Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Hell Butterfly ❯ Fall Out ( Chapter 2 )

Hell Butterfly

 

Fall Out

~02~

 

o)0(o

 

Ichigo was running through a silver wilderness, and feeling rather positive about the dangers ahead. For a start, he had managed to walk through that inter-dimensional rift without dropping Chad off the edge of his clumsy reiatsu bridge, which was quite an achievement for him even if Ishida did make it look pitifully easy. And having arrived in the notorious pit of horrors Hueco Mundo, they had discovered it to be pleasingly empty and remarkably clean and spacious. He'd been expecting it to be a pigsty.

 

After wandering the halls aimlessly for a few minutes, searching for someone or something they could pummel into giving them directions; he, Ishida and Chad had happened across two low-level arrancars.

 

Demoura was tall and bulky, his head scraped the high ceilings of the bland corridors, and he had seemingly been built on the same scale as a dinosaur. Iceringer on the other hand had been compact in comparison, streamlined in a fashion; with random branches and needles sticking out of him to ruin the effect.

 

And then those branches had begun firing laser beams.

 

Typical.

 

But less typical had been the way both Ishida and Chad elbowed him out the way, refused to let him fight despite his being the strongest hands down, and then finished off each others' opponents with ease. Which had been a bit of a shock because last he heard, Ishida had lost all of his powers.

 

He was beginning to understand how other people felt every time he powered up, after seeing the Quincy whip the spirit bow-equivalent of a Gatling gun out of nowhere and start turning the enemy into pulp at twelve hundred shots per second.

 

Ichigo would freely admit that he had gulped and felt extremely glad that he was no longer being targeted as a hateful shinigami by his bespectacled friend…

 

“Oi,” he asked suddenly, as they jogged over the endless dunes; “what was the name of your snowflake thing?”

 

“What did you call it?” demanded Ishida icily. He pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose for the thousandth time - running through sand is both too jarring and too soft, so it was a hopeless attempt, really.

 

“Uh…the spider web bow?” Its name had been ridiculously long and overcomplicated. It had also been announced in a cool, quiet voice in the midst of many blasting sounds as Quincy and Arrancar engaged in fiery laser beam war. Who could possibly be expected to remember such a thing?

 

“You couldn't possibly be referring to Lone Sparrow on a Silver Cliff when you utter such heinous words, could you?” You would have to swallow an iceberg to match the frostiness of his speech.

 

“I dunno,” replied Ichigo blankly; “is that what it's called? The star-shaped bow?”

 

“It's pentacular!” insisted the top student of their year.

 

A low rumbling sound emitting from beneath the thick wavy fringe of their overly tall amigo indicated imminent speech. They listened closely.

 

“That…is not a word…”

 

“Unless you wanted it to sound like spectacular. And if that's true I'm feeding you to the next Hollow I see.” You couldn't trust a guy who wore capes not to have reasoning like that.

 

Ishida's cheeks burned with embarrassed rage. “I meant pentalateral. No! Quintescent! Ahh!”

 

“Five-angular?” suggested Ichigo, with a rather mocking expression. His pale, bookish comrade fumed.

 

“That's even less of a word!”

 

“Why can't you just use something simple like `el directo'? Chad's got the right idea.”

 

“It's not like I have to shout `moon-fang slices the heavens' every time I swing my sword, you overly-verbose ape!”

 

Ichigo tried to find a cutting rejoinder, failed, and settled for petty nitpicking. “You don't even have a sword!”

 

“I could if I wanted,” said Ishida mysteriously, the effect ruined as his glasses fell off during the next skid down a sand ridge.

 

They halted whilst the Quincy sifted around short-sightedly for his precious seeing-implements.

 

“Doesn't Espada mean sword?” wondered Ichigo off-handed, scratching at the coarse grains trapped in his highlighter-orange hair. “Chad?”

 

The foreign Goliath looked down at his first and best friend. “I'm half-Mexican…not Spanish.”

 

Recovering his glasses and affixing them firmly to his face, for the next ten minutes at least, Ishida took the opportunity to show off his intelligence as well. “But aren't Spanish and Mexican closely related, Sado-kun?”

 

Chad considered this. “The differences between Mexican and Spanish are…” he trailed off for several seconds, deep in thought. Ishida nodded enthusiastically, eager for the answer, whilst Ichigo just shook his head and continued walking, knowing how it would end.

 

“…and that's how it is.” As usual, he had forgotten to say the middle before reaching the end. His one-man audience looked less than impressed.

 

Ichigo waved at them from a fair distance away. “Heeeeeey!” he hollered. “Rescue mission, remember? If you've got your bottle-bottom glasses then hurry up, Quincy!”

 

The uptight teenager nearly hissed. “At least I can aim, Kurosaki!”

 

Breaking back into a fast jog, they regrouped and carried on their way.

 

There was a pleasant silence interrupted only by the huffing sounds of long-distance runners, until Chad volunteered an observation, a rare occurrence for him.

 

“It is quite contradictory for a sniper to be blind…”

 

“Oh shut up; el idiota!”

 

o)0(o

 

Aizen studied the swirling surface of the Hougyoku, ink-black with the faintest suggestion of inner galaxies. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was made of…

 

Urahara Kisuke was indeed a genius.

 

The Hougyoku was one of the most powerful tools in existence, yet it was small enough to roll in the palm of his hand. It could grant unlimited power, yet few could handle such a blessing. It was still growing in potency, yet it was already working too well.

 

Rabioso would have been a powerful asset, and Vasto Lordes were far rarer than gold dust. The loss angered him.

 

But the loss of control over the Hougyoku infuriated him.

 

The soft steps of Szayel Apollo's approach made him clench his fist around the treacherous device, and turn to the door. He made no effort to disguise his ire. Perhaps it would inspire the Espada in his attempts to discover a solution. Though of course, being who he was, Aizen had already decided on at least six courses of action.

 

“Well?” snapped the shinigami, when his disciple failed to open his mouth fast enough. The yellow eyes opened wider in slight surprise.

 

“I have gathered the remnants of Perro's reiatsu and analysed its structural flexibility -”

 

“I already know what you have done.” His impatience was clear and his displeasure palpable. The pressure of his malevolent aura was crushing. Mere seconds of exposure left Szayel feeling wretchedly weak and feeble, as though his muscles were disintegrating. “Tell me what you have learned.”

 

“S-subsequent supplicants of the Hougyoku require a…” muttered the scientist thickly, his quick mind trying to comprehend how a shinigami could overpower an arrancar so easily. “A…certain deficiency of the soul…”

 

“How surprising,” murmured Aizen Sosuke, and suddenly Apollo could breathe again. “That is not what I was expecting to hear.”

 

The arrancar straightened up and flicked his pure pink hair back; adjusting his glasses. “Due to the dangers of exposing Hollows with great spiritual power to the Hougyoku in its current state, future transformations must be undergone by those at a lower level of evolution, or with a weak capacity. However they are very likely to die of a reiatsu overload in the process.”

 

“These are things I am already aware of,” said his master in warning. Stuttering a little, Szayel cut straight to the chase.

 

“Very rarely, there exist souls with apparently infinite potential. As such they would be capable of absorbing all the strength instilled in them by the Hougyoku without literally bursting due to the pressure.”

 

Moving towards the centre of the empty room, Aizen placed the orb back into its green podium. There was a tiny fracture in its crystal case; he had been gripping it so hard. Taking a deep, soothing breath, the man released it again. It was really not like him to be so open with his emotions.

 

Back in control of himself, he faced the Espada once again.

 

“Why do you consider this potential to be a deficiency?”

 

Szayel folded his arms, a thoughtful look on his face. “It is something I first noticed when my older brother Ilforte Granz began to travel with Grimmjaw Jeagerjacques, long before you appeared in Hueco Mundo, Aizen-sama. The vast majority of living beings have limits, no matter how high they may be.” His yellow irises flicked from side to side in recollection. “But when my brother and his friends ceased to grow, with only regression to look forward to, they offered their flesh to Jeagerjacques. And he continued to increase in power. Ever since that realisation, I began to study and research specimens of great latent ability.”

 

The Octava stepped closer to the shinigami, suddenly appearing very excited. “I am not definite on how many there are, nor exactly sure how it comes about; but those for whom the potential is a deficiency are capable of bringing any volume of reiatsu under their control - because they have spent their entire lives subduing their own colossal spirits. It is a defect as they are naturally under risk of a similar explosion to the one that Perro Rabioso suffered with his arrancarification. But if they can survive themselves, they can survive anything. Stark is one, though that doesn't help as his mask is already broken. Barragan might be. Hallibel and Ulquiorra perhaps. Nnoitra is not. Grimmjaw,” he raised his palms and tipped from side to side slightly, a pair of scales weighing up a decision… “As he first made me aware of this trait, I am waiting to see if he shows it.”

 

“As you say, a mask cannot be broken twice. Telling me the strength of my own Espada is not particularly constructive.” He was not very interested in Szayel Apollo's close inspection of his fellow arrancars, knowing perfectly well that the man's precarious grip on his rank depended entirely upon gathered knowledge and the strategies born thereof. His strength was his intellect. Compared to his peers, his spiritual energy was paltry. It took no great leap of the imagination to see why such a person would investigate the powers of others: in the hopes of duplicating them.

 

“Another candidate is that guy who recently invaded Hueco Mundo.” The entrance had been so obvious that the residents of Las Noches had barely bothered to mention it. If they had intended to go unnoticed then they were desperately naïve.

 

“Kurosaki Ichigo, yes. But he is already a vaizard. Although, considering this, I wonder if Urahara had another invention similar to the Hougyoku. Only because Rukia was safely in Soul Society before the ryoka gained legitimate shinigami abilities.”

 

“He is a little unusual,” noted Szayel, treading carefully in case it came across as praise and angered Aizen-sama. He need not have worried. The other just laughed briefly.

 

“He always is.” The ryoka had bested Zaraki and Byakuya just weeks after attaining his own zanpakuto, virtually captain-level from scratch. If anyone was an example of ridiculous potential, it was him.

 

“He is not just defected, but also contagious. It is something I have not found before. But from studying their energy signatures, he affected and empowered at least two of his friends before reining in his influence. Including our new…guest.” He referred to their technically voluntary hostage, Inoue Orihime.

 

“Really,” stated Aizen in a bored tone. This was nothing new. He had already figured all these things out during the ryoka invasion of Seireitei. It had served to fill the gaps between plotting and deceiving and pandering to that needy kicked-puppy Hinamori.

 

When the Kurosaki boy had stolen Rukia's shinigami abilities, his reiatsu had been a chaotic mess - torn between two zanpakuto, one dormant and one a stranger - and far too huge for a child to control. It had spilled out and infected those closest to his shinigami form: the ditz and the tall silent one. And eventually Zangetsu had provided a proper channel, after which the speed of progress had been unimaginable. But by then his friends had already exhibited their uncanny and unique abilities, born of a strange trigger rather than training in kido or through the slumbering swords in their souls.

 

It was simple, really.

 

“The contagion effect makes me wonder whether we could find a…potentialist similar to him from among those closest to him…” was the younger and now only Granz's final proposal.

 

The former captain gave this some thought. It was feasible, if one turned it sideways and squinted at it. “Are you suggesting Inoue Orihime or Sado Yasutora?”

 

Flapping a gloved hand, Szayel dismissed them. “Seeing as you have never permitted me to study the Hougyoku in detail, I cannot predict the outcome of using it on a non-shinigami or non-Hollow. But Barragan would be able to examine other acquaintances of that pest and tell you whether they would be suitable.”

 

“Oh?”

 

He continued reluctantly, for he disliked revealing just how closely he had studied his arrancar rivals. “His Majesty has a Soul Inspection talent.”

 

“Interesting. I wonder why it is him and not you, my dear Apollo.” As frequently was true, Aizen's voice was condescending. The lazy brown eyes hid a challenge.

 

The Espada fidgeted with his purple spectacles rather than meet that gaze. “All things become clear with time, I guess;” was his cryptic response.

 

“Indeed,” said the shinigami smoothly. Then he smiled, his usual superficially benevolent mood restored. “That's not his only extra skill, either.”

 

Szayel blinked. What had he missed?

 

o)0(o

 

“Bostov dresses like a man,” said Yuzu mournfully. “That's shocking.” She was measuring out the pattern of the pinkest, frilliest dress yet. It was cunningly designed to cure the plush toy of all tomboyish traits, by force if necessary.

 

Karin flipped the page of her sports manga. “I think he is a man, Yuzu.”

 

“What?!”

 

“Well…for one thing, he has a mane. And he's Karakura King. And he always mysteriously vanishes whenever you get out your sewing kit.” She was lying on her bed, flat on her back with one leg crossed over the other and foot bobbing in the air. Another page was turned. “I can't believe Suki forgave him for bursting her signed football. Who writes this rubbish?”

 

Yuzu went from 0 to tearful in three seconds flat. If she was being honest, she would admit that she was a little too frequent with the waterworks; but then again with a twin sister who never cried it was necessary to balance the equation. “Karin-chan…you doubt my womanly intuition?”

 

“Uh huh. But we should just ask him. He is alive after all.”

 

Hearing this didn't faze the girl at all. If it was indeed Karakura King, then they had already fought side by side as part of Don Kanonji's Rangers. The cheque was in the post to prove it, because the spirit medium's ratings had shot up. Nevertheless she raised her palm to her mouth and stage-whispered an argument.

 

“But Bostov is confused, Karin-chan!”

 

Her sister started laughing.

 

o)0(o

 

The sky of Hueco Mundo was low, oppressive, and eternally black. Inoue had not been here long; but she had already realised, staring through the small barred window of her cell, that the crescent moon never changed. She wondered if it had ever waxed or waned, some instinct telling her no.

 

Chad, Ishida and Kurosaki felt the same way as they navigated the endless desert. The moon was high in the sky, yet did not feel above it. The night was blank, a black veil blocking out the stars. If any existed in this barren dimension.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Tree.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Hollow gecko.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Tree.

 

Sand.

 

Sand.

 

Sa-

 

“Are we nearly there yet?”

 

“Kurosaki, you can see as well as I can that we're nowhere near!”

 

Ichigo sniggered. “Yeah but your glasses are so thick maybe the castle looks closer…” He face-planted into the sand, having been tripped up by an angry Quincy. Coughing and spitting the crunchy granules out of his mouth, he stood back up. Okay. Maybe he had brought that one on himself.

 

“Look, why don't I just go bankai and flash step there? It would be a hell of a lot faster.”

 

Ishida punched his palm, inspired. “Yes! Reveal our presence to all of Hueco Mundo, waste all your energy before ever seeing an Espada and leave me and Sado-kun behind in the dust! What an excellent recipe for disaster!”

 

Ichigo threw his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I get it! But can you blame me for being bored? It doesn't even seem like we're moving!”

 

Chad, the only member if the trio looking at their surroundings, made an astute observation.

 

“Would a tornado help?”

 

“What?”

 

He pointed wordlessly at the hurricane tearing into ground before them.

 

“AAAGH!”

 

“RUN!!!”

 

o)0(o

 

“Aahhh!” yelped Karin, dropping her comic and covering her eyes. Yuzu jumped at the unexpected noise and snipped straight through Bostov's new frock.

 

“Karin!” she scolded, holding out the ruined garment in dismay. “What was that for? You jogged me!”

 

But her sister had rolled onto one side, curling into a foetal position around the sharp pain in her head. She did not answer.

 

“Karin-chan?” repeated Yuzu, her voice softened by concern. “What's the matter?”

 

A questing hand reached out and grabbed the nearest pillow, picking it up and cramming it over the girl's black-haired head. "I have a migraine," she whimpered. "And my eyes have gone all jazzy."

 

"I thought the eye migraines didn't hurt, nee-chan."

 

Holding back the tears born from the sharp pain in her eye sockets and cranium, Karin reminded herself over and over of her vow never to cry and never to burden her family. "Normally they don't. But when they do...it usually means something is about to happen."

 

"Like what?"

 

"Like when Mum...and the night the truck went into our wall when Ichi-nii...or those times with Kanonji when the monster was too big and Ururu had to gun it down."

 

Yuzu felt a shiver go down her neck. The sentences didn't really need completing. The words were not pleasant to voice. "That's bad, Karin-chan."

 

The pillow nodded. "But I don't feel any ghosts around. Why would I have a migraine if there weren't?"

 

She didn't know it, but the answer was simple. The invader was hiding his presence.

 

In the room down the hallway, a black seam appeared in empty air and began to widen, its edges jagged with angular ripples. A strange bubbling roar emitted from the growing, expanding portal. And without the faintest hint of reiatsu, an Espada stepped through the garganta and into the real world.

 

Karin began to shake.

 

"Yuzu-chan, I think you should leave."

 

"But you're-!"

 

"Go and fetch Oyaji! Call the neighbours, whatever, just don't stay here!"

 

"I can't just leave you Karin-chan-"

 

"YUZU!" shouted her twin, ripping the pillow off her head and throwing it at her sister. "RUN!"

 

Startled into obedient action, Yuzu leapt to her feet and sprinted out the door and down the stairs. Following suit, albeit far more slowly; Karin lurched along the corridor to her brother's room. The plain badge on the door with its '15' logo shuddered and fell off as she tugged weakly at the door handle. This kind of menace would take more than a football to finish off, she could tell that much. The migraine was the most intense she had ever experienced. And if she was lucky, perhaps she could find a weapon of some sort in her brother's drawers. That gizmo he had used to exit his physical body - would that work on anyone? And if it did would she find herself with black robes and a sword as well?

 

Karin could only hope it ran in the family, and failing that swear at the universe until it caved in and submitted to her demands. She had to find a way to fight the coming danger.

 

She had to protect Yuzu.

 

She didn't want to imagine life without Yuzu, the way she had had to get used to life without a loving, adorable mother and a supportive, if kind of thick-headed and short tempered older brother. He was gone so much of the time, and she knew the zombie-Ichigo who was a bit of a pansy and pretty rude and really lazy truly was no replacement at all.

 

But life without Yuzu wouldn't be life any more. It would just be the dregs of a family broken beyond repair. Not just because Yuzu was the domestic centre of the Kurosaki universe...but because she was the innocent one. The one of them that forgave all other bolshie, argumentative and fight-picking members of the family. She made it a home, rather that a fight club with free meals. In her mind, Yuzu was far more indispensable than herself.

 

She made this building a home and haven rather than a hospital clinic filled with strangers and a small house attached to the side.

 

Karin must have been absolutely terrified, because all these thoughts flashed through her mind in mere seconds - permeated with an absolute certainty that the approaching Hollow was going to kill somebody.

 

Of course she didn't want it to be her; but it just could not be Yuzu. It just couldn't.

 

The door slammed open; she shot into Ichigo's room and started to empty out the desk's faded blue drawers. There was nothing usable there, whether she could have recognised them or not. No spiritual artefacts, no swords, robes, weapons, nothing. Only pens and bits of paper with ugly rabbits and bears drawn on them (Karin ignored her brother's apparent bad taste in art for the moment, preoccupied by a very insistent sense of dread) and the odd strange souvenir, like a ribbon or a duck-headed sweet dispenser.

 

Karin abruptly stopped searching and just slumped on the bed. She felt frozen, like the increasing pounding of her headache was cutting out her motor skills. If nothing could be done, then it was time to run. Ichigo was long, long gone. Yuzu had hopefully run as fast as her legs could carry her to the town centre or somewhere where the crowds would dissuade attackers - doubtful when the ghosts were so conveniently invisible to most. Their father was out of town on a shopping spree for the clinic with old friends. The only other dependable person she could think of was Tatsuki; who wasn't spiritually aware, as far as she knew.

 

Or that Toushiro kid, but the chances of him popping up at the perfect moment were waaay less than a million to one.

 

"Shit," gasped Karin, clutching her throbbing head. "Shit. It's getting closer."

 

The plain wooden door, not the sort designed to conceal or reveal horrors, opened for a second time. When the frightened child's black eyes looked up at him in terror, the arrancar was surprised. His ability to hide his reiatsu was near enough perfect, as should be expected from one of his great stature. Yet there she was, staring at his weathered tanned skin and bone crown; and trying her hardest to scrabble away over the unmade bed and leap out of the nearest window. Pointless.

 

Barragan scrutinised the small, frail form of the human. Trash. Utter trash. But he could indeed see the flawed signs that Szayel had instructed him to look for. The rust on the Chain of Fate. The brittle quality of the Soul Sleep. The promising little defects in the soul of this Plus, who was currently so weak as to be a dust mote to his mountain.

 

It was just as well he had disguised his presence. Even his normal, stationary level of reiatsu would have crushed her.

 

Striking out with a swift fist, he knocked her away from the window frame and onto the carpeted floor in an instant. The trash wailed and clutched at her head, staggering to her feet again in a futile attempt to dodge around his impeding presence.

 

"I do not know why that Aizen wants a soul like yours,” admitted the demon, his manner disparaging; “but I can at least be thankful I found you straight away. I do not wish to be in this disgusting, thin air any longer than I have to." He raised one of those bruising hands for a second time.

 

"Ichi-nii! Oyaji! Yuzu!" shrieked the girl, panicking. "Help me! HELP-!"

 

He cuffed her soul out of her body with a single blow, just to make her shut up.

 

The small ragdoll corpse split in two, both flying in opposite directions to land in a crumpled heap. Barragan Luisenbarn snarled; this was taking too long. "Stand before me, you maggot. Your new sovereign demands it."

 

A long, clinking chain spooled out in the gap between spirit and matter. Karin just blinked at it, slipping into shock with the slow sensation of drowning. What was that? Why was it attached to her, and why was her body on the other side of the room, over there? How could she see if her eyes where over there?

 

"Uh....ah....I.....uh..." stuttered the child.

 

The king of Hueco Mundo pulled her to her feet, drawing his sword. Looming over her timid and petrified soul, he released a whisper of reiatsu, just enough for the purpose.

 

Out in the street, Yuzu felt it, and started screaming for help at the bewildered passers-by.

 

Karin had been right.

 

Death had come.

 

o)0(o

 

Isshin waved a cheerful hand at his long time friend and long time I'll-put-up-with-him-if-I-have-to acquaintance, as he approached the sunny cafe table from a distance. Urahara looked quite pleased to see him, tipping his hat like one would doff a cap.

 

Ryuuken just glared.

 

Unless he was squinting in the bright autumn sunshine. Ishhin hoped that was the case, at least.

 

"Yo!" he greeted his fellows, waving at them again.

 

"Just sit down and shut up. I don't want you drawing attention to us. If we three are seen together in public..."

 

"By who?" interrupted Urahara, and his carefree nature was almost equal to that of Isshin himself. "There are perhaps two people in all the world and only a handful from the afterlife that could derive any scandal from us having an innocent rendezvous."

 

"I don't care," stated Ryuuken quite clearly; raising his hand to halt Urahara's babbling in the manner of a highly paid consultant who is used to being obeyed. "What concerns me is that my son has once again run off with this idiot's spawn and put himself in danger. Into Hueco Mundo!"

 

"I know," replied Urahara blithely. "I sent them there."

 

"And for that I'm going to make you pay the bill." This was no small threat. The cafe they were visiting was extremely expensive, and for that it promised them a private conversation. It would also serve them all the green tea, sake and Red Bull they needed to tolerate each others' company.

 

"Hai, hai~" chirped the inventor, grocery-store owner and architect of Aizen's apocalypse proudly.

 

"Uryuu is such a fool," lamented the sewing-fanatic's father, always only too happy to berate his offspring. The others at the table had not even asked how life was going for him before he launched into another complaint. "He thinks he's a genius, and I'll admit he has talent far beyond that of the majority of his forefathers, but his recklessness is atrocious! He lost his powers in the space of three months! What kind of intellect achieves that, may I ask?"

 

Isshin was inclined to disagree. "I think that our boys are quite heroic. He did take down the bankai of Kurotsuchi, which is an astounding feat for someone who had already been stabbed by that evil little Ashizogi Sushi of his."

 

"I think you got the name wrong, Kurosaki-kun..." noted the geta-boshi.

 

"On purpose, yes! But putting that aside, we all know that Ryuuken here is just jealous of my little Ichigo, ha ha ha!"

 

"What?" The white-haired man downed his small cup of sake. If he did not keep his hands occupied they would soon be clenching Kurosaki's neck.

 

"Don't try to deny it, you miserable old sod! Ichigo has boasted more power than Zaraki AND Byakuya in a single outing! He kicks your kid's pansy sewing club ass! He's a gem, if he'd just come home at the proper times."

 

"Your priorities need a little tweaking, my old friend." This jibe came from the wise old mouth of Kisuke. Isshin pouted, trying to look hurt.

 

"I can schedule you for a lobotomy next month. I'll fast track you," promised Ryuuken, a dangerous edge in his voice.

 

"The old-fashioned way, with an ice pick and a mallet? No thanks mate."

 

"I can't believe you would even dare to suggest I was jealous of that brat of yours. The way he flings his reiatsu around is atrocious! He would not be able to master a single kido spell in a thousand years! With the same amount of energy Uryuu would be able to extract powers ten times more efficient!"

 

"Te-ten times?! Isn't that taking it a little far?" spluttered the formerly proud father.

 

"No...." said Urahara slowly. He picked at his nails, pretending that the dirt caught beneath them was more interesting than Isshin's enraged expression (which he was sure would be hilarious, hence he couldn't look up until he had finished his sentence for fear of bursting into laughter, that not being very sly or subtle). "Actually Kurosaki-kun is still failing to reach his full potential, and I'm not talking about further power-ups. A lot of his energy is wasted, leading him to use more. And those mistakes are only forcing him to draw more power from the seat of his soul." Kisuke looked at Isshin steadily. "I know I do not need to warn you of the dangers inherent in such damaging progress, Kurosaki-kun."

 

"Says the guy who made my son a vaizard!"

 

"Did you want him to return home or not? A shinigami cannot sustain a living body."

 

“Assuming he can come home.” Isshin suddenly burst into tears, his energy drink kicking in and exaggerating his emotions. “Our babies have gone out to die!”

 

Ishida sneered, crossing his arms and leaning back in his wicker chair. “Why should we care? They were both too impatient to become true warriors from the start. They don't know their own limits and just burn themselves out.”

 

“Aha!” cheered the head of the Kurosaki family. “I'm a better dad than you! I win the rivalry!”

 

“I never saw you as worthy of being my rival.”

 

Kisuke just sipped his tea and tried to keep his smiles to a minimum. Failing that, at least to make them appear mocking. He had a reputation to upkeep; it just wouldn't do to show how much he genuinely enjoyed these secret café powwows.

 

“And I'm only alive because you swore the Hippocratic Oath, blah blah blah,” finished Isshin. “Though I wonder how you expected your son to become both strong and prudent by ignoring him.”

 

It hit a deeply buried nerve. “Am I supposed to coddle him, like you?!”

 

“Pshht. I take great pride in beating Ichigo up every morning. It hones his instincts. When he's at home that is; and not off saving damsels, defeating captains, learning bankai - that kind of thing.”

 

“Imbecile,” muttered Ishida Senior, returning to his sake.

 

The ex-captain in the green-striped hat finally chose to speak. “Ishida-san. You coddled your son by not teaching him to be a true Quincy. Did you think the training would break him?”

 

The alcohol disappeared down the doctor's throat. He led a teetotal lifestyle for the most part. The unfamiliar liquid burned when he swallowed. “I was committed to the hospital and saving lives. His grandfather-”

 

“Trained him against your wishes,” interjected Urahara, cutting him short. “You are too vain, Ishida-san. You keep trying to carry all the histories of the Quincy tribe on your shoulders alone.”

 

Kurosaki joined in, jumping on the bandwagon. “And your deluded Quincy pride! You're so proud to be the last one that you'd rather see your child die than relinquish the title!”

 

Ishida Ryuuken stood up with violent speed, knocking over Urahara's tea. Boiling water spilled in all directions.

 

“Allow me to correct you, my dear shinigamis.” He was trembling with barely-controlled rage. “I am in fact the only Quincy who does not wilfully ignore the wider consequences of our actions.”

 

It was their turn to fall into a stunned silence.

 

“The truth is: I wish for our heritage to end completely.”

 

o)0(o

 

Bloomake!

 

Shinigami Cup: Golden!

 

o)0(o

 

Kon snuck into the girls' room, on a mission to find scissors. Yuzu had stitched an enormous daisy to his mane a week ago and it needed to be removed before it sucked away all of his sanity.

 

It hadn't been pretty when it happened to Chappy, and hell if this soul candy was going to suffer the same mistakes.

 

However, as he stealthily advanced upon the sewing box, he caught sight of a manga that had fallen to the floor. It was about football. Ooh.

 

Minutes later a dark shadow fell over him. As a joyous cry of delight rang out, he realised it had all been a trap. Curses.

 

“Bostov!”

 

o)0(o

 

Ichigo thought being trapped in a whirlwind of sand was bad enough, but of course Ishida could always be counted on to make such misfortunes even more unbearable.

 

In the midst of the dizzying, tumbling dust storm, a hand latched onto his arm and the archer yelled something in his ear.

 

“WHAT?” shouted Ichigo, receiving a mouthful of grit for his troubles. “I CAN'T HEAR YOU!”

 

“PENTAGONAL!” screamed Uryuu again, giving his exasperated friend a thumbs up and a stupid grin before being tossed back into the maelstrom.

 

o)0(o

 

Alliriyan~*