Chapter Text
The chaotic bloody day of upheavals and emotional tumults was winding down to a paradoxically peaceful night. Retsu walked unhurriedly on her rounds, satisfied with the discreet shimmers of increased numbers of reiatsu barriers around the beds so that her patients could rest undisturbed by one another. The night shift had been temporarily enlarged, the soft whirring from additional medical machines louder than usual, as were the scores of sleep rumbles and snores from an increased number of patients. New energy suffused her from the tonic she had partaken with her evening repast at the Thirteenth, refreshing her mental clarity. When she detected a few minor mistakes made by her wearied subordinates, she wordlessly corrected them without fuss. Finally, she left instructions at the first aid station for the removal of bandages for the human youths the next day, then began heading to her office, where she would prepare for her last patient in its adjoining examination room.
The thought of her last patient flushed her with anticipatory warmth. In one simple meal, Jyuushirou-kun had unconsciously revealed that the passage of a thousand years not only had not dimmed his memory of her requirements, he had upkept his division’s facilities for her needs as well. Retsu’s personal tonic recipes called for a specific combination of herbs which she had cultivated for two millennia from the live stems and roots presented to her by the late, great Lady Shihouin in those early days of the Gotei. Over time, in collaboration with the Seventeenth Head of the Shihouin Clan with whom she became sisters-in-arms, Retsu bred new and more potent species from them, more than half of which she transferred to Jyuushirou-kun and were now produced exclusively and perennially in the Thirteenth hothouses to support his health with his every meal. It had been a near millennia since she taken a meal at his premises, thus when she saw tonight that all her dishes had been impeccably prepared to her exact recipes, made from clearly freshly harvested herbs, it told her plainly without words that her protégé still cultivated her specific herbs catering to her specific needs. She had been stunned, and when she had caught his eyes tonight to show her surprise and pleasure, he had simply smiled in that quiet, warm way of his and without the slightest guile, said that he never forgot his teacher.
With one innocent thoughtful act, Jyuushirou-kun had unknowingly touched her soul deep to a place she had long ago interred in its violent recesses. What it implied of his regard for her moved her as buoyantly as the fresh energy in the seat of her reiryoku. She held the precious feeling close, carefully secreting it within the space she kept under mental and emotional locks of iron will, together with her most recent fear that she would lose him as a result of Aizen's manipulations. Calm and disquiet chased through her composure, the divergent feelings rebelling against the barrier of serenity she had worn for over eight hundred years. The feelings rode on the heady circulation of her fresh reiatsu, revelling in the revelation that Jyuushirou-kun so cherished their past. They distracted her mind, led her instincts running in worrying directions, and made her reluctant to stem the millennium old memories welling from the place she visited only in her most private moments.
She knew, from old, old experience, that this was a dangerous state of being for her to be in.
She entered the wing of her office and private examination room. The corridors were deserted, and she took the momentary privacy to gather herself. The cool walls met her hand as she paused, bracing herself against the side of the empty hallway. She could feel Minazuki begin to awaken to the unquenchable thirst that had always simmered deep beneath her barrier, and quickly lulled her zanpakutou with a wordless stroke on its hilt. She had not felt this restlessness and craving for over eight centuries. Her instincts were beginning to hum with the ancient familiar keenness that once upon a time had unerringly targeted their kills. The thirst and the instinct pushed at her now, their rising clamour to be set free starting to cloud her clarity with miasmata of violent desires. It would take only her slightest relaxation for them to escape her steely imprisonment, and she willed serenity over them, intent on resealing the base recesses of her soul.
Yet, with a rising unsettling realisation, she felt a treacherous unwillingness in her soul to rebury its darker head, as a dreadfully familiar sensation began arousing her very bones and whispering in her very reishi that they had entered a lull, one which portended a great unknown storm that could not yet be discerned,
She firmly ignored the whisperings and forebodings. We have restored the balance, she mentally, overtly reminded herself. It will hold for a time. There is no reason to feel this way this prematurely.
But her memory betrayed her. During the evening feast, Kyouraku had let an occasional dark brooding escape his lazy, friendly demeanour, and a fey inward look in Jyuushirou-kun’s dark eyes had intermittently surfaced as he chatted affably with his human guests, and she knew irrefutably that they, too, felt the portent.
Surely, they still had time. We still have time.
| Not nearly enough time. |
She involuntarily covered her mouth at the intrusion. When was the last time she had heard this voice?
No. Their rescuers had saved them with bizarre yet impressively strong powers which comforted and gave them hope. They had new allies, perhaps even new cures to strengthen their weaknesses. There were unknowns about their saviours but with steady dedication they could solve those mysteries and use the knowledge to prepare for the impending storm. She resolutely suppressed the sense of alarm roused by the auras of their powers, and tried to rationalise the edge of threat she felt from their reiatsu.
It was futile. The dichotomous feelings would not subside.
She had not felt this conflicted in over a thousand years.
The last time this sensation had plagued her was in the final century of the last millennium, when she had stood united with her three co-pillars and led their armies to quell the increasing violence and incursions from the north. Her rising premonitions then about their strange new enemy had climbed inexorably until her instincts literally screamed at her, but she had found nothing that could give clarity to her foreboding. Then in the ninety-ninth year, the conflicts culminated in a full out war but the final assault had blindsided them from such an unexpected quarter and struck so terribly into their centre, that in grim terrible vengeance Yamamoto-sama had left their ranks in the middle of the night and gone north alone. Soon after the air had seared to cinders and the realm had quaked with fiery forces. When the soutaichou returned days later, unharmed, victorious, he bore such a deep bleakness in his red eyes that she knew she could not ask. He never spoke of his final battle, and none had dared to pry.
This is not the case now, she told herself, leaning against the supportive wall.
| This is a different case, but will be no less terrible. |
The voice again.
Her hand clenched over the hilt of Minazuki and she stared at in reprove and fear. Her zanpakutou had not spoken this clearly to her in an eon.
| I have always talked to you. You only never really heard. |
Have I not? she mentally asked.
| You should follow his example and spend more time in jinzen. |
The clear rebuke forced her to set aside her reactionary fear. Focusing fully on her disquiet, she compelled herself to examine the feeling.
It was the same. Of equal parts hope and equal parts dread.
A millennium ago, this feeling would have driven her from her bed and sent her seeking Jyuushirou-kun at the Thirteenth. He would have invited her to share his evening meal on the verandah of his private quarters, and would have listened to her disjointed words as she fought to crystallise the unease eating at her inner world.
| You can still do that now. |
I cannot. He does not belong to me now.
| He was never yours at any time. But he gave you what he had. And he will still give you now if you ask. |
In response, the long buried recesses of her soul pushed restlessly, straining for release. She suppressed it, stroking down its yearning.
| He never judged you. He is the only one who never judged you and loved you for what you are. |
Jyuushirou-kun had never judged her, never blinked an eye each time she confided the warnings her instincts screamed at her with the perpetual blood lust of her inner soul. Instead he had always calmly, and patiently, reasoned and theorised with her until she would soon be embroiled in ideas and explorations of tactical and healing strategies, her killing thirst directed into planning their defence and counter strikes instead of twisting itself in useless anxieties and worries.
| Yes, he always did that for you. He will do it for you again. |
They had shared innumerable discourse over remains of countless evening meals, their discussions in turns pragmatic, profound and passionate. She remembered how his long lashed mahogany eyes had flashed as his deep tenor alternated between clinical observations and impassioned counterpoints as they debated and argued, until moonlight slid over the verandah and limned in ethereal luminescence his silken hair and skin, setting in alabaster glow his delicate masculinity as he illustrated his words with elegant gestures of long angular hands.
| Yes, he was breathtaking. |
At times, she would draw their debates to conclusions which could be put into action, and leave his company with new clarity, calm and purpose.
| But those are not the times you cherish the most. |
At other times, aroused by their intense discussions, her entire soul would watch enthralled as moonlight loved every fine plane and curve of his face as he spoke ardently, the lyrical timbre of his deep tenor voice matching his gentle poetic beauty, recalling to her mind memories of his gifted prowess and immense elemental power wringing reverence from thousands of rough, battle-scarred soldiers and thugs as they rallied to his pale porcelain figure like a demon horde. And she had simply taken his hand in mid passionate discourse, led him inside, and in darkness slanted with moon rays, unsealed her own blood lust and with her own clandestine invasions, slaked her violent thirst on his lithe pliable body, consuming his trembling surrender, entangling with his long limbs falling onto dark silks, her hands grasping thick slippery streams of silken white hair, her senses intoxicated on the soft peony musk of his white silken skin, on his breathless moans low and mellifluous in her ears… and memories suffused her with ghosting sense assault of the insatiable hunger of her mouth on the fine fragrant pulse in the slender arch of his white yielding throat... the supple strength of him straining and shaking helpless against her thighs, the soft cries of him caged between her arms, the sweet capitulation of him defenceless beneath her relentless hilt callused fingers… and they had fought together, lain together, conquered one uprising after another humanely and compassionately in a distinct departure from their brutal counter strikes of the millennium before.
She could not hide from Minazuki. In her deepest heart of hearts she yearned for those times, when Soul Society had been violent, less rigid, less bound by rules.
When she herself had been unbound by proprieties and had simply taken what she desired.
| Now you understand. |
Yes, she understood. If there was one lesson she learned from this long turbulent day, it was that time ran through fingers like water from the ocean, never to be regained, never to be held, only to be remembered. She had what she had. And if she could have it again, she would reach for it and hold it, no matter how briefly she was allowed.
| Let me help you. You do not need to stand alone. |
And for the first time in eight hundred years, Retsu obeyed her instincts, unsealing her iron cloak of serenity for just a crack, and allowing through a faint tendril of the ceaselessly questing violent desire to pass into the forefront of her soul. The enervating dark reverie receded with slow reluctance from her mind, leaving behind an intoxicating fog that fused with her mantle of calm, elevating her into a new height of placidity which simmered with an equal readiness to strike. Then a tingle prickled the edge of her senses.
She raised her head.
There was still no one present in the passage. Quiet hushed the corridor.
As she waited, the carefully hidden reiatsu uncurled minutely in clear invitation, its underlying signature whimsical and observant.
It belonged to a reiryoku she had not sensed in a hundred years.
With her new state of being, she uncurled her reiatsu and gently touched a viscous drop of her acceptance on the invitation. Straightening, she composed her outward demeanour and posture, and began moving down the hallway, completing the familiar route until she stopped at the door of her private clinic.
Gathering herself, she turned the knob and entered without knocking.
A dark-skinned woman stood waiting for her at the back of the room, a small glass container of herbs in one hand, the door of a particular wall cabinet left ajar behind her. Golden eyes glowed as a slow, half smile curled a pair of lips that always wore a hint of mischief.
“Retsu-sama,” greeted Shihouin Yoruichi, the ringing timbre of her purring alto sounding exactly like it had a hundred years ago.
# # # # # #
Shutting the door behind her, Retsu turned and took a few steps into the room, coming to a pause before the woman with whom she had once shared a warrior sisterhood, absently noting that the woman had located without aid the special cabinet where she kept all her remedies for every taichou.
Women occupied very few leadership positions in the Gotei, and they had been the only female taichou during the centuries they had served together. It had made them unite on certain issues, such as when another female officer was nominated for promotion or commendation. Compared to Retsu’s friendship with the late great female Seventeenth Head of the Shihouin Clan, her relationship with Yoruichi had not been close, but had borne sufficient respect and sisterly enough regard that it could be called a friendship.
“Yoruichi-san,” she collected herself enough to return the greeting. Why did you disappear without a word? Did you finally decide that Kisuke meant more to you than your whimsical liaisons with one whom you should never have touched? As soon as the uncharitable thought rose Retsu quashed it. It stemmed entirely from her own unresolved resentment and had no bearing on the truth.
She searched for changes in her former colleague’s appearance but found little. Perhaps the purple hair was longer, drawn into a high voluminous ponytail, the form more svelte and softened with curves rather than lined with hard muscles, and the clothing rather strange and revealing, black and hugging her entire figure like a second skin and covered with nothing but a short orange outer garment that Retsu had no name for. But otherwise, Shihouin Yoruichi was essentially still the same.
Or perhaps not quite the same, Retsu mentally amended. There was a new depth in those golden eyes which made her wonder what they had seen in the last century.
“That was impressive, performing jinzen while doing your rounds,” complimented her visitor with open admiration. “I was surprised I could sense you until I realised you were speaking with your zanpakutou. Otherwise all you elders are just invisible to the likes of us until you physically appear.”
“It was nothing,” Retsu demurred. Then with genuine sincerity, she asked, “How have you been?”
“Never been better,” purred the woman with a full open smile. “Living as a soul among humans for a hundred years opened my eyes in ways I never expected.”
“Kurosaki-san and his friends mentioned you are living with Urahara-san. How is he? He took a great risk aiding them to come here.”
“These days Kisuke likes to call himself a plain old candy store owner and a mere honest, handsome and perverted businessman. His words, not mine. As for me, I mainly live in the cat tree in his bedroom.” She tugged at the collar of her orange outer garment with a slight grimace. “I’ve forgotten how restrictive clothing are. Most of the time I forget to put them on when I leave my cat form.”
Retsu raised her eyebrows. “Do you walk around his bedroom naked?”
“Only when I’m in the mood to entice him into a romp.”
The blunt confession shocked her. Her reaction must have been transparent for it drew a throaty burst of laughter from the dark-skinned woman.
“I’ve forgotten how old fashioned you elders are!” chortled Yoruichi with what Retsu thought was a subtle disparagement, if she were to be petty. Subsiding, her former colleague added with a roguish glint, “I spend most of my time as a cat because wearing no clothes is extremely freeing. A perfect cure for the suffocating strictures of perceptions and propriety around here, don’t you think?”
“Soul Society was not always this steeped in traditions,” Retsu reminded.
“Ai, yes. And it takes an elder to remind me of my history lessons,” grinned Yoruichi. Then abruptly falling into a sombre mood, she said, “I warned Kisuke that if Ichigo failed and got himself and his friends killed, the Central Forty-Six will no longer turn a blind eye to allowing him to retain his powers. He’ll be persecuted to the letter of the edict if the kids make a big mess here and still failed, and not even Genji-sama then will be able to help him. But he never listened to me. This is why I decided to reveal my location finally and came along on this mission. I had to prevent the kids from getting themselves killed and failing in what they came here to do.”
“They succeeded spectacularly,” Retsu commended, then added, “Even if they did cause an uproar.” Finally regaining her usual degree of inner equanimity, she allowed a small smile. “But all that is well ended well. They had good and pure intentions and because of that they found like-minded allies in the Gotei. I noticed a black cat prowling the rooftops opposite the mess hall. As did Kyouraku and Jyuushirou-kun. We wondered why you did not join our evening repast. The Thirteenth’s kitchens pulled out all stops to impress their taichou and his guests. You missed a veritable feast.”
“Believe me, I was sorely tempted!” Yoruichi gave a lusty sigh. “You won’t believe how much more heavenly the aroma of great food smells to a cat’s nose. And the size of the spread! It seems the Thirteenth's kitchens still keep a fearsome reputation for their culinary feats.” She laughed her throaty laugh, then her mirth quickly simmered into a glint in her golden eyes. “I didn’t join you because I wanted to observe Ichigo. I need to know how he’ll behave towards shinigami after they stop trying to kill him. Genji-sama is wise to assign Ukitake this task. There is no other taichou or division who will be this open or as warm and welcoming without challenging him to a fight. And I noticed Ichigo seems to be developing a case of hero worship for Ukitake. Poor Orihime. Poor Uryuu.” She laughed again. “A teenage love triangle seems to have grown right under my nose on this mission.”
“Teen-age?” The term was unfamiliar to Retsu.
“Youths,” Yoruichi supplied with a grin. “A term I picked up from humans for children their age.”
“Like they name the Denreishinki a Soul Phone?”
“Exactly,” laughed Yoruichi again. “Simple and inventive, don’t you think?”
“I think there are many other simpler solutions we can pick up from humans,” Retsu opined, reflecting on the century of unnecessary sleight of hand and machinations that had went into engineering Kuchiki Rukia’s execution by the Soukyoku. If Aizen wanted the power of the Hougyoku, he had certainly chosen a roundabout way of obtaining it.
“To the point as ever, Retsu-sama,” observed Yoruichi.
Retsu inclined her head in acknowledgement. “I am a healer. My job involves saving lives. When a shinigami is about to die, I have no time for layered dialogue.” Then she gestured at the jar of herbs in Yoruichi’s hand. “That is a fresh batch of recovery tonic for wounds inflicted by the poison of a very specific bee. Are you well?”
“Ai, Soi Fon,” sighed Yoruichi with some exasperation, looking at the jar in her hand. “She insists that I take it. But otherwise I am well, thank you for asking.”
“Your sudden reappearance must have thrown Soi Fon Taichou for quite the loop.”
Yoruichi began tossing the small jar from hand to hand in a heart-stopping juggle. “She’s still as extreme and unbending as ever. Nothing has changed for her. Everything is still black or white. Her loyalty is priceless, but I doubt she’ll ever learn the colours of grey. As a pair, the combination of Genji-sama and Soi Fon will probably end up allowing a repeat of this whole sorry episode at a date very near in the future.” She stopped her juggling, suddenly smiling. “Fortunately, the Gotei Thirteen has never been driven by only the two of them.”
“We need temperaments like Soi Fon Taichou. There are enough greys among the rest of us to balance her.”
“Spoken like a true pillar of the Gotei Thirteen,” remarked Yoruichi with respect in her eyes. Then without preamble, she asked, “So what do you think of Kurosaki Ichigo?”
Comprehension dawned. “Your real purpose for coming here is to seek my opinion about him,” Retsu stated.
“You can say that.” Yoruichi tilted her head in an uncanny mimicry of the creature form she favoured. “I need to compare notes with high level shinigami who had come into contact with his reiryoku. I’m not going to bother asking Byakuya-bo, even though he fought Ichigo a few times. That boy is hopelessly lost in his own angst and blind to other people’s problems.”
“Is that not a little harsh?”
“I tell it like it is. And forget Zaraki, Son Fon tells me that one has zero ability to use his reiatsu for sensing. The rest Ichigo fought do not yet have the level of sensing ability to detect anything different.” Golden eyes looked at her honestly. “There are only four in the Gotei Thirteen now who can read deeply into a reiryoku. You’re one of them.”
“Why would my opinion matter?”
Yoruichi gazed at her slyly. “Answering a question with a question? You’ve been spending time with Kyouraku, it seems.”
Retsu felt a little put out by the suggestion. “That one, Yoruichi-san, will never influence me in any way.”
“Never say never, Retsu-sama. A hundred years spent in the Living World showed me that all tomorrows are unpredictable no matter how well we plan ahead.”
The words were uncharacteristically contemplative coming from a woman whom Retsu used to know as disinclined to philosophy. She looked at her former colleague with a new awareness.
“So about Ichigo…”
Retsu took a moment to organise her thoughts into clinical terms. “Kurosaki-san has a reiryoku that is hard, fierce and forceful. There is nothing soft or subtle about it. But that is typical of an aggressive type. His reiatsu signature has a frequency that reminds me of a Quincy, and there is also a tang of Hollow in it. I would fear it, if not for the familiarity of his shinigami signature. For some reason, Kurosaki-san’s reiatsu reminds me of a colleague we lost twenty years ago, Shiba Isshin Taichou. He was appointed taichou after you left, so you will not know him. If Kurosaki-san is related to Isshin-san, it will explain how his personality and appearance so resemble the late Shiba Kaien Fukutaichou. But if they are unrelated, then the only answer is there was a reincarnation of Shiba Kaien’s soul. I simply do not believe in such near coincidences to explain this in any other way.”
There was a slight awe in Yoruichi’s expression. “You detected all that from one healing session?”
“I have been healing reiryoku for a very long time, Yoruichi-san.” Then Retsu looked at her sharply. “But do not pretend. I think you already know these and only wish to have your own senses confirmed.”
Yoruichi shook her head slightly. “I wasn’t pretending. I took much longer than you to figure out that Ichigo has other powers in him besides shinigami powers, but until you just told me, I couldn’t make any connection, all his powers are so fused together I can hardly distinguish them.” She paused, tapping a finger on her chin. “When Ichigo was first introduced to me, he had a pure shinigami reiryoku and he’d learnt some fighting techniques from Rukia. He asked Kisuke to train him for this mission, but this boy isn’t someone you can teach. So Kisuke just beat him to death until he forced the kid into shikai and then sent him here. When I was healing him after his fight with Zaraki I found a broken mask in his kosode. He said it was his good luck charm but it disturbed me greatly because it looked like a fragment of a Hollow’s mask. When I used the Tenshintai to help him achieve bankai, there was another sensation in his reiatsu that sent my fur standing.” Her golden eyes looked at Retsu gratefully. “I didn’t make the connection with Quincy and Hollow powers. This is why I need an elder’s perspective.”
“I am convinced Kurosaki-san knows very little about the nature of his powers,” Retsu offered. “If Urahara-san and you wish to continue training this boy, perhaps some self-discovery lessons are in order. His heart is pure, but I have seen too many times that the road to hell is always generously paved with good intentions. It is best he knows as much about himself as possible so that he can learn to use his gifts without harming anyone.”
“I understand. You’ve given me much to think.” Yoruichi looked thoughtful.
“I would also try to get to know Ishida Uryuu better and watch him more closely,” Retsu decided to add.
“Uryuu?”
“I am sure both Urahara-san and you know Ishida-san is a Quincy. The last war with Quincies was slightly over two hundred years ago, it is not so ancient that you have forgotten.”
“Well, I can share that Uryuu tends to remind Ichigo that he’s a Quincy and therefore they’re enemies. But what should Kisuke and I be concerned about?”
“Ishida-san is a nice boy with good intentions. While I was healing him, he had no active reiryoku that I could detect, only a lingering signature that was fading very quickly. I managed to capture its essence and identify him as a Quincy before it slipped away. He knew I had caught him, but when I asked him privately, he denied he is a Quincy. I do not know his reason for his denial. His personality is closed, it is difficult to gauge his thoughts and emotions. From what I could observe of his interactions with the others, I sensed he was deliberately keeping his nature hidden. His motivations for doing this unsettle me greatly. I do not think he has bad intentions, but I fear he may keep so much to himself that he inadvertently commits great harm. And that is my fighting instincts speaking, not my healer’s heart.”
“I’ll take note of it.”
“Please make sure you do. Urahara-san as well, since he is clearly training all of them.”
“I’ll tell Kisuke.” The reply was more perfunctory than convinced.
It was clear that the new generation still had their own minds. Deciding that it was pointless to insist, Retsu turned away and walked to her instrument cabinets. There was only one piece of equipment that she truly needed, and that was the reishi sensor she had purchased from Kurotsuchi Mayuri with a full load of rare herbs flown to the Twelfth Division on Minazuki’s back. It was an elegantly simple and effective device that was activated by reiatsu but so precise that only a masterful control by the user could produce the intended results. Opening her drawers, she found its parts and began to assemble the instrument.
“Actually, I came here for another matter as well, Retsu-sama.”
“I am listening,” she answered as she worked.
There was a silence, and then tentatively, with uncharacteristic tenderness, Yoruichi said, “Ukitake… he seemed well tonight.”
Retsu momentarily stilled, then carried on with the assembly. The sensor was in two parts, the scope and its wand.
“I met him on the Senzaikyuu bridge yesterday,” Yoruichi went on, with that atypical tenderness. “Like how it’d always been with him as an elder, I still could not sense him.” Regret suddenly filled her voice. “But I never knew he could speak with such coldness.”
“That is because you have not truly fought beside him,” Retsu informed without turning.
Another silence, followed by a hesitant, “Has he… been well?”
Abruptly, a flash of anger speared through Retsu’s cloak of placidity. Unprepared for the old viciousness, she quickly collected herself and soothed the recently released part of her soul. Very carefully, she laid down the half assembled delicate instrument and turned around.
Yoruichi was gazing at her expectantly, and had they not shared the same history once, Retsu would have missed the genuine worry in the other woman’s dark-skinned features.
“Perhaps you may wish to visit Jyuushirou-kun yourself after this,” Retsu suggested neutrally.
“I intend to return to the Thirteenth. Their celebration should be over soon.”
“If you are seeking him in his private quarters there, do not bother. He moved to the Ugendou three weeks ago. I believe you know the location.”
Unbidden, memories rose of that one night which had stalled Retsu’s developing friendship with her former sister warrior. She had arrived at the Ugendou prepared to once again persuade her protégé to take the hanshi healer examinations, only to spy a black cat darting across the roof and vanishing into shunpo. Then the blinds over the pavilion entryway had rolled up, and the master of the estate had emerged, the thin front of his white nagajuban askew beneath long dishevelled white hair, his shoulders loosely draped in that old heavy quilted maroon long yukata, his colour wan from a prolonged bout, but his skin and reiatsu unmistakably scenting of recent carnal ravishment. He had greeted her but she had left quickly, and had to spend several weeks to regain her equilibrium before she could speak to him again.
She should not have been shocked or upset by the discovery, for her relationship with him was long in the past. But her soul was the worst of the desire type not given to easy forgiveness, and in her darkest most private nights she had allowed herself to feel like there had been a rape of her territory. Her silent resentment soon rose to a point when Retsu began to decline her fellow female taichou’s overtures to deepen their informal sisterhood. If Yoruichi understood she said nothing, and continued her whimsical liaisons with Jyuushirou-kun. Then a hundred years later, she disappeared without a word after Urahara’s exile and Retsu lost any opportunity to mend the bridge.
“Is he not well?” Yoruichi was asking with palpable concern.
“He has never been well in the usual definition of that word,” Retsu found herself answering with a slight waspishness, then forcibly subsided her ire. More evenly, she informed, “His last prolonged spell was when the Hollow named Metastacia took the life of Shiba Kaien Fukutaichou. Since then he has not had a relapse until a three weeks ago.”
“That’s… about thirty years.”
“Perhaps.” Retsu decided to end the cautious dancing. “What do you really wish to ask, Yoruichi-san?”
Yoruichi looked carefully at her. When she spoke, her words sounded rehearsed. “I know a long time has passed, and after what happened today, it’ll seem unimportant to you.” She took an uncharacteristic inhale as if preparing for a dreaded confrontation. “I didn’t realise I was intruding into your relationship with him. By the time I understood, it was too late and I’d hurt you. I’ve always wanted to apologise to you but I feared your reaction. We’ve a second chance now, and I want to say I’m truly sorry.”
The unexpected confession caught Retsu off guard.
Golden eyes observed her intently, then realization dawned in them. “Oh kami, I should’ve realised sooner. You still love him.”
Retsu did not deny it. But she was piqued enough to counter, “And you have ceased loving him? For however much you ever did.”
“I loved him,” Yoruichi defended, suddenly fierce. Then she softened just as quickly. “I know how it must have looked. The notorious Shihouin Yoruichi toying with a legend far above her power and playing with fire. In his case, lightning. But I loved him in my own way. And I hurt him leaving without a word.” She looked earnestly at Retsu. “My only defence is that we can’t escape our true natures. This is what makes shinigami so strong. Mine is a fickle one. And it loved his unpredictable one as much as two so different souls could ever love each other.”
Retsu realised she would have to say something. And with the centuries between them, there was no longer any point in obfuscation. “You are mistaken, Yoruichi-san. His is not an inconstant nature. We cannot understand his power by our conventional concepts. He is born with something so vast and unruly that it requires every reishi of his will every moment of his life to control it. And to do that he must have an anchor or that power will be unleashed without limits and destroy the entire realm. We were living in a tumultuous time, and during that time the true half of his soul could not be fully present for him. I was his anchor, whenever Kyouraku could not be.”
Seeing understanding begin to dawn on Yoruichi’s face, she went on. “I was indeed upset when I discovered your liaisons with him, but not for the reasons you thought. My anger is my personal issue and has nothing to do with you or him. Jyuushirou-kun is more than capable of looking after himself. Do you even understand what love means to him? You could not have possibly hurt him. Disappointed him, perhaps, but not harmed him. He correctly perceived your nature from the first day you entered the Gotei. If you felt love from him, that is because he returned your love in the same measure you gave him. You were never near enough to hurt him, because he never let his heart be near to you. That is his balance.”
“I… see.”
Does she really? Retsu questioned silently.
[Eventually she will.]
“What I had with Jyuushirou-kun was a long time ago, Yoruichi-san. Long before you were born. I always understood why he could not give me his whole heart, and I was contented with what he could. If what you offered was enough for him, then it was enough for me. I bear you no ill will.”
Yoruichi silently absorbed her words and lowered her head. “You shame me, Retsu-sama.”
“Truth hurts. But like the sting of a dagger, it passes quickly.” Retsu turned away to complete the assembly of the sensor. Absently, she added, “If you wish to see him, you may wait outside this room. I am expecting him for a medical examination.”
“Thank you.” There was a pause, then a soft clinking sound.
Curious, Retsu turned again in time to see the dark-skinned woman extract something from the cabinet which had remained opened behind her. When she turned to face Retsu again, her golden eyes were curious as she held up two delicate glass bottles, the sparkling pale blue and green liquids within contrasting like starlight against her dark hands.
“I noticed these were freshly brewed. You decided to try my recipe only after three centuries?”
A century or a more meant little to a soul who had lived for several millennia. But Retsu decided not to answer. Resting the now ready sensor on the countertop, she walked towards her former colleague, reached around her and firmly shut the cabinet door. Then very carefully she took the two bottles into her own hands. She spent a moment to look at the finely made receptacles, committing them to her memory.
Each of the glass bottle bore on its gently curved surface a delicately embossed carp leaping against a suggestion of a wave. The bottles were wrought by a long deceased master glassblower, and once upon a time, they had been quietly left as a gift on her lacquered dresser, one after another, filled with a particular blend of flower essences that she most favoured. She had ceased wearing perfume a long time ago, but had always kept these two empty bottles as mementos.
They now contained a potent medicine.
“Will they truly work?” she asked, looking up at the potions’ creator.
“If you’re asking whether it’ll work on an ordinary shinigami, I’ll say of course, and perhaps feel insulted that you even ask such a question.” Golden eyes observed her closely. “But for him, I can only advise you to try it and adjust the formula as you go along.”
Retsu gently placed the delicate bottles on the tray below the cabinet, together with other bottles of medicines. The twin glass pair glittered and sparkled like stars among the dull and muddy appearances of their neighbours.
A small trickle of a familiar reiatsu entered the periphery of her senses, like a thin stream heralding an impending ocean. Acknowledging the trickle with a viscous drop of her own reiatsu, Retsu cast a sideways look at Yoruichi and saw that her former colleague remained oblivious. As she had said, she still could not sense the elders.
She decided to ask one last question. “How did you persuade your clan to loan the shield?”
A sudden look of mischief crossed the fine dark-skinned face. “If I told you, I’ll have to kill you.”
Retsu merely waited expectantly.
Yoruichi relented with a wry grin. “I guess I owe you one. Suffice to say, my brother loves me more than I deserve and he’ll do anything I tell him to. Even after a hundred years.”
“Why did you choose Jyuushirou-kun?”
“It takes a Kidou Hanshi-Master to break the seal. But more importantly it takes one who has the knowledge to see that something was very wrong, and the courage to act alone to stop a terrible mistake which no one else was seeing.”
“He was not alone.”
“Ah, yes. Well, when it comes to that pair, convincing one is as good as convincing the other.” Yoruichi smiled wryly.
Retsu had to smile. “That often seems to be true. I assumed you have seen Yamamoto-sama to inform him of this.”
“I went to him straight. There was no way Soi Fon and I could conceal our reiatsu from Genji-sama, so I didn’t even bother.” Yoruichi suddenly smiled. “This won’t be the last time you’ll be seeing me, Retsu-sama. I’m afraid I’ve been commanded to report in regularly.”
“Unofficially, of course.”
“Of course.”
The small reiatsu stream touched Retsu again, and she returned another of her viscous drop, more of a tap this time, urging speed.
“Next time I return, perhaps I’ll bring you some of that new cosmetics that’s all the rage in the Living World,” Yoruichi was saying amiably, then suddenly her eyes whipped to the door, before whipping back to her again. “He’s coming.”
Without a word, Retsu walked towards the linen cupboard. The watery stream of reiatsu was drawing rapidly closer. Opening the cupboard doors, she began searching. She did not see many patients over six feet tall, so the hospital yukata she kept for her tall patients were easy to find. She withdrew a particular one, made with the standard light green fabric but so faded and worn over the centuries that it would be the most comfortable one on what she knew was very sensitive skin. Draping it over her arm, she closed the cupboard and turned to her visitor. “Perhaps there is one more thing I can share with you, to ease your concern. I finally convinced him to take the examinations shortly after you left. He is now formally a Hanshi Healer, even though he attained that level of skill many centuries ago. I do not know what changed his mind, I am only happy that he did.”
“That’s great!” Yoruichi’s smile this time was broad, genuinely happy. “He was already long overdue for that title when I knew him. I’m glad you persuaded him where I couldn’t.”
“His reasons for healing are very different from mine. He ends with healing the hurt, nothing more. In this aspect, Kyouraku is more similar to me even though I never taught that one anything more than field kaidou.” As the fond memory rose, she shared, “You should have seen the board of examiners during his tests. Half of them almost prostrated themselves at his feet, the other half was rushing to just give him the title and tell him to leave.”
When Yoruichi broke out laughing her trademark throaty laugh, Retsu found it in herself to join her, and realised with a start that without her conscious knowledge her own heart had forgiven her former sister-in-arms.
It was in the midst of their shared laughter and newfound camaraderie that the door opened without a knock and the tall form of Jyuushirou-kun entered, long white hair slightly windblown, skin aglow with new colour from the rich evening meal. His dark eyes, however, were expectant as they immediately latched onto Yoruichi with uncharacteristic guardedness.
# # # # # #
“Ukitake.” Yoruichi wore her infamous roguish half-smile, yet her voice held that soft tenderness that Retsu suddenly understood was reserved for Jyuushirou-kun.
“Yoruichi,” Jyuushirou-kun returned with a slight nod, his expression and his mahogany eyes calm. “I see you prefer to talk here rather than join us in the mess hall.” His manner was unusually closed, and despite the new colour in his fair skin, clear weariness lined his pale features. As he silently closed the door behind him, he cast a sideways glance to Retsu. “Senpai, I am here, as instructed.”
“Ai, I should’ve known you’d notice my spying,” exclaimed Yoruichi with mock dismay, her golden eyes showing not the slightest bit of embarrassment at being caught. “But you’re just in time, we’re just done with our girl talk.” She glanced conspiratorially at Retsu with one twinkling golden eye. Then with another of her mercurial shifts, her humour vanished and solemnly, softly, she said, “You’re looking well. I’m glad you broke the seal in time. It didn’t take up too much of your power, I hope.”
“It was not difficult,” he replied simply without answering the other half of her question. A slight crease appeared between his brows. “It is, however, unnecessarily complicated, if you do not mind me saying. I was almost late.”
Yoruichi spread her hands helplessly. “The seal is layered on generation after generation by different Kidou Masters. No one really looked at how each layer interlocks, and maintenance fell to the wayside. Maintenance has never been needed.”
“Until now.”
“Hai,” she agreed grimly. “Even the Shihouin Clan has fallen into complacency. Something I intend to correct, since Aizen is now at large.” She looked at him hopefully. “Perhaps if I asked my brother to let you have a look at it…?”
“I suppose I could assist to revise it, make it simpler with the same effect,” he said carefully.
“Then I’ll inform my brother tomorrow, many thanks.” Yoruichi clearly ignored his cautious tone. Instead, her eyes scanned him from top to toe, visibly warming and yet saddened at the same time. “It’s been too long. I’m sorry I left without a word. Seeing you again yesterday… are you angry at me?”
Despite the fresh energy in his colour, Jyuushirou-kun suddenly looked weary and his long fingers rose to massage his forehead. “Yoruichi, there is little purpose in raking up the past. Whatever that had happened before, I forgave you the moment I found your clan member in my meditation room with the shield.”
“I… thank you again.” She surveyed him, then picked up her jar of herbs and walked towards him, her steps light and stealthy as a feline.
He backed away involuntarily as she drew close, his expression and eyes holding a slight warning. Noting his unconscious reaction, Yoruichi paused and stared up at him, her golden eyes skimming over his face and hair, then tracing the silken white tresses fallen over his shoulder. Raising slim dark fingers she touched his soft strands. “You’re finally wearing it loose,” she murmured, before reaching up and gently placing her fingertips under his pale square chin. “And you’re even more beautiful than before. Maturity suits you.”
Carefully, he placed his own white fingers over her dark ones and moved her hand away from his face. “It has been a long time, Yoruichi,” he said gently, but with a note of finality.
“So it has been.” Golden eyes briefly sent Retsu a silent apology, then returned to Jyuushirou-kun. “It’s important that I hear your take on Ichigo. But not tonight. Even I can see how tired you are. I’ll find you tomorrow.” Turning back to Retsu, the former Shihouin clan head said warmly, “And I know you’ll take good care of him, Retsu-sama. Goodnight. I’ll try to drop by again before I depart for the Living World. Do think about what I can bring for you on my next trip back.” Without another word, the svelte woman left the examination room as silently and unobtrusively as the creature form she often wore.
Retsu watched her exit with mixed feelings, with not a little envy at her former colleague and sadness for herself. Despite her upbringing as a Shihouin princess, Yoruichi had never been as bound by proprieties as Retsu was, and could openly express what she felt, whenever she felt.
When the door closed, Jyuushirou-kun turned to her, perplexed. “Her next trip back?” There was a slight dread in his dark eyes.
“Yamamoto-sama wished for her to regularly report in,” Retsu explained, holding out the hospital yukata on her arm. “She seems to share my reservations about the powers of our new human allies.”
He accepted the soft garment with a rueful look. “Then I suppose Kyouraku and I will be next in her line of interrogation.” Shaking his head to himself, he moved to the corner of the room in two long strides where she kept a generic sword stand for her patients, then slid his zanpakutou from his white obi. Gently, he leaned the length of his tachi on the stand, his long fingers fondly brushing down its hilt. “I suppose you have already discussed with her?” he asked with a questioning glance.
“Yes,” Retsu confirmed. “But I prefer that you share your perspectives with her before we compare notes.”
“Or perhaps we should all compare notes together at tea with Genryuusai-sensei tomorrow evening,” he suggested.
“Good idea. That will save us precious time.” She paused, then inquired, “And I expect Yamamoto-sama will finally share with us the developments he spoke of today?”
He looked at her with uncertainty in his expression. “I hope so. It has never sat well with me to keep it from Kyouraku and you, but I am sworn to secrecy…”
“I shall ask him tomorrow if he does not share,” she assured, letting her determination show. “He commandeered your time and energies at great cost to your health for three centuries. He must have a good reason to do so.”
“Sensei had no choice, Senpai,” he sighed. “Please believe me. Kyouraku has ever always been on our case about this… because of me he has become quarrelsome with Sensei these past three hundred years. I do not wish for you to follow his path.”
She smiled comfortingly. “You must trust that I know Yamamoto-sama far better than Kyouraku does.”
His dark eyes looked at her for a heartbeat, then he smiled with contrition. “That, you do.” A flash of regret abruptly stole across his fine features. “Just now… I am sorry you had to witness Yoruichi’s forward behaviour,” he apologised softly.
“Like you said, Jyuushirou-kun, it has been a long time,” she gently dismissed the issue. “Besides, she and I reached a new understanding tonight.” Gesturing at the changing screen, she invited, “Please change, I am ready for you.”
With a last look at her, he quietly went behind the changing screen. It covered his height completely with a full foot to spare, for she had it constructed specifically to accommodate the tallest of her patients, who was Zaraki. As the soft rustle of fabric began, she turned to prepare the examination bed and monitor for him, carefully moving the reishi sensor from the countertop to the bedside cabinet and connecting it to the display above. A soft billowing sound reached her and in the reflection of the display screen, she saw his white and crimson haori fling over the top of the screen, its snowdrop emblem and characters for the number thirteen lying obliquely across the wooden slats. Then the emblem was obscured by white loops of standard issue obi.
“Ichigo-kun and his friends have decided on different independent activities tomorrow.” His voice sounded momentarily a little muffled, then a black kosode was flung over the top, over the haori. Another rustle, and a white shitagi covered the black garment. “I will have my hands full making sure they are well attended to while preparing the Senkaimon.” Finally a black hakama billowed over the top, together with a strip of black fundoshi and a pair of white tabi. “They are leaving on the morning after tomorrow.”
“So soon?” Retsu turned.
Jyuushirou-kun emerged from behind the screen, wrapped in the light green hospital yukata, its belt tied low on his waist, its lapels parted loosely halfway down his chest. His long white hair was tousled messily over his shoulders, the dent between his clavicles and the defined cleft between his pectorals peeking from beneath silken tangles. His long narrow feet were bare according to hospital examination room regulations.
“It has something to do with a slight time distortion in the Dangai.” Faint bluish veins flexed on the high pale arches of his feet as he walked towards the examination bed. “I estimate that for them, almost a month has passed since they left home. They miss it and wish to return. Something about a summer break being almost over. I eventually understood they meant their summer school vacation.”
“Such different terms they use,” Retsu mused. “I suppose Yoruichi will leave with them.”
“Yes, she will.” He sat on the examination bed, his long legs draping down and his feet resting on the floor when most patients would be dangling their feet in the air. “I should have known she was living with Kisuke in Karakura Town,” he said quietly, looking absently at the reishi sensor.
Retsu decided to allow him a private moment and busied herself with switching on the reishi sensor and the monitor display. The screen flickered blue and then showed a blurry image akin to what the eyes would perceive when looking at something too closely. Then she turned to her last patient of the day.
He was lost in thoughts, his dark eyes distant. Wordlessly, she held the front of his yukata and began pushing the fabric apart, her gentle ministrations startling him. His gaze refocused, and cooperatively, he shrugged slightly to aid her as she slid the soft fabric across his alabaster chest and down the wide sloping slant of his slender shoulders. The robe whispered down his supple biceps to pool around his elbows, its soft folds covering his hands. With feather light touches, she brushed the lustrous lengths of his mussed hair over his shoulders so that she could have an unobstructed view of his torso, and as she did so her eyes reflexively fell upon the faint, thin scar that ran vertically from the cleft between his firm pectorals down the fine supple line of his abdominal muscles, ending a palm’s width above the small indent of his light coloured navel. Her mind flashed to the old terrifying memory of a thin pale comatose thirteen-year-old bleeding on her makeshift pallet as she desperately saved his life in a camp within a derelict shrine. Involuntarily, her hand followed her memory and her fingertips traced the scar from his chest to his navel.
His larger, paler hand rose and covered hers, gently holding her fingers against his chest. His skin was a warm silk, gently rising and falling with his respirations. When she looked up, she saw understanding and gratitude in his dark eyes. After two thousand years, words were often unnecessary between them, her light touch over his old scar telling him that she was remembering that long ago dark night, and his comforting hand over hers informing her in turn that he knew and appreciated.
A part of her would always regard him as that ill vulnerable youth. Perhaps it was Yoruichi’s influence, or perhaps it was Retsu’s own new heightened state of being, for she found herself giving in to physical temptation for the first time in ten centuries, raising her other hand and cupping her fingers and palm over one side of his fine angular face, cradling his high cheekbone and clean, defined jawline, her thumb stroking the silky softness of his hairless skin as her eyes traced his adult features.
Surprised, he momentarily allowed her touch, unresisting as she stroked her thumb over the pale pink of his finely sculpted lips.
She had missed seeing the minute changes Yoruichi noticed, simply because Retsu saw him almost every day.
He truly had become even more beautiful with maturity. Still the gentle poetic scholar and elegant warrior he always was, his classical delicate masculinity now wore a quiet nobility and vulnerable strength. His skin was still incredibly fine and smooth, still completely unmarred and unblemished after all this time, soft and tender as a toddler’s as though arrested in its development while the rest of him aged. Yet it was his eyes which had changed the most; they were still the same dark mahogany but now imbued with the deep light of millennia of knowledge and experience, framed beneath long black lashes and long black brows that arched into his temples.
“When one becomes a sensei for a day, one becomes a parent for life,” she echoed his earlier words of that day and, not for the first time, gently told him, “Though you still test my control to merely remain as your parent, Jyuushirou-kun.”
And as he had always responded to her intimate regard ever since they parted, he wordlessly held her gaze with an old gentle love and a deep apology.
She gently released his face, stroking a finger down his straight patrician nose once. Then pulling her hand from his chest, she withdrew completely. Saying nothing more, she gathered the soft folds of the robe about his waist and with a gentle tug, opened the yukata the rest of the way. The robe fell down low, exposing his tapering torso to his narrow hip bones.
Her eyes immediately rested on the wide swathe of fading yellow discolouring his right side from beneath his right pectoral to above his right hip. The bruising was already rapidly vanishing into the creamy alabaster of his skin, at a speed that told her it would be gone by the morning. But there was a distinct handprint spanning his lower liver and right kidney that exactly matched the size and shape of Yamamoto-sama’s left hand.
The position of the handprint suddenly roused a streak of anger in her, and immediately, a strong suspicion arose.
Without immediate surgery, a ruptured liver would cause immediate toxicity and result in an agonising death from internal exsanguination. If further stressed by a ruptured kidney, immediate coma would result from instant toxic shock. This was basic biology knowledge that accompanied all kaidou lessons, Yamamoto-sama knew this, and Jyuushirou-kun had no excuse at all not to have a deep understanding of it.
The blow should have immediately incapacitated him. Yet he had continued to fight alongside Kyouraku as their sensei prolonged their entanglement, left the battle under his own power, and then stood for hours until Yamamoto-sama healed him with his fiery brand of treatment.
“Hold still,” she ordered. Reaching for the reishi sensor, she picked up its wand and held it over the top edge of the bruise. Unfurling a little reiatsu into the contact pads of the wand handle, the instrument began to glow white and softly hum. As she slowly moved the wand down the bruise towards his right hip, she sent her reiatsu into the wand with a fine control, feeling the instrument shape and deliver her reiryoku into his torso in a hairline thin penetrating field. Upon contact with the reishi of his body, the field stimulated his internal organs and immediately their live images flickered on the display monitor. Watching the screen, Retsu slowly passed the wand downwards, her eyes observing every detail of his liver and right kidney, then his other organs, seeing only normality. There was not a single contusion, no sign of any haemorrhage, much less any rupture. The only damage revealed were a few freshly healed hairline cracks on his lowest two right ribs. Passing the wand over him once more while keenly studying the live images, and again finding no sign of damage, she switched off the instrument and laid it aside.
Facing him, she raised both palms and channelling her reiryoku, summoned the highest level of invasive scanning spell, then without warning, plunged it into his diaphragm.
His reiatsu rose in instinctive defence. At her quelling look, he willed it down to let her enter.
Immediately, she sensed his reiryoku, its unique undulating frequency ebbing and flowing at slightly below his normal resting rate, its strength noticeably replenished with the aid of the restoring spell she had implanted earlier and the nourishing evening meal he had partaken. He would be returned to full strength by the morning. There was a lingering burning trace of the reiatsu signature of Yamamoto-sama which would soon be gone. Otherwise, the familiar waves and currents of his reiryoku heaved with depthless power and brought a salty ozone tang to her tongue and breath, as familiar to her as her own power. And beneath, she could feel a black formless force roiling deep within his chest cavity in tandem with his natural force, silent, secret, concealed to all except the most invasive kaidou scans, and utterly inexplicable.
She faded her spell and stepped back, folding her hands into her sleeves and trained her gaze steadily on him.
“There is no damage,” she calmly pronounced. “Yamamoto-sama fractured two of your lowest right ribs, but he healed them. The bruising will disappear by the morning, even now they already look paler. But, Jyuushirou-kun, you knew all these already.”
Jyuushirou-kun nodded in concurrence with her assessment, his dark eyes cautious.
“That blow should have ruptured your liver and kidney and crippled you instantly. Kyouraku should have been bringing you to me in a panic, or sustain heavy injuries himself protecting you from Yamamoto-sama. Yet both of you emerged with only a scratch each and in your case, with merely that bruise and two cracked ribs in addition.”
“I was prepared. I repelled the blow with my reiatsu. Besides, Genryuusai-sensei was delaying.”
She nodded. “These are all logical and reasonable explanations. However, you forget one important thing.” She paused, searching for a new approach to broach the millennia old issue standing unresolved between them. Finally, she decided to steal two techniques she had often observed him employ with great success. “I have healed you, cared for you, taught you, loved you, and be your friend, family and lover in the two thousand years we have known each other. I have seen and been intimate with every part of you. Therefore I am absolutely correct when I say that since the day Yamamoto-sama found you, he had never intentionally inflicted on you any injury more severe than a light bruise or cut. He treats you with a delicacy that he never shows to any other. Yet today he delivered a blow that by all logic, should have crippled you but it did not, yet neither was he in a hurry to heal you. On the contrary, he was so confident that you would not be seriously injured and would last until his final reckoning, that if I had not asked Isane to announce Aizen’s betrayal to all, the battle between the three of you would have continued at Yamamoto-sama’s leisure and perhaps, even until now.”
He listened intently as she spoke, his dark eyes calm as he appeared to be following her reasoning.
“Yamamoto-sama’s extreme confidence in your ability to remain largely unscathed by such a blow tells me that he knew you had the power to counter it. However, the last time I checked, his power is so far above yours that a blow from him that leaves behind a handprint like that cannot possibly leave your organs intact. Yet it has.” She paused, then concluded. “There is something else inside you protecting you, as I have always suspected. I now have irrefutable proof.”
A defensive expression began to cross his face as he involuntarily gathered the robes up to cover himself, unconsciously wishing to hide his injury from her scrutiny.
Retsu gazed at him neutrally, then moved around the examination bed, reaching the countertop where the tray of medicines was resting. Gently, carefully, she picked up the two delicate bottles of the Shihouin potions. Returning to stand before him, she quietly held out the small twin carafes.
His dark eyes lit with immediate recognition when he saw them, instantly dissolving his defensiveness. Carefully, he accepted the sparkling bottles as she placed them in his larger palms. They were small in his long narrow hands as he gently rolled them with curiosity, sending the glass softly clinking as the clear pale blue and pale green liquids produced gaseous bubbles with the small movements such that they looked like liquid starlight rolling on his pale palms.
Allowing her emotions to seep into her words, she allowed her voice to descend into the intimate tone she once used when she was still sharing his bed. “I know how much you hate having to leave your division quarters for extended periods.” Lightly, she stroked each finely embossed carp with her fingertip. “Begin with one dose every night. Put one drop from each bottle into a teapot of fresh spring water, boil it, and drink the whole pot before you sleep. After one month, reduce to one dose every two nights. After the next month, one dose every three nights. And so on. You may dilute its taste with honey if you wish. Record your symptoms as you progress. When you have consumed three-quarters of each bottle, come see me and we shall study the effects together. If need be, I will adjust the recipe for the new batch.”
“What are they?” His voice was slightly choked.
“Yoruichi’s recipe. She shared them with me three centuries before. I never attempted to try them until three weeks ago.”
“Yoruichi? Three weeks ago…” He trailed off as he looked up at her, realisation in his expression as he connected the timeframe with his move back to the Ugendou.
“You have not had a prolonged spell for three decades. Being struck down again after such a long healthy reprieve must have been difficult to accept. It prompted me to try something new,” she explained.
Nodding, he carefully placed the bottles on the bedside countertop and without looking at her, commented, “You kept the bottles.”
“I cherished them greatly,” she confessed.
“But it has been a thousand years,” he whispered, his voice low, humbled, awed, and audibly moved.
It was the opening she was waiting for. Reaching out, she gently took his chin and turned his face towards her. His dark eyes were deep with remembered emotions, his angular beautiful face bearing a solemn fragility that stole her breath. She wondered if Yoruichi had noticed this too, or if he only let down his guard and allowed Retsu to see this aspect of him when they were alone.
“I never stopped loving you, no kimi,” she murmured the confession for the first time since they parted ways, using her private address for him. “I think you know that, though we never spoke of it. I am beseeching you now out of my love for you. There is a power within you, beneath your own vast power, and it has always obstructed all my attempts to heal you of your lung disease. I have always respected your wish that I do not know of this alien power. It hurts me, but I never pursued you for the truth because that is what you wish. But tonight, my soul is reawakened. There is a foreboding in the air, and I know you sense this too. You sense such things far more acutely than any of us. A terrible storm is coming that we do not yet know of. We nearly lost you a thousand years ago, because I did not know how to save you. If you ever loved me at all, please do not keep me in the dark any longer. I fear something even worse awaits us and I need to know how to treat you should you fall into injuries or worse.”
His eyes darkened with guilt. “Senpai, I-”
She pressed her fingertips over his mouth, silencing the rest of his words. He stilled for a heartbeat, then as he always had, quietly submitted beneath her physical touch. Yet his eyes remained wide with something broken and fearful. His lips beneath her fingers were a soft fine velvet, warm with his breaths. She longed to taste him, to relive what she used to have, but despite her yearning and new resolution to seize whichever opportunity that came, she remembered the wordless old gentle love and deep apology in his dark eyes that said everything he could not.
And she realised, to the reishi of her very bones, that she no longer had a place to lay any claim on him.
He was no longer a young soul, bereft from the loss of his other half of his heart. He had attained a legendary status through his own hard work and sacrifice, and had gone on to instruct and groom some of the finest shinigami the Gotei had ever seen. He was still gentle, still giving, still submissive to her, but there was an oldness in him now, and a bleak hardness.
Removing her hand, she stepped back from him, and willing a finality to her extremities, turned to the bedside table and began turning off the machines and putting things away.
“It is late,” she told him softly. “Please rest. Kyouraku must be getting impatient.”
There was a silence from him, then a soft rustle of fabric as he stood, and a soft clinking as he gathered up the twin bottles of potions. With barely audible footsteps, he walked away to the changing screen.
Retsu listened to the soft sounds of fabric as he redressed, her movements sure and unerring out of long practice as she tidied up and returned the sensor back to its disassembled state in its drawer. Shortly after, she heard the slightly brushing steps of waraji shoed feet, the sound of a long sheath sliding into an obi, and the click of the door opening. There was a pause, and then softly, he said, “Goodnight, Senpai. I will think on your words.”
In reply, she nodded, not turning as she heard him leave and quietly shut the door behind him.
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Tonight the moon was a perfectly round silver disc descending into the western night sky. Its light was brilliant, a white that bleached all colour from the Seireitei save for dark shades and shadows. Minazuki yearned restlessly from her bedroom behind her, where she had lain it next to her bed. It had gone strangely silent, and she knew she would need to go into a proper jinzen as soon as possible to speak with her zanpakutou.
The hope of finally receiving the truth lit like a slowly brightening light at the end of a two thousand year long tunnel. She felt an internal seal begin to peel aside. Once, a thousand years ago, a moonlit night like this would lure her to a pavilion lake house in the middle of a small mirror smooth bed where she would spend the night in dark silk sheets entwined with a pale elegant body gilded with nothing but their sweat and his soft peony musk and gleaming mass of silken white hair. Those nights were long past, leaving her only with memories undimmed by time.
And she understood, as the moon lowered towards the western horizon, that while memories were often tempting, and the recollections of the flesh and senses always irresistible, souls changed. Even elder souls as long lived as theirs. What they had, was what they had. To have it again, would not be the same.
Panicked thudding footfalls interrupted her reverie. Isane appeared around the column of her verandah, dishevelled, eyes haunted. She looked towards Retsu beseechingly.
Wordlessly, Retsu shifted her cup of still warm tea to the space next to her. She returned her gaze to the moon as Isane settled down quietly beside her, her nerves starting to settle almost audibly as she sipped the comforting brew to chase away the last vestiges of her strange nightmare.
More memories flowed across Retsu’s soul, vivid, well-loved memories of dark still youthful mahogany eyes fluttering closed with passion, of soft peony masculine musk lingering on her breaths, of long silken white hair trailing upon silken white skin, and she revelled in discreet joy as she watched them merge into the luminescence of the moon.
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END PART 2 OF 'IN ALL, BUT BLOOD'