Chapter Text
Back Then - late 1890s
The bathwater had cooled some time ago, but Kaede barely noticed. It wasn’t that she didn’t feel the changing temperature; more like there was a thin film between physical sensations and her ability to care.
The room was silent. She sat still as a statue in the bath, her breath shallow and even, half-lidded eyes staring into space. Blankness, nothingness…those were the only things she sought right now. Not comfort, or relaxation, or even cleanliness. Sure, the visible dirt and grime and blood of the day were scrubbed away, but soap didn’t penetrate beyond the outer layer of skin. She could never be truly clean.
So she tried to be nothing, if only for a little while. She tried not to dwell on memory of her latest victims - no, of Soul Society’s latest victims. She was just the tool they wielded; it hadn’t been her decision to end the lives of those two deserters.
They’d just wanted to have a life of their own, to start their own family. In hunting them down, she’d gleaned that much. They weren’t high-ranking or even that experienced; on the contrary, they’d only graduated from the Academy a few years back. They’d hardly be a danger to the Seireitei.
But they’d tried to leave the Gotei without notice, and they’d taken their Zanpakuto with them. Most likely, they just didn’t think they or their weapons would be missed; she hadn’t noticed anything particularly nefarious in their actions and behavior. Perhaps, if they’d submitted an official request for discharge, they’d have been spared the death penalty.
Of course, they’d have wound up in the Nest of Maggots instead. Was being caged, forgotten, and left to rot in their own madness any better than being hunted? At least she gave them a swift and relatively painless death. Most of the people she was sent to hunt down didn’t even realize they had the Stealth Corps’ “Bloodhound” on their tails. All she needed was a sample of their spirit energy (something all Shinigami were required to submit upon entry into the Gotei), and so long as they were still in Soul Society, they were as good as found. Once in range, she could strike her targets down from a distance without any sign of an entry wound; just focus on a vital organ and slice. Quick, clean, and she could hit multiple targets at once if needed. As far as Central knew, her main limitation was that she had to have her targets in her line of sight.
She didn’t. Sometimes she fantasized about slicing all forty-six necks from the comfort of her home. It was possible, or would be once she was familiar with all of their reiatsu signatures. That was an ongoing project. She and Sousuke had identified eighteen members of the governing branch so far; until they confirmed the whole body, it would be foolish to take action against them. Strike too soon, leave any alive, and they’d close in, protecting the remaining members and using the force of the entire Gotei to secure their positions. They’d need to take all forty-six out in a single hit, leaving the Seireitei without a head to direct its limbs.
Someday.
Kaede brought her hands up out of the water, her fingertips pruned but outwardly clean. She rubbed her thumbs over the callouses on her palms, long ago formed by wielding the cloth-wrapped hilt of her sword. It seemed wrong that she never had to watch the blood drip from the metallic edge or feel it coagulate on her skin. Maybe it was better this way; maybe she should be keeping her distance from her targets. She didn’t have to stick around after a kill, whether to confirm it for her superiors (they didn’t care as long as the numbers added up) or for herself. She took no sick pleasure from their demise, nor cold comfort from a mission successfully completed.
She stayed because otherwise, those she was sent to kill would simply disappear. Their acquaintances might remember them for a little while, but they’d never know the truth. Maybe she did it out of a sense of obligation, a need to take the weight of their loss so it wouldn’t go unacknowledged. Or maybe she just like to torture herself.
Kaede took in a deep breath and let herself sink below the surface of the water. Maybe, if she closed her eyes, darkness would swallow her up. Maybe there was peace in that nothingness. Maybe, if she just faded away…
She burst up from the water and took a huge gulp of air. Fading away wouldn’t do anything. It wouldn’t stop Central 46 from ordering more deaths, and it certainly wouldn’t solve the underlying issues. She couldn’t help anyone if she simply stopped existing.
So she had to keep moving forward.
She rose from the bath, dried off, and dressed in a warm kimono. Outside, snow had begun to fall; the walls of their house kept the cold at bay, but the eerie silence of it permeated each room. The perfect stillness absorbed the gentle slide of the floorboard when she opened the secret panel, undoing the Kido seals with a few quick hand motions.
It was still here, safely encased in its reishi-blocking seki-sekki crystal box.
She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to check on the Hogyoku tonight. It happened once in a while, this need to see it with her own eyes and confirm its existence. It was a mesmerizing little thing, beautiful in its way, drawing her into the depths of its ever-evolving nucleus and inviting her closer. She would never touch it though, no matter how sweetly it beckoned; she wouldn’t make that mistake again. Not since the first and only time she’d held it - when it had been born.
That was how Kaede tended to think of the Hogyoku’s creation: as the birth of an entirely new entity into the world. She didn’t see herself as the creator or even the mother, but more of the midwife that had facilitated its emergence.
If Central ever learned of this “birth,” they’d certainly want to snuff it out. Kaede wasn’t sure that was even possible, at least not without her assistance - a thought that was equally comforting and disturbing.
It was strange…unless she was looking directly at it, the Hogyoku might as well not even exist to her senses. Everything in creation, even in the material world of the living, gave off at least a little reishi, but not this thing. It confounded her perception, defying definition or categorization.
A subtle shift in the atmosphere alerted her to another presence, one she could sense with ease no matter how well he cloaked himself.
“You’re back early,” Sousuke greeted as he padded quietly into the room. “I thought you had an assignment?”
“I did,” she replied flatly. “It went quickly.”
He sat beside her and plucked the crystal box containing the Hogyoku, barely sparing her a glance. “I’m surprised to see you take such an interest in this all of a sudden. You usually avoid it.”
“I’m interested,” she sighed. “I don’t have to like it to be interested.”
She could feel the heat radiating from his body; if she just leaned over a little, she could be wrapped in that warmth. If she did, maybe the emptiness wouldn’t be able to consume her.
But she didn’t want him to think she was weak. He was doing so much for their future; all she had to do was maintain her cover. She could manage that much without needing her hand held, couldn’t she?
He opened the lid, and immediately, Kaede felt another shift in the atmosphere: less a presence than the absence of one, the passive pull of ambient reishi being drawn toward the little orb. This was why they kept it in reishi-blocking crystal: less to hide it from the world than to keep the Hogyoku from passively consuming everything around it.
But that wasn’t what made her stomach twist. It was the way Sousuke gazed down at the orb, almost tenderly, like it was the most fascinating specimen in all the realms…which, to be fair, she supposed it was. It was unique, its potential ever evolving and yet to be fully realized - all aspects guaranteed to capture his attention.
He used to look at her like that. She used to hate it when he did.
Sousuke opened his hand and dropped what looked like a bright, pinkish wisp into the container. The wisp slowly orbited the Hogyoku until the orb awakened, sucking it into its core with ravenous fervor.
A small frown tugged at Kaede’s mouth. Something about this soul felt…different. Incomplete, almost, like it was only a piece of something greater, yet her senses told her it was intact. Not natural-born, so perhaps it was just from someone with strong reiatsu? Even so, something about it was just off . It nudged at something deep within her with a familiarity so vague and fleeting she was sure she must have imagined it.
The Hogyoku reacted differently to it as well: Normally, when it absorbed a soul, it glowed for a few seconds before returning to its inert state. This time, it pulsed and flickered excitedly, practically humming with satisfaction. “Where’s that one from?”
“A Shinigami,” he assured her. “Fatally wounded in a Hollow attack.”
She marginally relaxed. It didn’t explain the odd tug at her senses, but at least she didn’t need to worry about where - or who - it came from. They had an agreement when it came to “feeding” the Hogyoku: No civilians. Shinigami were fair game, but it was best to only take from those about to die anyway. No unnecessary blips on the radar, and no more lives taken than absolutely needed.
“It’s hungry tonight,” Sousuke commented, a slight grin glinting on his lips.
“It’s always hungry.” She immediately regretted the statement, tensing involuntarily at the unspoken followup: All it does is consume.
In the near-century since its creation, the Hogyoku had yielded nothing. It gobbled up any soul they offered it, but whenever they tried to tap into the untold potential it held…nothing. The Hollows they used for experiments would inevitably break down, the invisible bonds that held their spiritual forms together dissolving under the orb’s strange light. It was indeed breaking boundaries, but not in the way they had hoped.
Sousuke didn’t seem to mind, though. Every time they faced a new failure, he claimed it was a learning opportunity, that they simply had to alter a new variable the next time if they expected a different result. Of course, since they were limited to using Hollows as test subjects, there were only so many variables to manipulate.
He never said aloud that the reason they were “limited” to Hollows was because of Kaede’s own reservations. Nor did he ever accuse her of hindering their progress. He didn’t have to say that she was the one holding them all back.
She knew.
Kaname had mastered his Shikai and was rising in the ranks; he’d recently transferred to the Ninth Division and secured himself a seat in the top ten. It wouldn’t be long before he was a vice-captain, serving as someone’s right hand. Sousuke, of course, was practically running the Fifth Division; many of its members already considered him a more reliable authority figure than their actual captain. He maintained appearances while working behind the scenes, constantly researching and setting game pieces into place.
And what had she contributed?
Sure, she had a fairly high seat in the Stealth Corps, but that was largely due to her position as one of Yoruichi’s assistants. Besides, her ranking didn’t matter as much as Sousuke’s or even Kaname’s; Central 46 would never allow her to rise to, say, a lieutenant’s seat, let alone a captain’s. No…her worth was in her personal growth, the growth that Soul Society wouldn’t see until it was too late for them to do anything about it.
That growth had stagnated. She was marginally better with what she knew of her Shikai, but Mono no Aware still refused to let her complete the Threefold Truths. Bankai was out of the question until then. The Hogyoku was an impressive feat, but not yet a useful one.
Kaede tore her eyes away from the hell ball and stood, sliding open a screen to gaze out over the falling snow. “The Hollow that wounded that Shinigami…was it there by chance?”
“Does it matter?”
It shouldn’t, she supposed. And if she were being honest…she wasn’t sure she wanted to know if the Hollow attack had been orchestrated or not. Such knowledge could hardly tip the scales for her, not when those scales had long since sunk to the ground under the weight of all the lost Souls.
One day, after they changed things, after it was all done, she would mourn the lives they’d taken. She’d grant them a memorial and honor them, all of them, not just the fallen Shinigami but the regular Souls and Humans and Quincy and all those that the Seireitei couldn’t be bothered with.
Until then, she simply had to bear the weight.
“We’ll make it worth their while, won’t we?” she wondered aloud. “We’ll give it all meaning?”
“Whatever meaning is to be had,” Sousuke said, securing his arms around her waist, “we will give to them all.”
She did lean into his embrace this time, but it all felt…hollow. Or maybe she was the problem. Maybe she simply couldn’t feel anymore; maybe she was clinging to the memory of a sentiment she no longer truly held. Whatever meaning was to be had …as much as she wanted that to be true, or perhaps wanted to want it to be true, she couldn’t ignore the voice of her Zanpakuto whispering in her mind.
Nothing has meaning.
“Get back here!”
She ran, barely seeing where she was going through the tangled woods. Run, run…to what sanctuary, she didn’t know, she just had to run!
It had started with a monster, a hideous creature of teeth and bone that attacked the outcropping of shacks they mockingly called a village. It tore through the feeble structures, and then it tore apart the people inside.
But that was not the monster that chased her. Those beasts came after.
They were saviors first, their black shihakusho and glinting swords a vision of salvation. Shinigami, one of the others called them, melting with relief. They’re here to help us!
The Shinigami dispatched of the creature easily, and when it was all over, the scant few villagers came forward to express their undying gratitude - only for the Shinigami to utter some spell and plunge their hands into the villagers’ chests. She watched at first, frozen in terror as they pulled…something from the bodies, something that seemed made of pure light.
“Not it,” one of them said, inspecting the tiny speck. “These aren’t the ones the Hollow was after. We ain’t getting paid shit for these!”
When the first body fell, she ran.
Her legs burned, her lungs burned - everything burned, but she couldn’t stop running. The calluses of her bare feet tore open on broken branches and brambles, but she had to keep running!
A figure appeared before her and she stumbled, her ankle catching on an exposed root and making her fall back. How did they get here so fast?!
“Hold her down!”
She thrashed, but they were bigger, stronger, and she was so weak from the hunger that none of the other villagers seemed to ever have -
And then something was being torn from her, pulled and twisted and tugged at, like they were trying to take her heart from her chest but it went deeper than that -
“The fuck? It won’t -”
“You’re not doing it right, move over-”
-flaying her skin yet it wasn’t her skin -
“There!”
She slumped to the ground, limp and empty, aware yet not, and she could still hear them…
“That’s more like it. We’re gettin’ paid tonight!”
“It’s so bright…wonder if he’ll pay extra for this one?”
“Hey - is she still alive?”
“No way!” Something impacted her side, but the pain of it was too far away for her to reach… “Holy shit, she is!”
“Won’t be for long. No one survives this.”
“Hey…she’s kinda cute, don’t ya think? Maybe we can have a little fun before we gotta turn that over…”
“Yeah, she gave us enough trouble, we earned it!”
Then there were hands pulling at her limp limbs, and vague shapes with sinister, toothy grins over her -
She awoke with a strangled gasp, flailing and flinging the ratty blanket off her body - her real, intact, completely mobile body. By the time she realized she was awake, she was already forgetting the nightmare, but the terror was not so easy to shake. She pulled her blanket tightly around her shivering frame, her body coated in a sheen of sweat that now cooled all too swiftly in the winter drafts.
Just a dream…just a dream…
She hated that she still had these stupid nightmares that she couldn’t even remember. It had been almost a whole year since he’d found her, weak and fading in and out of consciousness from…was it really just hunger? Her nightmares begged to differ, but she couldn’t even remember them; all they did was disturb both of their sleep and make him worry about her even more-
Wait. Where was he?
She looked at the tattered bed mat beside her own and found it empty.
“Gin?”
The door of their little shack tapped against its frame; it never did close properly, but they usually put a rock against it to keep it shut…was he outside? She jumped up, tugging the blanket around her like a cloak and darted to look outside.
“Gin!”
He was there, his shock of silvery hair a stark contrast to the black robe that hung around his shoulders…a black robe she’d never seen him with before. He stopped a dozen or so paces from their shack and slowly turned to face her.
“Sorry, Rangiku,” he said through his ever-present smile. Wait - what was that dark smear on his cheek? “Did I wake you?”
“Where are you going?” she demanded. “Whose robe is-”
Black robes…Shinigami…
Rangiku blinked and the image faded as quickly as it had come. “Those are Shinigami clothes, aren’t they? Why are you dressed like that?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” He turned away from her again. “I’m going to become a Shinigami.”
Rangiku’s heart stopped in her chest. Gin had gone away before on occasion, but he always came back…but this… “Why?”
“So I can change things.” His head tilted back toward her again, but for once, his perpetual smile was nowhere to be seen. “So you won’t have to cry anymore.”
Kaede barely noticed the shift of the seasons anymore; weather was no more than another factor in a mission. The clouds of cherry blossoms that lined the avenues of the inner Seireitei no longer captivated her with their transient beauty. They were in bloom today, and within a week or two, they’d be gone, replaced with simple green foliage. It was just a fact, something to be observed, cataloged, used if needed.
In the Rukongai, Souls were gathered among the groves of blossoming trees to revel in the season’s festivities. Her latest target was among them, but she wouldn’t be killing them today - just confirming their location. It wouldn’t do to have a random person drop dead in the middle of a hanami celebration.
Every once in a while, she considered sparing a life, lying on her report and allowing the target to get on with a quiet existence. Only if they seemed innocuous, of course; there were some targets whom she felt no remorse in killing. But even if she did let a few go here and there, it wouldn’t matter. They’d be found out eventually; she knew far too well how penetrating the Seireitei’s gaze was. Besides, if she were ever found to have “failed” a mission and especially to have lied about it, it wouldn’t just be her life on the line; Sousuke would be in danger too, and she was determined to never allow that to happen.
Voices cut through her dark thoughts - a pair of Shinigami were nearby. Normally she wouldn’t have cared; she’d already passed plenty of couples enjoying the warm spring weather under the blooming sakura trees, Shinigami and civilians alike. But she recognized one of these voices.
Shiba Kaien?
She paused, indulging in her curiosity. It had been decades since her last interaction with the man, but Kaien was a high-ranking officer and the heir to one of the Five Noble Clans. The whole Shiba clan was an enigma among the nobles, seemingly uninterested in tradition or power.
She was also pretty sure she’d never found another noble heir lounging casually on a blanket in one of the Rukongai districts.
He wasn’t alone. A female Shinigami knelt near him, bending over to pour some tea from a thermos. The way Kaien looked at the woman...There was such tenderness in his eyes. His smile turned from gentle to big and almost goofy when she turned to look at him. They laughed together, and when she turned away again to take in the pale pink blossoms, his eyes followed her every movement as though she was the only thing in the world he wanted to look at.
Kaede’s stomach clenched at the sight. She wanted to turn away; she doubted they could sense her presence, but she felt like she was imposing simply by bearing witness.
She crept closer anyway, until she could make out what they were saying.
“...shouldn’t be slacking like this, Kaien,” the woman chastised with a teasing smile. “Shouldn’t you be setting an example to the younger Shinigami?”
“I don’t see you complaining about being here,” Kaien retorted. “And you make me sound so old!”
“ I’m not the one technically on duty today,” she replied, poking him playfully on the shoulder. “And I’m not the one up for promotion!”
Kaien laid back with one arm behind his head, his goofy grin fading into something more somber. “I turned it down again.”
The woman sighed, her shoulders sagging. “I don’t understand why. You’d be a great fukutaicho . Everyone already looks up to you; Ukitake-taicho knows you’re ready for it. Why can’t you believe in him as much as he believes in you? As much as I believe in you?”
Kaien looked up at her, and Kaede was struck by how expressive his face was. It was like she could read every emotion as he experienced it: a little sadness at first, maybe even a bit of surprise, quickly followed by gratitude and affection. The woman wasn’t even looking directly at him, so he wasn’t making these expressions for any real purpose. This was just him.
“Thank you for always believing the best of me, Miyako,” Kaien said softly. “I want to live up to your expectations, if nothing else.”
Miyako blushed. “That doesn’t answer my question.”
“I guess…” Kaien sighed and pushed himself up on his elbows. “I guess I just don’t know that I’m ready for the responsibility that comes with being someone’s lieutenant. Not just the extra work. It’s a lot of lives in my hands, and it’d change how people look at me. I don’t like the idea of people having to look up at me like I’m somehow better than they are just because of some title.”
“It’s not like being born to a noble family, though,” Miyako argued. “You’ve earned this, over and over again. Seriously, you’re the only one who doesn’t seem to think so. It’s not even that big a step at this point.”
“Maybe,” he conceded. “Though…I guess there are also some things I wanna do first, other steps I wanna take that feel even bigger.”
“Like what?”
Now it was Kaien whose cheeks reddened. He looked away, scratching his cheek self-consciously. “Well…like marrying you.”
Miyako gasped and whirled around. Kaien immediately sat up straight and held his hands up in front of him with a panicked, defensive grin.
“I - I mean, if you’d have me, of course! I’m not trying to say you have to! It’s just…” He sobered, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I want to be the person you see me as, Miyako. I feel like if I can come even close to that, then I can do anything. And if you don’t want to, well, then that just means I need to work harder to become the person you would want to-”
Miyako cut him off by simply covering his hand with her own. She was smiling so widely it looked like her face might actually split open; her eyes glistened with tears. “You already are that man, Shiba Kaien.”
His eyes went wide with hope. “You mean…is that a…?”
She nodded. “Yes. Yes!”
Kaede finally turned away as Miyako fell into Kaien’s arms. This was…she shouldn’t be here. She had her own duties to attend to. She tried to ignore the tremble in her hands and lips, the nausea twisting in her stomach.
They were so at ease with each other, so open. The way Kaien looked at Miyako, even when she wasn’t aware of it…had Sousuke ever looked at her with such clear affection and adoration when there wasn’t an audience?
That was a stupid question. How would she even know? Did it matter? She didn’t want Sousuke playing a part when it was just the two of them, and if he ever acted like Kaien had just now, that’s all it would be: an act. She didn’t want that. Maybe what she and Sousuke had was not gentle and warm, but it was real.
Wasn’t it?
The main gate of Division Two came into her view, but it was the figure of a man leaning against the outer wall that drew her attention. Fuck…she did not want to deal with him right now! How long had it been since she last saw that unruly, straw-colored hair, anyway? Decades? She’d grown used to interacting only with his voice coming through a speaker, parroting the questions and commands of the Central representatives. Rarely did she actually see him anymore.
Maybe he wasn’t here for her. Maybe he was idling at the gates for some other reason. If she was fast enough, she could avoid him altogether.
That hope was dashed when Urahara Kisuke then looked up, smiled, and waved at her. Kaede was instantly on guard. Acting “normal” and friendly was a commonly used tactic for setting a target at ease. Was that what she was - a target? She’d just gone through a checkup a few months prior; what else would Urahara want with her?
“Urahara-san,” she greeted with a polite nod of her head. “Does Central 46 want something?”
“Eh?” Urahara’s brows shot up like he’d expected a friendlier greeting. “No, no, I just wanted to say hi! It’s been a while since we really talked, hasn’t it?”
And whose fault is that? she almost retorted. Instead, she replied, “I guess so.”
She began walking again, and Urahara fell into step beside her. “Sooo…how’ve you been?”
“Fine.”
“How’s the husband? He’s a lieutenant now, right?”
“Has been for decades.”
“Right, right…” He scratched his cheek. “Guess it has been a while, huh…”
“Is there something you want?” she blurted out, her patience already wearing thin. “Pardon my curtness, but I have a report to write, so if there’s something you need…”
“Ah, well, you probably wouldn’t have heard yet, but…” He grinned sheepishly, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m taking over the captaincy in Division 12.”
Kaede’s steps slowed. That was Hiyori’s division, wasn’t it? Urahara was getting promoted? Wait - wouldn’t Sousuke have heard about this already, and wouldn’t he have told her? Or did he not know yet? How widespread was this news? And why was Urahara telling her this in person? Would it affect his role as her overseer?
“Did something happen to Hikifune-taicho?” was the question she voiced aloud.
“No - well, not exactly. She got a promotion of her own.”
Her brow furrowed. There was only one position higher than captain within the Gotei, and as far as she was aware, Yamamoto had yet to vacate it. So did that mean…? “A captain in Central 46? Wouldn’t that be a conflict of interest?”
“Oh, definitely. But that’s not where she went.”
Kaede waited for him to elaborate, but his silence told her even more. If he wasn’t volunteering more information on the matter, then either there was no more information to give, or that information was beyond her pay grade. She filed that away as something to bring up to Sousuke later.
After a few more silent steps, she prompted him: “So you’re taking over her post. Congratulations.”
“Thank you,” he quipped brightly. “Your enthusiasm is highly encouraging.”
Kaede bit back a sigh and stopped to face him. “Urahara-san, I am glad to hear that your centuries of devotion and hard work are being rewarded, but I fail to see what it has to do with me.”
“Oh, right!” he exclaimed with a short, nervous-sounding laugh. “Sorry, I guess I’ve rehearsed this so many times in my head that I forgot I hadn’t actually said it yet…Well, I’m told that new captains, especially if they’re changing divisions, have the option of bringing along one or two Shinigami from their old division.”
He watched her expectantly, and Kaede found herself disgusted by his audacity. Did he think she was going to jump up and down with her hand in the air, begging for the opportunity? If so, he’d be sorely disappointed; between the leaden weight that dropped in her stomach and how her blood began to simmer, she doubted she could manage a hop, let alone a jump.
She swallowed the bitter bile rising in her throat and tried to keep her voice even and neutral. “I’d suggest Soi Fon, but I doubt she’d voluntarily detach herself from our captain’s hip.”
“True - and besides, Soi Fon-san already hates me. I’m not looking to make the transition harder for myself.”
That, she could believe. Soi Fon was envious that Kaede had known her idol long before her; she could fully see the smaller woman hating Urahara for growing up with Yoruichi.
“Besides,” Urahara continued, “there’s really only one person I would want to ask.”
“Then you should ask.” It was obvious who he meant, but this was the most he’d said to her directly in almost a century, and she was out of patience for his vagaries.
“Fair enough, I guess…” He straightened, and the expectation in his expression - the assumption that he already knew her answer - made her blood boil. “Kaede. Would you come to Division 12 with me?”
She looked away, trying not to openly sneer. “Do I actually have a choice, or is this just another order?”
His face fell in understanding. “It’s entirely your choice, Kaede. Yoruichi-san and I discussed it a bit, but we both want it to be your decision. This doesn’t come from Central or anyone else.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Then how do you know they’d approve?”
“Honestly? I don’t know for sure. But one of the reasons they approved of you being in the Stealth Corps was that I was there, so it would make sense for you to follow me to a new division.”
She wanted to assign arrogance to his tone, but there was none. He was simply stating facts that she couldn’t refute. “Is that why you want me to go with you? To keep an eye on my seals?”
“Not at all,” he said with an ease that made her uncomfortable. Then, with a bit of contrition, he continued, “I know you never wanted to be in the Stealth Corps to begin with, and…I am sorry that choice was taken from you back then. It took a while, but I can finally give you a real choice of your own.”
Kaede’s entire body stiffened. Choice? There was no choice. Was this another test? Was she supposed to refuse, prove her loyalty by “voluntarily” remaining in the Stealth Corps as a dutiful assassin? Or was she supposed to accept this so-called offer and stay with her long-time warden?
“I’d need Central’s approval before I can make a decision,” she answered.
“And I will fight for you to have that decision,” Urahara replied. All hints of light-heartedness had left his face and voice; he was as serious as she’d ever seen him. “As will Yoruichi-san - if you want us to. We won’t force this on you.”
If she wanted them to? So if she asked them to fight for her, they’d know she didn’t actually want to stay in the Corps, which meant Central would also know. That had to be the reasoning at play.
“Kaede…” He lowered his voice. “I couldn’t do much as a unit head in the Stealth Corps, but as a Captain…this is the opportunity we’ve both been hoping for, the chance to bring real, meaningful changes to Soul Society. I could use help from someone who knows what’s at stake.”
Oh, so he wanted her help now? It was disgustingly transparent how he appealed to her desire to be useful , to be helpful .
Worse, though, was that she felt the appeal tug at something inside of her.
She forced herself to breathe deeply, to let that bit of weakness leave her in an exhale. She hadn’t been that timid lapdog for a long time now, and one day she’d be able to drop the facade and be her true self, right alongside Sousuke. They would bring about the changes Soul Society needed. Right now…how could she turn this situation to her best advantage?
“Why should I?”
The clear and utter lack of comprehension on Urahara’s face was almost funny. Satisfying, certainly. “Eh?”
“Why should I leave the Stealth Corps, if given the choice?” she clarified for him. “I’m sixth seat now, tied with Soi Fon. With you leaving, someone will need to take over your position as a Unit Head. Could be a good promotion opportunity. Why walk away from that?”
Urahara’s mouth formed a thin line. “I know that’s not what you want.”
“Do you?” she challenged, unable to keep the spite from her tone this time. “How would you know what I want or don’t want? When was the last time-”
She stopped herself before she finished, but by the way his face pinched, he got the message. “Kaede…I’m sorry. I did put distance between us, and at some point, I’d like the opportunity to explain myself. But…you know they won’t promote you any further.”
Of course she did. “Yeah, well, guess I should thank you for not giving me false hope this time, at least.”
It was satisfying to see him flinch, even if it was minute.
“I can’t give you a promotion,” he admitted. “But I can give you a way out of the Stealth Corps. Your place in Division 12 would be what you make it to be - that much, I can promise.”
The sincerity in his tone pulled at something in her chest. She wanted to believe him, didn’t she? She wanted to think that he still cared for her interests, that he’d ever cared at all.
Pathetic. Naive. Gullible.
Urahara sighed. “You don’t have to answer me now. And don’t worry about what Central will say; Yoruichi still has some strings she can pull, if need be. The ceremony is the day after tomorrow, and there’ll be some downtime while I get moved in. To be honest, I’m a bit nervous about it all, and I was hoping to have a friendly face with me to start things off.”
Was he trying to guilt her into accepting? The nerve …she almost wanted to refuse the offer just for that. However, that would be petty, and pettiness was a flaw of those with undeserved pride. Any decision she made had to be dictated by reason.
If she joined Division 12, she’d lose all the advantages of being a Stealth Corps operative. Her position had gained them entry to several noble estates, allowed them to bring many of the eyes and ears of the Seireitei under Kyoka Suigetsu’s influence, and placed her at the elbow of Yoruichi herself, a captain and noble clan head. It didn’t matter that she would never rise to a power seat; if anything, it was better for her to be overlooked and undervalued.
All of that was reason enough to stay right where she was. She could deal with her soul being chipped away. She was resilient, and it would all be worthwhile in the end.
Urahara started to walk away, but after just a few steps, he stopped, finger to his chin like he’d just remembered something. “Oh - actually, I think your friend from the Academy is in that division, right? Sarugaki Hiyori? Do you two still keep in touch?”
Oh, fuck him.
She wanted to slap him, to scream at him and tear his skin. She hated him in that moment, truly hated him, loathed him for daring to bring Hiyori up like this, like some bargaining chip he could casually toss on the table!
She swallowed her rage and replied as nonchalantly as she could. “Not really. We’ve both been busy.”
It was true enough: between her missions and her extracurricular activities with Sousuke, she simply didn’t have much chance to see the blonde spitfire. When Hiyori had been promoted to lieutenant, she hadn’t heard about it for over two months. Hiyori herself hadn’t even been the one to tell her.
In a way, Kaede was glad they’d lost touch. It meant she could put off getting answers to the questions she’d dreaded for decades. Would Hiyori be able to tell how much she had changed? What would she think of her now? Would she understand what Kaede and Sousuke were doing? Might she even side with them?
Or would she be another inevitable enemy?
But along with the cold dread of what might be, there was something lighter, warmer, and even more unbearable.
Hope.
Now that the prospect of joining Hiyori’s division had been presented, she couldn’t help but want it. There were so many ways for things to go wrong, but she almost didn’t care if it meant recapturing even a little of what the two of them had back in the Academy. Besides, this was Hiyori . She knew at least on some level how fucked up Soul Society was, how much it needed to change. She’d always been on Kaede’s side before. Maybe she would be again, and when the time came, they could fight together to make things better.
Kaede tried to smother the spark and remain objective. There was no use in pondering scenarios that were unlikely to pass anytime soon, nor in indulging in fanciful daydreams. Besides, hadn’t she already decided that it was best to remain at her post in the Stealth Corps?
Is that what you want?
Not now, she mentally hissed, one hand dropping to the hilt of her Zanpakuto. This wasn’t the time for Mono no Aware’s probing introspection, and it wasn’t about what she wanted. It was about what was best for both her and Sousuke, for their ultimate goals.
But now that the prospect had been suggested…she couldn’t turn it aside so easily. So…was there some advantage she could find in switching divisions that would outweigh what she’d be discarding from the Stealth Corps? She would need a damn good reason…
The answer floated into her mind in the form of a memory, an echo of a conversation she’d had with Sousuke ages ago - back when the Hogyoku had been barely more than a spark of inspiration ignited when she’d killed Tokinada. Back then, Sousuke had theorized that Urahara had collected the residual energy from the Catastrophe, even suggesting that they should look into the possibility.
“It may be worth trying to repair things with him…at least, enough to find out whether it was him and what he did with it all.”
At the time, she’d been against the idea. Urahara would surely see through any attempts she made, she thought. He knew her too well back then.
But somehow, she doubted that held true anymore. How long had it been since Sousuke broke her free of those seals? Urahara still knew nothing about that. Besides…she had changed, and Urahara himself was the one offering an open door.
“It…might be nice to see her again,” she told Urahara. Using Hiyori as the excuse made something twist in her stomach, but it was too perfect to pass up. “Not sure how much help I’d be to you, though.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Urahara said, his hand swatting her doubt away. “So...is that a yes?”
She should talk to Sousuke first. They had to examine this closely, and he wouldn’t have the burden of sentimentality clouding his vision. As much as she wanted to believe she was thinking rationally, she knew that sentiment was a persistent weakness of hers.
Even as those cautions passed through her mind, the word passed through her lips with no effort: “Yes.”
Her stomach fluttered as she approached the house and saw a faint glow through the screen walls. Sousuke was home. Why was she nervous to tell him about the possible transfer? It probably wouldn’t happen; the chances of Central 46 giving up the reins even a little bit were low to nil. She shouldn’t have set this in motion at all. All she did was complicate matters with Urahara, inviting his further scrutiny. Now she had to discuss it with Sousuke, examine every possible angle, face every impracticality and detriment to her decision even if nothing changed.
Damn you, Urahara.
But on the off chance the transfer was approved…this was the best move for them given the circumstances, wasn’t it? She should have talked to Sousuke first. Maybe he’d see some flaw in her reasoning that she could not, or maybe he’d see all the same ones she did and wonder why she thought this was a good idea at all.
Sousuke was sitting at his desk when she finally entered, the flickering light of his table lamp reflecting off of his glasses. In his hand was a calligraphy brush that he directed gracefully across the sheet in front of him. “Welcome back.”
She hummed quietly in response, her throat suddenly dry. “I saw Urahara today.”
The brush didn’t hesitate on its path. “Oh?”
“He’s being promoted to captain,” she continued. “Twelfth Division.”
“I heard about that today as well,” Sousuke stated. “Hikifune was sent to the Royal Guard.”
Kaede abruptly stopped in her tracks. “Wait - that was her promotion?”
“I presume Urahara didn’t mention that?”
“He said she’d been promoted, but wouldn’t say to what.”
“Interesting,” Sousuke mused, dipping his brush in ink. “Perhaps he wasn’t aware of it himself. I learned about it directly from Kyoraku Shunsui; he seemed unconcerned about sharing the information. She’s already left for her new post in utmost secrecy, so there’s no chance of finding a way into the Royal Palace through her. Still, it is useful to know that the Royal Guard pulls directly from the Gotei.”
Something bitter rose in Kaede’s throat. Maybe Urahara didn’t know, but she could fully believe that he did. Perhaps it was a matter of security clearance, and she wasn’t ranked highly enough to know about this. That was a logical explanation.
It still sat like a cold, leaden weight in her gut.
“If he saw fit to tell you about his promotion himself,” Sousuke continued, “then I assume he made you an offer.”
Of course he’d figured that much out. “He did. He said he and Yoruichi would fight for my choice to join Division Twelve, if I wanted them to.”
“And you accepted.”
She hesitated. Did she expect him to be angry? Perturbed? Disappointed? “Because I thought we could use it as an opportunity.”
She went on to explain her reasoning, doing her best not to trip over her own words. All the while, she watched him closely for a reaction - but there was none. No comments, no questions, not even a slight shift in how he handled his calligraphy brush. His serenity made her doubt herself all the more. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking when he was like this, and every moment that ticked by in silence made her stomach twist until she was almost nauseous.
After what felt like an eternity, he lifted the brush from the page, but it was only to set the finished paper aside and replace it with a blank one. After he inscribed a few new characters, he finally issued a single, soft-spoken command.
“Come.”
Kaede padded over and knelt at his side, but he shifted to encircle her in his arms from behind. She wasn’t sure what to do, caught between wanting to lean back into his warmth or pulling away. In the end, she let him open up her hand and place his calligraphy brush in it.
“Do you know,” he spoke next to her ear, his warm breath sending shivers under her skin, “why I find calligraphy so appealing?”
Her brow furrowed as he adjusted her grip on the brush. Come to think of it…no, she didn’t. She knew he enjoyed the hobby of course, and she often liked to watch him work at it; the sure, focused stroke of his brush on paper was poetry in motion, no matter what the words actually said. But it wasn’t something they talked about.
“There is much in common between the brush and the sword,” he said. “Both require the wielder to have unwavering intent. Once the brush touches the page, the ink cannot be washed away; therefore, one must be certain of the mark they wish to make.”
Kaede’s arm tensed when he poised her hand over the paper. She was no stranger to holding a paintbrush, even if she hadn’t held one in years, but this was an entirely different medium from what she preferred. Painting and drawing were her escapes; she could act without thinking, without planning, without caring for consequences, simply letting the colors and lines flow from her intuition. Even when she had a vision already in mind, she never feared making an error, because she could always find a way to make it work. She wasn’t trying to capture a static idea on paper; rather, the result became a representation of everything she felt and experienced while making it. Adaptability was part of the beauty of the process.
But this was his medium, and she didn’t want to ruin the beautiful work he’d already done on the page.
“You have doubts,” he stated.
She licked her lips with a tongue dry as sandpaper. “Not about us.”
“I never said you were doubting us . It is interesting that that is your first response.”
Could he feel her pulse jump? Why was she afraid of him noticing it? This was Sousuke, her partner, the person who knew her better than anyone else. She released the tension in her arm, letting it be completely in his control - yet he let the brush remain hovering.
“What mark do you wish to make?” he whispered. “With this move to Division 12?”
She tried not to think too much, to formulate and justify; he’d see through that, and she didn’t want to pretend. Not with him. Never with him.
“I want to see if we can evolve the Hogyoku,” she said. “Or at least, stabilize it into something we can use. I’m tired of having to put off our progress. But…I’m also tired of doing what Central wants, killing who they want, hunting who they want. Urahara said that I could make my own position. I’d like to take full advantage of that.” Her shoulders melted back against his chest. “And…I want to hurt him.”
She felt his smile against the juncture of her neck and shoulder. “You could do that by killing him.”
“No.” The brush touched the paper, the ink perfectly black as both their hands shaped the emerging character. “I want to hurt him in a way that matters only to him. ”
She couldn’t do to Urahara what was done to her - imprison him, bind him, make him question his worth and reality. Even if she could recreate the exact circumstances he’d put her through, it wouldn’t be the same for him. But she could, perhaps, get under his skin in another way. He still thought that she was under his control, that she felt some sort of familial bond just because he’d been her main connection to the world for so long. He thought she was still a fragile thing at her core. Maybe he did actually care for her on some level, but that just made everything he did to her worse.
The brush swept over the parchment in sure, broad strokes. She wanted him to see what she had become, to know that she’d been able to deceive him for well over a century now. She wanted Urahara to come to know the real Sorano Kaede, to know the creature he’d named and claimed and cultivated. This wasn’t just about stealing something he might have that could be useful to them; it was about finally pulling back the curtain and putting her full self on display.
Sousuke’s low voice hummed through her bones. “Beautiful.”
The character on the page was neither fully his handwriting nor fully hers. It lacked his calm precision in exchange for her focused savagery, yet the result was more elegant than anything she could have created on her own - and it was exactly what she knew she wanted from all of this.
Truth.
“And what of your friend Hiyori?”
Of course that detail wouldn’t slide past him. Yet as nervous as she was earlier about being around her old classmate again, right now, she felt calm. Sure.
“I want…” She stopped, corrected herself. “I need to see if she can accept us, accept me…all of me.”
“And if she can’t?”
Cold dread flooded her veins, but she couldn’t let it shake her. Not now. Nor could she lie. “I don’t know yet.”
Sousuke let her set the brush down and ran his fingers up her arms, replacing the chill that had entered her veins with liquid heat as he drew her top away from her shoulders.
“Anyone who can’t see the beauty of who you are,” he murmured, planting light kisses up the column of her neck, “doesn’t deserve to see it. Remember that.”
Relief washed over her, and she twisted around in his arms to meet his lips with her own. He wasn’t angry or disappointed; he didn’t discard her idea as selfishly motivated. No, he’d once again helped her to know her own mind. He knew her, all of her, and not once did he recoil from what lurked in her darker corners.
She expressed her gratitude to him with her touch, her mouth, her entire body, overwhelmed by the need to give him all she had. He took her with a hunger and urgency that mirrored her own until their edges blurred, their bodies and minds and the deepest essence of their beings coming together in perfect unity.
She never wanted to let that go.
They each let out a groan when he entered her, briefly satiated by the connection but quickly needing more, always reaching, always seeking to bury themselves deeper into each other. Their bodies moved as one, needing to leave an indelible imprint of themselves within each other while greedily taking everything they could. In his eyes she saw the churning passion and primal hunger that he so often hid from the world, felt the ravenous desire in every squeeze of his hands and thrust of his hips, and she wanted it all. It was never enough, no matter how many times they joined like this; it would never be enough.
Even as they came and she saw, felt that fleeting yet profound oneness with him, as she basked in the perfection of the moment, she knew that the craving would soon return. She’d be left with that intolerable need for him, for his body against hers, within hers, for his complete attention and awareness focused on her own, for that glimpse of his purest, truest self that sometimes came through the veil when they were together.
Never enough.
She chased it again as soon as they were both able, pulling him into her and trying to give him everything she had - but it wasn’t enough. That perfect synchronicity was gone again, sex reduced to a physical pleasure that she nonetheless enjoyed but that didn’t grant her the exquisite fulfillment she so desperately craved. He smiled down at her, up at her, praising her as my woman and my goddess …yet it was hollow now. He had drawn the veil, and she could never know when or why he would let it down again.
But she had to try.