#yachiru and kanda

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 12 (Bleach/DGM)

He doesn’t come out of his rooms until evening, when hunger drives him from where he’d slipped from meditation into true dreaming.

The 11th Division mess hall is a war zone, full of loud shouts and always one broken bowl away from a food fight. Kanda snatches a clean, unattended bowl and chopsticks from an empty table and heads over to where the food is being dispensed from.

“Kanda!” calls Yumichika from his spot in the hall. “I saved you a seat!” He waves his hand over their table. Aside from Ikkaku snoring next to him, it is completely empty.

“Okay,” says Kanda, eyes going back to the food being offered. Tempura, soba noodles, ramen noodles...

Trapped in that house, cooking soba for lunch, for dinner, for Allen....

He gets the tempura. It’s not as good as when Jerry made it, or old man Zuu Mei before him. It’s the first thing he’s eaten in over a month that doesn’t taste like dust.

“You going to be taking another of the longer missions?” Yumichika asks, eyes fixed on the bright red nail polish that he is carefully checking for chips.

“Probably,” says Kanda. He has... a few more things to get in order before he leaves again.

“Heard you went with the Kuchiki Lieutenant. Want me to set up a duel?”

“With Sojun? No.” says Kanda. Ignoring the fact that the minute Sojun used his Shikai he’d be working on an at best five minute countdown to death, Yumichika was just checking that Sojun hadn’t said anything about Kanda being from the Rukongai.

“He’s annoyingly polite,” Kanda says. “And he thanked me,” he adds, offended.

“Terrible,” says Yumichika, eyes shining. “Oh, by the way...”

He looks like Lavi when he smiles like that.

“A squeaky someone left something for you!” Yumichika snatches another stack of papers from where Ikkaku had been using them as a pillow and waves them at Kanda. “Pretty brave of a 4th Division member to come here,” says Yumichika. “Or maybe not. For me to remember such an unforgivably bland face-- I think he might be the 4th Division member I press ganged into cleaning our bathroom a couple years ago.”

“Who cleans the other bathrooms,” Kanda half asks, half states. At best, ‘our’ bathroom means his, Ikkaku’s, Kenpachi’s, and possibly Yachiru’s. At worst.... Well.

Yumichika’s nose wrinkles.

“Some of the others use cleaning duty as the punishment for sparring losses,” he says. “What a hideous concept. If they want punishment for losing, then they should just die.”

“Sure,” says Kanda, taking the papers from Yumichika and looking over at them. These ones are dated for this week, unlike the previous piles of backlog that Ikkaku had dumped on Kanda. He rifles through them.

Mission Requests, Joint Mission Requests, some completed Mission Reports written in illegible handwriting, Noise Complaint, Notice for the weekly Captain’s Meeting, Notice for the weekly Lieutenant’s Meeting with candy! scrawled in bright red in the corner, Repair Expense Report, Repair Expense Report (Yachiru), Makeup Shop Expense Report...

“Are we allowed to just list anything we buy as an expense?”

“Why not?” says Yumichika. “All the Divisions get the same budget.”

“How big of a budget?”

“The 12th Division sponsors a subordinate research division with theirs.”

“Does Kenpachi need to sign off on these?”

“Ah.” Yumichika reaches towards Ikkaku and rummages around in his robes until he finds something and offers it to Kanda, who takes it gingerly. It’s a pale red jade stamp of two crossed bones beneath a five petaled flower.

“This is Yachiru’s signature,” says Yumichika. “Captain Unohana had it made for her when she joined her Calligraphy Club. Captain Kenpachi just gives any paperwork given to him to Yachiru, who folds it into paper airplanes. Don’t worry about losing the stamp, Yachiru’s got a bunch of them.”

Kanda tucks it into his now empty ration pouch.

“He also got a pen?”

“No idea,” says Yumichika indifferently.

Kanda stares at the paperwork in front of him. Is it giving in if he makes himself a desk? Does the Seireitei have quality wood imports? Well, all of the buildings are made of wood so they should have at least... some sturdy hardwoods that he can use. The Kuchiki’s probably know where to get cherry wood, if all else fails.

“If the pipsqueak comes back with more paperwork, just tell him to dump it in my room,” Kanda says, resigned. Fuck it, he’ll deal with that tomorrow.

Just then, Yumichika shunpoes on top of the table, a full bowl of slightly churning noodles now in his hands.

“Who dared through this thing at me!” He screams at a pitch not unlike a peacock’s early morning screech. He sights his target and throws, drenching most of a table with the hot liquid and sending the broken bowl shards flying everywhere. One of them brings the table down as they throw themselves at their unlucky neighbors, using the unprepared as human shields.

Kanda takes this as his cue to leave, making sure to step up and over Ikkaku’s head on his way out.

It’s remarkably quiet outside of the 11th Division’s compound. Kenpachi’s aura still bathes the roads in his enduring bloodthirst, but the noise and clangour are replaced with the wind whistling off of the white walls and rustle of trees in hidden pathways and courtyards.

It’s almost enough to make him relax.... If someone hadn’t been following him ever since he left the compound.

“What are you waiting for?” Kanda asks impatiently. “It’s late, and I’m alone. What better opportunity could you have?”

“I’m collecting data,” says the shinigami girl. She’s barely an inch taller than Kanda, with short black hair framing a round face and dark green eyes. She offers Kanda a clipboard. “Do you have a moment to fill out a quick survey?”

Kanda takes the clipboard and scans the questions.

You are a shinigami with a child’s body [Y | N]

Are you the product of an experiment?  [Y | N]

Do you have a mother? [Y | N]

--If so, have you met her? [Y | N]

      If no, do you want to? [Y | N]

      If yes, would you recommend it? [Y | N]

Do you have a father?  [Y | N]

--If so, have you met him? [Y | N]

       If no, do you want to? [Y | N]

       If yes, would you recommend it? [Y | N]

Do you have any parental figure?  [Y | N]

--If so, have you met them? [Y | N]

      If no, do you want to? [Y | N]

      If yes, would you recommend it? [Y | N]

“Yes, to the first two,” says Kanda. “No to the rest. How many child shinigami are there?”

“Only me, you and Lieutenant Kusajishi Yachiru, currently,” says the girl. “It’s an unfortunately limited sample. I am Number 7 Nemuri, but I will be inducted as a Lieutenant tomorrow, and then I will be Kurotsuchi Nemu, having proved the worth of my existence to my father.”  

“Your creator considers himself your father?” Kanda asks, confused. Director Touyi had been very clear on her relation to him being non familial.

“His blood runs through me,” says Nemuri. “Though I do not know if he considers himself as my father or is is merely indifferent to my delusions. I am a flawed product, after all. It is to be expected.”

“Have you already given this survey to Yachiru?” Kanda asks.

“Yes, Lieutenant Kusajishi Yachiru has answered the survey,” says Nemuri. “She responded with yes to questions number one and answered number five with ‘I have Ken-chan! He’s the best... he promised that he was the strongest and we’d stay together forever~’” Her take on Yachiru’s chirpy tone of voice was uncanny. “From that data point I have established a positive correlation between happiness with ‘parental figures’ and ‘long term oaths of loyalty’.”

Kanda’s vision flashes to a beautiful smile in a room full of corpses.

“I’m happy to see you, Yuu.. .But I’ve got to kill you now.” He’d been crying, Kanda could still remember. Smiling and crying and covered in blood. Thanks to the Noah, he could recall all of it as if it were yesterday, Alma’s face never fading.  

“My generation failed,” says Kanda. “Loyalty to the people who chained my soul to that body and gave me such a cursed existence.... I served them for ten years, but I can’t imagine feeling anything but hatred.”

He had hoped for their destruction so much that he had turned away from Allen’s own quiet screams in the hope that he might bring the Order down with him.

“You must hate me, then,” says Nemuri. “I hope to become a scientist some day, like my father,” she explains. “I’m to be his assistant in all of his experiments. Father and I... we are much alike.”

“As long as we’re alive...the humans won’t admit they're wrong.”

“I’ve never hated someone... for being any type of scientist,” says Kanda. Johnny, Reever...Komui. “Even human experimentation... I was never the one who cared about that.”

“Yuu... I’m so sorry for what happened.”

“How dare they! I’ll bring this up with Headquarters!”

“I hate people... who see each other as tools,” Kanda admits.

“Your data contradicts with Lieutenant Kusajishi Yachiru?” Nemuri clarifies. Her voice is shaking a bit, and sharp as she tries to ground herself with the survey. “Is her loyalty...

“Her loyalty is returned,” Kanda’s voice cracks and he hates this body. “That’s why... that’s why she and Kenpachi are so happy, I think. Because they made an oath to each other. To stay together....” Kanda searches for a way of conveying this that doesn’t include bringing up his own past. He doesn’t owe Nemuri anything. He didn’t even owe Allen his past, though the stupid beansprout had learned about it anyway.

Better or worse, that he had known what he was doing when he stabbed through Allen to attack Alma?

“Like your zanpaktou,” he says, nodding towards the green hilted katana at her hip.

“It is false,” says Nemuri. “I cannot imprint an asuchi, for I am not human-- I have no true soul.” Nemuri smiles sadly, and gestures at herself. “Even my father would not dare to thwart the law that prohibits the trapping of human souls. Instead, he settled for second best and made me, an artificial soul in an artificial body.

She spreads her arms, the expression on her face fading back into the placid neutrality she had first greeted him with.

“What a piece of bullshit,” snarls Kanda, mood twisting into something ugly. “You’re real enough. Being human--,” he stops, tongue growing heavy. Did he know enough about that to question her choices?

“Are you cold, Yuu?”

“Do you have something that you want?” Kanda demands, keeping his hands still at his side even as he wants to look down, to check that his guts aren’t pouring out in dripping coils as he speaks to this stranger.

“I... what?”

“A wish, a dream... a story that you would tell yourself when everything hurt and all you could see was the dark. Something stupid, something impossible. When your blood spills over the floor and it hurts so bad you can’t move, can’t even open your mouth to beg for it to stop. What do you think of, then?”

“I want to make father proud....”

“No. beyond that.”

Nemuri covers her eyes, shrinking away.

“I would think,” she mumbles into her hands. “Of the fact that I was built without tear ducts, so I could not cry, even though it hurt. I think I would like... to dig a grave for my sisters, and weep in front of that grave. I would like to be able to cry for people. Kanda... is it too much? Can I do that?”

“How would I know,” says Kanda, roughly. “When you want something so badly that you’d shed blood and tears and give your life to hold it for only a moment... isn’t that human enough?”

Nemuri stares at him, arms clutched around herself and eyes wide. Then she reaches out, and takes back her clipboard.

“Thank you for taking my survey,” she says, quietly. “You have given me much to think about.”

“...Yes,” says Kanda. “If you need another shovel when you start digging...” It was as much as he could bear to offer even now, with Kurayami’s promise still fresh in his mind. It felt like meeting Mugen all over again, constantly bleeding on the inside even as he got up to try again, and again.

“I will have to change my survey based on new data,” Nemuri says. He tilts her head to Kanda in a silent acknowledgement, and disappears back towards where she came.

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 11 (Bleach/DGM)

Swinging her feet of the wooden gate of the entrance is the the pink demon herself.

“Hey, hey, kitty~,” She calls down at him. “Have you come to play with me? Ken-chan is taking a nap right now, so I get first dibs!” She beams at him with her rosy cheeks.

Kanda stares up at her, baffled. ‘Kitty’? Where did she get that from?

“My name is Kanda,” he says.

“No,” she shakes her head. “Kitty. Because--” She counts off her fingers. “Claws. Small. Grouchy.” She grins, makes a petting motion. “Soft. It’s perfect!”

“You’re smaller than me,” Kanda points out, grouchily. “Don’t call me that.”

“Kandacchi~” She drags out the chi as she stares at him.

He’s pretty sure that this nickname might be... worse.

Yachiru bounces.

“It’s so I can have piggyback rides,” she braggs. “Good for gutting people~ Wait.” Yachiru tilts her head way to the side, crosses her arms, and nods decisively. “I see, I see. No good, Kandacchi. There can only be one Ken-chan, and that’s my Ken-chan! So you have to go play with your sword, now. Bye bye!” She waves at him and then drops backward to that her feet her keeping her hanging upside down from the gate. “Have fun, Kan-da-chi!”

Kanda ducks around her in order to enter the 11th Division compound.

“Ikkaku!” He yells. “You bald asshole! Get out here!”

Ikkaku, who had been napping in the shade of one of the building’s overhangs yawned, deliberately digging one of his pinkies into his hear.

“Oh,” he smirked. “Hey, Kanda. Wanna fight?”

“Later,” says Kanda. “Take back your fucking paperwork, Ikkaku.”

“Aw, Kanda, don’t you know? Only the Captain and Lieutenant can touch that paperwork,” says Ikkaku, shaking out his hands.

“Your signature,” Kanda points out calmly and deliberately, “Is on some of them.”

“How can that be?” says Ikkaku, using his sword as a pillow and looking incredibly put upon. “I’m just some poor ruffian from the Rukongai, ne’er learned to read nor write.”

“Please tell me who said that to you,” says Kanda.

“Nah, I already killed them,” says Ikkaku. “But seriously, Kanda. Dealing with those reports...it’s like drilling a fucking hole through my skull. And Captain Kenpachi doesn’t care about stuff like that. The 4th seat before you... he’s Lieutenant Iba, now. He used to take care of the basic paperwork-- refused to touch the backlog, but made sure that the system didn’t completely break down. But all I care about it following my Captain, Kanda. It’s up to you if you care enough to deal with that shit.”

“Fuck you,” says Kanda, suddenly tired.

Ikkaku flips Kanda the bird and then goes back to his nap.

He doesn’t want to sleep right now so... meditation it is, then.

“Hey, Ikkaku,” says Kanda. “I got a room around here?”

“Sure,” mumbles Ikkaku. He doesn’t open his eyes. “Just find a room that you like, then kick whoevers living there out.”

Simple.

Kanda looks through doorways until he finds a room with an unbroken bed and a window with a working catch. Then he settles into meditation, the first time he has felt safe enough to do so since he died for that final time.

:Took you long enough:

There was nothing around him but darkness, thick and heavy and pressing in on him from all sides.

“Who’s there?” Kanda snaps, straining his eyes in the hopes of seeing anything.

:I’m right here. Idiot:

“I can’t see you,” says Kanda, frustrated.

:Don’t use your eyes then, Ba-kanda:

“Don’t call me that!” Kanda grumbles, closing his eyes to help him focus more on an actually useful sense. But still. Nothing.

:You’re not very good at this:

“You give bad instructions,” grunts Kanda. “Shut up and let me try.” He can feel something close to him, he’s sure of it. It’s soft, more like a breeze... but steady, a constant beating pressure. His focus narrows even further and he reaches out, confident this time. He moves up, and his finger touches something-- and slides right off.

“Who are you?” Kanda demands.

:You know:

“I don’t know,” says Kanda...but. It’s so familiar. He’s never felt anything like that, but it was... smooth, and warm. A slick texture, but full of tiny, almost... feathery etchings?

:You know me:

“What is your name?” Kanda asks, voice hollow. He reaches out to try and touch it again. He’s always been so cold....

:Say it. Kanda Yuu:

Kanda swallows. He hates this...this uncertainty, this darkness inside his own mind.

“Hello,” he says, “Kurayami. It’s good to meet you at last.” He offers his hand blindly, willingly. It’s almost a surprise when something human shaped grabs it.

From the point where their hands meet, a blossom of light erupts outward in all directions devouring the darkness until nothing of it remains.

Kanda stares at the incarnation of his soul and his first jagged, wondering thought is--

“You’re beautiful,” he blurts out.

:You think so?:

Kurayami’s wings spread out, six feet at least on either side and made completely of shattered stained glass that beat back an forth as a butterfly’s would. He’s as tall as Kanda at his adult height, clad in a tan long coat over a simple linen shirt and jeans. A dark blue masquerade mask covers the upper half of his face, with the part that should cover his nose elongated far longer until it curls into something resembling the proboscis that acts as a butterfly’s mouth. His hair, lilac and feathery, brushes his jawline, rustling in the wind generated by his own flight.

“Yes,” Kanda says softly. “I know it.”

:Kanda Yuu: Kurayami smiles and brushes his hand across Kanda’s cheek. :Look down, my wielder. This world that you have made for me.... Kanda, it is your heart that is beautiful:

Kanda looks down, and sees a field of blossoming pink and white lotus flowers each nestled on their green pads over the quietly lapping water that he is standing on, and watches the field stretch on until it meets the distant horizon. He dips a hand into the muddy waters below his feet, watches it drip from his fingers.

“Alma would have liked it here,” he whispers...and he, he can’t bear it any more. He curls up, covering his eyes so that even here, no one can see him cry. “You remember, don’t you? How much he loved... the lotus flowers.”

He feels warmth against his back, and the wings curl over him.

:You’ll see them again: Kurayami promises. :They are out there waiting for you, my wielder. They are bound to you by fate-- by the thread that binds our souls. I so swear to you, Kanda Yuu. You will never be alone:

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 5 (Bleach/DGM)

Kanda draws his sword. This won’t take long.

It doesn’t.

Kanda enters through the gate alone, ignoring the groans and whimpers behind them. They’re alive, he doesn’t know why they’re complaining. Well. As alive as anyone is, in this strange place beyond the living world.

The first thing he sees are the dogs. They run up to him, lick the blood off his skin. Someone has fed them, brushed them, bathed them. They smell better than he does.

Beyond the dogs are four people, arrayed around the dusty courtyard.

Yumichika stands with his weapon sheathed, hair moving in an invisible breeze generated by his own core of power.

Beside him, Ikkaku has his sword leaned over his shoulder. He is watching Kanda with a slight smirk. His power is heavier than Yumichika’s, weighting down the swirling dust so that he stands in an inverted spotlight of his own making.

To his left stands a little girl, who looks younger than Kanda. Her hair is pale pink, cheeks stained in permanent blush. She is pouting, arms crossed against her chest. A pink katana hangs from her belt, longer than her legs so that it drags on the ground behind her. The bloodlust pours out of her in palpable waves, so much that it makes Kanda feel as if she is the closest thing to an Akuma he has yet found, or a Noah like Tyki Mikk, content to wear the vestige of human skin.

“Ken-chan!” She chirps, tugging on Kenpachi Zaraki’s sleeve. “He looks like fun~”

Kenpachi Zaraki is wearing a ragged white overcoat over the normal shinigami uniform, with white bandages wrapped around his midriff. His hair stands in stiff peaks all over his skull, with each peak capped by a tiny bell that all jingle in the breeze. An eyepatch covers his right eye, edged in gold. Three straps hold it in place, two running through his hair and one connecting to the collar he wears around his throat. His sword is completely covered in bandages. If Kanda felt the force of his soul all at once he would have been driven to his knees, but Kanda had been sensing him since he entered through the gate into the Seireitei, each step of his feet drawing him closer to this man soaked in death.

Kanda looks at them and smiles.

“Who’s first?”

“Me!” Says the girl, bouncing up and down on her toes. “Pick me, pick me!”

Kenpachi tilts his head back and laughs, harsh and grating.

“No, Yachiru,” He says, “I like him. We’ll do this... the proper way.” He laughs again as Yachiru giggles.

Then he steps forward so that he stands directly in front of Kanda. This close he towers above Kanda, six and a half feet tall at the very least. Kanda grimaces. He doesn’t hate tall people as much as he hates being short.

“What is your name,” says Kenpachi.

“Kanda.”

“Only that?”

Kanda hesitates. No one knows him here. He could lose that name forever, never hear it again.

“I have another name,” he says. “I’ll tell you after I defeat you.”

“That’s the spirit,” says Kenpachi, face still split in an eerie grin. “So. The challenge.”

He flings open his hands, baring his naked chest.

“Prove to me that your soul longs for blood,” he declares. “Show me your will, Kanda!”

“Only that?” echoes Kanda, unsheathing his sword. If this is the challenge, then it’s likely that Kenpachi’s skin will be far harder than flesh and blood could hope to be. It’s only natural, here in this place where flesh is but a memory of the soul. For something of this magnitude, the bare bones of his Second Illusion are nowhere near strong enough to bother with. No, Kenpachi asked for his soul.

Kanda closes his eyes. He can hear his heart beat more easily this way.

Ba-dum

He has no curse of burning life to draw upon

Ba-dum

No foreign Innocence to drive him onward

Ba-dum

He has nothing but the lotus flowers

Ba-dum

And Allen

Ba-dum

What had he said, when Allen had granted him his dearest wish?

Kanda opens his eyes. This sword may be new but his soul...he has been listing to those whispers far before his final death. Has he not died, over and over again?

“Breathe easily, Kurayami,” he whispers. “First Dream; Rising Towards the Heavens.”

He only realizes he’s moved once Kenpachi’s blood spurts in his face. He licks his lips, tasting it.

“Welcome to the 11th Division, Kanda,” says Kenpachi. “We’ll fight once you’re healed back up.”

“Wait,” says Kanda. He’s swaying on his feet, his ankle screaming while his single slash has reopened the wounds in his arm and chest. He sheathes his sword and flings his arms out, showing his papery skin and caved in stomach.

“It’s only fair,” he says. He is no longer condemned to the life of an Exorcist, irreplaceable and fighting against inescapable odds. He can fight the way he only dreamed of. “Blood for blood.”

“Blood for blood,” Kenpachi echoes, and smiles. Then he draws his blade. It grates against the sheathe on its way out, the metal screaming and shaking. The edge itself is ragged, old blood still remaining along its edge. That is not a blade that cuts once, it is a blade that will cut a thousand times.

“Are you prepared?” Kenpachi asks.

Kanda nods. Behind Kenpachi, Ikkaku is holding the dogs back as they growl, trying to run to him.

It slides through him like a jittering bonesaw.

He doesn’t know if it’s the pain or the blood loss that sends him to oblivion.

Kanda wakes up to Fishbone licking his face.

“Get off of me, you dumb dog,” He grumbles, trying to bat at the dog.

“Eeek!” A voice shrieks close to him. “Please don’t move, sir officer! You’re still not completely recovered!”

“I’m fine,” says Kanda. He shoves himself into an upright position in the bed, looking down at himself. His chest is completely swathed in bandages, and so is his left arm. His ankle has been splinted, and then wrapped to the point where it looked more like a ball than a part of his body.

“Oh?” A different feminine voice interrupts his mental catalogue of his wounds. “Yamada, didn’t I ask you to bring me here the moment the patient woke up?”

“Captain Unohana!” The voice shrieked, reaching an even higher pitch. “I swear, he just woke up as you arrived! You have miraculous timing, Captain!”

Another Captain?

Kanda turns to face the door, still petting Fishbone and Lizard. The woman has a peaceful smile framed by her dark hair, which is parted into two but twined together below her chin.

“Trying to leave so soon?” She asks him, smiling. Kanda is immediately pinned down by the force of her power, which feels like all his terrors and shadowy nightmares given weight and presence.

“..no,” Kanda forces out, trying to talk through the sudden onslaught. “I was simply looking at my injuries.”

“An infected chest would, three deep slashes down your back, one long gash down your left arm, a slice across your face, a broken ankle, and the massive hole in your lower abdomen where Captain Zaraki struck you.” She summarizes his injuries with that serene smile still firmly pasted on her face. “Traces of starvation and malnutrition inhibiting proper reiatsu growth and development. Severe dehydration. Need I go on?”

It sounded much worse than it was when she said it like that.

“Where am I?” Kanda asks instead of answering her.

“This is the headquarters of the 4th Division,” Unohana answers. She beams. “We are neighbors with the 11th Division, which is likely the only reason you survived.”

“You were only unconscious for three days!” The pipsqueak pipes up. “We thought that you’d be unconscious for weeks!”

“The 11th Division always recruits...hardy members,” says Unohana, lips curling upward in what should be a smile. “You seem to have earned your seat, at least. However, you being awake merely means that the timetable until your release back into the 11th division will happen sooner than was anticipated. I will be...most displeased if you engage in strenuous activities while under my roof.”

Kanda leans back against the pillows, annoyed but largely resigned. The main issue he had with being on bedrest was that it reminded him of being old and dying from his stupid body betraying him piece by piece, but the circumstances-- and the expectation of a full recovery-- were enough for him to be more willing to wait for approval before wandering off. Come to think of it, he hadn’t died from his own body after all! Since beansprout had burned the house down.

“Yamada,” the Captain continues. “Keep a close eye on him, hmm?”

“Me? I mean, Yes Captain!” The pipsqueak drops into a bow so low his head hits the floor. “I’ll do my best!”

Captain Unohana flows out of the room as quietly as she appeared.

Kanda waits an extra five minutes before making eye contact with the pipsqueak.

“I’m bored,” he informs him.

The pipsqueak jumped a solid three feet in the air, his chin length hair standing straight up. Then he hit his fist against his palm as his mouth dropped open in a particularly vacant expression. “Ah.” He says. “The scary guy said that would happen. He left you something!” He bolts out of the room.

Kanda stares after the pipsqueak blankly. This guy is way too much fun to mess with.

Yamada ran back after just a couple seconds, his hands over flowing with carefully bundled stacks.. Of paper.

“Is that...” Kanda trails off. He could already read the first one. Barely.

Mission Report: Hollow Extermination in Sector 8 of District 25, East

I KiLleD AlL oF tHEm! WitH mY ManLy Hands of StEel! I Feasted on.....

“I am going to kill him--”

[zarinthelwrites]

Blooming from the Mud Pt. 4 (DGM/Bleach)

“Unsheathe, Mugen,” Kanda growls, and the words aren’t right but they're close enough. His sword ignites with blue flame and he slashes again at the shinigami, sending a wave of indigo to burn the same spot where he had gutted him.

The Shinigami gives a short scream in surprise and pain, and then licks his lips, grinning.

“Do you know what an even more beautiful number than 51 is?” He asks.

Kanda thrusts forward with his sheathe, now also enveloped in flames.

“Second Illusion,” he states, this time feeling the right amount of give as he manages to pierce a lung.

“It’s three,” says the Shinigami smugly, ignoring the blood pouring from his mouth.

“Quit playing around, Yumichika,” A voice growls from behind him. “We weren’t meant to come this far in.”

“Ikkaku!” Yumichika stares directly down into Kanda’s eyes.

Kanda scowls at him. He’s going to cut this guy’s knees off. He ignores the fact that this would likely still leave Yumichika taller than he is.

“Look what I found!” He points his finger at Kanda close enough that Kanda wants to  bite it.

“A child, Yumichika?” Ikkaku has a bald head and red marks around his eyes. He looks irritating.

“No, you ungraceful clod. Our new fourth!” Yumichika sounds way too gleeful for someone with only one working lung.

“I’m going to kill you,” says Kanda.

“That’s perfect, just say that to anyone that asks you any questions.” Yumichika says, carefully checking over his orange scarf thing for blood stains.

“He’s good enough?” Ikkaku asks. His head is so bald and shiny that Kanda suspects wax.

“He’s even got a fake shikai,” says Yumichika.

Kanda bristles, offended.

“What the fuck is a shikai?”

“It’s the manifestation of your soul through your fighting spirit,” answers Ikkaku, fingers lingering around his own blade. “Yachiru’s been looking for a new playmate,” he adds, and now his grin is all at Kanda’s expense.

Kanda can’t take them both on in his current state and they seem to be recruiting him into the Seiteirei, so he only has one main issue with their recruitment strategy.

“The dogs are coming with me,” he says.

Ikkaku looks at them.

“Cute,” he says. It’s so flat that it sounds like an insult. “What’re their names?”

“That’s Lizard,” says Kanda, pointing at the dog with a giant white patch on his face. “The other one’s Fishbone.”

Fishbone picks that moment to yawn, showing of his gross, stained teeth.

“They’ll fit right in,” says Ikkaku. Kanda still can’t tell if he’s joking.

His stomach picks that moment to growl.

“You gonna drop dead if we don’t feed ya?” Ikkaku asks, tucking his hands behind his head.

Kanda considers. He’s still bleeding from long rakes down his back and his arm, along with a deep claw mark over his chest that’s not really visible because it's covered with a sticky white burning acid. He last stopped in town three days ago. He looks down and watches the lotus flowers bloom from the drops of his blood cooling on the ground.

“The dogs haven’t eaten since yesterday,” he says.

“I’ved never shunpoed while holding two giant ass butt ugly dogs before,” says Ikkaku, cheerfully. “Sounds like a challenge!”

Yumichika picks up Kanda with one hand by the back of his collar, holding him so that none of the dirt or blood on him can come into contact with his uniform.

“Blood is only beautiful when you decorate yourself with your enemies blood upon the field of battle, or when you suffer for the sake of art!” Yumichika informs him. “But the number four is truly the most ugly number there is, so I will sacrifice the pure white of my hands for this.”

“Put me down,” snarls Kanda.

“To be held in my grasp is truly an envious position,” Yumichika continues as the scenery starts to blur around him. “An offer so stunning in its magnanimity that none who I ever previously gave this honor to managed to survive the rapture they felt.”

“I hope you get a bald spot on the top of your head,” says Kanda. “And everyone will mistake you for an uglier Ikkaku.”

“I will gut you and use your entrails as a necklace,” says Yumichika. He smiles sweetly. “Then I’ll carve your finger bones into beads and wear them in my hair.”

“You’d choke on them,” says Kanda.

“You’d be amazed what I can swallow, kid,” says Yumichika.

“My name is Kanda.”

“Picked that out yourself, did you?” Yumichika snorts. “You miss rice that badly?”

“I didn’t pick it,” says Kanda, sourly. “But it’s mine now.”

“That’s how it goes,” says Yumichika, eyes losing focus for a second. “Okay, Kanda. You want to be a Shinigami, right?”

Kanda does his best to shrug at while being dragged along at the speed of sound.

“Whatever. So, typically, to become a Shinigami, you have to take this stupid... aptitude test, or whatnot and then kill time at Shin-o Academy until you either receive an invite from one of the Divisions or are able to fulfill whatever requirements the Divisions have. Basically, it's to teach losers from the first twenty districts how to fight and to let captains scout out the good people for their division. With you, we’re just going to skip that step entirely and make you fight everyone in the entire 11th Division, and you’re good enough to beat everyone but me, Ikkaku, or our glorious captain and lieutenant.”

“I’m good enough to beat you,” says Kanda.

“I’ll make lipstick out of your heart’s blood, kid.” Yumichika grins, baring his shiny teeth. “Maybe if you could do more that use that fake shikai of yours, you might stand a chance.”

“It’s not fake,” Kanda says, mutinously. He still doesn’t really know what a shikai is.

“But it’s not real either,” says Yumichika. “Your zanpakuto appears to like you enough that it’s willing to work even without you using it’s proper name, but it can never display its true power that way. When was the last time you slept? If your zanpakuto is this active, it should be at least whispering in your dreams.”

Kanda stares at him in disbelief. Lots of things fucking whisper in his dreams. Most of them are a hell of a lot louder than whispers.

“Maybe if it shouts I’ll hear it,” he says, dubiously.

“I’m going to drop you now, kid,” Yumichika says suddenly. Then he lets go.

They aren’t that far up, really. That fast step-skip that Yumichika was using just let him speed up, not actually fly. He’s fallen from worse. Lenalee has drop kicked him from worse.

Kanda hits the ground hard, and feels one of the bones in his ankle snap. Weird. Walking on that until it heals is going to hurt.

He looks up, then has to crane his neck in order to look up even further. They’ve stopped in front of a curved white wall with its endless stone seamlessly forged together to present a barrier against the outside world. Or a demarcation between the worthy and unworthy, the clean and unclean, the lucky and the cursed. Directly in front of them is a gate, marked with red to show its separate existence.

“It looks ugly,” says Kanda.

“Yes, I’ve always thought so,” says Yumichika. He kicks at the gate, causing a loud bang.

“Higonyuudo!” He screams. “Let me in!”

“I just lifted the gate for the honored 3rd Seat and his dogs tried to eat my blessed hat!” Comes the second scream from above. A heavy weight man with strong eyebrows and a fat chin leaps down from the top of the wall, his white banded cloth hat supporting a distinctive bite mark and a bit of drool. His feet make a crater in the ground when he lands.

“A newcomer, honored 5th Seat?,” Higonyuudo asks. “As the Gatekeeper of the South and Guardian of the Red Hollow Gate, I’m not allowed to let anyone not a noble or shinigami in, you know that.”

“This is our 4th Seat,” says Yumichika. He picks Kanda up by the back of his shirt again and waves him back and forth. “See? Only Shinigami can own zanpakuto.” He sets Kanda back down.

Higonyuudo stares at Yumichika.

“I’ve always wanted to fight a gate guard,” says Yumichika. “Did you know, Ikkaku called dibs on the Gatekeeper before Danzomaru of the North. I never got my chance to... share my appreciation for--” He flicked his hair. “The man’s compliments.”

Higonyuudo blanches paler than the wall. He hurries over to the bottom of the gate, hat flapping as he goes. He digs his fingers into the soil underneath the gates then heaves, lifting the stone up inch by inch until he is standing with the gate resting on his shoulders. “Welcome back to the Seireitei,” he says, breathing at a slow, controlled pace.

So this is like the Order’s former entrance. Impressively hard to enter, but the people in charge have likely already made an easy access back door for themselves.

Kanda steps through the gate and immediately has to pause, as images overlay themselves over what actually exists in front of him. His only memories of Japan are fighting Akuma through blood soaked streets and old, decrepit homes. It jars him, seeing a place so clean.

“To nice for someone from the 51st Rukongai?” Yumichika asks. “Don’t worry, Kanda. You’ll get used to it.”

“78th Rukongai,” says Kanda. He doesn’t know why he’s telling Yumichika this. “I was already heading north.”

Yumichika looks at him, and for a second his eyes change from bloodthirsty brightness to something vague and cold.

“The food’s all rotten, that far out,” he says. “All the farms are in the first 20 Districts.”

“I know,” says Kanda. He tilts his head. “Does the food still taste like dust, here?”

“No,” says Yumichika. His lips crook up. “Even the worst academy student eats rice freshly picked from the fields.”

Kanda nods. Of course.

“So, where is the 11th Division?” He asks. He’s still hungry, has been for every single week that blurred together as he paced through those forests.

“We’re right next to the 8th Division,” says Yumichika, which does the double duty of not answering his question and not making any sense.

“What,” says Kanda.

Yumichika shrugged. “Eight’s an okay number,” he says.

Whatever.

“Let’s just go,” says Kanda impatiently.

There are swarms of shinigami in the streets that they pass through, but most don’t even glance at Kanda, with the few that do so then taking one look at Yumichika and actually crossing the street to get away from him.

“Most of the other divisions consist of cowards and weaklings,” says Yumichika. He snorts in disdain. “Many of them are so weak that they considered our former 4th seat of being lieutenant class when he could barely even hear his shikai. Though from his transfer, it seems he could see his unsuitability for the 11th as clearly as I could.”

“He wanted to be promoted?”

“There is no higher honor than to serve and fight under Captain Kenpachi Zaraki!” Yumichika’s voice switches to how Komui sounds when he proclaims his love for his sister.

Kanda doesn’t want to touch this topic with a thirty foot pole.

Also, his decision to accept being promoted to general was possibly the worst decision he ever made in his shittily prolonged life.

“I’ll burn any promotion offers,” he swears.

“Yachiru is going to love you,” says Yumichika.

Kanda looks at him. That is....definitely a threat.

“Here we are!” Says Yumichika, cheerfully moving on to point at a writhing mass of people in black shinigami uniforms and red and blue uniforms waiting outside of a wooden gate. “Our monthly ranking competition is open for anyone in the Seireitei to join in, with the winner getting the privilege of fighting with our captain and lieutenant!”

Kanda blinks.

“It’s also our only form of recruitment and dismissal,” Yumichika adds. “If you don’t make the cut, we boot you.”

Kanda nods.

“So I just need to fight them all?”

“Sure, why not,” says Yumichika. “We’ve been collecting too much dead weight in the division recently. Anyone that gives up when they’re taken down by a Rukongai brat doesn’t deserve to fight alongside me.” He bares his teeth in a snarl.