Wayne
The Rustler of Jimmies
2,383
[COLOR=#00000]Downfall[/COLOR]
For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his own soul?
[COLOR=#00000]Downfall[/COLOR]
For what profit is it to a man if he gains the whole world, but loses his own soul?
Within the Dangai, the journey back to Soul Society seemed almost like an eternity. Seconds felt like minutes, minutes like hours. Unlike the rest who were immediately catered by the Fourth, Kyuketsu broke off immediately the moment they arrived home. His wounds from Orixa had reopened, and his energy reserves had plummeted to the point where could barely stand. And yet... despite the scars and cuts, the affliction which haunted him the most was more of an internal matter than anything else. In time, the captain found himself beside a small river flowing downstream into the Rukongai. Amidst the body of water were dozens of cherry blossom trees, their bright, calming petals marred mercilessly by the winter cold.
He eventually collapsed by the riverbank, vision slowly blurring into images of black fire laden with damned, primordial cries. Before losing consciousness, there was only one voice which echoed in the back of his mind.
“I can give you power.”
Death, it would seem, was subjective to even a captain of the Thirteen Court Guards. As for regular humans, what with their limited knowledge and awareness, the notion of life after death was partially rooted by either tradition or religion. True enough, planes of existence and the cycle of reincarnation was what drove the universe forward and back. With that in mind, such a self-evident realization undermined the very nature of death. There was no true and absolute end, no final destination that would answer any and all questions. Was that really all there was to it? Just the repetitive, monotonous construction and deconstruction of reishi that travels from one world to another? Surely there had to be more.
For him, for a man who immersed himself in its very bosom, ‘true death’ in Kyuketsu’s eyes was no more than the same sensation one derived from slumber. Death was the elimination of consciousness, the erasure of self-awareness and instinct. That was what he believed, at least.
As his senses slowly crept back, the grogginess clouding his mind was truly palpable. Though his body was drowned in nausea, he could still feel the blades of grass pushing against his skin... still hear the running water from the nearby stream... still feel the gentle lap on which his head rested, and the fingers brushing tenderly at his hair.
Focusing his sights, Kyuketsu looked up, taking no time at all to piece together his savior’s identity.
“...How’d you find me?” he whispered somberly.
Fuko bore a sullen look as she brushed aside pale locks of the captain’s hair. Placing her hand by his cheek, she replied, “They say you up and vanished before any medics could arrive. No one knew were you were so I figured... so I figured I’d start here...”
Kyuketsu forced out a smile. “By our river.”
“Mhm.”
The girl sank her head forward, softly kissing his forehead. As she pulled back, a dab of crimson was smeared lightly on her lips, fresh blood from one of the man’s many cuts. Noticing this, Kyuketsu brought up a hand, struggling, as he rubbed away the claret stain.
“How long was I out?”
“No clue. The reported time the Senkaimon opened up for you guys was about nine hours ago.”
“Wow.” The captain scoffed. “And how long have you been here?”
She rubbed the back of her head, thinking. “I’d say about two hours or so... give or take. Pretty sure, since I was suppose to have lunch with Mina and Yuki. But then you decided to be all mysterious and cool and act like Mister Tough Guy, so I had to bail.”
“Of course you did.” Kyuketsu chuckled. “I meant to do that.”
“I... um...” Fuko hesitated for second.
“...You want to ask what happened back there, but you’re having second thoughts. You’re trying to put my feelings into consideration, along with my physical health,” Kyuketsu abruptly commented. “You’re not that hard to read, you know. Besides, I’ve already made a hobby out of it.”
“Oh shut up,” she said, somewhat flustered. “You could barely lift a hand, and you’re still kidding around. Just... rest, Kyu-kun.”
“I don’t...”
WEAKLING.
Words of poison, piercing shrieks of corruption. In his mind, echoing from the deepest recesses of his subconscious, the jabs came like thieves in the night, robbing him of sanity and control.
This was different, however. The damned collar once bestowed on him by the Dread Lord was a tangible force that carried the beast’s apparent intrusion. The curse was rooted into the soul, making the victim but a puppet at the end of the Hollow’s strings. In this case, it would seem things were entirely different. Kyuketsu felt no spiritual invasion, no viral corruption leeching at his power. No, this ire he felt, this maddening hunger that tore him from the inside out... was entirely his own.
A part of Prometheus had now existed inside of him, though far from the literal sense. The things he saw, the images that haunted his mind... surely there was some trickery afoot, but no matter how much Kyuketsu was aware of the ancient demon’s ploys, regardless of how suspicious he was of its machinations, a part of him felt compelled... driven. Not controlled, not forced; the mindset which ate away at his actions was dictated by his own volition, by his own choices despite the contorting disgust he felt at actually understanding a Hollow’s rationale.
“Kyu-kun...?” The worried look on her face deepened. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”
Kyuketsu shook his head, sweating. “It’s nothing. I just... I need to see if that bastard screwed with my abilities a second time. I can’t... I can’t afford...”
Pushing her hand against his chest, Fuko stopped him from trying to get up. “Whether or not that’s the case, you still need to recover or you’ll pass out again. I asked around, and nobody’s said anything wrong with the other captains... so you should be fine.”
“Still... I need to...”
“Need to what?” Fuko’s voice broke down noticeably. “Train? Can’t you wait?”
Vexed, Kyuketsu’s expression soured up. Though shaking, he forced himself out of the girl’s lap and onto his feet. “He’s still out there! We couldn’t lay a finger on him, not even with the Soutaichou there. I struck that asshole with everything I got, and he didn’t so much as flinch! I can’t let him get away like that. The next time... next time...”
“Are you serious? You’re acting like a little kid right now!” Fuko barked back, shooting to a stand. “I don’t see this as a captain looking out for everyone’s safety. Soul Society and Earth are both intact! No, this is just your ego getting the better of you!”
“I’m not apologizing. Ego or not, he’s still a threat that needs to be dealt with! He could come back at any second and...”
“Ugh... and what? What could you possibly do in your current state!? That’s insanity, and you know it!”
He moaned, flailing his arms indignantly to the side. “What’s ‘insane’ is lollygagging around like a fucking idiot this entire time! I’m standing right now, what more is there!? I just need you to do a quick reiki on me and I should be set. Done deal!”
“Don’t you dare curse at me, Reijuu Kyuketsu!” The girl reddened in frustration as she jabbed her index finger against the man’s shoulder. “I’m not doing a goddamn thing for you until you stop this craziness and settle the hell down!”
“And you don’t get to tell me what to do! I’m a fucking captain!”
“A captain who’s acting like a whiny brat!”
“Oh? So I guess that makes you an old hag of a grandmother!”
“W-what did you say!?” Her jaws nearly dropped to the floor. Without hesitation, Fuko coiled her hands into fists and began wailing at Kyuketsu. “You asshole! You fucking asshole! I hate you, I hate you...!!!”
The girl got a few hits in as the captain barely did anything to avoid her strikes. They were wild and erratic, though each blow carried some sense of force nevertheless. Finally, as her whining intensified, Kyuketsu caught and grasped each of her wrists tightly enough to end her assault. Without warning and before Fuko could struggle any further, he leaned in, pressing his lips affectionately against hers.
Standing there in the clearing, locked in a silent, soothing kiss, their bickering and yelling quelled down almost instantly. The two of them remained as they were, figures turned into statues for what seemed like forever.
In the end, it was Fuko who broke the connection, pulling back as she looked Kyuketsu in eyes. Blushing, she began to stutter, “D-Don’t... think that changes anything. You’re still a jerk...”
“I know.” Kyuketsu brought a hand by her chin, playfully squeezing it between his fingers. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be me.”
When it seem as though a feeling of calm returned to the captain’s troubled soul, there was a sense of urgency which trickled redundantly in the back of his head. It was a foreboding sentiment, pushing him against all logic as if he needed to do it... as if he wanted to do it. There was no hesitation in his thoughts, no restraining uneasiness that sought to defend his wellbeing. It was pure impulse—cold, robotic, word vomit.
“Listen...” his voice softened with prosaic despondency. “There’s one more thing I need to tell you. You... I can’t keep this from you.”
Puzzled, Fuko tilted her head. “What’s the matter, Kyu-kun?”
He took a deep breath in, pacing himself. He knew he had to do this, not just for his own sake, but for the girl’s as well.
“That Hollow... Prometheus,” he broke his gaze from her, “I got a one-on-one with him during our fight. It was brief... though...”
“You don’t have to tell me all this now, you know. It can wait when you’re ready... like with everything else...”
Kyuketsu shook his head. “No... I have to tell you this now. You deserve to know as much.”
Remaining quiet, Fuko simply nodded, listening to what the captain had to say.
“...I saw things... things that I really wish were just illusions.” He raised a hand by his face, bearing the palm against his right eye. “I received a history lesson of the Gotei... from a Hollow, of all people. I saw with my own two eyes, as if I was there right in front of it... I saw the strongest and most revered warriors of Soul Society from the past fall like flies... and die.”
“...”
“It was Prometheus’ abilities showing it to me, but the images weren’t altered or fixed. The same thing our books speak of was the same thing he showed me. It was only then that I began truly questioning myself... about this fight of ours... and my place in it.”
“You don’t have to ask yourself anything,” replied Fuko as she grabbed and held Kyuketsu’s risen hand. “Your place, Kyu-kun, is right here beside me.”
He scoffed in self-revulsion. “I kept telling myself that the entire time. Facing down a living, breathing god, I never once strayed from those thoughts. But then... it came...”
“...?”
“My sentiments were acknowledged... not by Inuzuri, not by Uchiharu or the other captains. It was Prometheus, he... he... presented me an alternative. To not become just another statistic, to not end up as just another name in some dusted archive. That day, I saw two paths placed before me... two roads completely different from one another. That bastard’s words are burned in my head and I just can’t get rid of them. Prometheus... he offered to free me from the cycle. He offered me... power.”
To say that she looked worried simply could not do any justice. Fuko’s heart skipped a beat as a cold shiver ran down her spine. At first, she was speechless, caught completely unawares. When she was finally able to speak, her tone was frozen and mouse-like. “You... and you refused... right?”
No reply.
“...Right!?” She tugged at the captain’s collar. “Tell me you said no!”
Kyuketsu kept his gaze detached, never once locking with the girl’s. He remained quiet and unresponsive, unable to give any suitable excuse.
From what she saw, sheer and absolute horror filled Fuko’s countenance. She didn’t possess a tinge of anger or exasperation, no feeling of betrayal or displeasure. Simply... fear.
Tears quickly rolled down her cheeks as she tried desperately to hold back any whimpers. Her grasp on Kyuketsu’s uniform loosened as her arms sank to the sides. Despite her stance crumbling on the spot, her sights remained glued on the captain’s face.
Seconds passed in what felt like an eternal hell. At last able to muster up a response, Kyuketsu turned to face the girl.
“Fuko, I...”
Not another word. Instantly, like a crack of lightning splitting apart the heavens, Fuko’s hand whipped forward, slapping him across the face.
“You told me... you told me you wouldn’t do this anymore!” she cried out. “You promised me... you even kissed me that night! Why... but... you lied to me...”
He lowered his head, making no effort to explain himself. What was there to do? At that point, whatever Kyuketsu said would’ve counted for nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Reaching forward, he tried to grab Fuko’s hand, though she swiftly brushed him off, backing away step by step. She looked at him with bloodshot eyes, tears defining her visage. Shaking her head, the girl quickly turned around as she began to storm off.
The captain froze in place, unknowing and unable to stop her. “Fuko...” he mouthed inaudibly.
Before long, the girl was already gone, leaving the captain by himself and only with his thoughts. Dazed and disconcerted more than ever before, he fell to his knees, erratic heartbeats eating away at his chest. He gnashed his teeth, scratching the dirt beneath his fingertips. Digging his nais against the base of his palms, Kyuketsu recalled his thoughts right before the Dread King was banished back to Hueco Mundo.
I want... I want...
Tenzansatsu burned by his side, spitting corrosive flames which razed the earth around him. A haunting, inhuman laughter billowed with the winds as the blaze spread.
WORTHLESS.
I need...
“...Power. I need... more... power.”