still feels Naumi, his shinigami, his wielder, his master. But it is blunted, like if Naumi was far, far away, which is madness, because Koigetsu is following his every step of shunpo. And also because distance should not matter in terms of shinigami-zanpakuto bond. It is also eerily quiet in that part of Koigetsu’s mind where the traces of Naumi’s emotions and intentions usually linger.

Koigetsu briefly contemplates reaching out, just to make sure that Naumi is still in there, but something stops him from doing that. May be it is the knowledge of possible punishment for being needy and annoying. May be something else. Koigetsu is not sure.

Koigetsu is also cold, and his scars burn, and his sword form feels strange, almost like there is an invisible crack inside, threading through the metal. But Koigetsu continues moving, making step after step, even while the night becomes morning and the world gains its colors back. The scenery is blending into one greenish gray spot, and Koigetsu feels strangely outside of his body, as if his mind was floating above the physical shell.

There is also a taste of blood in Koigetsu’s mouth. It will stay here for a long time.

The rest of the journey back to the Seireitei is uneventful. Or may be it is not, and Koigetsu just misses everything, too out of it to pay attention. They arrive too late for it to be called an evening, and the Sixth Division administrative building is empty, only two night duty officers. They bow to Naumi and Koigetsu routinely follows Naumi unnoticed, briefly diving in and out of being on the other layer of reality.

Naumi falls asleep on the couch in the Leitenant’s office, and Koigetsu writes the mission report, not mentioning the encounter with assassins. There is something calming in the quiet stillness of empty building. This stillness resonates with Koigetsu, and he feels a little more tuned to the world, a little more back into his own head.

And there is some new awareness in Koigetsu’s mind. Something that was not quite there before, or may be something that was buried too deep.

Koigetsu is not going to kill anyone he does not want to. Ever. Even if it means refusing to obey to his master.

This thought is scary and unfamiliar, but Koigetsu feels something warm and grateful inside his soul responding on it.

[getsusun]

The stone is hard, but there is moon

Timeline: approximately a hundred years ago, in the middle of short cut of time when experiments on creating mod-souls were made. One of them, who will later be called Nova, is having his powers awakening and is not a good time for him.

The mod-souls are created deep down under the surface, under one of the Twelfth Division buildings. Well, more likely under the entirety of the Twelfth Division. Giant caves, natural or made by the hand on shinigami, are filled to the brim by laboratories, warehouses, test areas, and, of course, containment units for the various test subjects. The building of different shapes and purposes form an underground city, with streets and blocks and even small park with a tiny river.

So it makes sense that there is a lighting system in place, with hundreds of light sources imitating daylight. During the night on the surface most of these light sources are disabled, making the underground to sank into the twilight.

Red did not know most of it at that time. The attempts the scientists made to create stable mod-souls with useful and effective powers were successful only half of the time, so neither shinigami nor older mod-souls bothered to teach – or to speak more than strictly necessary – with ones who were still defined as “work in progress”. What was the point, if half of freshly-created souls would crumble into pieces anyway, and half of the survivors would not obtain powers, or would be killed by them, or deemed useless by scientists?

So Red is alone, surrounded by stone, with one small barred window under the ceiling and dim light seeping out from under the heavy door locked from the other side. It is darker than usual on the outside, quieter too, and if Red turns his head just right, through the window he can see a lonely light far away, dim but steady. And nothing else. Red does not know if there are no other mod-souls on the other side of the stone walls. May be there are, but they are too tired to make sounds, or are unable to, or a dead. It should not really matter to Red, but it somehow still matters.

While dying generally sucks, dying alone feels much more miserable. Also it makes Red angry. Angry on the world in whole, angry on the scientists who pointed on Red strange devices and discussed the results with indifferent voices, angry for a few other, older mod-souls who Red encountered briefly while being moved around the facility. In contrast with shinigami, the other mod-souls at least looked at Red – but even if disinterest in their eyes was feigned and heavily fixed with tiredness, pain and pity, Red still forces himself to be angry. The anger is better than apathy.

Red decides to call the distant light source in the window the moon. He does have some memories of the real one. Apparently, those are living memories from before Red – or one of the souls from the parts of which he was assembled – died. The older mod-souls did, in fact, explain at least some things when Red did not died or went insane some time after being created. So Red knows that this is a Soul Society, the world where the dead live. Red knows that shinigami are in charge here and that shinigami are creating tools to help them fight monsters, hollows – unlucky souls who did not died right, or something like that. And Red knows that either he lasts the night and surfaces with some sort of strange ability, like jumping ten times higher than usual or smashing the stone with his bare heads, or there will be no tomorrow for him.

And, well, at this point Red kind of starts to dream about being killed by shinigami, because he did already witnessed a couple of fellow lab rats being disposed of, and while it did looked painful and messy, it was pretty fast. On the other hand, agonizing on the cold stone from something new being formed inside your soul was much more time-consuming. Red was currently engaging in this particular activity, and with each passing minute the pain, varying from the dull ache inside of Red’s skull to sharp spikes of what felt like his spine being melted from the inside, seemed only get worse.

The temperature in the room seems to lower too, because while Red was already uncomfortable on the cool stone floor in the beginning of the night, now he is actively freezing. Being dressed only in light shitagi did not helped. Red swallowed a whine after another wave of pain passed through him, and a small huff of his breath became visible for a moment. It really, really should not have been so cold in here. Must have been a part of process of powers awakening – the fever, the temperature rising. ...For some reason Red doubted that human body could heat up to the degree he was currently experienced, but maybe in Soul Society things worked the other way around. Whatever. It was hard to concentrate on one thought for too long.

Red slowly moved his limbs in attempt to find an at least a little more painless position, but bare floor did not give a lot of choises. At least Red was small enough to not feel being squashed by the walls and the ceiling. Well, almost all mod-souls the Red caught the glance of were little compared with shinigami, and also young – like, really young, Red was pretty sure half of them would have counted like literal children, not fighters – but Red was smaller then others, compensating by being twice as loud and active.

There is a tingling in Red’s fingertips, and it is not quite painful, but disturbing nonetheless. The sparks buzz under his skin, traveling from the base of Red’s skull down to fingers. These sparks are neither hot nor cold but sharp, as a barely noticeable needle prick. Not a problem yet, but the pain in Red’s spine is hard to ignore, and it also started from a small ache.

It was easy to not be as quiet and passive as others. Yeah, Red was scared too – of scientists and tests and blood being taken – but he coped by attracting attention, and by shifting the focus from others on himself. Even if it got him the lion’s share of additional punishments and harsh threats, the more to Red’s meant the less to others. Fair trade.

Another wave of pain crushes through, and this time Red can’t refrain from making a sound. He immediately shuts his mouth and clenches teeth, but the pain increases and increases, not leaving much place for thinking. Soon Red screams, and his throat hurts, but his back hurts worse, and there is nothing Red can do about it.

There is still no sound from the outside, no voices of other mod-souls or steps of scientists. Only artificial moon, and Red briefly laughs with the irony of this – artificial moon for artificial soul. His laugh is hoarse and a little wild, and Red has nothing worth of laughing, but he laughs nonetheless. And then screams again, this time not even trying to hold back. It feels like his spine is growing new ribs, both between already existing one and outwards, like false wings. There is nothing of such gruesomeness happening, Red knows (after checking his chest and his back, wherever he can reach with joints stiff from pain). Nothing moves under his skin. But it certainly feels this way.

He is a mess, Red knows. Ready to plead for someone to make it stop, to knock him unconsciousness, to do something. But there is no one around. Only the moon.

Fucking scientists and their experiments.

The room is shifting now, the walls wobbling and the floor shaking, and after a while Red feels like the world itself is stretching and shrinking simultaneously. Something is wrong with Red’s sense of distance and direction. The light from the moon warps, and every couple of breathes it feels like the window and the door change places. The ceiling is suddenly so close that Red knows that he can touch it without standing and even sitting up, but Red can’t move, can’t even close his eyes to shut away the insanity the world around is becoming.

For some reason Red is sure that if he closes his eyes he may not open them in the same scenery of bare stone walls again. Or he may not open them at all. So Red forces his eyelids to stay out of the way and watches, stares on the stone like if something could change in addition to wobbling distortion of dimensions.

The pain shifts from Red’s spine to one spot inside his chest. Red’s heart is beating so loud that it should be audible from the outside, and it is faster than it has any right to be, frantic pounding leaving Red breathless. Red blinks away tears, and his own screams sound muted to him, and the pain is tearing his body from the inside while the world dances around.

Red feels like something inside his head clicks, loudly and inescapably, and the world turns crimson. Red feels the spasm forcing itself through his body, the sharp pain of his tongue being bitten through, and then there is nothing, an empty blackness without any sounds.

...

Red wakes up and there is something wrong with the world, something missing. It takes time to figure it out, but finally Red grasps – there is almost no pain. Yeah, Red is not sure of how much tongue he got left, because it may be half-bitten with how it aches, and Red’s throat is also really sore, but the rest – the rest is just the dull background feeling comparing from the last night.

- You awake?

Red twitches and the world around shatters for a brief moment, and then there is a sharp flash of pain and everything is back to normal. The only addition is a sudden hunger cramp. Red blinks the crimson spots away and turns his head to look at his new neighbor. Judging by the similar, even if a little more clean and less torn shitagi, it is another mod-soul. He… Or she, but Red leans towards he, is definitely from the older bunch of mods, looking like a young man – or woman – not far away, but still away from adolescense. The other mod-soul has long white hair, white skin and warm blue eyes. They also have the cup of water which is currently being held to Red.

Red suddenly realizes his thirst and takes the cup, but the other mod-soul does not let go of it, instead helping Red to move it to his mouth. Not without reason, Red’s hands feel like a jelly. Red sips cool water, and it tastes like blood.

- So. - the other mod-soul patiently waits while Red drinks and then places the cup on the floor. - I am Kurodo. Got a name?

Red glances with suspicion, since no one before bothered to ask, but this guy – Kurodo – this actually sounds like a real name, must be cool to remember something from the past life – looks genuinely interested in answer. And also Red for some reason likes him. So Red points to his head – the tangled mess of dirty hair – and it seems like Kurodo gets the hint.

- Red, right?

Red nods. He is really hungry, much more than he must be after one night, and it does not feels good.

- Not a chatterbox, I see. - Kurodo smiles at him, and Red, pushed by sudden impulse, opens his mouth and sticks out tongue. Kurodo’s face shows a mix of compassion and sadness, and then he softly smiles to Red. - Nasty bite marks you got here. I got some healing salve here, but I have no idea if it would make it better or worse.

Red does not feels like speaking at all, not only because of the sore throat and aching tongue, but also because something has shifted inside him the last night, and Red is not exactly sure what. So he just looks at Kurodo with what Red hopes is a question drawn on his face.

- Right, yes, probably should have started with it. So, I don’t know if it would be good news for you or bad, but the science guys decided that you have the powers. And, since you flickered out of existence for a moment when I startled you, it seems be true.

So he is not being disposed of and neither the power’s awakening had killed him. Red genuinely tries to determine what does he feel about it, but the world is still a little blurry around the edges. Well, thinks Red with bitter amusement, it definitely means that he got more time to thing about it.

Also, what is next?

[getsusun]

The tea is cold, but your soul is warm

Timeline: uhhh... eight hundred and ten-ish years before main bleach plot? Ukitake and Keoraku are still in Academy, Naumi is still alive and has Getsu as his zanpakuto. But the latter finds this to be less and less of a good things.

Juushiro was having one of his ill-a-little-more-than-usual weeks. Since childhood theses were happening occasionally, more and more rarely as he was growing up, but they never fully stopped. At least this time the doctor’s did not put him into infirmary, Juushiro silently tried to reassure himself. Just banned him from lessons and training, restricted his access to library, and, in general, strictly recommended him not to leave his room. Well. Not leave his bed, actually, but it was the line where Juushiro stopped listening even to the best-meaning healers. If he was awake, he was not laying in the bed. Point made, point held.

While spending all day long in his room was not Juushiro’s favorite pastime, it did have its advantages. Such as – there were no sounds from the window, but Sogyo no Kotowari perked up inside Juushiro’s mind, and this was enough of a hint – friends coming for a tea.

- You know, there is a door right here. Not going to restrict you from using alternatives, though – brings variety into the life.

This greeting had long become usual, but this time one of the strangest Juushiro’s friends does not answer even with a faint smirk. Just slowly blinks and limps to kotatsu. Juushiro busies himself with pouring another cup of tea, but his mind is uneasy. Kuro – despite reaching some degree of trust, Juushiro still didn’t know real name of his friend – usually shows next to nothing in terms of being physically unwell. Juushiro knows that Kuro’s life is not easy. There are a lot of scars scattered over usually pale gray skin, even if lately most of them are covered with black clothes, much more closed now than when Juushiro first saw Kuro.

It is painful to think that Juushiro noticed new injuries in more of meetings with Kuro than Juushiro would liked too. Barely focused eyes, not ice blue anymore, but dim yellow now. A new habit of taking things with both hands or using right one, while Juushiro is sure that Kuro is left-handed. Prominent limping. A nasty burn on the left side of his face, almost healed now, but still visible.

And now Kuro was sitting in front of Juushiro, not drinking – and may be not really seeing – the tea, with perfectly straightened back and unhealthy blush on all visible skin. Well. Juushiro thinks that it is blush, because Kuro’s skin is not exactly human-colored, sometimes reflecting light like a metal would. But Kuro definitely looks very not okay in Juushiro’s opinion.

- Kuro? Kuro, is everything alright?

No effect. Juushiro was not heard, and, if slow shifting of eyelids over the amber irises was any hint, Kuro was as good as half-asleep. Now that was strange. Juushiro raised his hand, slowly and making sure that it was in Kuro’s field of view – they already had a couple of mishaps with unexpected touches – and put his palm to Kuro’s forehead.

So, good news – Juushiro’s guess was right. Bad news – Kuro was burning with fever. Just news – after a couple of moments Kuro briefly shivered and looked at Juushiro with at least some awareness in now a little too bright eyes. Were they glowing a little? The room was full of light, so Juushiro could not be sure.

- Are you with me?

Jushiro forced the worry out of his voice to not startle Kuro. It was a little like taming a feral cat or dog, with addition that stray animals usually did not care about your well-being. Well. Kuro was not a stray, technically. Juushiro had read a lot – really, almost everything that was available to him in Academy’s library, in Ukitake’s Clan library, everywhere where Juushiro could without attracting too much of attention. So Juushiro was sure that Kuro was not just any strange spirit, or yokai. Juushiro was sure that Kuro was someone’s zanpakuto spirit, and that this someone had a very specific course of action for (or instead) bonding with his sword by usual means.

- Don’t want to dive.

Well, that was not disconcerting and disturbing at all. Juushiro wanted to remove his hand from Kuro’s forehead, but Kuro shifted to preserve the point of contact, and Juushiro stilled. It. It would have been probably a good thing usually, because sometimes Kuro really looked simultaneously touch-starved and touch-aversed, and there was not a big progress in this area during the time Ukitake knew him.

- There is not a lot of water around. Not enough for diving, I am sure.

Juushiro waited, while Kuro slightly frowned and roamed the room with his eyes. The spirit looked lost, and distressed, and Juushiro did not liked it one bit. Finally, it seemed like Kuro focused on Juushiro again, this time with more awareness.

- Where… Am I?

Kuro shuddered and grabbed the edge of the table, but stayed upright. His breathing, previously slow and steady, was now labored and shallow. He was also blinking fast, and Juushiro could feel the faint touches of reitsu sprawling across the room.

- You are in my room, in Shinigami Academy. Can you say who I am, please?

Juushiro felt the flows of Kuro’s reitsu shifting and carefully probing his own. It was strange feeling of a good kind, not like when another students or shinigami scanned the areas for hollows. Much more soft and careful.

- Juushiro. - Kuro frowned again. - I thought… A lake?

Juushiro slowly moved his free hand to gently put it on top of Kuro’s, since as far touch seemed to ground him. Kuro’s hands were also disturbingly warm to touch, and if Juushiro was dealing with another student he would have assumed an illness, but could zanpakuto spirits even get ill? Wounded, sure, but ill?

- What lake?

- Cold. Deep. Needed to dive... But… Not cold now. Hot. - Kuro shuddered again, and this time Juushiro noticed painful wince briefly crossing his face. The alarming realization crossed Juushiro’s mind, placing the separate pieces of current events into right combination.

- Kuro? Did you get any major wounds wounds recently? Because if you did, I think you may have an infection. That’s why you feel hot.

It was astonishing how Kuro’s face was at the same time almost emotionless for inattentive glance and giving away for a experienced attention. Well, actually Juushiro felt like during the time he had known Kuro the zanpakuto had became much better in hiding his emotions. He would have been hard to understand if Juushiro didn’t witness all the intermediate stages. Juushiro was not sure if this was a good thing, confirming Kuro’s adaptation to being an independent person (which, to be honest, still sometimes baffled Juushiro a lot from the point on how in the world someone’s zanpakuto spirit would start to move in this direction) or a bad thing, a result of accumulating negative experiences with being too easy to read.

Now Kuro was clearly contemplating Juushiro’s words, and, judging by the slight curl of bony shoulders, Juushiro had hit the right answer. Well. Good thing that Juushiro has a plenty of first-aid supplies in his room, courtesy of Academy Infirmary and overprotection tendencies of Shunsui. The tricky part is actually to convince Kuro to use them, or, which is even harder, to let Juushiro help him. Rarely much luck with the last one, but also Kuro was in better state even when he appeared with one hand certainly badly broken.

- Can I help? Please, Kuro. I don’t like seeing you hurt.

Juushiro moved to stand, and this time Kuro stilled and retracted his reitsu.

- ...I can go away.

Not the conclusion Juushiro hoped for, but the one he anticipated.

- And then I will be panicking over you fainting somewhere in the middle of the woods. And doctors forbid me from worrying, so please, let me at least see.

And Juushiro feels very, very proud of himself when Kuro, after a minute more of silent pondering, slowly stands and starts to unbutton his cloak. And also really, really worried despite his previous statement, because Kuro’s movements are painfully slow and careful. And also zanpakuto spirit is still shuddering a little, which is much more prominent when he is standing.

Before removing the cloak Kuro hesitates, and Juushiro averts his eyes to manage some privacy. He did not actually seen Kuro without clothes before. Just caught a glimpses here and there, when there were yet no black fabric hiding wiry arms and thin neck. Juushiro is actually a little afraid of what he can see. It is one thing to abstractly know that some shinigami mistreats their zanpakuto to the degree of scars remaining. The other for this zanpakuto to be your reluctant friend. The third – to not be able to do a thing to stop all this nightmare.

The quiet rustle of fabric stops, and after a half of a minute Juushiro asks, trying to keep his voice calm and warm.

- Can I look?

At least a minute more passes before there is a quiet “yes”. Juushiro rises his eyes, and. And just looks, feeling the horror pooling in his chest.

It is easy to forget with all these loose clothing and the head held high that Kuro is physically not exactly a child, but an older teenager at max. Juushiro remembers it fully now, while looking at the narrow shoulders with prominent – from the back – ribs with the line of spine between them. Every reminder that this is zanpakuto spirit, being created for fight and to fight, the manifestation of the sword – the weapon – itself is buried deep into Juushiro’s mind under the terror of realization that what he is seeing is not a dream or an illusion.

These deep and thick lines, carved into pale gray skin, straight and smooth-edged, are real. This inflamed redness, taking almost all place from the bottom of the neck to the belt and hiding its ends under it – it is real.

Juushiro can’t quiet remember how he ended up standing behind Kuro, on the arm distance. Kuro is burning, radiating heat so strong that Juushiro is not sure if it is safe to touch him. He does not dare for now, anyway. Not while Kuro is as tensed as overtightened spring, ready to explode into action, into running and hiding and probably never returning.

So Juushiro starts speaking, about the last prank Shunsui made, which included two geese wandering over the main Academy building. The description of every teacher’s reaction that was witnessed by Shunsui or one of his friends and later colorfully described to Juushiro shifts to last topics on all subjects Juushiro attends, excluding zanjutsu, and improvised distraction actually works, because Kuro stands still, but not so tense anymore, and Juushiro slowly cleans his back from dry blood.

There is a lot, but not as much as Juushiro expected, so Kuro probably treated his wounds at least somehow, even if Juushiro suspects that this somehow included more cold and probably not very clean water and less healing salve than preferable. And also it must be pretty hard to do anything about wounds on your own back.

Juushiro makes a significant dent in his stocks of healing salve and clean bandages, and for once his chronic illness is good for something, even if Juushiro finds little to none logic in medics persistence on him having half the contents of infirmary in his room. It is not like bandages help with not coughing away his lungs.

At the end Juushiro is a little winded out, but Kuro’s back looks much better, and there is almost no blood bleeding through bandages for now, which should counts for something. It was hard to keep speaking about non-important matters while Juushiro would have liked to question dotted line on Kuro’s neck, colored with fading pink of healing skin, or how zanpakuto was keeping his arms in front of him, not letting Juushiro to take a look at the mess of scars around the left elbow or at the badly bandaged wrists. But, well. Juushiro has some experience with taming feral cats, and grabbing them, even to help, usually leads to many scratches and no cat at all.

But even with bandaged back Kuro is still too hot on touch, so after waiting while zanpakuto envelops himself back into all black Juushiro pointedly shifts the second cup of tea towards him. The tea has long gone cold, so Juushiro mostly admires the dance of tea leaves in his cup, but Kuro drinks, and it is another small win for Juushiro.

- You didn’t got these in a fight, am I right?

Juushiro speaks without thinking and fails to stop the words when they are already half-out. Fortunately, Kuro stays put, even if a little more silent then before. Which, considering that zanpakuto had not said a word in the last five minutes, is an uneasy achievement.

- ...Thank you.

Kuro is not looking at Juushiro, but his long fingers around the teacup are still and as lax as Juushiro has ever saw zanpakuto, so Juushiro manages to hold back the next sentence willing to burst out. It is strange to want to say zanpakuto spirit that his own wielder does not care about him. Strange, and Juushiro would have thought impossible before, but he would also thought impossible for shiningami to hurt their own sword, the part of their soul.

Unfortunately, Kuro seems to be a unique case in all meanings. From freely walking the Soul Society to bearing the scars of not protecting his master, but being wounded by him.

[getsusun]

The world is dark, and stars are fading

Koigetsu is an adolescent here, looking approximately fifteen years old. Timeline: Naumi Kuchiki is Sixth’s Lieutenant, Ukitake and Keoraku still attend the Shinigami Academy. Something like a eight hundred and fifty years before main Bleach storyline.

His eyes burn. Koigetsu can’t really feel anything more that tiredness – no anger, no sadness, no bitterness, nothing that requires emotional reserves. There is pain, of course, but the pain has become such a frequent guest in his body, that Koigetsu slowly stopped reacting on most of it. This one, however, does not allow to ignore itself. Koigetsu has no idea where his master even got such poison – or acid, or whatever this sharply smelling liquid was, and, of course, no idea why Naumi decided to splash it into the eyes of his own materialized zanpakuto.

Well, Koigetsu may as well take any from the previous reasons to hurt him that his master had. It could have been a punishment for real or imagined former disobedience – talking, not talking, refusing to kill plus souls who had a misfortune of not staying out of Naumi’s sight. Or just an entertainment for Naumi – how could another’s suffering be entertaining Koigetsu would never understood. Or – pretty close to previous one - it could have been an experiment on how fast zanpakuto spirits can regenerate and how much harm you need to cause them to leave scars.

The last one, thinks Koigetsu, is the most probable. Again. As if already carved into his flesh signs of belonging were not enough. Right now Koigetsu can not see more than blurry spots, but he shortly touches his right wrists, and even under makeshift bandages the heat of once again infected scars is distinct. Naumi is set on making these ones to stay, and Koigetsu is pretty sure that they already will – thin lines on his wrists, intertwining to form words. Property on the left wrist, Kuchiki Naumi on the right.

Koigetsu shudders as another wave of pain passes through and leans over the small stream again. He already rinsed his eyes four times, but the sharp pulsation does not lessens and Koigetsu still can not focus on anything. And it feels like it is getting worse.

It is much easier with flesh wounds, even big, like ones that marked up his back a while ago – was that a couple of months or a year – years? - already, Koigetsu is not sure. His sense of time is not ideal, often being interrupted by periods of unconsciousness while regenerating his reitsu after his materialized self being destroyed. The superficial wounds were simple. Clear it up, bandage it up, and they will heal and possibly scar. Internal ones were much more painful, but they either killed Koigetsu fast or healed and mostly disappeared without a trace after full rematerialization.

But Koigetsu did not have his eyes damaged before, and cold feeling in the chest hinted him that they would not heal. Even if he was not half-starved after being materialized for too long without any food or sleep – Naumi long ago stopped sustaining his zanpakuto spirit with reitsu for acting outside of his inner world, and despite all efforts Koigetsu was still not good enough with using external reishi resources for replenishing his own reserves. Koigetsu flinches from another flash of pain, this one located behind his left eyeball, and tries to concentrate.

Point one: he can not see and is barely standing from pain. Point two: Naumi would need him no later than tomorrow, to fight, to train or to do his paperwork. Conclusion one: Koigetsu is in trouble. Because if Naumi finds out that there is a way to at least temporary take away his zanpakuto’s eyesight, it may become shinigami’s favorite pastime for the next months. And Koigetsu really, really did not wanted to experience being splashed into his face with this searing poison again.

Conclusion two: Koigetsu needed external help. Well, either that or hiding until his eyes will heal… Which they very much may not too. And Koigetsu would never, never make the mistake of dematerializing without permission again. This time Koigetsu shudders not because of pain, but because of memory of pain.

So. He needed a medic. Koigetsu closed his eyes – not much changed, to be fair, but at least the rays of setting sun does not feel like fire this way – and concentrated on feeling the reitsu. Nobody nearby – but this much Koigetsu knew already, accustomed to tracking anyone in the hearing – and seeing – range. He is currently in the small clearing near one of the half-abandoned training fields in between Shinigami Academy and Seireitei territory, Sixth Division specifically. Painfully tugging strand of reitsu indicates where Naumi currently is, which must be lieutenants work meeting. So it would be the First’s territory. And Koigetsu needed the Fourth, the medics. Well… If they will be wanting to help.

It was actually a major logical slip, Koigetsu suddenly realized. He was not a shinigami. And the Forth were healing shinigami. Should… No, no way Koigetsu would go to the Twelfth. They were acknowledged experts for zanpakuto maintaining, sure, but their “maintaining” rarely included healing, more inclining towards “taming” and “controlling”. Koigetsu shook his head and immediately regretted it, silently hissing over a sharp pain shooting through his head. He really needed to do something with it. He can at least try to visit the Forth Division and hope for the best.

Koigetsu finally gets up and staggers, suddenly feeling much more lightheaded. At least he is still able to think straight enough to draw mental map of Seireitei to understand in which direction he needs to move. Koigetsu is on the border between the Sixth and the Academy. He has a vector towards Naumi – towards the First Division, so the correct direction to go would be slightly more to the right, through the Academy Grounds and the Ninth Division.

The “move” part is easier plan then do. Koigetsu is still mostly in a painful darkness with occasional blurry slashes of color around. There are fading rays of sun on his face, nicely warm. Not a night yet then. Good, thinks Koigetsu, he did not dive too deep into his thoughts. It kept happening lately, Koigetsu stopping for a second and suddenly finding out that the hours had passed, or falling asleep and abruptly waking up due to his master’s call a day later.

Even without eyesight Koigetsu is not truly blind. He is zanpakuto spirit, and zanpakuto are good with feeling reitsu, and everything in Soul Society is made of reishi. So Koigetsu feels the barely sensible flows of energy below and more prominent forms of trees around. Koigetsu tries to form reishi particles to be solid – and level – under his feet, but his control slips and he almost falls instead. The feeling of direction also wobbles, immersing him into short panic, which Koigetsu promptly suppresses. So, either knowing what is around or walking on the air. Okay. Okay, he can do it.

Koigetsu shortly contemplates remembering the direction and rising above the threes – and buildings further – but he is already hurting enough in order not to want additional pain from broken bones after falling from the height. Besides, Koigetsu does not have enough energy to risk with shunpo, and someone simply walking in the air may attract too much attention.

So the ground it is. Koigetsu walks slowly and carefully, firstly sidestepping trees, then, after leaving the Academy Grounds, moving close to the walls of the building. Rare shinigami passing nearby feels like a bonfires of energy, ones with more reitsu - like a fireworks. Koigetsu keeps his head lowered and intends on blending into scenery, and must be succeeding since noone pays him any attention. In complete fairness, currently Koigetsu is not fully materialized due to acute shortage of energy. That means that to see zanpakuto spirit shinigami will need to be either really sensitive to reitsu and also really observant to detect semitransparent teenager limping unsteadily through the streets, or to get a hint from their own zanpakuto. And, of course, listen to it.

The last case seems unlikely for Koigetsu, since most zanpakuto mind their own business inside the souls of their masters. And even ones who may be interested by outer world – how Koigetsu was – would prefer to ignore Koigetsu, not wanting to bring on themselves the same fate.

Also it is an early evening and most activity already shifted away from the center of Seireitei, Koigetsu is cautious to avoid shinigami with higher levels of reitsu.

It must be pure coincidence, but Koigetsu does, in fact, find the Forth Division, judging by the smell of medicine, alcohol – for disinfection, probably – pain and something else with the taste of blood but also with the smell of low purring. Koigetsu carefully does not shake his head and just mentally concentrates. He must be really not in good state to incline towards synesthesia. Well, even if his thoughts are a mess and his eyes burn, Koigetsu did achieved his designation. What’s next?

He is standing in front of a big building – a rectangular mass of energy with moving points of concentrated reitsu inside. Koigetsu doesn’t really want to go into the front door, because he feels too many shinigami nearby it, so zanpakuto spirit slowly walks around the hospital. There is a door on the back, marked by traces of reitsu. Koigetsu decodes echoes of emotions – tiredness, irritation, calmness, happiness even. No blood thirst, no active desire for violence. Nice.

Koigetsu waits for a moment when there are no reitsu signatures nearby and quietly walks in. The walls are cool and smooth, and the floors plain and not slippery, and Koigetsu wanders through the corridors, remembering the way out. There are rooms on the both sides of the corridors, but reitsu inside are dopey and/or weak and unmoving. Must be patients. Koigetsu listens to conversations and moves further inside.

Finally, there is a some kind of a hall with a couple of shinigami behind the wooden constructions. The air faintly smells of ink and paper. Koigetsu slowly breathes in and out and then concentrates on being real, having color and weight. His presence is noticed almost immediately then. There is a short splash of silence and confusion in reitsu, and then a short murmur.

- Excuse me, can I help you?

Koigetsu turns towards a voice – young, probably female, with almost absent footprint of zanpakuto in reitsu. The source of sound is located above his head, but it is nothing unexpected. Almost everyone is higher than Koigetsu. It is harder to start speaking that Koigetsu expected, but he rarely speaks with shinigami – with anyone – beside Naumi. Also his head is too light and heavy at the same time again, and the world is wobbling a little.

- Y-yes. - his voice cracks and clangs like a colliding pieces of metal. - I am in need of medical help.

There is a short silence, and Koigetsu almost feels the weight of shinigami’s – medic’s? - glance on him. Her reitsu does not feels aggressive, but still Koigetsu belatedly rethinks his decision to ask other shinigami for healing. What… What if Naumi finds out? But the pain in his eyes spikes again and Koigetsu swallows the shameful whine. Apparently something changes on his face, because the medic’s reishi waves with worry.

- Please, follow me.

Koigetsu follows the sound of rustling clothes, light steps and a little-too-calm-to-be-natural breath. They walk through some corridors Koigetsu already visited, some he did not, and pretty soon end in a small room, empty of other people. There is a cool air shifting, probably a window, and it allows Koigetsu to settle a little. If something goes wrong, he would have a chance of fast escape instead of fully dematerializing. The medic asks him to sit and wait and leaves. There is no click of lock.

Koigetsu concentrates, but the feeling of his surroundings falters and breaks apart. It required a precise control to draw a detailed picture out of barely palpable flows of energy, and Koigetsu is just a little too tired, exhausted and hurt to manage it right now. So he extends arms a little ahead of his body and makes a couple of small steps forward.

The cool touch of – table? Must be examination table – is sudden and throws Koigetsu a little out of balance. What a good zanpakuto spirit he is, thinks Koigetsu bitterly. Wobbling and bumping into the furniture. The table is pretty low, so Koigetsu does not have much problem with climbing on it. Then the waiting follows. After a few failed attempts to restore the view of his surrounding through reitsu feeling, Koigetsu settles on monitoring shinigami nearby. It is much easier, even with most of the Forth Division not having much reitsu. Whatever they have though they mostly have under control, no sudden outbursts so typical for more battle-oriented Divisions.

Well, the Forth’s battles lay in different plane. The one Koigetsu never knew what to do with when regeneration failed him. He did catch a couple of handful tricks while looking out of Naumi’s eyes – and later while walking through Soul Society on his own, but nothing more than clearing and bandaging the wounds.

Koigetsu also suspects that his self-invented method of setting back twisted joints and broken bones must not be exactly like what shinigami medics do to their patients, but, well, he was doing his best.

The minutes tick by, and Koigetsu starts to get sleepy – well, either that or he is shifting closer to swooning – because of finally sitting and relaxing at least a little. Silence and solitude are pleasant, despite hunger and pain. It feels like at least a quarter of hour has passed before there is a group of shinigami shifting closer in the corridor, and, more important, one of the reitsu signatures really stands out.

It tastes like a salt metal. Like a sea, may be – Koigetsu never saw one, but there is deep calmness and cool, but not unpleasant embrace of something really big and powerful. Powerful, but controlled, and even as this shinigami stops right behind the door, Koigetsu does not feels crushed by their reitsu. Overwhelmed, may be, but not crushed. It is a nice feeling.

The door opens, then closes, and only one reitsu enters the room.

Koigetsu briefly contemplates standing, but he is really light-headed again. Instead he silently bows his head in respectful greeting and stills his hands. It weakens his ability to distinguish the smallest shifts and tones in reitsu, but Naumi was always easily irritated by Koigetsu constantly shifting his fingers and mindlessly moving his hands in the air. Better not to give a medic a reason to be annoyed right away.

- My assistants were right in stating that we have an interesting patient here, weren’t they?

Koigetsu swallows and does not answers, does not reacts. It finally comes to his mind that this woman must be the Captain of the Forth. Unohana Retsu, then. He… Does not actually know much about her, as well as about most of the other Captains. Koigetsu usually tried to avoid encountering shinigami, especially strong ones, so he knows the feeling of the reitsu of his own – well, Naumi’s own – Captain. Koigetsu is also familiar with the reitsu of shinigami in charge of the Twelfth Division, and, of course, the Captain-Commander Yamamoto. You must have a REALLY thick skin to not feel the all-burning flame of this reitsu.

Captain Unohana slowly moves closer and stops on the hand distance from Koigetsu. Her presence is strangely calming, and Koigetsu feels a little tug of anxious knot in his stomach fading away. The Poisonous Manta Ray peeks out of her mind, and his mild curiosity flows around Koigetsu like a gentle wave. Koigetsu likes Unohana’s zanpakuto spirit. Their bond feels right.

- Look at me, please.

Koigetsu raises head in approximate direction of the voice and forces his eyes to open. If he uses imagination hard enough, blurry white form with dark spots in the middle and on the top almost resembles a human.

Captain Unohana quietly hums and casts some sort of kaido. It tingles a bit, but not painfully.

- How many fingers am I holding up?

Koigetsu squints, but he is not even sure that this is a hand in front of him. Apparently, his face projects his inability to answer clear enough. His eyes also burn stronger after being opened for about a two minutes total.

The more kaido follows, each one being more and more intricate, and despite pain Koigetsu can’t resist spreading out his fingers to better catch the formation of reishi. There are a patterns in them, small curls of green healing energy crossing white lines, linked together by guitar-sounding ones… Koigetsu shudders from sudden pain. Okay. Okay, no extensive reitsu feeling, he got it.

From this moment Koigetsu sits still, obediently moving his head when Captain Unohana instructs him to. At some point she started to recite formulas, most likely to strengthen the kaido, but the buzzing in his ears stops Koigetsu from making out the separate words.

Finally, after what feels like hours – Koigetsu half-sure he may have dosed off for a while – Captain Unohana casts one more kaido, and the world around becomes much more clear. Koigetsu blinks, and this level of pain, while still very noticeable, is nothing he can not live with. He also has a good view of Captain Unohana’s face. She towers over Koigetsu a little, which means, considering the size of the table, that Captain Unohana and Koigetsu must be approximately the same height.

...Actually, why is she glowing?

Koigetsu blinks again, but nothing changes much – Captain Unohana is still surrounded by whitish haze with unevenly more concentrated parts around her eyes, hands and katana handle peeking out from above her shoul-

Oh. It is her reitsu. Koigetsu mentally scolds himself for slow thinking. Captain Unohana felt like a tightly bound white cloud before, with underlying smell of the sea, he just, for some reason, sees it without making any efforts. Actually, Koigetsu does not know how to stop seeing the world through the mist of different reitsu. Must be a side effect of having an eye trauma. Koigetsu hopes that it will pass.

Captain Unohana repeats her previous question, and this time Koigetsu answers. She still casts a whole bunch of another kaido over him, but they don’t do much.

- There is still some damage which may be permanent, but I do not think that something else can be done at the moment.

- Thank you, Captain Unohana. - says Koigetsu, because he does not really know how to express his gratitude, and stands up. - I… Really, thank you.

- That was definitely an… Interesting experience. Say, what color were your eyes before?

This makes Koigetsu pause in the middle of his wobbling way to the window.

- Blue? Are they not?

There is a sad smile on the face of Captain Unohana, but somehow Koigetsu feels that there is something unsaid hovering in the air between the shinigami and zanpakuto spirit.

- No. They are yellow now.

[getsusun]

Hello there!

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For (mostly) future me:

#drawing_getsu - Mostly Bleach fanart. And when speaking Bleach I usually mean Zangetsu/Noba. :D

#writing_getsu - Everything with text. Some headcanons, fanfics pieces, etc.

#rambling_getsu - Just some thoughts.

@zangetsu-art is for uninterrupted stream of Zangetsu art