The Broken Souls of the Seireitei

A/N: Happy belated Thanksgiving. I don't know if this chapter is done. I could add more, but I may not. Hope you enjoy it. There is a bit of a bombshell in it, but whatever, if you were paranoid or overly creative, you would have seen it coming. :) Have a goodin!!!



“Niisama, are you alright?” Rukia asked, wincing at the now purplish bruise on the side of Byakuya’s mouth. He shrugged and tried to smirk it off, but frowned and held the side of his aching mouth. She tried to poke at it, but was swatted away by both Ichigo and Byakuya. Frowning, she walked from behind his desk and lay on the chaise facing a bookcase, putting her head down.

“That was mighty impressive of you, Kuchiki, to challenge the old man. I’m sure he’s shitting bricks over your defiance.” Zaraki leaned back in his chair, yawning. He was so excited about the prospect of a decent fight, only to be sorely let down. It drained him, so much so that he was nearly asleep by the time Kurotsuchi was stabbed.

“He was only doing what was right,” Ichigo murmured, running a hand gently through Byakuya’s hair. Byakuya moaned in appreciation, making Zaraki raise his eyebrow.

“The last time I heard Kuchiki make that noise…well lets just say I had walked in on him.” The tall man’s comment was delivered rather smugly, making Matsumoto and Rukia chuckle, and Byakuya shoot him a look of horror.

“I’m just playin’ with ya. Don’t get your fundoshi in a bunch,” Zaraki grumbled, yawning again. Matsumoto smiled at him and patted his arm. “Awww, Papa Bear getting tired?”

He grinned. “If by tired you mean ‘am I gonna have sex with you tonight’, then yes. I’m ‘tired’,” He said, batting an eye mischievously. Matsumoto smiled sweetly and gave him a thumbs down, making him pout and fold his arms.

“So Kuchiki-san, do you think Yamamoto was serious? About the Maggot’s Nest?” Rangiku’s eyes looked troubled and Byakuya softened his expression.

“To be honest I don’t know. I’ve only been sent there once, and that was by Ojisama. But that is a story best told over heated sake. I don’t even think Rukia knows about that.”

Rukia looked up. “Yes I do! Amaya told me a little bit when I was…” She trailed off and looked down, becoming fidgety. Byakuya knew she was talking about the time of her execution. Three years later, it was still a bitter pill for all of them to swallow. He smirked at her and tossed the towel he was wiping his lip off with at her.

“Hush that mouth! You and Amaya should be ashamed, talking about my childhood. Everything that girl knows is pure hearsay anyway.” His voice was a tone of mock scolding, making Rukia chuckle.

“She was just trying to lift my spirits. That’s why you chose her for me, right?”

Byakuya smiled smugly. He had found Amaya literally days after he finally had located Rukia, and had hired the brash and brazen girl to be a personal assistant of sorts to her. She was basically to Rukia what Akira was to him; a do-boy that paid attention to every detail and carried out each and every request meticulously. Lately though, Amaya had been someone to watch Rukia while she was drunk to make sure she didn’t fall and injure herself or sob too loudly about the lamentations of her life. He smiled and reached for Rukia’s hand. “That is exactly why I chose her for you.” Rukia returned the smile and Ichigo frowned.

“So I hate to interrupt this warm and fuzzy family moment, but what the hell is the Maggot’s Nest?”

“It’s your bedroom before you clean it up,” Matsumoto retorted, making Rukia burst into laughter. Byakuya covered his mouth and chuckled, and Zaraki gave him a look of disgust. Looking at Zaraki, you wouldn’t think he was necessarily a ‘clean freak’, but he seemed to have a severe abhorrence to dirt and dust, and if given enough sake and yakitori, could be persuaded to do a damn good job at cleaning a house. Of course this was to be kept secret under lock and key, lest others find out about his girlish habit and cause him to erupt in a frenzy disembowelment.

“Shuddap,” Ichigo muttered, folding his arms defensively. He didn’t want Byakuya thinking he was messy, but as he’d soon find out, Byakuya had times where he was messy too, but his messes were harder to clean up. He smiled at Ichigo and leaned forward to answer his question.

“Ok, I’ll tell you what the Maggot’s Nest is. It’s basically like jail for Shinigami. There aren’t cells, just like a holding area. We walk around, we sit, and that’s basically it.”

Ichigo frowned. “Can you talk?”

“No,” Byakuya, Zaraki, Rukia, and Matsumoto all said in unison. Ichigo frowned deeper.

“Can you eat?”

“No.”

“Can you have visitors?”

“No.”

“Can you do anything there?”

“No.”

Ichigo looked at Byakuya compassionately. “If you went to the Maggot’s Nest, I’d visit you. I don‘t care what the rules are.” Byakuya smiled and nodded at him. “Thank you, Ichigo.” Everyone looked up when there was a soft knock on the door.

“Kuchiki taicho? Are you in there?” The voice of Hanataro drifted through the door, making sprawled out Rukia sit up straighter and smooth out invisible wrinkles him her uniform. Byakuya was so tickled by her, had his mouth not hurt he would have laughed at how quick she tried to make herself presentable.

“Yes, Hanataro-kun. Please enter,” He said, trying not to open his mouth up wide. The door opened, and Taro entered, blushing as soon as he saw Rukia.

“Good evening Kuchiki taicho, Zaraki taicho, Matsumoto taicho, Kurosaki fukutaicho, and Kuchiki fukutaicho,” He said, giving each person a respectful bow.

“You don’t have to bow to me, you know that right?” Ichigo asked, playfully shoving at Hanataro. The healer grinned. “Actually, I do since you are an officer of rank. It’s the Seireitei laws,” He tried to explain, laughing when Ichigo made an ugly face.

“The laws of the Seireitei are gay,” He announced, placing his hands on his hips.

Rukia frowned at him. “Is that a pearl of wisdom? Shall I pen that for your memoirs?” She asked sarcastically, making Zaraki howl with laughter.

“She’s a feisty one, ne?” He asked, grinning for a battle, even if it was just a verbal one.

“At least I can admit when I like someone,” Ichigo jabbed, making Rukia stand up, mouth open in shock.

“You orange haired gimp! I practically had to shove you and niisama together! I’ll also have you know I replaced your hair gel with grape jelly last week! That’s why those bees were chasing you at school!” She yelled, practically nose to nose with Ichigo.

“You tramp! I got stung like four times!”

“But you smelled so good that day, Ichi-kun,” Matsumoto said, licking her lips. “I just wanted to put your hair in a bowl of oatmeal and ketchup!” Everyone paused and looked at her, grimacing. “Don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” She muttered, folding her arms over her heaving bust.

Byakuya clapped his hands, trying to calm the ruckus. “Hanataro-kun, please tell us why you’ve decided to grace us with your presence.” He calmly steered Ichigo away from Rukia, who was almost a mottled purple shade in her face from anger.

Zaraki looked at him. “Yeah, and tell us if that fucknut Kurotsuchi is really dead.”


Taro smiled sweetly and pulled a small bottle from his sleeve and walked over to Byakuya. “I mixed this salve a few moments ago. It should speed up the healing on your lip. You wouldn’t even have to use kido,” He said proudly. He opened the bottle and gently touched Byakuya’s chin, turning it to make the wound on his lip more accessible. He turned the bottle over on his finger, making the thick salve ooze out. He applied it as gently as possible, hushing Byakuya when the man hissed and pulled away. He turned briefly and looked at Zaraki. “And to answer your question, I just came from the 4th and saw his body. The autopsy has been completed; he’s as dead as dead can be,” He assured them, making Zaraki nod and lean back in his chair.

“It’s burning,” Byakuya complained, cutting his eyes at Hanataro. The healer nodded and rubbed a bit harder, and the stung went away. “Just apply this once every few hours and I’d say by this time tomorrow that it should be healed.” He screwed the cap on the bottle and placed it in Byakuya’s hand, smiling at him. Byakuya nodded back at him, his mouth still in no shape to smile. Taro stole a look at Rukia, who’s face was turning back to its normal pale shade. Byakuya caught the look and cleared his throat.

“I suppose there has been enough excitement for one day.”

“Speak for yourself,” Zaraki said flatly. Byakuya smirked at him. “If you haven’t been excited all day, that seems like more a problem between you and Matsumoto.”

Matsumoto clicked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “I ain’t his wife. It isn’t my job to excite him.”

Byakuya took the opportunity and pounced. “That sounds like an open invitation to be asked,” He prodded his best friend relentlessly.

For the first time ever, Hanataro saw Zaraki blush. So even giants can be tamed, he observed. Matsumoto blushed slightly also, making her eyes sparkle.

“You must want the other side of your face slapped,” Zaraki taunted mildly.

“That side belongs to Ichigo,” Byakuya curtly countered, making the 11th division captain laugh. “Indeed, good sir. Indeed. I’m glad you feel better. Shall we make haste, future exciting wife?” He asked Matsumoto, offering his arm.

She smiled and stood, accepting the bulging bicep. “If by ‘making haste’ you mean ‘buying me something expensive’, then yes we shall make haste in abundance.” He grinned at her, tapping her on the bridge of her nose.

“She’s such a character. Say good night, Matsumoto.”

“Good night, Matsumoto!” She said cheerfully, waving to everyone. Ichigo waved back at her and watched her leave. He stood, cracking his back and smiled at Byakuya.

“Now that everyone has left, we should probably go home or something.” He turned to look at Rukia, who had loudly and obnoxiously cleared her throat.

“What do you mean everyone has left? Now you clearly see both myself and Hanataro standing here. You douchebag,” She yelled, throwing an ink pen at him. Ichigo yelped and ran behind Byakuya’s chair, peering out from behind him.

Byakuya frowned. “Rukia. You will not destroy my office.” His frowned deepened when he caught Ichigo sticking his tongue out at her from behind him. He rolled up some unsigned paperwork and rapped him on top of the head. “That goes for you also. I’m ready to go now.” He stood and placed a hand on Hanataro’s shoulder.

“Please be kind enough to see Rukia back to either her division or the Kuchiki estate. Wherever she’d like to go, but not Tsumiyo’s,” He said sternly, making her scowl. The last thing he needed was a report that Rukia was being unruly again. Hanataro nodded and smiled at Rukia, who returned the smile, a pink tint creeping into her cheeks.

Ichigo nodded at the exchange and came up behind Byakuya and placed his hand on the small of his back. “I’m ready to go now too.” His words were soft and loving, and his raven haired lover had no choice but to close his eyes and drown him the moment. He opened his eyes and looked at Rukia.

“Good night, Rukia. Play nice,” He warned, chucking her under the chin. He nodded at Hanataro and walked out of the door. Ichigo nodded at Hanataro also, but when he passed by Rukia, he stuck out his tongue and gave her a raspberry. She pulled down the skin underneath her eye and stuck out her tongue, making him smirk. Ichigo walked to the door and paused before looking at a jar of marbles on Renji’s desk. Grabbing one, he hurled it at Rukia before sticking his tongue out again and slamming the door, laughing.

“Moron,” Rukia muttered, picking up the marble that had hit her in the chest.

Taro looked at Rukia, who was pretending to examine the marble as an excuse to not look at him. He allowed the charade to continue for a few minutes, and then walked over to her. “Rukia? Are you ready to go?” His voice reminded her of the waterfall near the hot springs and shivered.

Taro noticed her shake and offered his hands to her. “I don’t want to be too forward, but if you are cold, I could hold you for a few minutes to warm you up.”

Rukia cocked her head. That sweet offer, and that innocent look between uneven strands of black hair was almost too much for her to turn down. “What would Ikkaku say?” She asked evenly, downplaying her emotions and studying the man’s face.

Taro shrugged. “Ikkaku wouldn’t want you cold, would he? Besides, there would be nothing for him to say.”

Rukia looked down. “Even if there was something for him to say, he wouldn’t because he doesn’t care. I‘m sure he‘s somewhere licking his wounds over the fact that now he knows that Shuuhei doesn‘t want him.” Her voice was soft, and it made Taro frown. He wanted to ask her if it mattered whether the bald vice-captain cared, and also if she was concerned about Ikkaku feeling bad about Shuuhei, but decided to keep mum. It wasn’t his place.

Taro thinned his lips and looked at her. “Are you ready to leave?”

Rukia silently nodded. He opened his hand and she looked confused for a moment before he gently took the marble from her hand and placed it back in Renji’s jar. She sighed and looked disappointed as she walked ahead of him, waiting at the door.

Heaving a frustrated sigh of his own, he opened the door for her, turning around and using kido to lock the office.
**************************

“You know, it’s been a long time since I’ve enjoyed a stroll with good company,” Taro said as they walked to the Kuchiki estate. Rukia had decided she wanted to sleep in her own bed, away from Sentaro’s prying eyes.

Rukia smirked. “Really? Don’t you have millions of girls around here who just love you and Rikichi to bits?”

Taro shook his head, his long hair covering part of his left eye. “Not as much as you’d think. They send me letters and such, but it’s meaningless. It’s strange, because the girl I like doesn’t like me. And it makes me so sad. I suppose in a way I use those girls for comfort. Its wrong, but they know not to expect anything from me. Just like I expect nothing from the girl I like.”

Rukia held her breath. “Do you know for a fact she doesn’t like you? Have you even asked her if she likes you?”

Taro smiled gently. “I can’t. She’s spoken for and I’m not that kind of guy. Even if she doesn‘t love the man she is with, it’s not my place to make a play for her.”

Rukia looked pained. “But…what if she does like you?” Her voice was small and almost pleading, but he wouldn’t budge. He paused in front of her home and cleared her stray bang from her face.

“If she likes me, then it is her responsibility to make herself available so that I can swoop in and save her from her lonely existence.” He caressed her cheek and ignored the silver tear that was threatening to fall and took a step back. “I think this is your stop, Rukia-sama.”

“Don’t call me that,” She whispered, pushing past him. She slammed the door in his face, barely able to hold back her tears. Taro hung his head. He didn’t mean to play coy, but Rukia knew how he felt. He’d loved her ever since he was responsible for feeding her and cleaning her cell three years ago. It seemed like she never wanted to be treated like a victim, but was more than willing to play that role. If she wasn’t happy with Ikkaku, she should leave him. The more he thought about it, the more he needed a drink. He saw Amaya looking at him from the window and he waved, giving her the best smile he could muster. Amaya looked at him and shrugged her shoulders. He knew she had tried to talk to Rukia before about him, but to no avail. He nodded and turned from the estate to walk home, half hoping that Iemura would be awake to take a drink or two of heated sake with him.
***************************

Unohana sat alone in the morgue, running her fingers absently through Mayuri’s hair. A single stab to the heart, rapid internal bleeding, imminent death. All the required paperwork had been completed and filed, and the ‘Y’ autopsy incision closed, and there lay Kurotsuchi Mayuri. Pale, cold, and harmless on a metal slab table. Unohana sat on a small stool, coming her fingers through his hair, the way she used to after they made love. The coolness of his scalp was a constant moment by moment reminder that he was dead, dead and never to return. She could imagine those that were celebrating his death, and those that were strangely just as stricken as her. She had to chuckle to herself as he had boasted to her after the fight with the Quincy that Nemu had saved him by asking for him not to be stabbed in the head, because only that could kill him. Perhaps he had been weakened more than anyone had thought by that fateful blow. Perhaps the Quincy did exact his revenge after all.

“Retsu. I thought you may still be here.”

She turned her face away from Ukitake and gave a wavering sigh. He rounded the table and gave her a generous embrace, one in which she found her shoulders shaking and chest on fire. He held her for a moment as she cried, hating that his friend and mentor was so troubled.

“I know it’s better that he is dead…but I…I cared for him,” Unohana sobbed, her head aching immensely. Ukitake nodded and held her, caressing her back gently. He rocked her for a few minutes before she sniffed and sat up, wiping her eyes. He looked at her, trying to gage her feelings.

“Retsu. I know that this is hard for you. Keeping the secret will only compound your grief. You have no reason to hold it inside any longer!”

She snatched away from Ukitake, her eyes wide. “And me coming clean is supposed to make things better?!! Are you out of your fucking mind?!” She screamed, standing up from the stool so quickly that it flipped over. She walked across the room, punching the wall. Ukitake watched her for a second and then came up behind her, squeezing her shoulders.

“She’ll understand, Retsu!”

“Would you?” Unohana turned, her tear streaked face painful for him to see. “Would you understand if that had been your life? Broken constantly, over and over again?”

Ukitake swallowed. “Your family is important, Retsu. You need family; everyone does.” He frowned at her ugly laugh.

“Do you realize, Jyuushiro, that you are one of the only Shinigami with an intact family? A family that you actually talk to and love? I suppose Omaeda is like you in that respect, but look at the Kuchiki! They’re like a ripple in a pond…constantly moving, but away from each other in different directions. Ginrei is so ashamed of all of them that he’s basically locked himself away in seclusion. The Shihouin family is shamed because of Yoruichi, and the Shiba practically don’t even matter anymore. She‘s better off without me; it‘s painfully obvious that I couldn‘t protect her. I was too much of a coward, and loved him too much to do anything.” She wiped her nose and plopped down on a different stool, defeated. She held her head in her hands for a moment and then looked helplessly at her friend.

“So tell me, Jyuushiro, just how the hell am I supposed to tell Nemu that I’m her mother? How can I do that to my baby?” She whispered, breaking down into tears again.

“You have to. She has no one left in this world except you. She understands what a beast Mayuri was, and she will eventually forgive you. If you want me to be there, I will be.” Ukitake knelt and gathered the broken woman in his arms, letting her sob against his thin frame.

“Not today, Jyuushiro. Please not today,” Unohana begged and he nodded.

“Tomorrow then.”

Unohana sighed and her eyes fell on Mayuri’s body across the room. “Tomorrow,” She said, closing her eyes.
*****************************

Shinji slipped his jacket off and laid it over the couch. Sitting down, he sighed and leaned back, closing his eyes. Seeing Urahara brought up several emotions, both good and bad. They were friends, once. That was before he was betrayed. And it wasn’t even the hollowfication that was the betrayal. Aizen stood between them. He sighed, remembering what it was like to be inside of the brown haired man. He was thoroughly intoxicating, and Shinji smiled on remembering that the thought was reciprocated. Aizen would watch him as he carried out his duties, never saying anything with his mouth, only his eyes.

++“Sousuke-chan, come here a moment.” Shinji had been combing his long silky hair as Aizen was arranging his katana set. The man had been doing very well in his advanced kido classes and had expressed interest in Shinji’s katana set, so as a reward he allowed Aizen to visit and look at the swords. The man had been lingering rather long, long enough for Shinji to be in his bathhouse yukata and preparing for bed.

Aizen walked over to Shinji and knelt down on one knee. “Yes, Hirako taicho?”

Shinji reached over and opened a small hutch, pulling out a katana sheathed in a jeweled black scabbard. He turned and bowed to Aizen, handing him the sword. Aizen’s eyes lit up as he cautiously looked at Shinji. The older man nodded and he opened the sheath just enough to see the beautiful blue-gray sheen of the blade, shimmering even in the dim light. The katana had no thumb guard, as it was truly an experienced fighters’ blade. He sheathed the blade, setting it gently on the tatami mat and bowed deeply.

“Hirako taicho, I do not deserve such a gift.”

Shinji smiled and reached over to caress a brown lock of hair. “Sousuke…when do people ever really get what they deserve?” His grip on Aizen’s hair tightened, making the man whimper lightly.

“Hirako taicho…do you intend to give me what I deserve?” Aizen’s question was more like a breathy plea, and mere moments passed before the pair were naked and writhing on the floor of Shinji’s house, Aizen’s low moans filling his captain’s ears pleasantly.

Needless to say, even though a katana was not always given to him, Aizen enjoyed his trips to Shinji’s home. But the trips became more and more infrequent, seemingly due to Urahara and then the fox-like silver haired boy that showed up with the ‘Heaving Bosom’ as Mashiro called her. Then came the setup. He was smart enough to realize that though Urahara was chiefly responsible for creating the hollowfication process, he stupidly taught it to Aizen and informed him of the Hogyoku. Urahara was indeed gracious enough to offer them gigai to escape and reside in, but the sadness in the man’s eyes made him realize that both of them had been betrayed. And they should have known better. It seemed that Urahara had apparently forgiven Aizen due to his reactions over some of the things that Shinji had said during their verbal battle, but he had neither forgave nor forgot. Not at all.++

Shinji frowned at his semi-erection and sighed. He hated Aizen, but lord knows if that man was kneeling in submission in front of him at that very moment, he’d fuck his brains out. He looked over toward Mashiro’s room, but decided against that course. The last time they fucked, she was under the impression that he loved her, and was SADLY mistaken and disappointed. He reached under the table, smirking when he found the baggie. He was surprised that Kensei didn’t smoke all of his stash when they got back, but was also pleased that he didn’t. He had seen the young man with the 69 on his face approach him, but kept out of it. It wasn’t Shinji’s business as to who it was. He opened the bag and after digging in the couch, found both the pipe and the lighter. He filled the bowl and sighed again, hoping that the weed would take his mind off of Urahara and Aizen. Flicking the lighter to spark a flame, he placed his thumb over the hole on the side of the bowl and inhaled deep, his mind already growing fuzzy. He giggled as he blew smoke out of his mouth, happy for the distraction and hungry for cookies.
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A/N: Yeah, I just finished a bowl myself. Now it's time for Cheetos, then bed. G'nite.