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| - Mariko stared at the ceiling from her soft bed while paying only minor attention to her brother, who was moaning about being left behind while Fujimoto, Hiei and Shiro dealt with the rebels. He’d really wanted to go charging headlong into the fray alongside them, but her Majesty Kaede had forbidden it. According to Kaede Mariko and him where honoured guests and not simple soldiers, and she would hear nothing more on the subject. Apparently Fujimoto hadn’t told her that he’d already taken Itazura on patrol. Thank goodness! What would Kaede have said then? ‘I can’t even get talking to Kain!’ He punched his mattress and ground his teeth. So he was beginning to worry about Kain as well? Good. It was high time he began showing some concern. This was hit mess after all. But she couldn’t say it. She hated seeing her brother like this. What he needed was something to take his mind off things. He’d usually go into town to kill some hours, but that was closed off to them. He couldn’t join the fighting because Sojiro and Kusaka where both standing on the outside balcony with their senses extended as far as they’d go. They where “monitoring the fighting” as they said, but in truth they where there to guard them. ‘What are the odds that Shuhen hides behind his allies again?’ Kusaka asked. ‘Pretty high, I’d imagine.’ Sojiro replied. Shuhen had always been like that in the past. Or so Mariko had been told by Ino Hiroshi and Kireina Shiba. Apparently he was the type of man who commanded brilliantly, but left his flanks exposed. Why she couldn’t fathom. Wasn’t that nearly suicidal during battle? Tyrell said he did things different now and that they’d just have to wait and see. ‘I’m going to the training field,’ Itazura jumped to his feet, strapped on his zanpakutō and practice wooden sword given to him by Hiei, and made for the door. Outside the guards greeted him and they agreed to his proposal. ‘I seriously hope I don’t need to tell you that if you go anywhere near that battle I’ll be on top of you quicker than you can blink.’ Kusaka warned. ‘This isn’t a game they’re playing, Zura. This is war. Promise me.’ ‘… I promise…’ and Mariko heaved a sigh of relieve. She knew Itazura was a lire and a cheat, but he rarely broke the promises he made to family. ‘I’ll go with you,’ she said as she strapped on her own zanpakutō and practice sword given to her by Shiori. It felt like ages since they’d last talked to one another at length anyhow or spent time with one another. Not since she returned from her tour of the islands, and then he’d been half drunk. Lately they’d each been taken in-hand by the Shuuten’s Captain-Generals and put through their paces. Why Mariko still didn’t know, but she was grateful for their help. She already felt more confident in her combat abilities, and had achieved something she knew would surprise her brother. As they neared the practice field she was giddy with excitement. ‘What’s got you so excited?’ He asked finally. ‘You’ll see,’ and she smiled sweetly. They passed palace servants dressed in white with their heads pressed together whispering. Mariko caught minor titbits about the conflict outside. Would they be alright? Don’t be stupid! The Captain-Generals are there. But what if that isn’t enough? She stopped listening. It was pretty obvious they weren’t going to report on anything spectacular. As they walked Mariko found herself again admiring the lavish halls of the palace. She’d long ago learned how to manoeuvre her way through the maze of connecting corridors, and now saw what she didn’t before. Beautiful paintings lined the walls that ranged from various landscapes she’d seen in person during her tour, portraits of certain members of the nobility, and other depictions such as flowers. Pots and vases where placed strategically so the open windows allowed light to hit them, and the scent was noticeable but far from overpowering. It helped mask the smell of the ocean. It was unlike anything she had ever seen in the Seireitei or the Rukongai. The former was dull, boring and plain, while the latter was poor and impoverished. She’d seen her fair share of shanty homes and poorly constructed buildings to last her a lifetime. ‘How long do you plan on daydreaming?’ Itazura was like a dark cloud today. They where in the training ground when she finally snapped out of her trance. It was a large square that was roughly half the size of a football pitch, with wooden panels that were raised off the floor some twenty centimetres. At each corner was a stone ornamental piece that depicted a dragon, tiger, turtle and phoenix. Each creature looked out over the training field with hollowed out eyes, as though in judgement of those who trained there under their gaze. It was somewhat unnerving and a little frightening. ‘Sorry, I was miles away.’ So he’d noticed. They took a ready stance with their practice blades and took several deep breathes besides before they closed the distance! Two audible “thumps” sounded and they broke apart. It had been a while since their last sparring session, and their skills had improved since then, so now all they where doing was testing the waters. Itazura feinted to the right and then immediately banked to the left with Shunpo. Shifting her stance to compensate, Mariko intercepted the strike and stepped back, where she brought her wooden sword down and then up rapidly, which wiggled the blade in her brother’s grasp. But he noticed what she planned and cocked his arm to avoid it, where he then rolled beneath her horizontal stroke. ‘Not bad at all, sister.’ He was grinning she saw, and so was she. They closed again and this time Itazura received a rap across his shoulder blades for his over cautiousness. Mariko stepped away lithely and awaited his counter. It came in the form of a Shunpo technique that involved him using naught but three steps. The first took him to one corner of the square, while the second took him past her at speed. Turning in a full circle Mariko stabbed towards the floor at an angle, and tripped her brother up as he completed the third step. He toppled over the blade, landed flat on his face, and skidded up the wooden planks with a screeching sound. ‘… Ow…’ he complained, and Mariko found herself giggling at his misfortune. He picked himself up and dusted himself down. ‘I was sure I’d have you with Gomakashi. But my timing was all off. If Shiro saw that I’d never hear the end of it. Regardless,’ and he waved his hand as though it didn’t matter, ‘you said you had something to show me?’ The cloud had left him. He looked happier, his shoulders weren’t slumped anymore, and he looked more alert. ‘I do. Watch this!’ She began building spiritual power which immediately made her brother take a defensive stance. He probably thought she meant to show him a new technique. She was in a way. The difference was that this technique was hers alone. ‘Can you see it yet?’ Itazura looked all around but could see nothing new. ‘See what?’ Now he was confused. Good. ‘Hayakuchi,’ she vanished in a flash of blue light that nearly blinded Itazura for he was covering his eyes with his forearm afterwards. When she reappeared she was surrounded in a bright blue light that was only slightly less intense than the initial flash. It took him a while to adjust to it but when he did he walked forward with his mouth open wide. ‘I achieved my Shikai,’ she said with a big grin. It was a bloody business war. Fujimoto remembered the civil war almost three-hundred years ago like it was yesterday; the cries of the dammed, the clash of steel, the sound of Kidō firearms, and the bang of the explosions. Somehow the smell was the worst of it though. Smoke, blood and death mingled to create one horrendous odour that was enough to make the strongest of stomachs roil like a ship on the waves. Second to the smell was the sight. Children had lain broken and dead with their parents atop them in a final heroic act of sacrifice that proved to be in vain. Shuhen ignited a civil war that scarred the common man deeply, and those scars where still engraved in Fujimoto’s mind today. At times he still woke from nightmares sweaty and shaking. Others he woke feeling numb and powerless. It was times like that that he took himself to the mirror, looked himself up and down, clenched his fists, and reaffirmed the promise he’d made all those years ago: he would do more next time. He would safe those who had lain dead, and he’d prevent another taking place. ‘We can’t let this escalate into another war. We just can’t.’ He said softly at the conclusion of his thoughts. Hiei and Shiro weren’t with him currently. Both where organizing the third division encase the second needed reinforcements. His companion now was Little Wing, who was his Lieutenant-General. When he was off gallivanting around town, or training Itazura, it was her who attended to matters in his stead. Her real name was Karris and she wore a red cheongsam which hugged tightly to her small body, her hair in a ponytail, and a long blue scarf. ‘It won’t,’ she whispered for him alone. ‘I hope you’re right.’ They had already cut through two groups of rebels who had been all but oblivious to their presence. The first had gone like clockwork. No survivors. The second group had been a little more annoying than that. They’d gotten word back through the sewers and now Fujimoto was being forced to be discreet and cautious least he be attacked unawares. But patience was one thing he had in abundance. You didn’t survive a civil war or lead the Jōren to victory without some of it. ‘I’m going to scout ahead,’ Karris said. She was fast and dextrous. The only person Fujimoto knew who was faster was Erina Ayaka. Karris could outrun the Marshal-General and run rights around most of the Captain-Generals on little more than a whim. And she was smart too. She knew her strengths and limitations, and when a strategic retreat was needed. ‘Just be careful you,’ he advised as she skipped off without a care in the world. Watching her skip away out of sight made Fujimoto doubt they where in a shit smelling sewer with rebels ready to pounce on them. ‘Keep the ranks steady,’ he said back to his troops. Hiei & Shiro Shiro looked out over the city of Ahrno and silently said a prayer. He prayed that Fujimoto would be successful and that the city sprawling out before him wouldn’t run red with blood. He remembered the days when it had. It was on these very steps that he’d earned his reputation and the title he wore with pride. That day two-hundred-ninety-three years ago the Illustrious Prince had been born. The tales had warped his heroics. Fiction knew him as the slayer of a hundred men. The reality wasn’t anything as spectacular. He’d only killed eighteen. Shiro remembered the look of amazement young Zura wore when he recounted the tale. Sensing that the tide had turned, Shuhen brought out his greatest task force, and gave them a single mission: to take the head of the Queen and Princess. The eighteen assassins set forth as one, striking and killing as one, right up to the steps leading to the palace gate. Shiro remembered standing at the top step with the sun blazing in the background, zanpakutō in-hand. He’d fought like a man possessed and, when the dust had settled, he was bloody and bruised, slashed and cut, and he felt so very tired. Then soft hands cradled his falling body, and the voice of trusted allies rang in his ears. The memory still moved him even now, and Zura had sat in open amazement. The youngster then declared him his hero which, strangely, pleased Shiro greatly. ‘… Take your time,’ Hiei whispered. But there wasn’t any maliciousness in the comment. They’d all been through their trials during the civil war. Remembering the past was one of the many ways to keep those who died alive in some small way. ‘… I’m ready.’ Shiro nodded to his good friend and their collection of troops. ‘Fujimoto will be expecting us! Time to move,’ ‘I guess we’re even now,’ Itazura said after they finished their sparring session. ‘You got your Shikai first and I got the Rei Furashuu first.’ ‘I guess we are then. Though I beat you today,’ she had at that. His head was still ringing, his shoulders where on fire, and he was pretty sure she’d whacked him once across the ass just because she could. She’d hit him that much he wasn’t even sure. They just sat and talked. It felt good sharing everything that had happened since he came to Heisekai with Mariko. He even told her about the waitress he bedded. She wasn’t particularly happy about that little fact but then he hadn’t been too happy to hear about the male masseuse either. She told him about her days with Shiori and Erina, and Itazura told her about his days with Fujimoto, Hiei and Shiro. They where still talking, laughing and joking when a man with long light blond hair stopped in-front of them. He wore a simple kosode and hakama coupled with a delicate haori. ‘Hello there, young people!’ He was right in their faces the minute he spoke! ‘You may have heard of me! I’m the trainer around here, and I watched that little display of yours!’ Itazura kicked him in the face. ‘How in blue blazes would I have heard of you? And why are you shouting at us?’ He might as well not have bothered kicking him. Aside from a bit of dirt on the point of his nose he was otherwise unaffected by it. ‘You haven’t heard of me!?’ He waved his arms about and shouted at the top of his lungs. So Itazura hit him again. ‘Boy! Perhaps you should search your memory! You know who I am!’ ‘… No I don’t,’ Itazura said. Mariko had tip-toed away and disappeared down the corridor which led back to their room. ‘Lovely,’ he whispered. ‘I’m Toshie!’ And suddenly Itazura realized. He was the man who’d taught Fujimoto, Hiei and Shiro during their days in the academy. If that was true then the question needed to be asked: how did Fuji ever manage to sleep with this guy screaming at him!? ‘You look confused, boy! I’m not surprised!’ Did he have to shout all the time? ‘You’re wondering why I’m here now, talking to you!’ Yes. Yes he was. ‘I see it written all over your face! I’m here to warn you, dear boy! Danger approaches and it seeks to lay a sweet, sweet kiss upon a little bird!’ Itazura punched him hard between the eyes. ‘Speak English!’ He roared. ‘I had a bad morning but then it picked up considerably… until I met you!’ ‘You’re supposed to be intelligent!’ And this time it was Itazura who was sent sprawling. ‘You recall the tale of Shiro, correct!?’ Itazura nodded as he spat blood at the man’s feet. ‘Then you’ll know what Shuhen planned to do then too! Only this kiss will result in death!’ Itazura climbed to his feet and pulled his final milk tooth out which Toshie had loosened. As much as this man annoyed him, Shuhen could easily follow the pattern. He wouldn’t get near Kaede. She was guarded by Ranmaru Shibata… but Tomoko? She was alone in her room! ‘… I’m going to check on Tomoko. When I get back I’m going to kill you, old man.’ ‘… Better than you have tried, boy-’ Itazura whipped his zanpakutō free of its sheath and severed the long blond locks which fell about Toshie’s shoulders. ‘Stop calling me boy, old man. I have a name, and I’d prefer you use it. Itazura Kori.’ God that felt good! The old fool didn’t have a reply to that for he was wide-eyed and utterly dumbfounded and Itazura walked off victorious. Next Story > Through the fire and Flames.
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