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One thousand years of managing a chronic illness had the patterns of Ukitake’s health woven into the daily affairs of the thirteenth division to the point it was as natural as the changing seasons. It was so familiar a pattern and managed for so long that a sudden hospitalisation of their esteemed captain was a shocking and grave concern. This unusual news set everybody’s gut churning and heard worried whispers flitting up and down the corridors of the barracks of not just the thirteenth but other sympathetic divisions too.
It was therefore difficult for Kuchiki Rukia to reconcile her feelings of worry and dread with the picture of a captain in perfect health when she went to attend him in his hospital bed.
“Sir, I do not quite comprehend… what has happened, exactly?”
Seated by Ukitake was, to nobody’s surprise, the captain of the eight division. Hunched and almost cocooned in his wrinkled haori, he’d evidently been in bedside attendance for many hours. The foul expression on his face intensified on hearing again Ukitake’s description of his ailment, said in a hushed and anxious voice.
“I understand it might be difficult to hear, Kuchiki. I still do not quite comprehend it myself and cannot explain it. I will repeat myself nevertheless; I have been… Facetuned.”
With a tremulous sigh, Ukitake gestured to a device that sat perched in a biohazard tray on a table by his bed, half a dozen paper ofuda haphazardly slapped over the table and the device shimmering with some kind of sealing spell. Kuchiki recognised it as the latest model of a mobile device that Ichigo had donated, unable to bear any longer the monotonic shrills of the few models of the ancient Nokia 3310 in use around Soul Society (and despite having been unable to confirm for himself the rumors that the brick of a phone was the one thing in the world Zaraki Kenpachi had been unable to cut).
Ichigo had donated a modern cellphone with a front facing camera. Photographic technology had existed in Soul Society since the invention of the pinhole camera, but nothing quite like this had been observed before. Certainly, it did not appear to be understood by those who had come into possession of it as it changed hands throughout soul society, judging by the sheer volume of blurred pictures of sky, ground and people in the camera roll, interspersed with the occasional picture of a penis.
Kuchiki winced, and Ukitake found himself urgently obliged to point out that this was not the cause of the issue, nor was he responsible for any of said content… no, his situation was far graver.
With the pitiable air of a man trying to be optimistic in the face of a terminal diagnosis, he explained his condition.
“My soul has been stolen. Or at least, somehow this thing has learned how to steal my spirit. I was interacting with this device, taking some pictures of the sakura trees, and all of a sudden I could see myself reflected back in it. But it was not me, as I know myself to be.”
An unfortunate digestive sound emanated from Kyouraku’s vicinity, as if literally unable to stomach hearing the story once more.
“I was… smooth, and glassy-eyed and thin, and my chin had all but disappeared… I would guess that it was some kind of demon poorly wearing my identity, but it matched me motion for motion in a way no demon could! It was almost inhuman, Kuchiki, an unreal version of me. The closer I looked at it, the closer it came so I sealed immediately but not before I fear it had started to leech my reiatsu…”
Ukitake smiled wanly. “I’m afraid it may only be a matter of time before I am stolen completely.”
“Kuchiki,” Kyouraku growled, in a tone that was rarely heard directed towards a young woman, “You’re familiar with the human world. You are acquainted with Modernity. Tell me, could this device possibly be linked to the legend of… the Book of Faces?”
Kuchiki met Kyouraku’s stare with a bright and serious gaze.
“With the mightiest of respect sir, the Book of Faces is not a legend. It is very real.”
Her confidence wavered a little with a glance towards the device, but she was determined not to disappoint her respected seniors and was willing to share all she knew.
“Faces are collected all over the country by devices like these. I understand that the Faces can even be exchanged, and uh…”
Ichigo had mentioned something about it once but she’d been too distracted by the myriad of other fascinations in the human world, namely chewing gum and Tic Tacs. She carried on bravely.
“Faces are captured and stored, and I hear one can even… poke them I think, one can add them to a collection…”
Ukitake went as pale as his freshly laundered hospital socks. “My face has been stolen?”
Kuchiki wished she had paid closer attention to Ichigo’s discussions of technology. She couldn’t be blamed. Some boxes of tic tacs had two flavours inside, yet both pills were white so you couldn’t tell the difference until you tasted it! It was a hilarious way to make candy.
“Poked?” Ukitake was caught in his own feverish imagination. “Poked and prodded, like a science experiment? I heard a rumour it could do Thumbsing Up, tell me, what does that mean?
“Who is responsible?!” Roared Kyouraku, unable to stay seated any longer. “Who is the master of the Book of Faces and how do I retrieve Ukitake’s spirit? Answer me, Kuchiki!”
It was never a pleasant experience being in the vicinity of an enraged captain and Kuchiki took a few steps backwards, stammering her answer and wracking her brains as hard as she could.
“I think… I think… I understand the person responsible is but a single man, and I even hear rumours of a bankai…”
“A human with a bankai?” Murmured Ukitake, gripping his heat pillow, “This bodes ill, very ill...”
“I do not understand it!” Cried Kuchiki, “but it is the only way to explain what they say of his powers! They say he knows everything about you. He does not even have to lay eyes on you, but once your face is in the Book he knows your name, the street where you first lived, the name of your first pet…”
“And what of his name?” It was easy to forget how terrifying the captain of the eighth division could be, his features looking wholly different when coloured with the desire for slaughter.
“M..Mark…” Kuchiki stammered, praying to whatever deities might hear she had the name right. “Mark Zuckybarg.”
“An Arrancar?” Ukitake asked sharply.
“From a worse caste I hear, Sir,” She replied, “If only for their rumoured defects of personality. He is… a Sofftwore Developer.”
The whole affair ultimately went down very quietly, the records of the Central 46 noting the mobilisation of the second, eighth, eleventh and thirteenth divisions and aborted invasion of Silicon Valley as a ‘training exercise’ with a single casualty and a formal reprimand for failing to pursue the appropriate authorisations under the legislative procedures of the judiciary.
The single casualty was one Juuishirou Ukitake, prescribed two weeks bedrest after the incident was investigated by Urahara Kisuke. Appearing after an emergency summons to Ukitake’s bedside, Urahara had asked for a demonstration of the precise sequence of events. With a trembling finger and furrowed brow of concentration, Ukitake unsealed the phone and attempted to perform the same sequence of actions but not after opening and closing five applications, accidentally making a calendar entry and turning off Bluetooth.
Despite this ineptitude, it soon became evident that he had been the first of soul society to work out how to reverse the camera and Urahara was presented with what would have been a nice series of accidental selfies of the Captain but for the terror in his eyes and the liberal amount of filtering that seemed to have occurred automatically and smoothed out his features to a hyperrealistic degree.
Unfortunately the captain’s natural anxious tendencies weren’t soothed after Urahara was able to demonstrate for him his appearance in-camera without a filter, pores, wrinkles and all. Cries of “Now he has stolen my life force!” saw the phone banned from the hospital, conveniently for Urahara who had been desperately wanting the latest in the Galaxy S series, and found himself not only in possession of a new bit of kit but a repository of data to support his theories that there was an inverse relationship between the potency of one’s reiatsu and asymmetry of the testicles.