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The Mirrors Of My Soul	By : JohnFreechman Category: Bleach > General Views: 964 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any characters and make no moneyz off of this fic. I also do not own the song quotes...that's why they're called quotes.

Chapter List
- 2
- 3
- 4
Chapter II
Re-Education Through Power
If one were looking for a group of ruthless criminals with powers of unimaginable magnitude, would one look for them in a New Jersey suburb? Probably not. In the town of Manahawkin in that very state, a man named Peter Harris lived alone in a small single-story ranch styled home; a plain white-sided one, dark shingled, with a large oak tree rising above the blue-rocked driveway. A silver Honda sedan sat on the driveway, still dripping from the wash Peter had given to the vehicle, after mowing his lawn and untangling the American flag when it got caught up in the pole from last night's strong winds. He was unemployed but no one knew that, as he seemed to be pretty secure with his finances despite the current state of the economy. He was a fairly reclusive man; but not necessarily anti-social. He spoke with his neighbors every now and then, came to a few barbecues when invited; sometimes he went to the bowling alley, or was seen browsing the selections of the instrument shop off of Barnegat Avenue, talking with a certain clerk he seemed to be chummy with. And apparently he played the violin and cello, as witnesses had seen when glancing through the large sun window of his living room.
However, his actual name is Maynard Lione; a medium-set man with medium-long gray hair and a clean shaven elderly face, his eyes a dark blue and wise, but usually unreadable. Within the Spiritual World his name is quite an infamous one; along with his three accomplices, Barrett Leo, Stanley Waters, and Mathew Nikolai; the three lived in different suburbs around the state along with Maynard. Once respected Hreinsa Lieutenants, they had since betrayed their organization for unknown reasons (although it is assumed to search for power); but what was known was that they were willing to kill one of their own to keep whatever secret they had under the steel veil they had draped over it. Even if one of their own was a pregnant woman.
Maynard now sat on his couch in the mid-day sunlight of the early Autumn warmth; like most New Jersey summers, the last had been sweltering at times; almost unbearable. Autumn was his favorite season by far. In his hands was a good sized book, 'Of Mice And Men', Steinbeck; a god amongst men in Maynard's view. Situated next to him on the couch was the closed case of a violin; one worth probably quite a bit of money, as it was very old and still in mint condition. It was also his first violin, which he had picked up at the age of one hundred fifty-two years. His cello, which sat on a stand in a corner of the living room, wasn't nearly as old as the violin, but still had been well used and in good shape; seventy-three years it had been played by Maynard. Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, Ludwig Van Beethoven, Johann Sebastian Bach and many more artists of endless vision and intelligence those instruments were familiar with, and they appreciated it as much as Maynard did; they lasted this long didn't they? Instruments are like plants; if you direct good feelings and care to them, they live and flourish as if they were from the Garden of Eden itself. It may be scientifically impossible by standards of humans and even Shinigami and other similar spiritual beings, but to Maynard it rang true; because he knew it so. The instruments themselves were enough proof to him.
As of late, some ruckus had been going on in the Seireitei which had captured Maynard's undivided attention as he whittled away with his violin to Mozart's Violin Sonata K.378: Andantino. Ryoka apparently, as he had eavesdropped on Shinigami via the bugs and spies planted within Seireitei. With one powerful Ryoka as well, as he was impressed to hear the anonymous Ryoka had defeated Captains Zaraki Kenpachi of the 11^th Division, and Kuchiki Byakuya of the 6^th Division.
But which both was a setback and yet exciting was Aizen Sosuke. Sudden turns of events always made Maynard excitable; however, the setback was that Aizen was apparently extremely powerful; more powerful than his former comrades, the Gotei Thirteen. That wouldn't do for Maynard and his own comrades, Aizen would have to be eliminated. At first, Maynard had no idea how to achieve this, where to find the power strong enough to stop some able to block a Zanpakutō attack with his bare hands. But as always, knowledge is power, and where to find knowledge? Books of course! Maynard's entire basement area was filled with shelves and shelves of arcane books of myth, legends and actual histories. Unlike the human histories, which were filled with exaggerations, bias and flat out lies; the histories of the texts he owned were the real deal. The oldest book he owned was the one that had baffled him the most; some would call it the first book ever created, and they would be right. The first book ever created was created many many years before humans could even put their thoughts and accounts on their primitive sheets and stone tablets.
Maynard; now feeling like reading what appeared to be fiction but was actually an auto-biography of an arcane, mysterious lifeforce; stood from his couch and went to the basement door. He made his way down the staircase and turned the lights to the basement on. It was very plain, the basement. Very gray. The carpet under his feet was gray, the walls gray, even the bookcases were steel cases made originally for tools and other home development items. But the books that sat upon the nonchalant cases were mysteries even to the scholars of Soul Society; Maynard as well. There were very few he understood, and even then the ones he understood was not a complete comprehension; a superficial understanding, which could frustrate him at times. He needed solid, sound facts if he was to continue in his search; his comrades shared this sentiment when they borrowed his books for their own pleasure. They were all very much like him, and he loved them as brothers.
Of all the leather bound books; some worn and tattered but still readable, others in surprisingly good condition; he chose his favorite of them. His favorite not only because it was a good read to enjoy time and time again, but because in the long run it would help him and his friends. He pulled the First Book of All from its resting place, then grabbed a metal folding chair from beside on the shelves and took a seat, crossing his leg and opening to the first page; the prologue.
* * *
Oh what should I let you know about me? About my Zanpakutō? About my life as the first Soul Reaper of this world? The Shinigami you know now are somewhat miniscule compared to I, but do not take me as arrogant and condescending, I have much respect and love for my descendents. They have drive, strength and clarity of vision; and they know what to do to keep the Living from being devoured by Those Who Go Bump In The Night. As did I. I was the first human to ever die, and when I died I saw more than one could think they could see. I saw danger, grief, agony, helpless rage by those who can do nothing to stop the danger, grief and agony. You cannot defend yourself from something you cannot see, and even if they could see those Things, they would still be defenseless against the beasts. I needed to do something. I felt all this power in my non-corporeal being that still had a body. I knew I could use it. I could tap into it, draw it out and unleash it upon the Things. And it was easier than I could ever imagine. Thus the first Zanpakutō: Shi – Death. It is also the title by which I am known now.
What is my order to transform Shi into its true Shikai form? Shūkaku, Shi – Harvest, Death. And what is my Bankai's name? Why it is Shinigami of course! Death God! Soul Reaper! I am the original Soul Reaper, the Grim Reaper some call me. And the Shinigami you know today are my children; estranged as they are. Now as I write this book I am ten thousand years old; even Souls eventually die to a final rest, but not I, not yet. People often wonder how I stay alive. It is as simple as it is shocking and appalling. Those very few who know I am real know that I am so powerful that my Zanpakutō is in a constant state of Bankai form; my trademark amongst my 'myth.' A scythe; great and old and terrible. But as I was going to explain, how have I managed to remain alive and not die to the final resting place? By now the original spirit of my Zanpakutō, Death, is ironically dead. Ha! I outlived my Zanpakutō, imagine that! Thus, in order to remain alive, I infused the empty Zanpakutō with my own soul. I doubt I can die now. And even if I could I would not tell you of all people how to kill me.
That sentence always tickled Maynard.
Again you probably think I am an arrogant, pretentious bastard; I suppose those that do do, and there is nothing I can say to make them think otherwise. But you would do well the reckon me, because I am powerful, and I will not feed that fact to the ravenous hound known as Modesty. If we could meet in person your judgment will quickly shrink, as it often does when one meets another in person for the first time. But you are here to learn everything, yes? Then I suppose you should turn the page of this book and let me tell you...
Maynard smiled and placed his finger on the corner of the page to turn it, but he paused when his doorbell rang. Shutting the book, he placed it back in its spot and hastily made his way upstairs. When he came to the door and answered it, he smiled to see it was one of his old friends.
“Come in, Stanley,” Maynard invited, stepping aside for the other man to enter. This man was gray haired as well, although less lengthy than Maynard's, and he had a considerably large and bushy beard; his hair was quite scruffy. Stanley had a pair of circular spectacles perched on his nose, a newsboy cap on his head and a long dark brown overcoat on his frame. He appeared to be middle aged as Maynard, although like his unofficial brother he was in his early four hundreds.
“Have you been listening in on the Seireitei lately?” Stanley asked, always the one to cut straight to business; Maynard loved him for it.
“Not today. News I take it,” Maynard replied as he went to the kitchen to serve his guest a nice hard drink. Stanley merely stood before the doorway rigid and stoic, not even taking off his coat.
“The Director made a visit; I assume to Captain-Commander Yamamoto; it's too bad we can't get any bugs or spies within any of the Gotei Thirteen's headquarters,” Stanley commented. Maynard exited the kitchen with two glasses of an amber drink in hand, offering one to Stanley.
“Yes, too bad,” Maynard agreed as he sipped his drink.
“I am to guess the Director is—wow, goddamn good scotch, Maynard,” Stanley interrupted his own words, having sipped the drink. Always the one to be all business, but immediately put that on hold once he tastes a damn good drink. “This from Scotland?”
“Tongue is as sharp as ever, Stanley,” Maynard said back, raising his glass to his friend. They clinked their glasses and took small draughts. When Stanley lowered the glass from his lips, he continued, “As I was saying: I'm guessing the Director is anticipating our next move...but...how could she possibly know to anticipate so soon? She's smart but she's not omniscient...” Stanley murmured thoughtfully, tapping the lip of his glass with his index finger. Maynard shrugged.
“No idea, Stan.” Stanley shot Maynard a glower.
“I can't ever tell if you're actually concerned about something.”
“You say that every time I am unconcerned about troubling notions,” Maynard replied. “Maybe something that woman hid from us. She didn't know much, but she knew enough to point our enemies in the right direction to stop us. A secret only Bridgette would find.”
“You're probably right about that; she's smart too,” Stanley agreed, nodding lengthily. “So, should we gather the others and start talking about our plan?”
“Yes. The Director knows we're going to make a move...but she or anyone else will never guess in a thousand years what our exact plans are.”
“Yes, but Yamamoto is allot older than one millennium.”
“And I can't ever tell if you're joking or serious,” Maynard shot back at Stanley.
“You say that every time there's no need for jokes.”
“Oh, I'm disappointed; for a minute there, I actually thought you had pulled your head out of your ass.”
Stanley sipped from his glass and replied, “It's way too late, I've been settled in for a long time now.”
* * *
He stopped short when he felt a strange presence coming from his office; and he could tell Yachiru could feel it by her inquisitive “Hmmmm...”
“Trespassing in my office, huh?” Captain Zaraki Kenpachi rumbled to himself, picking up his previous pace again to the 11^th Division's office.
“Maybe he's looking for a fight?” Yachiru speculated, shifting on Kenpachi's shoulder and giving a sidelong smile to the large man.
“Well he came to the right place then,” he murmured as he rounded the corner of the hallway and came to the sliding door of his office. He stood in front of it and pulled the door open, taking in the uninvited guest. The man was of average height, brown-haired and mustached, with a trench coat over his body as brown as his hair. He took a glance at Kenpachi, apparently chewing gum as he examined the Captain drily. He stopped chewing and suddenly swallowed the wad of gum in his mouth, then reached into the inner breast pocket of his jacket and extracted a black and silver-lined flask.
“Afternoon,” he murmured to Kenpachi, giving a slight tip of the flask to Kenpachi before twisting the cap loose and tipping whatever drink it contained into his mouth and down his gullet. Kenpachi finally entered and gave the man a matching dry glower.
“Who are you?” he asked. The man screwed the cap back on the flask again and pocketed it.
“Second Lieutenant Crawford Olson of the Hreinsa Clan,” he replied. Kenpachi smiled finally and gave a throaty chuckle.
“It's been a while since I've seen a Hreinsa in Soul Society...much less the Seireitei...been a while since I've fought one on top of that.” Crawford yet again reached into another breast pocket and removed another silver case. He flipped it open to reveal handmade cigarettes. He plucked one from the case, tapped the head on the case, pocketed the case, extracted a lighter and lit the cigarette up. When the process was done he took a drag and blew it out.
“What do you want?” Kenpachi asked, Yachiru hopping off his back as the Captain went behind his desk and took a seat.
“Well, as I'm gonna be stayin' here for a whi-”
“You've got a funny accent!” Yachiru interrupted as she beamed up at the man. He took another drag and replied, “I'm British, get it all the time.” Yachiru giggled at that while Kenpachi stared at him expressionlessly.
“Ahe...anyway, Bigun,” Crawford continued. Kenpachi raised his eyebrows.
“'Bigun'?” he repeated questioningly.
“...Cap'n Bigun?”
“Humph,” was Kenpachi's reply, but with a smirk. “I like you; you're not a pussy like half the messengers and outsiders I get visiting me.”
“Pleasure's all mine then now innit? Anyway, since I'm gonna be crashing at Ghoulville here for a while, my CO told me to meet with all the captains. Kinda give you a heads up that sooner or later all of the Seireitei's gonna be involved with a little...problem we've been expecting for a while,” Crawford explained as he paced the room slowly, the cigarette smoldering between his middle and index finger while he had his arms crossed.
“Ugh...the Old Man isn't gonna call for a Captain's Meeting is he?” Kenpachi huffed as he leaned back in his chair and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling.
“Thought I heard him say somethin' along those lines,” Crawford replied.
“And he's gonna tell us to help you silly little humans again.”
“You'll be helpin' yourselves in the long run; we don't know what the bad guys are capable of. We only know they want a fuckload of power to do somethin' with.”
“Sounds like me, heh,” Kenpachi chuckled once as he got to his feet. “Well, I should probably just make my way to the Old Man's place now and save some time before I even get the call.” Yachiru automatically hopped up onto his shoulder. Crawford walked out of the office with them.
“Gee, let's see who my next victim is,” Crawford stated as he removed yet another device from an inside pocket. This one was some sort of electronic tablet with a touch screen. He tapped and slid his fingers across various buttons and typed in letters on a cyber keyboard as Yachiru and Kenpachi watched. Finally a profile came up on the Twelfth Division's Captain, Mayuri Kurotsuchi.
“I've always wondered why that freak wheres a mask,” Kenpachi remarked with a hint of contempt as he stared at the 'face' of the scientist.
“'Cause he's fuck ugly,” Crawford settled as he next to a look at a map, a navigational point appearing on his next destination: the Department Of Research and Development.
“The mask is fuck ugly,” Kenpachi returned.
“Yeah...it is. Well nice talkin' to ya, Cap'n Bigun; guess I better meet Skeletore next.” Yachiru giggled again.
“I like giving nicknames too, Hreinsa Mister Mustache,” she said brightly.
“I take it you've got a Shinigami Mister Mustache amongst your own ranks,” Crawford replied as he picked up his pace, waving a hand over his shoulder at them. “Later.”
* * *
Karakura, Downtown area.
“Don't you think it'd be better to fight Hollows under the cover of night?” Almer asked as Hoshi had his wrist in an iron grip while she practically dragged him to another training session to build up the strength of his Varðmann's firepower. She gave him a glance over her shoulder that said, You dense?
“No one can see at night,” she replied. He ripped his wrist free of her hand finally and came up beside her.
“That's my point exactly! I think someone would notice two adolescents jumping around with impossible dexterity with guns that fire strange lights,” Almer retorted.
“Relax, we'll get in and get out; it's not like the Hollows will all be clustered in one area while we fight for the world to see,” Hoshi replied, seemingly impossible to annoy even the slightest. Over the week Almer had spent much of his time with her: she mostly dragging him to random locations at random times to hunt Hollows; he had a basic sense of her emotional spectrum. She was usually content, sometimes very cheerful, laughs easily; the most he'd seen of her negative side is a bit of grimness or a glare, but she never raised her voice or spoke nastily. She seemed to easily articulate her anger to have greater effect when expressed with intelligent and sometimes wise words. She had definitely grown on him.
Almer sidestepped a man that was carrying a large and quite heavy looking box, making him give off an aggravated mild insult which Almer ignored.
“I'm gonna cheat a little bit; what did you do to convince your Varðmann to tell you his name?” Almer inquired.
“I'm not gonna let you cheat a little bit,” she replied smugly.
“I figured something along those lines.”
Trying to trick me are you? The Varðmann suddenly spoke up, as expected.
It would have been so easy if Hoshi had cooperated, Almer taunted lightheartedly.
You just focus on increasing our strength.
Apparently Serious Bag is not amused.
…
Almer smiled to himself, but quickly hurried after Hoshi when she called for him to hurry up as she got ahead of him.
* * *
Almer back flipped in the nick of time as a massive clawed hand struck the gravel where he had been a second before, the angered Hollow screeching at the nimble Hreinsa as it took another swipe at him with its other hand, but he ducked as it sailed over him with a gust of torn air. From his knelt position he aimed at the mask and fired, finally rewarded with a shot strong enough to pierce the mask and effectively kill the creature. It shimmered from view as the soul was cleansed and sent to Soul Society.
“Behind you!” he heard Hoshi shout from a short but non-interfering distance. He didn't think, only acted as he dove out of the way of another swipe from a second Hollow. As he rolled he turned himself around to face the beast, but it wasn't a hulking behemoth like most of them; this one seemed to be a minor veteran. It was less muscular, considerably faster, and appeared to be smarter as it studied Almer momentarily. He got to his feet and took aim. Just as he fired at its head it dove out of the way, almost too fast for him to track. He intended to kill it where it landed, but it had gone for cover. Just by that tactic alone Almer knew this was a Hreinsa killer; otherwise it wouldn't have bothered to go for cover. He didn't look to Hoshi for help; she wouldn't agree. This could be considered his first serious test; a rookie like him going up against a Hollow that was evolved and familiar with battling Hreinsa.
Level your mind, Almer, his Varðmann finally spoke sagely. Trust in your aim with me, and keep yourself loose enough to dodge your opponent's skilled attacks.
He left it at that, and Almer kept his eyes on the old train cart the creature was hiding behind. Beneath the cart he saw its shadow move to round the object from the other end. He did not approach it, rather, he backed away a few paces. It stopped at the other end, now playing a waiting game. Who was more patient? Almer was. He somewhat prided himself on his patience; most other young Hreinsa like himself were too eager, even to him, but he kept that opinion to himself.
This was one of the still warmer days of September, still nostalgic about the heat of August; the sun glared on his back and he sweated profusely because of it, combined with the physical exertion of battle. His body was glazed with sweat uncomfortably beneath his t-shirt and jeans, his neck reddened and hair soaked slightly. He licked his lips, salty with the perspiration; but that affected his performance by a minuscule margin, and his stamina was hardly spent up with the last Hollow and the three previous ones from different areas of the deserted train yard.
Almer prepared his trigger finger when he saw the shadow from under the cart disappear as the Hollow attempted climbing to the top. He leveled his Varðmann with the expected spot where it would appear...but it seemed to be waiting as it did not yet app-
Almer hissed a curse when sudden movement came from the other side of the cart at the edge of his vision; it had shimmied to that spot in order to throw him off just enough to give it an edge. More prepared to dodge now rather than fire, he at least attempted to take aim at the threat. Just as he moved the direction of the Desert Eagle, and the Hollow tensed to jump and pounce on the Hreinsa rookie, it screeched when its back experienced a sharp, splitting pain. Almer froze and his eyes widened. When it nearly toppled backwards as its blood filled the air behind it, the beast was immediately silenced as a gleam of silver arced across its head, and moments later the head fell from its shoulder and both body and parts disintegrated. When the creature vanished, standing in its place was a smug Shinigami...with an afro atop his head...what?
He flicked the blood off his Zanpakutō and sheathed it, saying to the air where the Hollow had been, “What is it that all these humans say when they defeat something? Oh yeah: owned! Ha!”
“What the fuck!?” Almer shouted, anger quickly overriding the shock of losing his opponent to this random Shinigami.
“What the hell is that guy's problem?” the Afro Shinigami asked himself as he gave a glance to Almer while walking across the train cart.
“You're my problem, kill-thief!” Almer bellowed, startling the man.
“What? You can see me?” he asked in surprise, then took on an enraged expression as quickly as Almer had. “How many people in this damn town can see me!? Everyone seems like it! And what are you talking about 'kill thief?' Don't tell me you were expecting to kill that Hollow with that...thing in your hand, whatever it is you humans use to kill each other.”
“I'm a Hreinsa you douchebag!”
“Hreinsa!?” the Afro man exclaimed. “How many freaks are even in this town! That Kurosaki guy first, the Quincy, the big titted girl with the fairies, the Mexican guy with that freaky arm; and now this place is infested with the Hreinsa!” he ranted.
“Well obviously we've got things under control and you can leave and stop stealing my kills!” Almer roared; Hoshi had finally appeared behind him however.
“Cool down, Almer,” she told him, resting her hand on his shoulder. “There's never any shortage of Hollows in this town, you'll get another chance.”
“Yeah, kid,” the Shinigami said haughtily, smirking down at him with his fists on his hips. “There's plenty to go around...even though that's the third one I got all week,” the guy muttered. “If you really wanna get mad at someone for kill-stealing it's that Substitute Shinigami Kurosaki Ichigo, he's everywhere!” Almer only sighed and holstered his Varðmann.
“Yeah...yeah...” he said tiredly, the anger prolonging his adrenaline from the fight finally subsiding, and with it the adrenaline.
“Humph. What's next? Ninja-Wizards?” the Shinigami muttered before leaping away from the train yard.
“Bitter disappointment is what's next,” Almer sneered as he and Hoshi began walking out.
“Don't get worked up, Almer. And isn't that Kurosaki kid your classmate?” Hoshi questioned.
“Yeah, I knew a little bit after I met him; he killed a Hollow right outside the school-” he stopped his speech short when he spotted the boy himself running right in their direction about twenty yards away. “Shit, don't react; we're just your average humans,” Almer told Hoshi. She seemed to want to question him, but she did as asked first. When they came close to Ichigo, apparently on his own and in Shinigami form, he stopped and looked at Almer in surprise.
“Stavenes? What's he doing here?” he asked aloud as Almer and Hoshi walked by him. “Her too...they're kinda sweaty...oooohh...” Kurosaki smirked. “I see what's going on here.” Thankfully their faces were no longer in Ichigo's vision as they both blushed deeply, struggling not to turn around and deny his assumption. Finally Ichigo continued to run where they had come from. A little too late.
“Thank you, Almer,” Hoshi said sarcastically with a soft glower; but he knew she was pissed.
“Hey it's not my fault,” Almer defended himself, the blush finally subsiding.
“Eh. I'm too old for you anyway.”
“........I disagr-”
“Shut it, assclown.” That was the only time Hoshi had ever spoken harshly to Almer; merited or not.
* * *
“Humph...” Ichigo grunted, stabbing Zangetsu into the ground and leaning on it slightly as he pondered the disappearance of the Hollow that was supposed to be here. “They've been disappearing like this lately...it's like Ishida all over again...but it can't be him, he lost his powers...” Ichigo said thoughtfully, a troubled grimace scrutinizing his features. “But Almer and that woman...Hoshi.” He looked over his shoulder at the corner where he had left them, but they were probably long gone. His instincts aroused his suspicions. Ishida said he was the only Quincy left but...still...could Almer or Hoshi be Quincies? Surely there were others all over the world that the Shinigami couldn't catch during their campaign against them.
Ichigo shook his head and rested Zangetsu on his back again, the cloth ribbon of his hilt stretching and wrapping around the blade as the makeshift sheath. Either way, he came out here for nothing when he was in the middle of something!
“Pain in the ass,” he growled, flash-stepping his way back home.
* * *
“So what do you reckon this sudden Captain's Meeting is about?” asked a long white-haired man; a Shinigami bearing the captain's haori over his Shihakushō, walking at a casual gait. Next to him, wearing a straw hat and having a pink kimono shrouded over his Shihakushō, was Captain Kyōraku Shunsui; the other captain was known as Ukitake Jūshirō; and as previously stated, both were making their way through the First Division's headquarters to attend the Captain's Meeting their Captain-Commander had summoned them to.
Shunsui gave a short glance to his friend without turning his head before looking forward again.
“No clue, but I'm guessing it has something to do with that Hreinsa that visited me earlier.” Jūshirō looked at him, startled.
“A Hreinsa?” he asked, his eyes widened slightly. Shunsui turned his head fully to give him a questioning look.
“You weren't visited by that Crawford person?” Jūshirō shook his head and Shunsui looked straight again as they made a turn down to another corridor, smiling a little. “Funny, he looked like he'd been making rounds to all of the Captains, as he had these profiles on all of us on some sort of electronic device.”
“Electronic device?” Jūshirō queried. Shunsui nodded and held his arms out and made gestures with his hands that gave an approximate scale of the tablet he had witnessed in the Hreinsa's possession.
“It looked like something you'd see from the Department of Research and Development, but it was obviously human,” Shunsui described. “You know how those Hreinsa work; using their abilities to infuse their spiritual powers into your average human devices. I just hope they manage to stay clear of Kurotsuchi. I doubt he has the clearance to do anything to them if they're our guests...but still, he unnerves me sometimes.”
“We're one in the same,” Jūshirō answered grimly, grimacing at the thought of what that man did to his 'test subjects.' But still, he was a much needed asset to the Gotei Thirteen...unfortunately. He also had to admit with some disgust and begrudging that some of his live experiments had helped them before.
Ukitake shook himself from those thoughts though as he and Kyōraku arrived at the meeting hall. Ukitake opened the door and stepped through, Kyōraku following. As he made his way to the line of the other assembled Captains he glanced at the Captain-Commander. Beside him stood a woman appearing about his age in a fine European styled burgundy dress, a just as fine cane in her right hand; wood varnished darkly with a gold and silver hawk's head as the handle. Off to the side behind she and the Captain-Commander was Lieutenant Sasakibe, and four other men who were no doubt the Hreinsa (three of them being identical triplets to his surprise); it was fairly obvious that the woman was their leader as she stood beside the Old Man as his equal. This was also a Captain's Meeting where the Lieutenants were permitted to attend; all the others were here save for Zaraki and Kusajishi. Kyōraku's Lieutenant had not been with him when he got the message of the meeting, but she would no doubt arrive sooner than later, being more straight forward and to-the-book as opposed to her own captain. It would also come as no surprise if Zaraki was taking his sweet time getting here.
Again the doors to the meeting hall opened and the footsteps of a woman approached. They turned out to be that of Kyōraku's Lieutenant, Nanao Ise, the woman as grim-faced and cold-eyed as ever as she took her place beside her captain. It was silent as they waited for the last two additions of the meeting to arrive, an orderly silence that was preferred by the Captain-Commander who was always the first to speak. There was no level of background noise in the large, isolated room, and soon the silence was making everyone's ears ring; damn that lazy Zaraki; Kyōraku was most widely known as the laziest of captains, but he at least arrived on time; unlike Zaraki, who was beyond lazy. Lethargic was a better suited term. Unless of course he's fighting something, especially when that something is strong and poses him a challenge. Captain or not, that man was all kinds of messed up in the head. But still, his Lieutenant was an adorable kid, even if she could be a little rude; at least she was cheerful a majority of the time.
Suddenly some sort of noise exploded in the silence causing everyone (save for the Old Man and Hreinsa woman) to jump up; Ise even gasped sharply at the sudden assault on the silence. They all followed where the noise originated from, and saw that one of the Hreinsa triplets was reaching into an inner breast pocket of his brown trench coat and removing a cellphone that was playing some sort of Classic Rock song as its ringtone. He flipped it open and asked into the mouth receiver, “Yah?...hello? Hello?” The man jerked the phone from his ear, looking at it as if it had told him the sky was hot pink.
“What was that?” one of his brothers asked (Kyōraku noted for the first time they were still wearing their aviator sunglasses, despite in the dimness of the meeting hall).
“The bloody wanker just hung up on me without sayin' anything,” the first one grunted as he pocketed his phone again. The third triplet coughed, but his cough had in it what suspiciously sounded like a stifled laugh. The other two noticed this and snapped their heads in his direction. Although his face was as straight as a ruler for the whole time, the looks his brothers gave him made him falter and not only grin, but chortle, his laughter having a breathy, hissing sound to it. He then removed his own cellphone from his large side-pocket, showing he had been the caller.
“Bloody moron,” the second said with a smirk, looking straight again as he folded his arms over his chest. Silence finally ensued again, but now all the Captains and Lieutenants glared at them (save for Captain Byakuya who only gazed down at the floor with his expressionless face, and Captain Unohana who appeared to be the only amused one); they either didn't notice (which was unlikely) or ignored them insolently (which was likely). The woman Hreinsa appeared to be ignoring the triplets in turn, and the tall black man beside them shook his head down at the floor disapprovingly, refusing the urge to sigh.
At last, the doors to the hall slid open and the heavy footsteps of Kenpachi Zaraki approached. He took a place at the end of the line next to Kyōraku, his small child-like Lieutenant still situated on his shoulder comfortably with a bright smile lighting up her small face.
Finally, Yamamoto said in his elderly voice, “Thank you all for coming on such short notice, though I assume that Second Hreinsa Lieutenant Crawford Olson notified all of you personally as he said he was going to do.” The named triplet, the one who had pulled the cellphone prank gave a nod and casual two-fingered salute to the Captain's, who were obviously not over his little move and just glowered at him; especially Soifon.
“Hi Hreinsa Mister Mustache!” Yachiru called from her perch, waving at him with her arm straight in the air.
“Lazytown,” he greeted back with a nod, making Yachiru giggle.
“I actually was not visited by Second Lieutenant Olson and had no knowledge of Hreinsa presences here,” Ukitake spoke up. They all glanced at Crawford then, who stared blankly into space in thought, his expression looking to be a mixture of slight surprise and confusion. He proceeded to fiddle with one of his inner coat pockets and remove the electronic tablet and begin to tap away on the touchscreen. He did so for a short moment, his brothers leaning sideways to get a look at it over his shoulders. He finally came upon a captain's profile he had missed and tapped on it, rewarded with a photograph of said captain, the same captain that had spoken and now stared at him expectantly from across the room.
“Bullocks,” was Crawford's only agitated response, obviously miffed at himself for making such a dumb mistake. It was then the woman Hreinsa cleared her own throat and captured attention of the room.
“I apologize, Captain Ukitake, it was simply an honest mistake on the Lieutenant's part; I cry pardon,” the woman said in a notable accent; obvious like the triplet's accents but still very different.
“No trouble...and what would your title be?” he asked the woman when he was lost as how to regard her.
“I am Director Bridgette Gottschalk, respective Captain-Commander of the Hreinsa Clan. Director is the preferred term.” She gave a gesture to the black man behind her. “First Lieutenant Amadi Madaki, and Second Lieutenants Crawford, Martin and Sebastian Olson.”
Yamamoto took up the meeting again, “Director Gottschalk and the Hreinsa have requested the help of the Shinigami in apprehending four traitors from their ranks, dangerous ones at that.” Kenpachi huffed, unconvinced.
“Just four? Okay, next time you find them tell me and I'll take care of them for you,” he said with a grin, Yachiru chuckling with him. Gottschalk leveled a dead stare with him which surprisingly wiped the smile off his face. The woman was considerably shorter than him, but she approached him with an authoritative air that made it so she might as well be taller than him.
“I can assure you, Captain Zaraki, that challenge for someone to finally defeat you in combat can be near guaranteed with any of those four. But they're a close knit group, and they would never let one of their own fight any Captain of the Gotei Thirteen alone if they could help it. Each one of them is as powerful and skilled as you in their own way. Now bearing in mind what I said about them before, what if you were to meet two of them? Would you be able to handle two of yourselves? What about four of them? Four of yourselves...or more like, four Kurosaki Ichigos?” Kenpachi was cast into silence at that; he may not have been convinced by her example of him versus four other of himself, but it certainly gave him food for thought at the mention of four Kurosakis.
When the man ceased to respond, Yachiru quite surprised at that fact as she gaped at him, Gottschalk finished, “I rest my case,” and stood with the Captain-Commander once more.
“Now that you all have an idea of how powerful these men are,” the Old Man continued, as if Gottschalk had simply given them a pie-chart presentation as opposed to putting one of the most (in)famous Shinigami captains in his place, “I feel I should tell you I have dealt with these men once before, before they were traitors.” All attending were somewhat surprised at this new information, save for two certain captains. “Indirectly I dealt with them, however, two Captains have dealt with them directly. Captains Kuchiki and Komamura.” All the other captains glanced between the expressionless Sixth Division Captain and the anthropomorphic Seventh Division Captain with baffled faces; save for Kenpachi, who had resigned to brooding that bordered childish pouting.
The two mentioned captains took a stride forward to stand out from the line.
“March of nineteen ninety-four,” Gottschalk began, “the American city of Albuquerque, located in the state of New Mexico, was experiencing an odd level of supernatural activity. An increased number in Hollows. Albuquerque is not so notorious for its spiritual happenings, but that year featured an abrupt spike in spiritual activity that aroused suspicions of the Hreinsa, and as a result, the Seireitei.”
“At the time,” Yamamoto spoke up, “Neither I nor the Hreinsa were fully aware of the implications of the sudden spike in the city's phenomenon, so I simply sent several lower ranked Shinigami investigators to work with the Hreinsa and inform me of the cause. However, as soon as the Hreinsa and Shinigami became involved, it became violent.”
“There were one-hundred percent causalities of every Hreinsa and Shinigami present in Albuquerque, and even attacks on regular humans,” Gottschalk told them. “At this point the Commander and I had a discreet meeting and discussed our next course of action. We determined this sudden turn of events merited our respective Special Forces Divisions. I tasked, at the time, my four best First Lieutenants and a prodigal Hreinsa by the name of Lovise Stavenes.”
“And I had tasked Captains Kuchiki and Komamura and several other men to join them in the investigation,” said Yamamoto. “For several months of investigating and trying to protect the Living and Ghosts from Hollows we came upon nothing significant. Whatever was causing the abnormality of that area's Equilibrium was discreet, which meant that it must be intelligent; and with intelligence comes goals. We were determined to find the interloper and his goals, and stop them if they proved to be dangerous to our worlds.” Yamamoto then looked to the two captains, expecting them to continue the elaboration.
“At that point,” Komamura started, “Captain Kuchiki and I had a close working relationship with the five lead Hreinsa, especially Stavenes. Though of a lower rank, she was a magnificent warrior; smart, decisive, and not arrogant in any way. By the end of it all we considered her a friend...” Komamura trailed off in deep thought, staring at the ground, so Byakuya continued for him, “However, on the seventh month of our investigation, we finally came upon a lead. One of the Lieutenants, Barrett Leo. I witnessed him consorting with a Hollow; this Hollow was an elder one, intelligent, and seemed to be commanding the other Hollows.”
“Several confusing things happened at that point,” Komamura continued again. “Stavenes revealed that she had conceived a child, and had been pregnant with it for a good part of the investigation. And as if Leo knew Kuchiki had seen him, he and the other three Lieutenants deserted our teams and began fighting with the Hollows. This lasted for quite a while, well into the year of nineteen ninety-five.”
“By then,” said Gottschalk, “Stavenes had been issued an indefinite leave of absence to give birth to her child, and was offered the option of resigning completely if she wished to care for the child.” Gottschalk bowed her head. “Somewhere during that time, in late May, Stavenes had discovered something important, but she also admitted to something she had done herself. At some point during her leave, she had confided with the four Lieutenants, and they had given her some sort of rare power...specifically to her Varðmann. And still, after that, she had wanted to confess what she knew of their goals. By the time we arrived, it was too late. They had murdered her.” A long silence lingered, the room's occupants too uncomfortable or deep in thought to speak. One of the Lieutenants had murmured, “They murdered an pregnant woman...for their own gain...unforgivable.”
At last, Captain Hitsugaya raised his head to speak, his expression in that slight scowl, consistent much so like Kuchiki's face was always expressionless.
“What new information have you gained that prompted another need to join forces again? If you still do not know their full intentions, how much of a threat are they...or can they become?” Gottschalk's gaze lingered upon Hitsugaya for a moment, a seeming of approval in her features, before she answered, “Our informant is someone who has long investigated into each former-Lieutenant's past, where they lived and any sort of record they made and happened to leave behind. He has collected pages from journals and other official Hreinsa transcripts and the likes. Piecing them together, they were doing something or rather with the Hollows...similar to former Shinigami Captain Sosuke Aizen's intentions.” Soft and surprised murmurings came afoot at the mention of intentions such as that, some merely at the mention of the former Shinigami Captain's name. Gottschalk nodded in understanding as she let her words sink in.
“They are a thorough group, as to be expected of a Hreinsa, no matter which rank. It is difficult to place where they are; we know as much that they are in the United States of America at the moment, but no more than that. We know not whether they be on the west coast, midlands or east coast. But they seem to have some sort of commanding power over certain Hollows. In response I issued the Reeves Protocol among our ranks: if it can be helped, capture Hollows alive, so we may interrogate them. Most of them were tight lipped, and some revealed tidbits of the four's intentions in a taunting manner, but I cannot trust them. A bit of a vain protocol but it is better than nothing.” At this point the four Second Lieutenants approached the Shinigami Captains and Lieutenants and handed black manila folders to them.
“Each folder has a profile on the men we will be assisting the Hreinsa in capturing,” Yamamoto said to the assembled men and woman as they curiously flipped through the pages. “Maynard Lione, Stanley Waters, Barrett Leo, and Mathew Nikolai.”
“Lione, Waters and Nikolai are your typical run of the mill Hreinsa Lieutenant; frontline combat soldiers,” Gottschalk told them. “Leo is the only one very different. He is only thirty-seven, as compared to the other men who are somewhere in their four-hundreds; he is also, literally, the greatest stealth specialist on Earth. His skills, tactics, speed, silence, weapons handling and trap-laying are unmatched. Captain Suì-Fēng.” The Second Division's Captain looked at the Hreinsa Director with a hard gaze. “I mean no belittlement, but consider him somewhat out of your league, for he is the equal of former Captain Yoruichi Shihōin.” Suì-Fēng did not look convinced; but she would definitely be convinced in the near future.
“The Director and her Lieutenants are guests in Seireitei,” Yamamoto again spoke to his Captains, regaining their undivided attention. “They will be with us for as long as their fight endures with the former Lieutenants.”
“I also understand of your plight with Aizen,” Gottschalk continued, “So I will try not to overburden your forces with our petty problems when it is unwarranted, but at some point I will need to call upon a decent force of Shinigami to counter The Traitors Four as we call them. I am a fair woman and will not overstep any boundaries without probable cause. But I implore you take our plight as seriously as your own.” Gottschalk at last stepped back with Yamamoto as he gazed between every Captain and Lieutenant.
“When we cooperate it greatly reduces the stresses of our problems,” was what Yamamoto told them all. “We will inform you when we may require assistance, thank you for your time. This meeting is dismissed.” He finalized his ruling with a single stomp of his gnarled cane on the hardwood floor, the sound echoing throughout the room. All of the Captains and Lieutenants bowed together before beginning to file out of the room, murmuring discussions amongst themselves. Captains Kuchiki and Komamura walked together as they left the meeting hall, their Lieutenants hanging back by a slight to let them have their room for captain-to-captain discussion.
“Do you suppose we will find out soon what Stavenes died so unjustly for?” Komamura asked. Kuchiki was silent for a moment, staring down at the ground as he walked. Finally, he closed his eyes and a molecule of sorrow creased his features.
“One can only hope,” he said lowly.
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The Mirrors Of My Soul