Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Zanpaku-to? ❯ Defence: Whole and Hollow ( Chapter 22 )

Tite Kubo owns Bleach. I just borrowed the characters. I did create Atonomatsuri (the bird) and Piecrust (the jerk).

 

Defence: Whole and Hollow

 

Steel clashed on steel as battle was joined, and with the memory of previous clashes clear in his mind, Zaraki began to enjoy himself. This was what he'd missed, a fight with a capable rival; someone who could amuse him for more than a few minutes and could force him to reassess his strategy as the tussle continued. It was true that they'd fought before, but not for some time and there had been changes: his foe had developed bankai since last time. The hard training and dedication showed as he was handling the blade with more confidence and seemed to have improved stamina and co-ordination.

 

Relaxing into the fight, he watched the moves, trying to anticipate what the next variety of attack would be. Stepping to the left he avoided a well placed blow that should have knocked a bell from his hair and then twisted a little to avoid the corresponding strike from the scabbard. Laughing he swung his weapon; past the defences and hit Madarame with the flat of his sword on his right side. He didn't want to draw blood, yet. “Still not fast enough,” he muttered quietly, “but he's getting there. He should have a better defence if he's using the scabbard as well as the zanpaku-to.”

 

Madarame retreated a few paces as if gauging the situation. “You've learnt some new moves. I don't know why, but I seem to be too late in landing the blow and my defence seems flawed. I don't understand it. Maybe I should fight you more often.”

 

Feeling a slight stab of conscience, Zaraki realised he had been tapping into the `too late' ability of Atonomatsuri as they skirmished, but mentally dismissed the emotion. If the power was there, he needed to learn to use it consciously and unconsciously. This was the opportunity to test how it worked against someone other than the irritating squawker, but he didn't want it to be too easy. “Why don't you use the other form? Come on man, I want a challenge.”

 

“We haven't been fighting for five minutes.” Lunging forward, Madarame nearly managed to skewer Zaraki's sleeve, but the zanpaku-to only found empty air on its point as a subtle move whisked the material just out of reach. The scabbard flew through the air as a riposting blow dashed it from his hand. He looked at where the scabbard lay, shock transforming his face. “Captain, as usual you're teaching me while we fight. I keep thinking I have no hole in my defences and you've found a new one each time.”

 

Smiling even wider, Zaraki quickly cut both sleeves of his opponent's uniform, just to prove a point and they now flapped untidily and he had managed that feat without touching the flesh underneath. “I miss the blood and the way the blade feels when it's cutting flesh, but this is fun too. Try harder, make me work for it. You wanted this fight, so try and win.”

 

Bending to retrieve his scabbard, the bald Shinigami took his time as if planning his next tactic. Straightening quickly he feinted to the right and with a lighting flick of steel thrust upward. Zaraki's eye patch was in danger of being removed, but he leant his head back, just an inch out of the way. “Good move, but are you sure you want to remove the eye patch? I think it's a mistake as it makes me stronger; you know that. We're not fighting at that level yet and I don't want to make it too difficult for you.” He caught a quick look of disquiet his antagonist's face at the comment and implied criticism. “Maybe you could try for something less dangerous. A bell perhaps?”

 

Stepping back, Madarame gazed at the eye patch and the bells that adorned Zaraki's hair, his eyes moving as if wondering why he had failed to obtain either one. They seemed to bother him for some reason and looking slightly grim he replied “I tried that earlier, only a minute ago, didn't you notice? That was when I noticed I was too late.” As he said the words `too late' he seemed struck by an inspiration. `I think the five minutes is up. You want me to make this more interesting? I think I can do that. Extend Hozukimaru!”

 

The admission about the bells was unexpected. He'd tried for the bells, then the eye patch; was there a reason? As he thought about that Zaraki heard the command and immediately began to grumble to himself. “Yeah, every one else gets the cool invocation and I'm stuck with yawn,” he muttered, noticing again the discrepancy between his summoning word and the release words used by other Shinigami. “Even the name of his zanpaku-to is better than mine. I bet its physical manifestation doesn't look like a bloody decomposing vulture.”

 

“Oh, stop whining about it, Kenny, you sound like a spoiled little princess. `I'm stuck with yawn. It's a vulture.' Enough of the self indulgent whimpering, I tire of it. The word is yawn and nothing will change that, nor should you want to. As to your rude comments about my beautiful appearance, I know you have a damaged mind, so I'll excuse you for the moment. You've used the too late power in this fight already, so I'm not all bad, am I? On the mountains of truth you can never climb in vain: either you will reach a point higher up today, or you will be training your powers so that you will be able to climb higher tomorrow. Friedrich Nietzsche wrote that and I think it applies to you.” Atonomatsuri chuckled complacently in his mind seemingly pleased at her witticism.

 

If the insult was meant to startle, it succeeded even though it was followed by something that was almost close to a compliment. It was bad enough to be compared to a child, but to be compared with a spoiled girl was even worse. The rotten adage addict was trying to make him respond, attempting to provoke a retort. He decided to ignore the slur, but couldn't let all her comments go unanswered. “What are you yammering on about this time? I'm no superman. I'm trying to concentrate on this because it's the most fun I've had for a while; so could you keep your barbed poisonous tongue from interfering? Your voice sounds as pleasant as gravel and glass rattling in a rusty tin.” Zaraki didn't want her advice when fighting, nor would he follow it. How could she expect him to think if she was babbling on as usual?

 

He heard a grumpy exclamation in his mind, but ignored it, intent on what Madarame was planning. After he'd extended his zanpaku-to he'd begun twirling the spear version from hand to hand, drawing admiring glances from the watching crowd. It was a spectacle that drew the eye, almost hypnotic in the constant motion. There was a small amount of chatter going on as the audience watched. Quickly glancing around, Zaraki noticed that the throng had grown considerably larger since they had begun fighting and many of the additions did not belong to his division. Money seemed to be changing hands. Why anyone was betting on an outcome that was assured was beyond his comprehension, or maybe they were betting on how long the fight would last. Mentally shrugging off his thoughts, he called to his opponent, “Stop showing off.”

 

Watching the spear whirl around, Zaraki again realised that this would be a different type of fight. The range of the weapon was superior to most and when handled well it could be a formidable threat. The way Madarame was managing the spear indicated his skills had improved. Good. He wanted something that might make him exert his body, even make him use strategy. Becoming too complacent could be his death and he didn't feel like dying at the moment. Life was proving a little more interesting even if the annoyances had increased.

 

“I'm demonstrating that this has a longer reach and that it can be used for more than simply stabbing at your enemy. Not every one is lucky enough to have a zanpaku-to as versatile as this one.” The tone of the voice was a reminder of how much this zanpaku-to was treasured by its owner and his face expressed his pleasure in being able to handle it in combat.

 

“Why don't you say nice things like that about me, Kenny? Fortune is a woman; if you neglect her today do not expect to regain her tomorrow. Think of me as your fortune, and don't neglect me, or things may change. You rely on me and my good graces to succeed and survive. What if I were to turn against you? He who does not cultivate his field, will die of hunger,” Atonomatsuri's voice held a scolding tone that impressed him not at all. It seemed her selfish demands increased with each conversation.

 

“And the bird that does not shut her beak will find my fist down her throat. Say nice things about you? I'd sooner mutter sweet words to a carbuncle; at least the carbuncle will go away. I may rely on you, but you rely on me. Quit your yapping; I'm not interested in what you have to say.” Zaraki was short and not impressed by Atonomatsuri's clamour for praise.

 

“Can we continue the fight, or do you need to keep waving that thing around?” Zaraki spoke aloud to Madarame, to cover any response from Atonomatsuri.

 

“Hey, Captain. I told you, I was just demonstrating and also stretching so I'm better prepared to fight you. I'm ready.” Whirling his zanpaku-to around his head, Madarame faced his opponent and waited for the offensive moves.

 

Zaraki stood there, feeling amused. This was an easy and showy display but he wasn't impressed, no matter how the onlookers might be enthralled. It was an easy thing to stop the admittedly daunting rotation, but he'd done it before. Sauntering close, he simply flicked his steel up and stopped the other's weapon in mid whirl. “You're not even trying.”

 

“Not yet; I thought you'd want to spin this out,” smiling as he made the pun; Madarame grasped his blade ready to battle.

 

Suppressing an exclamation of disgust at the bad pun, Zaraki shook his head. “No, I want this to look like a real fight. Now are you ready to stop stuffing around and get serious? Do you think you can make me break into a sweat?”

 

Nodding and then abruptly stabbing forward, weight centred on his left leg and his blade extended, Madarame again aimed at the eye patch. Zaraki stepped aside and felt the wind from the attack pass by his ear. “Better. Keep it up.”

 

These words had an effect, as if they were a triggering phase, and with quick short piercing movements the spear was repeatedly punched toward him and he was forced to repel the attacks. The spear was moving fast, whipping from one point to another, always shoved forward as it trying to impale him on its length. The attacks were not always predicable, which made it all the more enjoyable. It was not possible to remain static while being attacked by a spear, and he was reminded of the dance between blades, flesh and bones in a battle. The thrill of moving out of reach, of attempting to cut the foe and stopping the other from cutting made him remember the fierce joy he experienced when he finally had someone to fight who didn't make him like he was skirmishing against a novice.

 

In an impromptu interval, they moved to opposite sides of the fighting square and observed each other. Madarame's eyes were wide and gleaming almost with pleasure as his mouth stretched wide. He seemed to be enjoying the `demonstration' as much his Captain. Even as he inspected his surroundings, Zaraki noticed that the watching crowd had grown even larger. To his right he noticed the crimson hair of his former subordinate and grinned. Obviously Abarai had heard word of the fight and had come to watch. His eyes were moving rapidly between the combatants as if checking if any damage had yet been inflicted.

 

“I think you won this part of the bet,” Zaraki yelled across the square.

 

Moving his eyes, Madarame darted a look in the direction indicated by Zaraki and then nodded. “Yep.” Even as he spoke, he began to rush forward.

 

As he came closer, he seemed to slow down, or that was how it appeared to the Captain who was preparing for the oncoming assault. He noticed that the attacking weapon was held differently to a few minutes before. “If I remember his tactics, he's going to get his bladed sansetsukon to break, when he comes close enough. That has an element of surprise the first time and it's a pretty difficult manoeuvre to counter. I can either let him cut me, dodge, cut him, focus and use too late, or even parry. I don't feel like getting cut today, so that's one option out. Why am I even thinking about it? I'll cut him, not too deeply and probably dodge, just a little. Don't want to make it look too difficult or like it's an easy fight.”

 

Thrusting out his zanpaku-to he knocked the oncoming attack aside before the sansetsukon could break and sliced into the flesh of the arm feeling a slight shock travel up the handle of the zanpaku-to as it gave the impression of travelling further. He felt a sting on the back of his hand and noticed that he had been cut by the blade he'd deflected. It was nothing.

 

“Good, we've both drawn blood. Do you want to continue?” Raising his eyes from the wound he'd sustained, he noticed that he'd probably misjudged the slice. “Damn.”

 

Blood was flowing freely from the cut arm and Hozukimaru was lying on the ground while more blood was flowing from a wound to the chest. He'd sliced the arm from wrist to elbow and could see the tendons exposed but the cut to the chest was not as deep. Madarame was looking at his injuries incredulously, his face pale and his eyes glassy. “How in the name of the friggin' demon king, did you do that? You hardly seemed to move and then I felt you slice right into me. I can't continue this bloody demonstration because I can't hold my zanpaku-to. Crap. Hell. Flaming, frigging, buggery…..” The cursing continued.

 

“I think I better take him back to my division, Captain. He'll need stiches. While I am certain that you did not intend to inflict that level of injury and I thought this was only meant to be a demonstration, the damage is considerable. I must admit I am a little disappointed; you seemed to be learning how to exercise more restraint but this does not bode well.” Appearing seemingly out of the ether, Retsu was standing supporting Madarame who was swaying on his feet. Isane stood on his other side; assisting and working together they quickly bound the wounds.

 

“Would you please assist us in bearing this man to 4th Division?” Isane asked the two nearest Shinigami. They quickly nodded and picking up the wounded man, carried him out of the training ground.

 

Feeling responsible, Zaraki began to follow, but stopped when he noticed the expression on Retsu's face. She had said she was disappointed. It appeared that she was more than that, she seemed angry, not that any frown or anger marred the usual serene expression, it was the look in her eyes that made him pause. She nodded curtly to him and left, following her patient.

 

With the departure of Madarame and Retsu, the additional onlookers quickly dispersed. One of the members of 11th Division retrieved Hozukimaru and the scabbard and handed them to Zaraki who took them but then didn't know what to do with them. Looking around at the faces of his men, he noticed they were looking at him; some stunned, some shocked, many fearful, but the respect visible in their eyes was more apparent, just as Madarame had predicted.

 

“You're all dismissed. Training here, tomorrow morning, early. Go and do something useful, unless any of you want to fight me.” It was interesting to see how quickly the training ground emptied at his words. Only Yachiru was left and she seemed hesitant at approaching him. Waiting for her to speak he sheathed the sword and stood waiting.

 

“Ken-chan…” she began and then stopped, first looking at him and then at the ground, the sky and slyly at his face again.

 

He didn't reply, not knowing what to say in this situation, nor able to guess what she felt she needed to say.

 

“I know you were having fun and so was Baldy. He asked for the fight, I heard him, and maybe it was the right idea. You need to practice and a lot of people won't accept your challenges, I know. It was a good fight; but Ken-chan, but did you mean to cut Baldy so deeply?” Yachiru gabbled the words quickly as if needing to say them as quickly as she could, before she lost her courage. She did not appear confident at how her question would be received.

 

“What do you think? No, I didn't mean to cut him deeply. But it happened. Bugger. Go along to 4th Division and check on him, would you? I don't think Captain Unohana wants to see me at the moment and I want to know how he is. Meet me in the office once you have news.” Zaraki did not want to see the silent reproach in her eyes nor did he want to examine his own reaction.

 

Twisting her hands in her sash, Yachiru hesitated and then asked, “Ken-chan, why are 2nd Division trying to get into your office? Someone told me that a few of them have ended up at 4th Division after some of our guys found them breaking in. I think they got a little upset,” he voice faded slightly as she uttered the last sentence. “I think Lolly might be unhappy about that too.”

 

“What the hell? I haven't got a frigging clue why 2nd Division are trying to break into my office. I'll go and check, but it seems unimportant right now. Go and find out how Madarame is; move it, Assistant Captain.”

 

Pouting slightly and evidently unhappy she turned and left.

 

Watching her leave he spent time justifying the events, something he'd never done before. Madarame had asked for the fight. They'd fought before and he'd wounded him then, this wasn't any different. If you challenged someone to a fight you had to expect it might end with injury or death. It wasn't unknown. The last time he'd fought anyone seriously he'd been injured; he'd expected it. It was a possibility when anyone fought. Hell, they were the 11th. Not some namby pamby division where the only fighting seemed to be who would complete the maddening paperwork. And what was going on with 2nd Division? What outlandish decision had their commander made? Was it a training exercise to see how the changes in 11th Division would affect her forces? He had no quarrel with Soi Fon so it was abnormal that this was happening.

 

“Damn it. This is wrong. What in the name of Ares am I thinking? I don't need to justify anything. It happened, he'll live. So what if Retsu and Yachiru are upset with me. It's not important, why should I give a curse? 2nd Division can go hang, their reasons and actions are unimportant.” He spoke aloud in his attempt to overcome the unwanted sensations he was experiencing.

 

“Undergoing guilt, Kenny boy? I think that's the emotion you're feeling, isn't it? You probably don't recognise it; do you, having never experienced it before. Must be the synapses in your brain are finally firing properly instead of the usual stunted splutter. Your mind is being repaired, so emotions aside from anger are emerging. It's funny that you can feel guilt for hurting him, but you feel no guilt for all the pain you caused me in the past. Not even one slight twinge of conscience for the amount of time you ignored me and blocked out my screams of agony. That doesn't see fair, or right. Hearken to the warnings of conscience, if you would not feel its wounds,” the bird sounded much put out, supposedly because he had insulted her strongly by his reaction.

 

“Was I talking to you? Why in the name of sanity do you keep carrying on about that? I've heard it all before and constant reminders do not make me feel any guilt. You don't feel guilty about the lies you've told me, do you, you abnormal avian? If I hear one more adage from your bill, I'll cut out your tongue and bloody glue your gaping maw shut; or I'll give you to the Clown Captain. Got it?” He was not in the mood for yet another lecture on his shortcomings as perceived by Atonomatsuri. If he didn't stop her quickly her lecture would continue until he knocked himself unconscious just to escape her words. Waiting to see if she would respond, he looked at the ground. Blood had seeped into the earth and still looked fresh. He kicked some sand over it, not wanting any further reminders of the incident.

 

“I didn't kill him. He's not dead.” Speaking the words aloud were no help. He still felt uncomfortable about the fight and standing in the deserted training ground was not making it easier. While he felt the guilt, he grasped the knowledge that mingled with the guilt, was a hint of exhilaration that he was beginning to harness a little of the power of his zanpaku-to.

 

Again thinking aloud he wondered if the intended evening discussion would be cancelled. “Will Retsu turn up tonight? Will Madarame? I want to talk to both of them about my plans. I need Madarame to fight me so I can try out the new form. Why am I even thinking like this? He's been hurt before, and recovered. 4th Division will take care of him; that's their job. I'll go back to the office and look through the dolls to see if the ones I want are there. If they're not, that whole scheme comes to nothing and buying the dolls was a waste of time. There's the chance I'll have more than one of the same; I didn't check before I bought them. It doesn't matter. I can give them to Yachiru and she can keep them or give them to Piecrust. Yachiru said 2nd Division have been trying to get into my office. Yeah, I should check that nothing's happening.” Acting on his thoughts, he ambled to his office still carrying Hozukimaru. There would be no one waiting to see him, no one to make jokes with. It would be boring, but Yachiru might return soon and could tell him how bad the injuries were.

 

As he came within sight of his headquarters, he subconsciously noticed something was wrong. Remembering the facts Yachiru had provided, he halted and tried to work out what was out of place. The door still seemed to be shut, there were no people outside and the light was not on. If he didn't know better he would think he was sensing someone's reiatsu close by. The reiatsu of someone strong; not an ordinary person; but it was wavering, as if the person was trying to conceal their presence but had difficulty in maintaining their concentration. Stealthily he moved closer, making certain his moves were silent. Pausing outside the door, he waited, trying to hear anything that might inform him if the person within was aware of his presence. Inside he heard the rustle of bags and muttered obscenities.

 

The key was in one hand, his zanpaku-to in the other, ready to fend off any attack. He tried the door. Whoever was in his office had neglected to lock it once they broke in. That was a strategic error. Replacing the key in his pocket, he pushed the door open and cautiously looked in. A member of the Special Remote Squad was holding a box. It was evident that the person was from the squad due to the clothing worn, but the height, the figure, the stance were vaguely familiar to Zaraki.

 

“I'll ask your commander what special interest the Secret Remote Squad has in my office.” Speaking quietly he noted that the squad member had not been paying attention to anything outside the office. The squad member dropped the box she was holding and then grabbed the doll that had been within.

 

The next few minutes held one of the most unexpected admissions Zaraki had heard for some time. Before the squad member could go into detail, he remembered the potential listener and insisted they go to a less cluttered place to continue the discussion. Taking the doll from her hands he replaced it in the box despite vehement protests. At his insistence, they went to a nearby tea house and conversed on the subject at some length. The facts revealed gave him greater insight into some of the dynamics of which he had been unaware. The discussion continued for a while.

 

After arranging matters with his unexpected visitor, Zaraki returned to his office and started to sort through the dolls. Removing the boxes from the bags, he spent some time looking at each doll. It was fortunate that the particular dolls he wanted were present and there were duplicates of the dolls as he suspected. The duplicates were put to one side as he arranged the boxes into the order he'd decided. Tonight, if all went well, he could find out how the others viewed his plans. If Madarame was sufficiently recovered, if Ayasegawa wasn't tetchy from being confined all day, if Retsu actually turned up, if Yachiru was still talking to him after his…

 

“The bloody guilt again. What a useless emotion.” Speaking aloud he almost expected some spiteful comment from Atonomatsuri but, for once, she remained silent. Maybe the threat had worked, or she was waiting for a moment when he did not expect her input.

 

Removing his eye patch and sitting down he rubbed his eyes. They felt gritty and heavy, and he was loath to open them. He didn't have anything to do for the rest of the day, except to return to 1st Division to retrieve Ayasegawa. The paperwork was being completed; training was over for the moment; he was tired. The interruption to his sleep last night and increased activities during the day probably contributed to his weariness. Leaning back in his chair, he rested his head, and thought of what he should be doing. For now he'd rest his eyes and think about his scheme.

 

“It's imperative Retsu help with the plan,” he thought. It was agreeable to have his eyes closed; it had been a hard, long day.

 

“What do you want? I have what you want. Harder this time to be stronger.”

 

The words sounded familiar. He had a memory of hearing them recently when he was in an undesirable situation; when he was dreaming, dreaming about the Hollow.

 

Alerted by the realisation he opened his eyes, looked to his left and saw the Hollow observing him once more. Freaking springs of pain, he was dreaming again. The blasted wasteland, the suffocating feeling of being ensnared inspired his anger; couldn't he just sleep anymore? It was supposed to be a doze, not a gap for dreams to intrude.

 

“I'll wake up. There's no stinking way I'm allowing this dream to continue. The Hollow can talk to himself, or maybe I can dump the bird in the dream and they can yell incomprehensible sentences into the void. They deserve each other.” Try as he might, he could not awaken and the Hollow chuckled.

 

He thought he heard the words “Each man kills the thing he loves,” but looking around he couldn't see who could have uttered the words, unless it was the Hollow. Stupid adages seemed to follow him everywhere.

 

“Hey, you, get out of my dreams. Why do you keep showing up?” Zaraki found he was yelling at the Hollow.

 

“Dreams you get, keep show. I am; you want.” The Hollow sighed gustily as it spoke.

 

“It's making less sense than the mouthy overgrown turkey,” Zaraki thought. “How do I wake up this time?”

 

Author's Note:

 

I apologise that this chapter is shorter than the last one. It's because I wanted to commence work on the next chapter.

 

Thank you to the people who have reviewed this story: Star Lyria Uchicha and Kishu. So pleased you're enjoying this.

 

On a side issue, I'm Australian which may explain some of the spelling.

 

Please review.

 

MS