Post by Knowledge on Apr 5, 2013 6:17:22 GMT -5
ASK NO QUESTIONS
It smells like it’s just rained, that fresh, warm summer rain smell. I’m in a dark room, the only light coming from an old television set in the corner. Dead channel: just static. The volume is turned down low, but I can still hear it, and it irritates me. The only other furniture in the room consists of three large armchairs—the high-backed and winged kind—and a lopsided coffee table that hasn’t been used in years by the look of it. They’re all facing away from the television for some reason. I look up, and there’s nothing but black: somehow I know it’s not the ceiling I’m looking at, but the sky. Starless, moonless, cloudless, but the sky all the same.
I’m not alone; the chairs have inhabitants. Their upper bodies are hidden by the dark, but I can tell that the two people on either side are women. Their bare legs are showing, and both pairs are unmistakably feminine. The one in the center is wearing pants, but I’m fairly certain it’s a man from the way he’s sitting. I can’t be sure in this light, but I think those are grey suit trousers.
All three are barefoot.
‘Please state your name for the record.’
It had only been a few days since Kyousuke had last visited the Third; he had left Mitsutaka there for them to patch up, and then he had stayed away. He had managed to make it through the invasion unscathed thanks to Arianna de Luca’s aid, and when he had been reunited with Kiriko after he had seen Tova impaled on Hikari Miyazaki’s blade, he had almost been surprised to see something that reminded him of relief in her eyes. There had been no such look in Cho-Ah Amai’s eyes when she had seen the state Mitsutaka was in.
‘Kyousuke Tsukimiya,’ he responded flatly.
He hadn’t needed medical attention then and he certainly didn’t need it now; this all seemed like a gigantic waste of the Third’s time. A postwar psychiatric evaluation? Really? He was an assassin, and they were giving him therapy? It seemed like some sort of sick joke, and Kyousuke didn’t find it funny. He had been back and forth between Las Noches and Seireitei too many times to keep track of since the invasion had reached its conclusion, and quite frankly, Kyousuke was exhausted. The war itself had been easier than what came after it, and as he had soaked in his morning bath that day, he had found himself pitying whoever it was that would be given the dubious honor of overseeing the occupation.
It only stood to reason, really, that the very first thing Kiriko did when he got out, hair still damp, was hand him a message that had come for him from the king.
As it turned out, Kyousuke had inadvertently tried self-pity for the very first time that morning. Wonderful, he had thought to himself as he had handed it back to Kiriko without a word. Promotion to Occupation Commander.
‘And your title?’
He looked down at his chest. Today he had worn the haori, but it was still in bad shape from the burn it had received. He had later found out that the Espada—the Primera, apparently—had opened a Garganta to the planet’s core in a desperate attempt to kill Mitsutaka. It explained the heat, it explained the light. What it didn’t explain was the almost pathological desire to self-destruct that some of the Espada had exhibited during the invasion. Were they really so eager to die for their cause? Did they even have a cause? Kyousuke was unsure.
‘Captain. Second Division.’
‘Thank you.’ Silence. Kyousuke looked at the woman sitting across from him as she noted something down on a pad of paper. Non-combat personnel, he surmised, from the fact that she was wearing lipstick and small pearl earrings. Discreet, sure, but jewelry and makeup wasn’t something you’d find on a soldier. The eyes behind her slim reading glasses were a brilliant emerald green, her hair a curiously dark blonde that looked almost like burnished brass, held up in a loose bun by five oversized needles jutting out haphazardly. She wasn’t exactly what Kyousuke considered his type, but she was far from unattractive, and something about the way she held herself suggested she was well aware of it but simply chose not to flaunt it.
She seemed to make a few finishing touches to whatever it was she was writing, then set her pen down gently and looked up at him. For a split second, she seemed almost taken aback at the piercing gaze Kyousuke was leveling at her, but she smoothly recovered.
‘Captain Tsukimiya, the reason you’ve been sent to see me is so that I may conduct an evaluation of your suitability for the position of Occupation Commander of Hueco Mundo. You’ve recently seen combat—’
Kyousuke snorted, but she paid him no heed.
‘—and both the King and the Captain-Commander have therefore seen fit to have you examined for signs of psychological trauma.’
Kyousuke doubted Mitsutaka was involved, but the entire situation certainly had Gilgamesh written all over it. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that Kyousuke, just like everyone else in Soul Society and now Hueco Mundo, was nothing more than the Golden King’s property. Kyousuke, however, didn’t need to be reminded. He was fully aware of his situation.
There’s a remote control on the table and I reach for it. The static from the television is getting under my skin and I have a sudden urge to simply walk up to it and smash it, but somehow I resist. Instinctively, perhaps, I realize that I would not be able to. I push the buttons on the remote but it achieves nothing. The static continues uninterrupted.
One of the armchairs’ occupants speaks. It’s the leftmost one, one of the women. She’s bathed in a ruddy orange spotlight, and I look up and see the source: the moon has appeared, and it’s the color of glowing coal.
‘That won’t work yet,’ she says, a wistful smile on her face. She’s pretty, in a cute way: long dark hair, emotive eyes and a petite figure. She’s wearing a mid-length black dress, but it doesn’t quite suit her; nor does it do a very good job of accentuating her petite frame. One foot is elegantly tucked behind the other, and she’s sitting up straight. Honey.
‘Still got quite a way to go,’ says the woman on the right, and the one on the left is plunged into darkness again. Now the moon’s a bright, icy blue and the spotlight is the same shade, this time revealing a taller, almost statuesque woman. She’s beautiful: pale, silvery hair, refined features, and a tasteful amount of curvature. She’s wearing a white dress that’s showing just the right amount of skin, and she looks as though she was born to wear it. Her legs are crossed and she’s lounging. Cyanide.
Her moon is extinguished when I ask why I’m here.
The figure in the middle replies. His voice—it was a man after all—sounds familiar, but I can’t seem to place it. The sky remains dark, and his face remains hidden in the shadows.
‘You’re being evaluated, remember?’
The woman adjusted her glasses, her brown eyes flaring, and continued. ‘You’ve earned yourself quite the nickname in the past week. People are beginning to refer to you as the Swordbreaker. What can you tell me about that?’
Kyousuke’s expression soured. It had been a brief but bloody battle—he had taken more than his fair share of lives that day—but the prize had been the two odd numbers that he had extinguished, numbers Nine and Seven. The lives of the Noveno and Séptima Espada had flared briefly and then been snuffed out like matches. Kyousuke had been there for the Primera’s demise, too, and he had seen the Quinta flee. And those were just the Espada: the countless Números that had fallen to his blade and fists had met extremely violent ends.
‘I have a name, I’d prefer it if people used it,’ he replied. As far as a nom de guerre went, it wasn’t bad, but it was far from an inspirational name. Jasper Aizawa had earned himself such a name—Lightbringer—and Kyousuke had to admit that it suited him, even if it sounded naïve. Gilgamesh’s lieutenant had died to Aizawa, and it had been one of the small victories the Resistance had won that day. One of the few victories.
‘You don’t like your nickname, Captain? You’ve certainly earned it.’ A curious glance.
‘It’s unnecessary attention, Ayumi, that’s all. I simply did what I was expected to do.’ He met her gaze and smiled despite himself, despite his mood. She returned the smile, and Kyousuke found himself wondering if it was genuine or simply politeness—he couldn’t quite tell which. He couldn’t say which he had preferred, either—once upon a time he wouldn’t have cared but now something was different. He wanted to garner a response. Or did he?
The moment passed, and the woman cleared her throat and glanced down at her pad. Another question. ‘So, Captain. What can you tell me about what it is you do in the Second Division?’
Kyousuke paused. The official stance was always to deny everything. If asked, lie. Never admit to anything openly. As far as the rest of Seireitei were concerned, they were simply elite soldiers, a specially-trained version of the Fifth.
Of course, everyone knew that was a complete and total fabrication, but nobody ever questioned it in public. It was bad form. To hell with the official stance, he thought to himself. ‘We kill people,’ he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he was stating what a refrigerator did, ‘And if killing them isn’t a good idea, we lock them up in secret.’ Another smile.
The phrase serious breach of protocol came to mind, but Kyousuke didn’t care; if he was going to participate in this farce he was at least going to enjoy himself.
Her reaction was a letdown, to say the least. She didn’t even so much as bat an eye. ‘It’s a very important task, certainly. You’ve,’ hesitation as she glanced down at her pad once more, ‘recently appointed a new lieutenant, is that correct? A... Kiriko Chinda? How would you describe your relationship with her?’
Kyousuke thought of Mitsutaka, and of Cho-Ah. ‘Professional,’ he replied, treading very carefully. ‘I ask her to do things and she does them. She’s extremely capable, if somewhat inexperienced. The perfect subordinate.’
‘Do you trust her?’
Kyousuke’s eyes met the woman’s, and their gaze held for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. ‘With my life,’ he said without hesitation.
She jotted down another note on her pad. ‘That’s very admirable, Captain. It’s so nice to see such a strong bond between an officer and his lieutenant. And what about you, do you enjoy your work?’
This time, Kyousuke wasn’t quite so sure how to answer. He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly opened his mouth. ‘No. No, I don’t.’
That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting, and the slightest frown darkened her delicate brow. ‘I would have expected someone who displays such proficiency to take a great deal of pride in his work.’
‘Oh, I take pride in it. I take pride in everything I do, or I wouldn’t do it. I simply don’t enjoy it. I would rather not perform the duties I perform, but choice is not a luxury I’ve been afforded. Just because we’re good at something doesn’t mean we have to like it.’
There are no signs of the sky brightening any time soon, and I’m left wondering what the man means by ‘evaluated’. Evaluated for what? I ask.
The woman in white laughs. There’s an undercurrent of malice in it.
‘For everything,’ says the man, ‘and for nothing in particular.’ His cryptic answer irritates me almost as much as the static from the television.
Ember spotlight again, the woman in black. ‘You’ve undergone a change recently,’ she says. I’m not sure what she means, but I keep quiet as she continues. ‘It may have been premature.’
Ice blue and a sneer. ‘You broke something. You broke yourself. You’ve become a danger to your surroundings.’
I ask her to clarify, but the light is gone and the man replies. ‘To tell you would be breaking the rules. You have to find out for yourself.’
I hate not knowing.
‘And what of family, Captain? I understand you’re married, and have a daughter.’
He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of his wife. Her brilliant blue eyes, her long dark hair, what it felt like to hold her close, to breathe in her scent after a long day. She was a rare exception in Kyousuke’s life, someone he held dear. And the pride of being a father, to see one’s daughter grow up in front of you, that was something irreplaceable.
‘Yes, they’re very dear to me,’ he said, unable to wipe the idiotic grin off his face. He reached up and adjusted his glasses, almost trying to hide his embarrassment as he did so.
‘Your daughter has a wonderful name. Kasumi. Did you name her after...’ her voice trailed off expectantly. It was clear she already knew the answer, but Kyousuke was always pleased to discuss his daughter.
‘Her late aunt, yes. My predecessor, someone I held in high regard. Taken from us too soon.’
A questioning look from the ocean-blue eyes, and a toss of blonde hair. ‘Does it make you angry, what happened to Kasumi Suzumei? Do you blame yourself?’
Kyousuke had been expecting this. Kasumi was a touchy subject for some reason, just as much as his own desertion. Some people, it seemed, were rather prickly when it came to high-ranking officers defecting. ‘No, Lessa, I don’t blame myself. I warned her of what was coming, and she didn’t take my advice. She was a strong woman, more than capable of making her own decisions. I don’t blame anyone, really. Perhaps it was simply her time, so to speak.’
‘Do you agree with her actions? Desertion, rebellion?’
Kyousuke laughed despite himself. ‘Agree with them? I practically instilled them in her. I’m the one who told her to go rogue. I’m the one who offered her a way out. The only difference is the way we eventually returned. I came back in chains, and she came back in a box.’
The woman smiled politely, unsure, it seemed, how to respond to Kyousuke’s bluntness. ‘I’ve been told she came into contact with the former King of Hueco Mundo in the same way you did, is that correct?’
‘More or less.’ A curt reply. There was nothing, really, to be said. Kyousuke didn’t like talking about Tova with halfhearts; they didn’t understand. How could they? They were denying themselves something so important, something Tova and his kin embodied.
‘Is that something you’d be willing to expand on?’ Probing, searching. Kyousuke knew it was for her own benefit, this was nothing Gilgamesh had asked for. He already knew. This woman was curious, and while typically curiosity was something Kyousuke respected, this was not a subject he was willing to broach.
‘Not really. His Grace knows all there is to know about it, and that is more than enough.’
She looked crestfallen only for a moment, then seemed to recover. ‘That seems reasonable,’ she said, shifting in her seat. ‘I have another question regarding the former King, but that can wait until later. For now, let’s discuss your service record, there are a few points I’m interested in. Mainly your time in the Fourth Division, but there are a couple of other things I’m curious about, too.’
‘Go ahead.’
She rose and walked over to a set of filing cabinets, bending over ever so slightly to reach the Tsu drawer. This was the first time Kyousuke had seen her leave her seat, and he was surprised to see that she seemed to be in quite good shape. Her body certainly matched her face; there was something very appealing about the way her obi wrapped around her narrow waist, and despite how unflattering hakama were, Kyousuke found himself enjoying the view. For a very brief moment, he was under the impression that she was fully aware of what she was doing, but he dismissed the thought when she found what she was looking for and straightened up. She was no Shushana Senganza, but then Kyousuke had never been particularly attracted to amazonian women. It was too much stark beauty, too much raw sexuality.
He liked them—well, not gentler, but... More refined? A bit like the one in front of him, truth be told.
‘See?’ Ice. ‘You haven’t even noticed.’
Noticed what? What are they talking about?
Ember. ‘Go easy on him. Technically, it’s your fault.’
I ask what they mean. They ignore me and continue arguing. The static continues. I’m starting to see a pattern here.
The lights, which have been flicking on and off as the argument gets more heated, suddenly go out and the man speaks, his face still shrouded in darkness. ‘What’s important is that the three of us have finally come to an understanding. You’re aware of it on some level, of course, but you’ll no doubt have difficulty realizing it until a later point in time. Internally, you’re sorted. It’s something external, in a sense, that has become the source of the problem.’
Problem? I ask. I’m curious as to what he means and that fucking static is driving me crazy.
‘Ah, let me rephrase that,’ he says. ‘Something that shouldn’t have happened has happened, but you’ve adjusted for it and come out just fine. It’s the rest of the world, really, that’s become broken.’
I tell him he’s not making any sense.
He laughs. ‘That’s only because you don’t understand how little sense you yourself are making.’
She returned to her seat, file in hand, and Kyousuke couldn’t help but notice the large, red stamp on the front. He had used that very same stamp a fair amount of times, though not always with the same text. It was the Second Division’s emblem, and underneath it in bold lettering, the word CAPTURED. No wonder he couldn’t find his own file in the Second’s records. He wondered if it had been Mitsutaka or Gilgamesh that had seen fit to procure it, but he decided it didn’t really matter. Kyousuke knew his own story.
Granted, he was curious about what they thought was his story.
‘Did you know,’ she said, as she opened the thick manila cover, ‘that this is the only picture of you in all of Seireitei?’
Kyousuke leaned forward for a closer look, and saw that it was from his early days in the Fourth Division. He was still wearing the glasses he had discarded so long ago.
‘A pity you stopped wearing them,’ she continued, tapping the photograph idly. ‘They suited you.’
‘It’s unfortunate, yes,’ he said, leaning back. ‘Eyewear is extremely attractive, but as I’m sure you’re aware, it has a tendency to get in the way of certain things.’ Hollow masks, for one, he thought to himself.
Kyousuke wondered if they had lifted the image from his Fourth Division file when they had caught him. Cho-Ah hadn’t been able to find one when Kyousuke had paid a visit to Mitsutaka some weeks ago, after all.
‘I’ve spent a lot of time reading about you, Captain Tsukimiya. You’re a fascinating man.’
‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read.’
She laughed at that, her bright blue eyes twinkling, and tucked a loose strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. ‘No, I suppose I shouldn’t. Still, I’m curious: why did you leave the Second for the Fourth?’
Because of you, Satine, thought Kyousuke. Because my guiding light didn’t even know I existed. Because I was heartbroken.
‘I’ve always had a passion for the acquisition of information, and the Fourth was a better place for me than the Second was at that stage in my life,’ he said, dodging the real issue. He wondered what could have been had she not been promoted, had she not been taken. Perhaps he would’ve learned what it was like to have a family, and not in the sense that he had a family now—siblings were one thing, a spouse something else entirely. I should’ve told her. He hadn’t been able to put the word love on what he had felt until very recently; he had always pegged it as boundless respect coupled with intense physical attraction, but the term had come to him unbidden at some point in the last week. Love. There were no two ways about it: Kyousuke Tsukimiya, a man lacking both morals and emotion, had been in love once.
And only once.
Whoever had uttered the phrase better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all had clearly never heard the phrase ignorance is bliss.
‘And did you enjoy the Fourth?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Then why did you leave?’
Kyousuke was silent, and he could feel her emerald eyes boring into him. She wasn’t the one asking this question, Gilgamesh was. There was a right answer, and there was a wrong answer.
‘I was given a chance to see the command structure for what it really was. As lieutenant, I saw things that were... Disappointing. Inefficient. Stupid. The pettiness disgusted me, and I knew exactly where the heart of the problem lay: at the feet of the late Central 46. Of course, there was nothing I could do about the situation, even as Acting Captain, so I simply—’ he paused for a moment. ‘I simply left. I had no reason to remain, so I disappeared.’
‘And then you came back.’
‘I was caught.’
She laughed again, the bun of burnished brass hair bouncing. ‘Men like you don’t get caught, Captain. The only reason you were apprehended is because you let yourself get apprehended. I’m familiar with your kind, nothing happens to you unless you want it to, and suddenly you found yourself underneath the Second Division in an interrogation room. What was the angle?’
‘I had been...’ Kyousuke tried to avoid the term offworld. ‘Out of town for a while. Needed to find my bearings again. Get acclimatized.’
‘And you thought risking execution was a good place to start?’
‘As good as any. I had no lingering loyalties to anyone. Kasumi died, remember?’
She gave no reply, only an expectant look.
‘I had no purpose in my life, so I took a number and waited. One thing led to another, Gilgamesh destroyed everything I had come to dislike about Seireitei, and then he showed up outside my cell one day, offering me exactly what I needed. What I wanted. Purpose. I took the offer. What the hell else was I supposed to do?’
I take another look around now that my eyes have become accustomed to the darkness. I still can’t make out any of the three faces in front of me unless the moon is shining, but now I can see that the room I’m in is in a bad state. The walls are cracked, missing chunks in some places, and what little furniture I see is in the same state the coffee table is in: lopsided and neglected.
The television is one of those old cathode ray tube television sets from the fifties or sixties, and in all honesty it just... It strikes me as being very out of place. I can’t really think of why, it just does.
But while everything seems to be in a state of disrepair, it is somehow still clean. No dust, no dirt. The three pairs of bare feet are spotless, and I look down at my own feet. Beyond the hem of my hakama, I’m barefoot, too. I’m not even wearing tabi.
The man speaks again. ‘Do you even know where you are right now?’
‘Do you regret your decision? Do you regret taking command of the Second Division?’
Kyousuke mulled it over. ‘No, I can’t say that I do. It’s an important job, and someone has to do it. Might as well be me.’
‘Do you think you’re well-suited for the task?’
‘Am I?’
‘I’m asking you.’
Kyousuke smiled softly and scratched his jaw thoughtfully. ‘I’m certainly no worse than my predecessor, that’s for sure. I—’ A pause. ‘I don’t think appointing me was a mistake. We’ve already seen that I produce results. I get things done, even if it means I have to break a few laws along the way.’
‘Well, it’s certainly very difficult to argue with that. Though I’m not privy to Gilgamesh’s plans, I can imagine that’s why you’re being considered for the position. Do you want to be the Occupation Commander, Captain?’
Kyousuke had been expecting the question for some time now, and here it finally was, laid bare. Did he want the job? Did he want to be the noose around Hueco Mundo’s neck? Jailor of an entire civilization, however primitive?
No.
No, he didn’t. With all of his essence he did not want this and yet he could think of no-one better for it. If things went the way Gilgamesh wanted, there would be an endless string of Shushana Senganzas in Kyousuke’s future, and miraculous as it had been at the time, Kyousuke doubted there was any mercy left in him. The next time something like that happened, someone would die. The worst part was that as far as Kyousuke was concerned, this was out of his hands—if he answered in the affirmative, it would be taken as enthusiasm. If he answered in the negative, it would be taken as modesty. There was no way out of this, and Kyousuke felt more trapped now than he had done when he had been locked away in the bowels of the Maggot’s Nest.
He hated it.
‘How am I meant to fulfill my duties as a captain if I’m overseeing the occupation?’ He evaded the question.
‘You said it yourself: you trust your lieutenant. She’s very competent. I’m certain the both of you will manage just fine.’ She smirked, apparently quite pleased with her little ruse, and Kyousuke found himself half impressed and half irritated—he had set himself up for that particular fall, and this woman had capitalized on it. Sly.
‘Besides,’ she said, her black eyes smiling as she idly twirled her pen in her fingers, ‘you’ll no doubt be administrating things through the existing power structure rather than create a new one from scratch. The new King of Hueco Mundo will still rule together with the Espada... In name, anyway. Your duty will simply be to steer them in the right direction and command our troops stationed there. It’s an easy job.’ She blew a stray strand of her short black hair out of her eyes, and smiled again. ‘But you didn’t answer my question, Captain.’
Damn. ‘No, Kiriko, I don’t. I really don’t. I understand why His Grace wants it to be me, and I know that I’m fully capable of it, but it’s a burden I simply do not want to bear.’
‘Some would say that it’s because you don’t want it that you’re the most suitable for the job.’
‘And if I had said yes, you’d be telling me that my enthusiasm is what makes me the most suitable for the job.’
She laughed at that and put her pen down, cradling her chin on the back of her hands as she rested her elbows on her desk. ‘It seems you’re onto me, Captain,’ she said, the emeralds behind her glasses twinkling playfully. ‘I suppose what they say is true: you can’t con a con man.’
His eyes flitted across her face, taking in the smaller details he hadn’t noticed before. There was a small beauty spot on her cheek, just beneath the edge of her glasses, and her lips were full and shapely, emotive but not exaggeratedly so.
She was prettier than Kyousuke gave her credit for earlier.
I answer that I don’t know. It seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t be certain. It isn’t anything I remember.
‘Of course not.’ I can hear him give a soft sigh. ‘In time, I suppose. Until then, there’s your current situation to consider.’
My current situation? I ask what he means.
The tall woman speaks, bathed in the light of her moon. ‘You already know what he means. Take her, for example. She has no name, and yet you’ve given her several already.’
Who?
‘Are you capable of caring for another person?’ The short one this time, and the moon has changed. ‘I think you are, even if you’re misdirecting your efforts right now.’
‘I think I know what you’d like to do to her,’ says the tall one with a smug smile. ‘I know what she wants to do with you. Can you resist it? For how long?’
I tell them they’re not making any sense. Darkness. The man speaks. ‘Give it time. Wait and see.’
It feels like I’ve been doing that my entire life.
‘What about your personal life, Captain? What do you do when you’re not working?’ Her chin was still resting on her hands.
Kyousuke shrugged. ‘I don’t have a lot of free time, captaincy is rough work. Granted, out of the two of us, I think my lieutenant works harder than I do.’
‘Isn’t that always the case?’
He thought back to when he was the lieutenant of the Fourth Division. ‘It probably is, yes.’
‘So surely you must have some free time. What do you enjoy?’
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then broke into a boyish grin. ‘I enjoy cooking.’
‘You cook?’ The tone of voice was bordering on incredulity; it sounded almost exactly like how Lessa had asked him the same question weeks ago.
‘I’ve never understood why people don’t believe me when I tell them. I hear I’m quite good, as a matter of fact.’
She looked surprised, but the twinkle in her eyes had returned. ‘I think I’d very much like to try one of your dishes one day, Captain. How very unexpected.’
‘Oh, but you want to watch out. I’m an assassin, you know. I might try to poison you.’ His expression was perfect: a feigned attempt at trying to keep a straight face, with just enough humor slipping through to make it look like he was trying to be funny.
She laughed, settling back into her chair.
‘What about you?’ he continued. ‘What do you do in your free time?’
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ she said with a grin. “Remember: this is about you, not me.’
‘No, really. I’m curious.’
What was he doing?
‘Unfortunately I don’t get much free time these days, being a healer not only of the body but also the soul.’
‘Sorry, you’re not allowed to evade the question in the same way I did.’
She shook her head and touched her neck almost embarrassedly. ‘I play the violin,’ she said.
‘Really?’ He leaned forward. ‘Let me see your hand.’
What was he doing?
She had calluses on her left hand’s fingertips, and Kyousuke brushed over them lightly. ‘You must be good,’ he murmured.
‘How can you possibly tell from my calluses?’
‘I can tell you practice a lot. That’s usually a good indication.’
She giggled. ‘Of course. I should’ve known you’d be able to figure something like that out. What about you, do you have any calluses?’
Kyousuke held up the palm of his hand for her to see, and she grasped it with both hands, prodding the thicker skin gently. ‘You must be good,’ she echoed jokingly.
‘Oh, those are just from pots, pans, and kitchen knives. It’s tough work, you know, being a chef.’ Reality was much more brutal than that.
She laughed, pushing his hand away playfully. ‘You live in that strange Annex place the Second has, right? With your lieutenant?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you cook for her?’
Both of them were still leaning forward. ‘Yes.’
‘Does she like it?’
‘She’s too polite to say otherwise.’
A pause, then: ‘Do you ever get lonely?’
What was he doing?
‘Like I said, I live with my lieutenant.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Her gaze was insistent.
He shrugged lightly. ‘It’s lonely work, by nature.’
‘Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘I’ve gotten used to it.’
There was an intensity between them now, a strange tension in the air above the desk. Kyousuke couldn’t quite make up his mind about where the challenge was coming from—was she issuing it, or was he? Who was going to move first? Somehow, she had leaned forward even further, and her face was just inches from his. He could almost feel her breath on his lips, he could see the rings of darker green in her irises around the pupils.
‘You give me the impression of being a broken soul, Kyousuke Tsukimiya,’ she almost whispered, her eyes half shut and mouth expectant. She had no way of knowing how right she was.
To hell with it.
‘Then maybe you should try to fix me,’ he replied, and kissed her.
HEAR NO LIES
‘Do you feel better now? Did you get what you wanted?’
The man is alone now; the two women have disappeared from their seats. The television behind him is still going, but there’s something about it that feels different, somehow, something I didn’t notice before. It’s not pure white noise, it’s something heavily distorted. There’s something underneath the static, and I’m struggling to think of what it could be—it feels like... like reverse nostalgia, somehow. It feels as though I should know what it is but I simply can’t place it. I’m unsure if that makes it more or less irritating; I can’t quite seem to make up my mind.
I tell him no, not really, and glance at the two chairs on either side of him, and he must’ve noticed my looks, because he speaks again.
‘Oh, they’re still around here somewhere, but you’ll be seeing less of them in the future, I think. Remember: this is about you, not them.’
But aren’t they— I begin, but he interrupts me. ‘Oh, you finally realized. Good job. You’re right, of course, but it’s important that you do the rest on your own. Like I said before, you have to find out for yourself.’
Find out what? I ask.
‘We’ve already given you all we can. The only thing I can add is that you’ve changed, but you’re not done quite yet. There’s more, but you’re on your own. Although... I suppose you’re never really alone, are you?’
I say nothing.
‘Either way, this will be the last time we meet, so let me give you a parting gift and some advice. First, the gift. I’m not supposed to this, but we never were very good at following the rules, were we?’ His arm extends almost lazily from the shadows, and he snaps his fingers. The television behind him goes quiet, but it hasn’t turned off. On the screen I can make out a blurry face: mine. I look a little different somehow, but it’s definitely me.
‘And now, the advice: be truthful to yourself. Find out what it is you really want and go get it without lying to yourself in the process. It can be tough, but that’s what needs to happen.’
I frown. I still don’t like how cryptic he’s being, but there’s not much I can do about it.
‘Goodbye,’ he says, and I suddenly become aware of the door behind me. I bite my lip thoughtfully, then I turn to leave. I open the door, step through into the complete blackness beyond, and the last thing I hear is the man’s voice trailing behind me.
‘And good luck.’
I look over my shoulder, and he’s gone.
Kyousuke sat up, rubbing one of the scars on his chest absentmindedly, more out of habit than anything else. Compared to some people, he didn’t have many scars, but the ones he had ran very deep indeed. Cold weather made them ache ever so slightly, and it was perhaps because of that Kyousuke had always preferred the summer.
The office was in disarray; the chair Kyousuke had been sitting on had tipped over, and most of the contents of the desk had been swept onto the floor. He wondered if there had been a struggle, but then he felt a finger softly trace along one of the scars on his back and the smell of fresh sweat and perfume hit him. Oh, right.
He turned to look at the blonde lying on the rug beside him in a mess of discarded clothing. She was looking intently at the broad expanse of his back, and at some point she had let her hair down, because her dark golden curls were pooled messily on the intricately woven patterns. She caught him looking at her, and she smiled at him softly. He smiled back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Her lipstick was slightly smudged, one of her earrings were missing, and her neck and upper chest was covered in love bites, but she was still very pretty. Maybe it was the self-confidence that was attractive; she seemed very secure in herself.
Kyousuke scanned the room for his kosode, found it at his feet, and leaned forward to pick it up. As he did, he heard her voice. ‘Is this really the only way you can display your affection, Tsukimiya? Are you that broken?’
He whipped around to look at her, a surprised ‘What did you say?’ escaping his lips. She was giving him a cold look, eyes flinty.
He blinked. She gave him a quizzical look as she lay there, one arm across her chest to cover her breasts. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ she said.
Kyousuke frowned slightly. ‘I thought... No, never mind,’ he murmured.
She sat up too, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her chest onto his back and kissing him softly on the shoulder. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to give you the all-clear for this job you don’t want, Captain,’ she whispered softly into his ear. ‘Sorry.’
He breathed in her scent deeply, eyes shut, trying not to shiver. ‘I don’t think either of us have much choice in the matter,’ he said, detaching her from him delicately and slipping on his kosode.
‘Leaving already?’ she asked, her arms snaking around his waist, fingers splaying lightly across his abdomen as she nuzzled the back of his neck.
‘I, ah, have work to do,’ he said almost apologetically. All he wanted was to get away from here. He wormed his way out of her grasp and stood up, spotted his hakama, and started putting them on.
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, finding her missing earring and cocking her head to one side elegantly as she put it back where it belonged. Kyousuke’s eyes lingered on her exposed neck for a few seconds longer than he would’ve liked, then he tore his gaze away, retying the obi around his waist. ‘About your relationship with the former King of Hueco Mundo.’
‘I told you, His Grace knows all there is to know.’
‘No, I mean to ask how you feel about his fate. About the execution, and all.’
Kyousuke’s blood ran cold, and he stopped mid-shrug as he was trying to settle his haori back on his shoulders. ‘The what?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
She had procured a small hand mirror from somewhere—women never ceased to amaze Kyousuke—and was in the process of surveying the damage, so to speak. ‘The execution. Didn’t you hear? He was executed yesterday at dawn.’
Tova was dead? Kyousuke couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t believe it. There was no way he could be dead. Kyousuke had been told he would be imprisoned in some undisclosed location, not executed. Had Gilgamesh changed his mind? Had Kyousuke been lied to? Someone like Tova didn’t just die, not like that. Kyousuke’s very essence refused even the slightest possibility of Tova’s death, almost as fervently as Hazuki and Kannaduki refused his own; to Kyousuke it was sheer impossibility, because it meant that he would be alone. He had Mitsutaka, and Lessa, and Kiriko, yes, but Tova... Tova was the only one who knew him for what he really was.
‘No, I hadn’t heard.’ Kyousuke desperately needed to get out of here, he needed to leave this place. ‘That’s... That’s a shame, I suppose.’ The air was suddenly suffocating, the smell of sweat and sex overpowering, and Kyousuke tried not to gag. ‘Is that all?’
She looked crestfallen, hugging her knees to herself, only moderately ashamed of her nakedness. ‘I expected you to have a stronger reaction.’
‘We haven’t spoken in years,’ he lied.
‘Fair enough,’ she said with a shrug.
Kyousuke left without a word.
He waited until he got to the Third Division’s front gates, and then broke into a bizarre, almost panicked run. Half-sprinting, half-flashstepping, Kyousuke was a blur, and he reached the Second’s compound in a record time. He made directly for the Annex, and as soon as he had shut the front door behind him, he drew Kannaduki and slashed the air. A senkaimon would be too slow, Kyousuke couldn’t afford to waste time in the Dangai. His cut seemed to warp the air around it, then it widened like a maw, becoming tall enough to step through. On the other side, the white halls of Las Noches lay sprawling, and he stepped through. He had to get to the throne room.
Part of him was afraid of what he would do when he got there. He knew the risks, or imagined he knew. The thing he felt the most, however, much stronger than the fear, was the desire to know, to see it with his own eyes. Tova Diabló wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be. Kyousuke had to make sure of it, make sure that he was right where he belonged.
The interior of the castle passed in a blur, and soon he reached the heavy double doors of the throne room. It had been sealed when the castle had been taken, but Kyousuke tore through it and pushed hard. The magnificent white doors swung open ponderously, and for a split second Kyousuke didn’t want to see what lay beyond.
Complete silence but for Kyousuke’s heavy breathing.
There was a seated figure on the throne, sprawled out lazily, as if it was without a care in the world. A pair of sharp eyes peered at Kyousuke from underneath a mop of dark brown hair, and slate grey met forest green. A smile, then a voice. Intense relief washed over Kyousuke Tsukimiya, the first of his kind and captain of the Second Division of the Gotei 6 as the figure’s words reached him.
°7,214
It smells like it’s just rained, that fresh, warm summer rain smell. I’m in a dark room, the only light coming from an old television set in the corner. Dead channel: just static. The volume is turned down low, but I can still hear it, and it irritates me. The only other furniture in the room consists of three large armchairs—the high-backed and winged kind—and a lopsided coffee table that hasn’t been used in years by the look of it. They’re all facing away from the television for some reason. I look up, and there’s nothing but black: somehow I know it’s not the ceiling I’m looking at, but the sky. Starless, moonless, cloudless, but the sky all the same.
I’m not alone; the chairs have inhabitants. Their upper bodies are hidden by the dark, but I can tell that the two people on either side are women. Their bare legs are showing, and both pairs are unmistakably feminine. The one in the center is wearing pants, but I’m fairly certain it’s a man from the way he’s sitting. I can’t be sure in this light, but I think those are grey suit trousers.
All three are barefoot.
‘Please state your name for the record.’
It had only been a few days since Kyousuke had last visited the Third; he had left Mitsutaka there for them to patch up, and then he had stayed away. He had managed to make it through the invasion unscathed thanks to Arianna de Luca’s aid, and when he had been reunited with Kiriko after he had seen Tova impaled on Hikari Miyazaki’s blade, he had almost been surprised to see something that reminded him of relief in her eyes. There had been no such look in Cho-Ah Amai’s eyes when she had seen the state Mitsutaka was in.
‘Kyousuke Tsukimiya,’ he responded flatly.
He hadn’t needed medical attention then and he certainly didn’t need it now; this all seemed like a gigantic waste of the Third’s time. A postwar psychiatric evaluation? Really? He was an assassin, and they were giving him therapy? It seemed like some sort of sick joke, and Kyousuke didn’t find it funny. He had been back and forth between Las Noches and Seireitei too many times to keep track of since the invasion had reached its conclusion, and quite frankly, Kyousuke was exhausted. The war itself had been easier than what came after it, and as he had soaked in his morning bath that day, he had found himself pitying whoever it was that would be given the dubious honor of overseeing the occupation.
It only stood to reason, really, that the very first thing Kiriko did when he got out, hair still damp, was hand him a message that had come for him from the king.
As it turned out, Kyousuke had inadvertently tried self-pity for the very first time that morning. Wonderful, he had thought to himself as he had handed it back to Kiriko without a word. Promotion to Occupation Commander.
‘And your title?’
He looked down at his chest. Today he had worn the haori, but it was still in bad shape from the burn it had received. He had later found out that the Espada—the Primera, apparently—had opened a Garganta to the planet’s core in a desperate attempt to kill Mitsutaka. It explained the heat, it explained the light. What it didn’t explain was the almost pathological desire to self-destruct that some of the Espada had exhibited during the invasion. Were they really so eager to die for their cause? Did they even have a cause? Kyousuke was unsure.
‘Captain. Second Division.’
‘Thank you.’ Silence. Kyousuke looked at the woman sitting across from him as she noted something down on a pad of paper. Non-combat personnel, he surmised, from the fact that she was wearing lipstick and small pearl earrings. Discreet, sure, but jewelry and makeup wasn’t something you’d find on a soldier. The eyes behind her slim reading glasses were a brilliant emerald green, her hair a curiously dark blonde that looked almost like burnished brass, held up in a loose bun by five oversized needles jutting out haphazardly. She wasn’t exactly what Kyousuke considered his type, but she was far from unattractive, and something about the way she held herself suggested she was well aware of it but simply chose not to flaunt it.
She seemed to make a few finishing touches to whatever it was she was writing, then set her pen down gently and looked up at him. For a split second, she seemed almost taken aback at the piercing gaze Kyousuke was leveling at her, but she smoothly recovered.
‘Captain Tsukimiya, the reason you’ve been sent to see me is so that I may conduct an evaluation of your suitability for the position of Occupation Commander of Hueco Mundo. You’ve recently seen combat—’
Kyousuke snorted, but she paid him no heed.
‘—and both the King and the Captain-Commander have therefore seen fit to have you examined for signs of psychological trauma.’
Kyousuke doubted Mitsutaka was involved, but the entire situation certainly had Gilgamesh written all over it. It was a not-so-subtle reminder that Kyousuke, just like everyone else in Soul Society and now Hueco Mundo, was nothing more than the Golden King’s property. Kyousuke, however, didn’t need to be reminded. He was fully aware of his situation.
There’s a remote control on the table and I reach for it. The static from the television is getting under my skin and I have a sudden urge to simply walk up to it and smash it, but somehow I resist. Instinctively, perhaps, I realize that I would not be able to. I push the buttons on the remote but it achieves nothing. The static continues uninterrupted.
One of the armchairs’ occupants speaks. It’s the leftmost one, one of the women. She’s bathed in a ruddy orange spotlight, and I look up and see the source: the moon has appeared, and it’s the color of glowing coal.
‘That won’t work yet,’ she says, a wistful smile on her face. She’s pretty, in a cute way: long dark hair, emotive eyes and a petite figure. She’s wearing a mid-length black dress, but it doesn’t quite suit her; nor does it do a very good job of accentuating her petite frame. One foot is elegantly tucked behind the other, and she’s sitting up straight. Honey.
‘Still got quite a way to go,’ says the woman on the right, and the one on the left is plunged into darkness again. Now the moon’s a bright, icy blue and the spotlight is the same shade, this time revealing a taller, almost statuesque woman. She’s beautiful: pale, silvery hair, refined features, and a tasteful amount of curvature. She’s wearing a white dress that’s showing just the right amount of skin, and she looks as though she was born to wear it. Her legs are crossed and she’s lounging. Cyanide.
Her moon is extinguished when I ask why I’m here.
The figure in the middle replies. His voice—it was a man after all—sounds familiar, but I can’t seem to place it. The sky remains dark, and his face remains hidden in the shadows.
‘You’re being evaluated, remember?’
The woman adjusted her glasses, her brown eyes flaring, and continued. ‘You’ve earned yourself quite the nickname in the past week. People are beginning to refer to you as the Swordbreaker. What can you tell me about that?’
Kyousuke’s expression soured. It had been a brief but bloody battle—he had taken more than his fair share of lives that day—but the prize had been the two odd numbers that he had extinguished, numbers Nine and Seven. The lives of the Noveno and Séptima Espada had flared briefly and then been snuffed out like matches. Kyousuke had been there for the Primera’s demise, too, and he had seen the Quinta flee. And those were just the Espada: the countless Números that had fallen to his blade and fists had met extremely violent ends.
‘I have a name, I’d prefer it if people used it,’ he replied. As far as a nom de guerre went, it wasn’t bad, but it was far from an inspirational name. Jasper Aizawa had earned himself such a name—Lightbringer—and Kyousuke had to admit that it suited him, even if it sounded naïve. Gilgamesh’s lieutenant had died to Aizawa, and it had been one of the small victories the Resistance had won that day. One of the few victories.
‘You don’t like your nickname, Captain? You’ve certainly earned it.’ A curious glance.
‘It’s unnecessary attention, Ayumi, that’s all. I simply did what I was expected to do.’ He met her gaze and smiled despite himself, despite his mood. She returned the smile, and Kyousuke found himself wondering if it was genuine or simply politeness—he couldn’t quite tell which. He couldn’t say which he had preferred, either—once upon a time he wouldn’t have cared but now something was different. He wanted to garner a response. Or did he?
The moment passed, and the woman cleared her throat and glanced down at her pad. Another question. ‘So, Captain. What can you tell me about what it is you do in the Second Division?’
Kyousuke paused. The official stance was always to deny everything. If asked, lie. Never admit to anything openly. As far as the rest of Seireitei were concerned, they were simply elite soldiers, a specially-trained version of the Fifth.
Of course, everyone knew that was a complete and total fabrication, but nobody ever questioned it in public. It was bad form. To hell with the official stance, he thought to himself. ‘We kill people,’ he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, as if he was stating what a refrigerator did, ‘And if killing them isn’t a good idea, we lock them up in secret.’ Another smile.
The phrase serious breach of protocol came to mind, but Kyousuke didn’t care; if he was going to participate in this farce he was at least going to enjoy himself.
Her reaction was a letdown, to say the least. She didn’t even so much as bat an eye. ‘It’s a very important task, certainly. You’ve,’ hesitation as she glanced down at her pad once more, ‘recently appointed a new lieutenant, is that correct? A... Kiriko Chinda? How would you describe your relationship with her?’
Kyousuke thought of Mitsutaka, and of Cho-Ah. ‘Professional,’ he replied, treading very carefully. ‘I ask her to do things and she does them. She’s extremely capable, if somewhat inexperienced. The perfect subordinate.’
‘Do you trust her?’
Kyousuke’s eyes met the woman’s, and their gaze held for a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity. ‘With my life,’ he said without hesitation.
She jotted down another note on her pad. ‘That’s very admirable, Captain. It’s so nice to see such a strong bond between an officer and his lieutenant. And what about you, do you enjoy your work?’
This time, Kyousuke wasn’t quite so sure how to answer. He was silent for a few seconds, then slowly opened his mouth. ‘No. No, I don’t.’
That hadn’t been the answer she was expecting, and the slightest frown darkened her delicate brow. ‘I would have expected someone who displays such proficiency to take a great deal of pride in his work.’
‘Oh, I take pride in it. I take pride in everything I do, or I wouldn’t do it. I simply don’t enjoy it. I would rather not perform the duties I perform, but choice is not a luxury I’ve been afforded. Just because we’re good at something doesn’t mean we have to like it.’
There are no signs of the sky brightening any time soon, and I’m left wondering what the man means by ‘evaluated’. Evaluated for what? I ask.
The woman in white laughs. There’s an undercurrent of malice in it.
‘For everything,’ says the man, ‘and for nothing in particular.’ His cryptic answer irritates me almost as much as the static from the television.
Ember spotlight again, the woman in black. ‘You’ve undergone a change recently,’ she says. I’m not sure what she means, but I keep quiet as she continues. ‘It may have been premature.’
Ice blue and a sneer. ‘You broke something. You broke yourself. You’ve become a danger to your surroundings.’
I ask her to clarify, but the light is gone and the man replies. ‘To tell you would be breaking the rules. You have to find out for yourself.’
I hate not knowing.
‘And what of family, Captain? I understand you’re married, and have a daughter.’
He couldn’t help but smile as he thought of his wife. Her brilliant blue eyes, her long dark hair, what it felt like to hold her close, to breathe in her scent after a long day. She was a rare exception in Kyousuke’s life, someone he held dear. And the pride of being a father, to see one’s daughter grow up in front of you, that was something irreplaceable.
‘Yes, they’re very dear to me,’ he said, unable to wipe the idiotic grin off his face. He reached up and adjusted his glasses, almost trying to hide his embarrassment as he did so.
‘Your daughter has a wonderful name. Kasumi. Did you name her after...’ her voice trailed off expectantly. It was clear she already knew the answer, but Kyousuke was always pleased to discuss his daughter.
‘Her late aunt, yes. My predecessor, someone I held in high regard. Taken from us too soon.’
A questioning look from the ocean-blue eyes, and a toss of blonde hair. ‘Does it make you angry, what happened to Kasumi Suzumei? Do you blame yourself?’
Kyousuke had been expecting this. Kasumi was a touchy subject for some reason, just as much as his own desertion. Some people, it seemed, were rather prickly when it came to high-ranking officers defecting. ‘No, Lessa, I don’t blame myself. I warned her of what was coming, and she didn’t take my advice. She was a strong woman, more than capable of making her own decisions. I don’t blame anyone, really. Perhaps it was simply her time, so to speak.’
‘Do you agree with her actions? Desertion, rebellion?’
Kyousuke laughed despite himself. ‘Agree with them? I practically instilled them in her. I’m the one who told her to go rogue. I’m the one who offered her a way out. The only difference is the way we eventually returned. I came back in chains, and she came back in a box.’
The woman smiled politely, unsure, it seemed, how to respond to Kyousuke’s bluntness. ‘I’ve been told she came into contact with the former King of Hueco Mundo in the same way you did, is that correct?’
‘More or less.’ A curt reply. There was nothing, really, to be said. Kyousuke didn’t like talking about Tova with halfhearts; they didn’t understand. How could they? They were denying themselves something so important, something Tova and his kin embodied.
‘Is that something you’d be willing to expand on?’ Probing, searching. Kyousuke knew it was for her own benefit, this was nothing Gilgamesh had asked for. He already knew. This woman was curious, and while typically curiosity was something Kyousuke respected, this was not a subject he was willing to broach.
‘Not really. His Grace knows all there is to know about it, and that is more than enough.’
She looked crestfallen only for a moment, then seemed to recover. ‘That seems reasonable,’ she said, shifting in her seat. ‘I have another question regarding the former King, but that can wait until later. For now, let’s discuss your service record, there are a few points I’m interested in. Mainly your time in the Fourth Division, but there are a couple of other things I’m curious about, too.’
‘Go ahead.’
She rose and walked over to a set of filing cabinets, bending over ever so slightly to reach the Tsu drawer. This was the first time Kyousuke had seen her leave her seat, and he was surprised to see that she seemed to be in quite good shape. Her body certainly matched her face; there was something very appealing about the way her obi wrapped around her narrow waist, and despite how unflattering hakama were, Kyousuke found himself enjoying the view. For a very brief moment, he was under the impression that she was fully aware of what she was doing, but he dismissed the thought when she found what she was looking for and straightened up. She was no Shushana Senganza, but then Kyousuke had never been particularly attracted to amazonian women. It was too much stark beauty, too much raw sexuality.
He liked them—well, not gentler, but... More refined? A bit like the one in front of him, truth be told.
‘See?’ Ice. ‘You haven’t even noticed.’
Noticed what? What are they talking about?
Ember. ‘Go easy on him. Technically, it’s your fault.’
I ask what they mean. They ignore me and continue arguing. The static continues. I’m starting to see a pattern here.
The lights, which have been flicking on and off as the argument gets more heated, suddenly go out and the man speaks, his face still shrouded in darkness. ‘What’s important is that the three of us have finally come to an understanding. You’re aware of it on some level, of course, but you’ll no doubt have difficulty realizing it until a later point in time. Internally, you’re sorted. It’s something external, in a sense, that has become the source of the problem.’
Problem? I ask. I’m curious as to what he means and that fucking static is driving me crazy.
‘Ah, let me rephrase that,’ he says. ‘Something that shouldn’t have happened has happened, but you’ve adjusted for it and come out just fine. It’s the rest of the world, really, that’s become broken.’
I tell him he’s not making any sense.
He laughs. ‘That’s only because you don’t understand how little sense you yourself are making.’
She returned to her seat, file in hand, and Kyousuke couldn’t help but notice the large, red stamp on the front. He had used that very same stamp a fair amount of times, though not always with the same text. It was the Second Division’s emblem, and underneath it in bold lettering, the word CAPTURED. No wonder he couldn’t find his own file in the Second’s records. He wondered if it had been Mitsutaka or Gilgamesh that had seen fit to procure it, but he decided it didn’t really matter. Kyousuke knew his own story.
Granted, he was curious about what they thought was his story.
‘Did you know,’ she said, as she opened the thick manila cover, ‘that this is the only picture of you in all of Seireitei?’
Kyousuke leaned forward for a closer look, and saw that it was from his early days in the Fourth Division. He was still wearing the glasses he had discarded so long ago.
‘A pity you stopped wearing them,’ she continued, tapping the photograph idly. ‘They suited you.’
‘It’s unfortunate, yes,’ he said, leaning back. ‘Eyewear is extremely attractive, but as I’m sure you’re aware, it has a tendency to get in the way of certain things.’ Hollow masks, for one, he thought to himself.
Kyousuke wondered if they had lifted the image from his Fourth Division file when they had caught him. Cho-Ah hadn’t been able to find one when Kyousuke had paid a visit to Mitsutaka some weeks ago, after all.
‘I’ve spent a lot of time reading about you, Captain Tsukimiya. You’re a fascinating man.’
‘You shouldn’t believe everything you read.’
She laughed at that, her bright blue eyes twinkling, and tucked a loose strand of her long, dark hair behind her ear. ‘No, I suppose I shouldn’t. Still, I’m curious: why did you leave the Second for the Fourth?’
Because of you, Satine, thought Kyousuke. Because my guiding light didn’t even know I existed. Because I was heartbroken.
‘I’ve always had a passion for the acquisition of information, and the Fourth was a better place for me than the Second was at that stage in my life,’ he said, dodging the real issue. He wondered what could have been had she not been promoted, had she not been taken. Perhaps he would’ve learned what it was like to have a family, and not in the sense that he had a family now—siblings were one thing, a spouse something else entirely. I should’ve told her. He hadn’t been able to put the word love on what he had felt until very recently; he had always pegged it as boundless respect coupled with intense physical attraction, but the term had come to him unbidden at some point in the last week. Love. There were no two ways about it: Kyousuke Tsukimiya, a man lacking both morals and emotion, had been in love once.
And only once.
Whoever had uttered the phrase better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all had clearly never heard the phrase ignorance is bliss.
‘And did you enjoy the Fourth?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Then why did you leave?’
Kyousuke was silent, and he could feel her emerald eyes boring into him. She wasn’t the one asking this question, Gilgamesh was. There was a right answer, and there was a wrong answer.
‘I was given a chance to see the command structure for what it really was. As lieutenant, I saw things that were... Disappointing. Inefficient. Stupid. The pettiness disgusted me, and I knew exactly where the heart of the problem lay: at the feet of the late Central 46. Of course, there was nothing I could do about the situation, even as Acting Captain, so I simply—’ he paused for a moment. ‘I simply left. I had no reason to remain, so I disappeared.’
‘And then you came back.’
‘I was caught.’
She laughed again, the bun of burnished brass hair bouncing. ‘Men like you don’t get caught, Captain. The only reason you were apprehended is because you let yourself get apprehended. I’m familiar with your kind, nothing happens to you unless you want it to, and suddenly you found yourself underneath the Second Division in an interrogation room. What was the angle?’
‘I had been...’ Kyousuke tried to avoid the term offworld. ‘Out of town for a while. Needed to find my bearings again. Get acclimatized.’
‘And you thought risking execution was a good place to start?’
‘As good as any. I had no lingering loyalties to anyone. Kasumi died, remember?’
She gave no reply, only an expectant look.
‘I had no purpose in my life, so I took a number and waited. One thing led to another, Gilgamesh destroyed everything I had come to dislike about Seireitei, and then he showed up outside my cell one day, offering me exactly what I needed. What I wanted. Purpose. I took the offer. What the hell else was I supposed to do?’
I take another look around now that my eyes have become accustomed to the darkness. I still can’t make out any of the three faces in front of me unless the moon is shining, but now I can see that the room I’m in is in a bad state. The walls are cracked, missing chunks in some places, and what little furniture I see is in the same state the coffee table is in: lopsided and neglected.
The television is one of those old cathode ray tube television sets from the fifties or sixties, and in all honesty it just... It strikes me as being very out of place. I can’t really think of why, it just does.
But while everything seems to be in a state of disrepair, it is somehow still clean. No dust, no dirt. The three pairs of bare feet are spotless, and I look down at my own feet. Beyond the hem of my hakama, I’m barefoot, too. I’m not even wearing tabi.
The man speaks again. ‘Do you even know where you are right now?’
‘Do you regret your decision? Do you regret taking command of the Second Division?’
Kyousuke mulled it over. ‘No, I can’t say that I do. It’s an important job, and someone has to do it. Might as well be me.’
‘Do you think you’re well-suited for the task?’
‘Am I?’
‘I’m asking you.’
Kyousuke smiled softly and scratched his jaw thoughtfully. ‘I’m certainly no worse than my predecessor, that’s for sure. I—’ A pause. ‘I don’t think appointing me was a mistake. We’ve already seen that I produce results. I get things done, even if it means I have to break a few laws along the way.’
‘Well, it’s certainly very difficult to argue with that. Though I’m not privy to Gilgamesh’s plans, I can imagine that’s why you’re being considered for the position. Do you want to be the Occupation Commander, Captain?’
Kyousuke had been expecting the question for some time now, and here it finally was, laid bare. Did he want the job? Did he want to be the noose around Hueco Mundo’s neck? Jailor of an entire civilization, however primitive?
No.
No, he didn’t. With all of his essence he did not want this and yet he could think of no-one better for it. If things went the way Gilgamesh wanted, there would be an endless string of Shushana Senganzas in Kyousuke’s future, and miraculous as it had been at the time, Kyousuke doubted there was any mercy left in him. The next time something like that happened, someone would die. The worst part was that as far as Kyousuke was concerned, this was out of his hands—if he answered in the affirmative, it would be taken as enthusiasm. If he answered in the negative, it would be taken as modesty. There was no way out of this, and Kyousuke felt more trapped now than he had done when he had been locked away in the bowels of the Maggot’s Nest.
He hated it.
‘How am I meant to fulfill my duties as a captain if I’m overseeing the occupation?’ He evaded the question.
‘You said it yourself: you trust your lieutenant. She’s very competent. I’m certain the both of you will manage just fine.’ She smirked, apparently quite pleased with her little ruse, and Kyousuke found himself half impressed and half irritated—he had set himself up for that particular fall, and this woman had capitalized on it. Sly.
‘Besides,’ she said, her black eyes smiling as she idly twirled her pen in her fingers, ‘you’ll no doubt be administrating things through the existing power structure rather than create a new one from scratch. The new King of Hueco Mundo will still rule together with the Espada... In name, anyway. Your duty will simply be to steer them in the right direction and command our troops stationed there. It’s an easy job.’ She blew a stray strand of her short black hair out of her eyes, and smiled again. ‘But you didn’t answer my question, Captain.’
Damn. ‘No, Kiriko, I don’t. I really don’t. I understand why His Grace wants it to be me, and I know that I’m fully capable of it, but it’s a burden I simply do not want to bear.’
‘Some would say that it’s because you don’t want it that you’re the most suitable for the job.’
‘And if I had said yes, you’d be telling me that my enthusiasm is what makes me the most suitable for the job.’
She laughed at that and put her pen down, cradling her chin on the back of her hands as she rested her elbows on her desk. ‘It seems you’re onto me, Captain,’ she said, the emeralds behind her glasses twinkling playfully. ‘I suppose what they say is true: you can’t con a con man.’
His eyes flitted across her face, taking in the smaller details he hadn’t noticed before. There was a small beauty spot on her cheek, just beneath the edge of her glasses, and her lips were full and shapely, emotive but not exaggeratedly so.
She was prettier than Kyousuke gave her credit for earlier.
I answer that I don’t know. It seems vaguely familiar, but I can’t be certain. It isn’t anything I remember.
‘Of course not.’ I can hear him give a soft sigh. ‘In time, I suppose. Until then, there’s your current situation to consider.’
My current situation? I ask what he means.
The tall woman speaks, bathed in the light of her moon. ‘You already know what he means. Take her, for example. She has no name, and yet you’ve given her several already.’
Who?
‘Are you capable of caring for another person?’ The short one this time, and the moon has changed. ‘I think you are, even if you’re misdirecting your efforts right now.’
‘I think I know what you’d like to do to her,’ says the tall one with a smug smile. ‘I know what she wants to do with you. Can you resist it? For how long?’
I tell them they’re not making any sense. Darkness. The man speaks. ‘Give it time. Wait and see.’
It feels like I’ve been doing that my entire life.
‘What about your personal life, Captain? What do you do when you’re not working?’ Her chin was still resting on her hands.
Kyousuke shrugged. ‘I don’t have a lot of free time, captaincy is rough work. Granted, out of the two of us, I think my lieutenant works harder than I do.’
‘Isn’t that always the case?’
He thought back to when he was the lieutenant of the Fourth Division. ‘It probably is, yes.’
‘So surely you must have some free time. What do you enjoy?’
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then broke into a boyish grin. ‘I enjoy cooking.’
‘You cook?’ The tone of voice was bordering on incredulity; it sounded almost exactly like how Lessa had asked him the same question weeks ago.
‘I’ve never understood why people don’t believe me when I tell them. I hear I’m quite good, as a matter of fact.’
She looked surprised, but the twinkle in her eyes had returned. ‘I think I’d very much like to try one of your dishes one day, Captain. How very unexpected.’
‘Oh, but you want to watch out. I’m an assassin, you know. I might try to poison you.’ His expression was perfect: a feigned attempt at trying to keep a straight face, with just enough humor slipping through to make it look like he was trying to be funny.
She laughed, settling back into her chair.
‘What about you?’ he continued. ‘What do you do in your free time?’
‘Oh no, you don’t,’ she said with a grin. “Remember: this is about you, not me.’
‘No, really. I’m curious.’
What was he doing?
‘Unfortunately I don’t get much free time these days, being a healer not only of the body but also the soul.’
‘Sorry, you’re not allowed to evade the question in the same way I did.’
She shook her head and touched her neck almost embarrassedly. ‘I play the violin,’ she said.
‘Really?’ He leaned forward. ‘Let me see your hand.’
What was he doing?
She had calluses on her left hand’s fingertips, and Kyousuke brushed over them lightly. ‘You must be good,’ he murmured.
‘How can you possibly tell from my calluses?’
‘I can tell you practice a lot. That’s usually a good indication.’
She giggled. ‘Of course. I should’ve known you’d be able to figure something like that out. What about you, do you have any calluses?’
Kyousuke held up the palm of his hand for her to see, and she grasped it with both hands, prodding the thicker skin gently. ‘You must be good,’ she echoed jokingly.
‘Oh, those are just from pots, pans, and kitchen knives. It’s tough work, you know, being a chef.’ Reality was much more brutal than that.
She laughed, pushing his hand away playfully. ‘You live in that strange Annex place the Second has, right? With your lieutenant?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Do you cook for her?’
Both of them were still leaning forward. ‘Yes.’
‘Does she like it?’
‘She’s too polite to say otherwise.’
A pause, then: ‘Do you ever get lonely?’
What was he doing?
‘Like I said, I live with my lieutenant.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Her gaze was insistent.
He shrugged lightly. ‘It’s lonely work, by nature.’
‘Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘I’ve gotten used to it.’
There was an intensity between them now, a strange tension in the air above the desk. Kyousuke couldn’t quite make up his mind about where the challenge was coming from—was she issuing it, or was he? Who was going to move first? Somehow, she had leaned forward even further, and her face was just inches from his. He could almost feel her breath on his lips, he could see the rings of darker green in her irises around the pupils.
‘You give me the impression of being a broken soul, Kyousuke Tsukimiya,’ she almost whispered, her eyes half shut and mouth expectant. She had no way of knowing how right she was.
To hell with it.
‘Then maybe you should try to fix me,’ he replied, and kissed her.
HEAR NO LIES
‘Do you feel better now? Did you get what you wanted?’
The man is alone now; the two women have disappeared from their seats. The television behind him is still going, but there’s something about it that feels different, somehow, something I didn’t notice before. It’s not pure white noise, it’s something heavily distorted. There’s something underneath the static, and I’m struggling to think of what it could be—it feels like... like reverse nostalgia, somehow. It feels as though I should know what it is but I simply can’t place it. I’m unsure if that makes it more or less irritating; I can’t quite seem to make up my mind.
I tell him no, not really, and glance at the two chairs on either side of him, and he must’ve noticed my looks, because he speaks again.
‘Oh, they’re still around here somewhere, but you’ll be seeing less of them in the future, I think. Remember: this is about you, not them.’
But aren’t they— I begin, but he interrupts me. ‘Oh, you finally realized. Good job. You’re right, of course, but it’s important that you do the rest on your own. Like I said before, you have to find out for yourself.’
Find out what? I ask.
‘We’ve already given you all we can. The only thing I can add is that you’ve changed, but you’re not done quite yet. There’s more, but you’re on your own. Although... I suppose you’re never really alone, are you?’
I say nothing.
‘Either way, this will be the last time we meet, so let me give you a parting gift and some advice. First, the gift. I’m not supposed to this, but we never were very good at following the rules, were we?’ His arm extends almost lazily from the shadows, and he snaps his fingers. The television behind him goes quiet, but it hasn’t turned off. On the screen I can make out a blurry face: mine. I look a little different somehow, but it’s definitely me.
‘And now, the advice: be truthful to yourself. Find out what it is you really want and go get it without lying to yourself in the process. It can be tough, but that’s what needs to happen.’
I frown. I still don’t like how cryptic he’s being, but there’s not much I can do about it.
‘Goodbye,’ he says, and I suddenly become aware of the door behind me. I bite my lip thoughtfully, then I turn to leave. I open the door, step through into the complete blackness beyond, and the last thing I hear is the man’s voice trailing behind me.
‘And good luck.’
I look over my shoulder, and he’s gone.
Kyousuke sat up, rubbing one of the scars on his chest absentmindedly, more out of habit than anything else. Compared to some people, he didn’t have many scars, but the ones he had ran very deep indeed. Cold weather made them ache ever so slightly, and it was perhaps because of that Kyousuke had always preferred the summer.
The office was in disarray; the chair Kyousuke had been sitting on had tipped over, and most of the contents of the desk had been swept onto the floor. He wondered if there had been a struggle, but then he felt a finger softly trace along one of the scars on his back and the smell of fresh sweat and perfume hit him. Oh, right.
He turned to look at the blonde lying on the rug beside him in a mess of discarded clothing. She was looking intently at the broad expanse of his back, and at some point she had let her hair down, because her dark golden curls were pooled messily on the intricately woven patterns. She caught him looking at her, and she smiled at him softly. He smiled back, but his heart wasn’t in it. Her lipstick was slightly smudged, one of her earrings were missing, and her neck and upper chest was covered in love bites, but she was still very pretty. Maybe it was the self-confidence that was attractive; she seemed very secure in herself.
Kyousuke scanned the room for his kosode, found it at his feet, and leaned forward to pick it up. As he did, he heard her voice. ‘Is this really the only way you can display your affection, Tsukimiya? Are you that broken?’
He whipped around to look at her, a surprised ‘What did you say?’ escaping his lips. She was giving him a cold look, eyes flinty.
He blinked. She gave him a quizzical look as she lay there, one arm across her chest to cover her breasts. ‘I didn’t say anything,’ she said.
Kyousuke frowned slightly. ‘I thought... No, never mind,’ he murmured.
She sat up too, wrapping her arms around him, pressing her chest onto his back and kissing him softly on the shoulder. ‘I suppose I’m going to have to give you the all-clear for this job you don’t want, Captain,’ she whispered softly into his ear. ‘Sorry.’
He breathed in her scent deeply, eyes shut, trying not to shiver. ‘I don’t think either of us have much choice in the matter,’ he said, detaching her from him delicately and slipping on his kosode.
‘Leaving already?’ she asked, her arms snaking around his waist, fingers splaying lightly across his abdomen as she nuzzled the back of his neck.
‘I, ah, have work to do,’ he said almost apologetically. All he wanted was to get away from here. He wormed his way out of her grasp and stood up, spotted his hakama, and started putting them on.
‘Oh, that reminds me,’ she said, finding her missing earring and cocking her head to one side elegantly as she put it back where it belonged. Kyousuke’s eyes lingered on her exposed neck for a few seconds longer than he would’ve liked, then he tore his gaze away, retying the obi around his waist. ‘About your relationship with the former King of Hueco Mundo.’
‘I told you, His Grace knows all there is to know.’
‘No, I mean to ask how you feel about his fate. About the execution, and all.’
Kyousuke’s blood ran cold, and he stopped mid-shrug as he was trying to settle his haori back on his shoulders. ‘The what?’ he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
She had procured a small hand mirror from somewhere—women never ceased to amaze Kyousuke—and was in the process of surveying the damage, so to speak. ‘The execution. Didn’t you hear? He was executed yesterday at dawn.’
Tova was dead? Kyousuke couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t believe it. There was no way he could be dead. Kyousuke had been told he would be imprisoned in some undisclosed location, not executed. Had Gilgamesh changed his mind? Had Kyousuke been lied to? Someone like Tova didn’t just die, not like that. Kyousuke’s very essence refused even the slightest possibility of Tova’s death, almost as fervently as Hazuki and Kannaduki refused his own; to Kyousuke it was sheer impossibility, because it meant that he would be alone. He had Mitsutaka, and Lessa, and Kiriko, yes, but Tova... Tova was the only one who knew him for what he really was.
‘No, I hadn’t heard.’ Kyousuke desperately needed to get out of here, he needed to leave this place. ‘That’s... That’s a shame, I suppose.’ The air was suddenly suffocating, the smell of sweat and sex overpowering, and Kyousuke tried not to gag. ‘Is that all?’
She looked crestfallen, hugging her knees to herself, only moderately ashamed of her nakedness. ‘I expected you to have a stronger reaction.’
‘We haven’t spoken in years,’ he lied.
‘Fair enough,’ she said with a shrug.
Kyousuke left without a word.
He waited until he got to the Third Division’s front gates, and then broke into a bizarre, almost panicked run. Half-sprinting, half-flashstepping, Kyousuke was a blur, and he reached the Second’s compound in a record time. He made directly for the Annex, and as soon as he had shut the front door behind him, he drew Kannaduki and slashed the air. A senkaimon would be too slow, Kyousuke couldn’t afford to waste time in the Dangai. His cut seemed to warp the air around it, then it widened like a maw, becoming tall enough to step through. On the other side, the white halls of Las Noches lay sprawling, and he stepped through. He had to get to the throne room.
Part of him was afraid of what he would do when he got there. He knew the risks, or imagined he knew. The thing he felt the most, however, much stronger than the fear, was the desire to know, to see it with his own eyes. Tova Diabló wasn’t dead; he couldn’t be. Kyousuke had to make sure of it, make sure that he was right where he belonged.
The interior of the castle passed in a blur, and soon he reached the heavy double doors of the throne room. It had been sealed when the castle had been taken, but Kyousuke tore through it and pushed hard. The magnificent white doors swung open ponderously, and for a split second Kyousuke didn’t want to see what lay beyond.
Complete silence but for Kyousuke’s heavy breathing.
There was a seated figure on the throne, sprawled out lazily, as if it was without a care in the world. A pair of sharp eyes peered at Kyousuke from underneath a mop of dark brown hair, and slate grey met forest green. A smile, then a voice. Intense relief washed over Kyousuke Tsukimiya, the first of his kind and captain of the Second Division of the Gotei 6 as the figure’s words reached him.
°7,214