1,458 [COLOR=#00000]That Which Drives a Man[/COLOR]
Traffic began to pile up. Closing in on the city’s Narita International Airport, the streets had gone from desolate to congested in but a matter of minutes. The cacophonous noise of blaring car horns shattered the worthwhile silence that kept their spirits calm. Rolling up his window from the backseat, Warden shook his head in exasperation. He took one glance at his driver up front, immediately breaking away once they made eye contact.
“Can’t this thing go any faster?” he growled. “I’d rather us not stay in this city with massive targets painted on our backs.”
In front, casually sitting on the passenger’s seat, Shizuo laughed nonchalantly. Without so much as looking back at the old professor, he responded, “A little late to be sweating it out, Warden. You’ve had a target on you the moment you first held that goddamned book.”
“I’m aware of that! It’s just... the farther we are from this ‘jureichi’ as you call it, the better.”
The shinigami shook his head, eyes staring blankly at the view outside their vehicle. “You humans know so little... it would be legitimately funny, if it wasn’t so sad. City doesn’t matter, my friend. Country doesn’t matter. Continent, hemisphere. There’s no end to the Gotei’s jurisdiction. Wherever we are, so long as you and I have a single shred of spiritual pressure, they’ll find us. It’s only a matter of time.”
“S-so what happens if they do? You said best-case scenario they’ll wipe my memories.” Warden stared the rogue cautiously. “But they might still kill me! I don’t want...”
“You honestly think I would instigate this little plot of mine without being able to hold my own against a hunting unit?” Shizuo interrupted confidently. “I’m nothing if not considerate of my actions. I’ve had centuries of preparation, longer than your parents and grandparents have lived. So long as you act under my consent, there should be no problem.”
The driver swerved from the main highway, coming atop an overpass just a mile and half away from the central terminal. While the influx of cars had lessened slightly, they were still, in Warden’s eyes, moving at a snail’s pace. When it seemed as though his thoughts were starting to drift elsewhere, a small spark clawed the back of his neck. Shizuo felt is as well, only more absolute and definite. Despite that, he never once faltered, maintaining his cool, controlled exterior. As Warden began to sweat in a panic, the shinigami merely tapped their chauffer’s shoulder, ordering him drive faster.
“Keep up this pace. There are only three of them, so this should be over quick.” Shizuo reached into his pocket before settling his sights on a high-rise not far off. “In the meantime, take care of this gigai, will you?”
He slipped a black fingerless glove in one hand, embellished with the Gokon Tekkou symbol on its knuckles. Shizuo pressed it against his chest, creating a small yet noticeable flicker of light to wrap his entire body. Though unbeknownst to the driver, Warden was able to see it all unfold. A specter was liberated from the false shell, phasing effortlessly through the vehicle as it began to take flight. Standing tall in thin air, sustained by condensed energy trapped underneath his feet, the shinigami watched as a trio of his kind approached.
“Thieves don’t usually stand out in the open,” the apparent leader of the regiment—a massive, muscular man with a bald head—declared. “Or are you giving yourself up?”
The other two immediately surrounded Shizuo, trapping him. The sole female of the group scoffed, saying, “Not just a thief, boss. Divulging classified information to a human? Smells like a traitor to me.”
As the third hunter remained quiet, Shizuo simply shrugged off the comments. “That’s actually hilarious coming from people who don’t know how to do their jobs,” he taunted, “If you were the least bit sensible, you would’ve cut to the chase and tried to bind me or something.”
“I don’t have to listen to that from some dirty traitor!” the girl barked back, drawing her sword as she pounced forward. The other two followed, unsheathing their zanpakutous as they aimed to strike down the lone defector.
“...Too late.” Shizuo smirked, stretching out a single finger forward. “Bakudou Twenty-One: Sekienton.”
The cloud of peppery dust smothered the trio, burning their eyes and clogging their throats. Gasping for air, they only caught a brief glimpse of their target. Remaining where he was, Shizuo opened his hand, palm facing the group as he proceeded, “Hadou Sixty-One: Homurahana.”
A vibrant display of crimson petals cascaded around the thief, forming a massive chain of explosions which consumed all three hunters.
<tbody>
</tbody>
“This should be all of them, sir. All the preliminary reports signed and dated. Umm... what else, oh right, the construction permits and the papers for the zanpakutou clearance.” Setting the stack of paperwork on the table, Inoue realigned her glasses before further addressing the captain. Placing both hands behind her back, a somber look briefly washed over her countenance. “...And there’s one more thing that just came in yesterday. I need you to sign an on-duty death certificate for one of our officers.”
Kyuketsu leaned forward, eyebrows raised at his secretary’s news. Grabbing the topmost folder, he skimmed most of the technicalities, focusing entirely on the final portion detailing the incident.
“Yoshitomi Yaichiro... our ninth seat.” He kept his eyes glued on the document. “It says he was found in critical condition in the Human World and succumbed to his injuries while in the Fourth.”
“Yes, and his two teammates from Squads Three and Twelve were already dead on the scene. Internal hemorrhage and blunt force trauma respectively. Yoshitomi himself lost both legs and bled out,” Inoue added.
“That’s troubling.” The captain tried his best to look troubled, though his exterior failed to betray the naturally ice-cold look which adorned his gaze. “I sparred with him a few months ago and he was no stranger to combat. For a Hollow to do this...”
“It... actually wasn’t a Hollow, captain.” Placing a hand in front of Kyuketsu, Inoue turned back a few pages. “He was assisting a hunting mission with the assassins tracking down a rogue.”
He shook his head. “Hmph. No shortage of people who hate us, it seems.”
“Again sir, it’s not like you think. From the initial investigation, the suspect in question didn’t have any prior grievances with the Thirteen Court Guards, nor our governing body... nor the Seireitei’s nobility. As far as we know, he was first charged with theft, and then it escalated quickly as we became more involved,” explained the secretary.
“What he could have possibly stole to warrant this much attention from us?”
“A codex from the Cardinal Spirit Library. Much less ‘classified’ and more along the lines of ‘valuable and historic.’ If I’ve read the reports correctly, it’s an account of ancient shinigami from thousands of years ago, dating back even before the Age of Masaru. Apparently, it’s one of the oldest written records in Soul Society, so the uh... sentiment makes sense.”
Pushing the file away, Kyuketsu gave a derisive snort at what he heard. “Some men turn their backs on the Gotei for the sake of their ideologies, some for events that were out of their control. Reasons that are to some extent... understandable. And then some asshole comes along and steals things for fun. That’s really quite anticlimactic.”
Inoue shrugged. “Some men also turn away for knowledge’s sake. They give up everything just to quell their curiosity and to unravel the mysteries of the world. It, too, is a viable reason as I’d like to believe.”
“Regardless of motives, what’s the status of this mission thus far? Who has free call?”
“As far as I know, it’s on hold at the moment with no current participants. We’re reevaluating the defector’s threat level so we can send in a more suitable response team.”
Kyuketsu pulled himself up to his feet. Locking sights with his secretary, he replied, “That won’t be necessary. You mentioning people’s curiosity inadvertently whetted mine. I’m intrigued to meet this man face to face... especially if he’s capable enough to dispatch one of my officers. Why send off more men to die whecan finish this in an instant.”
“Very well, sir. I’ll let you know once I receive news of the suspect’s updated location. He’s known to have collaborated with a human, though he’s just barely spiritually aware.” Inoue sifted a page more through the findings. “The last to have had extended contact with them was a regular mortal driving them around. Besides that, we have nothing for the time being.”
The captain crossed his arms, looking somewhat satisfied. “Good enough for me.”
1,124 [COLOR=#00000]That Which Frightens a Man[/COLOR]
The hurried, panicked steps came to a halt. Leading to a building’s rooftop in downtown Ikebukuro, the stalking had reached its end with the final click locking off the only exit in sight. Two figures stood before one another, the persistent silence which lingered between them amplifying the already heightened tension in the air.
“W-what the hell’s your problem? What do you want from me!?” said the man, trembling as he inched closer and closer to the rafter’s edge.
Kyuketsu, bound in the confines of a faux body, took two steps forward. His expression remained as intense and penetrating as it did in his true form. Every movement he made, every minutiae of it all reflected with stark, predatory precision. Without saying a word, he shifted his glance off to the side, taking note of a detached rebar roughly a meter in length. Although rusted and corroding, it would do the job nevertheless. He paced ever so casually for the metal bar, picking it up before inevitably returning his attention to the target at hand.
The man the captain was after looked deathly pale. Shakily placing a hand by his jacket’s inner pouch, he growled a second time, “I’m warning you goddamn it! I have a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it!!”
Rebar in one hand, Kyuketsu’s face remained unexcitedly neutral. Sharp, but un-ignited. He outstretched both arms to either side acknowledging the man’s threat. He scoffed, nodding slightly as he replied, “Then you’re more than welcome to shoot me.”
Seeing the captain continue his advance, the wearied individual quickly plucked out a small pistol tucked underneath his clothing, pointing it at the white-haired death god. A loud, shrieking bang sounded off, followed by a brief flash of light which illuminated the darkened metropolitan rooftop. As a light wisp of smoke trailed from the gun’s muzzle, the human lowered its barrel, watching horrifically as Kyuketsu no longer stood where he did just seconds prior. The shinigami was now within reach, inches away from the man. A smudge of red grew from the captain’s right shoulder, dripping slowly down his sleeve. What he suffered however, was a flesh wound at best, made even more superficial by the fact that he wore a gigai. Merely brushing it off, the rod in his hand was whipped forward in an arc, swatting the firearm off his target’s grasp.
“I asked you before you started running,” Kyuketsu brought the rebar’s tip below the human’s chin, “You drove some individuals to the airport two days ago. One of them was an older man and the other is a wanted criminal. Now tell me where they were headed.”
“I don’t... I don’t know what you’re talking about!” He glanced worriedly down the building’s edge. “I just stayed home last Monday. Fuck, man, come on! I’m telling the truth, I swear to god!!”
“You’re swearing to one.” The captain pushed the makeshift sword harder against the human’s skin, puncturing and inciting a small cut. His tone remained frigidly cold, yet frighteningly casual. “...And right now you have about four seconds before I push you over this ledge. Three...”
The human started to snivel in fear, sweating beads of dismay. “You can have my wallet, my phone!”
“...Two.”
“Fuck, fuck... shit! Please! Take anything just... I swear I don’t know what you’re talking—”
Kyuketsu tilted his hand, realigning the rebar away from the man’s jaw. In an instant, before his victim could even react, the captain swung sideways, the force alone sending the unfortunate human off the structure’s roof and down to the alley below. A terrified scream scarred the night skies, but only for a few, extremely fleeting moments. The drop was shorter than what the man first assumed, leaving him well away from death’s embrace with only a few broken bones and an even more damaged spirit. He groveled in pain, tightly clenching his legs in attempts to desperately to ease the agony.
Landing effortlessly in front of him, the shinigami captain scratched the back of his head, yawning. Glaring maliciously at the person, Kyuketsu proceeded, “I’ll make sure to drop you head first next time. And I don’t think your neck is as sturdy as your legs.”
“Please! Oh god, oh shit... please man, I don’t wanna die! Don’t kill me please, I swear to Christ I don’t know anything! I don’t know what you’re talking about just please, man!!” Though battered and bruised, he continued to attest to the same tale.
“Is this just plain loyalty... or loyalty to money? I’m afraid a piece of paper won’t serve you much in the afterlife.” Kyuketsu tossed the metal stick aside, instead pulling out a small switchblade from his back pocket. He flicked it around, revealing its honed silver edge to gleam against the faint streetlights around them. “This knife, your throat. Five seconds. Four... three...”
The begging stopped. There were no more pleadings, no more denials, and counterstatements. The man simply sat there in a catatonic shock, unable to form any cognitive response. As Kyuketsu placed the dagger near the human’s jugular with still no answers, he gave a vexed sigh before finally retreating his weapon. Putting away the blade, he brought out a Kikanshinki in its place. He faced the cylindrical, handheld device in front of the human, triggering it, releasing a cloud of smoke to instantly blanket the person whole. When the haze subsided soon after, the man was fast asleep, lying on his back.
Kyuketsu frowned. “The suspect used his own Kikanshinki to erase and alter their driver’s memory. Even after all that, the look on his face remained ignorant and confused. The poor fucker couldn’t help but lie.”
Appearing from the backstreet’s dimmed corner were two other soldiers, observing from afar the entire time.
“Clever bastard.” The first one groaned. “To be expected, I guess. A Keigun in the Onmitsukidou for two centuries, then Squad Twelve, and then Two. Goddamn, that’s a repertoire for disaster right there.”
“He seems to have planned this down to the smallest detail. That’s troublesome.” The second look at the captain, then onto the unconscious human. “Looks like we’re back in a dead-end, sir. What should we do now?”
Kyuketsu gestured at the driver’s body. “First and foremost, someone heal him. We also know where he lives so we can bring him back and continue the search there. The c that he drove them around in, what he wore that day... anything. It’ll take weeks if not months for the SRDI to globally pinpoint the defector’s reiatsu. To make things easier, however, I’d rather we have a specific geography of where they were headed.”
“Yes sir,” the two responded in unison as they went over to the body.
810 [COLOR=#00000]That Which Confounds a Man[/COLOR]
Probing up and down the human’s apartment, the three shinigami looked everywhere for any sign that could lead them to the thief’s whereabouts. With the driver patched up yet still unconscious on the sofa, Kyuketsu and his men rummaged through everything worth looking into—drawers, cabinets, whatever personal effects that might have been in contact with the conspirators. To their misfortune, they found nothing in the hours they spent searching. There were no notes, no messages left behind in his phone, or any other article that might point them to the right direction.
Though decidedly pestered by their predicament, the captain showed little signs of distress. He kept his cool, appearing unhinged despite the constant lack of evidence thrown callously at their faces. It was only after their fourth hour that Matsuda, one of the soldiers assisting Kyuketsu, spotted something that caught the investigators’ attentions.
“Sir... you might want to look at this,” he called out from inside the bathroom.
Kyuketsu and the other reaper followed. Standing by the entrance, there was trash cluttered all over the washroom’s floor. Matsuda, holding a metal waste bin by the rim, showed what was left of its contents stuck at the bottom.
“The hell is that...?” asked the other assistant, Mikagami.
“Looks like a burnt piece of paper. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you though,” warned Matsuda. “It’s already scattered about from the other pieces of garbage. I’m already being extra careful not to mess it up even more.”
“There’s something written on it.” Kyuketsu squinted slightly, peering carefully into the canister. “If he went through the trouble of burning it, then it has to be something.”
“So why not just flush it down?” Mikagami asked, motioning for the toilet.
As Matsuda pressed down on the handle, a low rumbling sound was the only thing that came from the porcelain cistern, water barely pouring out. “That’s why. It doesn’t work.”
“The legible part that’s left might get us somewhere, but the slightest poke could break it.” Mikagami shook his head. “It sucks that the simplest thing is what’s gonna make this complicated.”
Kyuketsu stepped off to the side for a moment, pondering over the situation at hand. Gazing absentmindedly at the other two soldiers, it didn’t take long before the captain found an idea. Motioning for the bin to be settled down, he looked at one of Matsuda’s scars, remembering exactly where the burn patterns on the man’s forearm originated.
“Matsuda, do you recall that spar you had with Akamatsu a few weeks ago?” asked the captain.
The soldier nodded his head, smiling in amused remembrance. “The one in the southern fields, if I’m not mistaken. The one where he backfired one of my spells. Why, what about it, taichou?”
Kyuketsu flashed an index finger. “Yes, exactly. There was another spell you used before that, however. It was the one that stopped the tree stump he threw at you. You made it halt in place midair. Use it.”
“Haha, I think I know where you’re going with this cap.” Mikagami hammered his fist down on an open palm. “It’s that one spell that freezes things in place, ain’t it?”
Matsuda chuckled, cracking his fingers together. “Right, right. Got it. The effect should last just enough for us to get a closer look.” He faced his hand down, uttering automatically, “Bakudou Number Fifty-Six: Material Freeze.”
And the spell worked as expected. The other two shinigami were unaffected, while the entire area around them was frozen in place by the kidou’s reiatsu. Kyuketsu stepped back in, reaching forward as he grabbed a hold of the charred, yet solidified note. Bringing it out into the open, over a lamppost in the kitchen area, he placed the blackened paper on a table. His assistants followed behind, peering over as to catch a glimpse of what was written.
“Shit, still barely readable. I can’t even... what is that? Monday... follow...? Soichiro, on Monday follow...” Mikagami scrunched up his eyes, attempting to make sense of the note.
“Does that say count or bound?” Matsuda tried as well, in vain, to decipher to message. “Something east, maybe? Damn it, it’s useless. Whatever’s left doesn’t say much.”
The captain pointed at a word near the middle of the page. “Ana... Anatol... Anatolia? What does that mean?”
Mikagami slammed his hands down on the table, exclaiming ecstatically, “Anatolia, captain! That’s in Turkey! That’s where they’re headed!”
“Turkey, huh? Even if that’s what it says, how can we be sure that it’s relevant to our investigation?” questioned Matsuda.
Kyuketsu broke off, pacing his wayover to the apartment’s exit. “It doesn’t matter. We’ve searched this place top to bottom and that’s the only lead we have so far. Tracking reiatsu over a specific region is better than nothing, and that’s all we have to branch from. We’re done here. Let’s go.”
