Distant Thundering Footsteps

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An Expert’s Analysis
A nondescript palanquin whisked along the smooth white courtyards of the kizokugai, the Noble quarters located within the Seireitei. Overhead, clouded skies stretched in a heavy blanket that muted all sound, including the shuffling of the servants' feet as they made their way towards their destination. The air was permeated with the electric scent of moisture: as though it were about to rain.

Inside the lacquered box, Lord Shū peered through the window slats, his arms crossed anxiously over his chest. Normally he would have gone on foot, but he had taken the palanquin as a precaution, hindering any spies from identifying him as he carried out his business in the central part of the kizokugai. The Noble Houses were constantly surrounded by spies, and one could never be too cautious—especially considering the discrete nature of his trip. Not even Rurichiyo knew he was here.

At last, they halted in front of the stately entrance of an administrative building. The servants lowered the palanquin, and Lord Shū stepped out, his face hidden by a hooded, reiatsu-concealing cloak. He carried a folded paper fan in one hand, but was otherwise unarmed. To his surprise, instead of being greeted by the guards, he found that Seinosuke Yamada himself was standing at the gate. They bowed in mutual, formal greeting.

"Odd to see you so far from your work station," Shū addressed him. Seinosuke smiled enigmatically.

"I can use the fresh air at times," he said, gesturing with his hand. "Although..." he tilted his head to peer at Shū’s face beneath the shadow of his cowl, "It seems as though you could use a change in atmosphere as well."

Shuu grimaced unconsciously, his muscles contracting from his nervous twitch. Ever since the prophetic vision he had experienced a few nights back, he had been unable to sleep. Fitful, broken dreams plagued him at night, and the insomnia had left indelible shadows beneath his eyes. His symptoms were compounded by his guilt. Even now, Rurichiyo was unaware of his investigation into the "Kanki incident," as he had termed it. Nor had he told her about the task force, or the request he had made of Seinosuke.

"I reviewed the report you sent me," Shū began, avoiding the small talk and pushing all thoughts regarding his dreams from his mind. "But I’m guessing there was more that you didn’t dare to reveal unless we spoke face to face."

Seinosuke nodded. “Indeed. It was perspicacious of you to realize I wanted to meet with you from the information I omitted.” Seinosuke glanced over Shū’s shoulder to the servants who kneeled behind them. “Won’t you come inside?” he suggested.

Shū followed him up the stairs that led to the Shinō Seyakuin, and they crossed a courtyard before entering the main building. Inside, the Central Medical Institution had a sense of grandeur that recalled the architecture of the nobility. Massive, smooth columns rose from a glassy blue floor, which reflected the shadowy crevices of the elaborate, carved-wood ceiling above. The two souls crossed the empty lobby, their steps echoing in the vast, open space.

“You don’t approve of the decor?” Shū was taken aback by Seinosuke’s question.

“I’m impartial to it.” He lied. In Shū’s eyes, the design of the Medical Institution was pretentious, aping opulence where simplicity would have been more appropriate. But more concerning to him was the fact that Seinosuke had detected that sentiment, almost as though reading his thoughts. “Why did you ask?”

Seinosuke glanced at him from the side, and smiled. “It was merely an observation. You might not be aware of this, but the emotions experienced by an individual in any given moment are expressed in their reiatsu—Ah, don’t look so concerned, I’m merely more attuned to detecting these emotions due to my expertise in reiryoku. It’s not like I can read your mind.” Shū remained unconvinced, and was careful to keep his reiatsu close to the center of his being, guarding his emotions from bleeding over into detectable spiritual energy.

“Anyway, I’m a bit surprised that you’ve don't set foot inside here more often, considering the rumors of your health.”

Shū’s eyes narrowed. “There was never a need. The Kasumiōji have their own Kaidō specialists. And at any rate, why would that be of any concern to you?”

Seinosuke shrugged, but instead of dropping the subject he said, “Here, I’m accustomed to acquiescing to the pitiful requests of those who come to me, unwilling to die despite the mores of their so-called nobility.” Shū bristled at his words, sensing treachery in his disdain. “Compared to the plight of common souls outside the Seireitei or even low-born Shinigami, clinging to immortality as a noble is the most disgusting form of greed. Either that, or it is the epitome of fear.” Seinosuke smiled sardonically.

“The fear of death is not unnatural,” Shū commented, unsure of how to respond.

“Still, as Shinigami shouldn’t we strive to live beyond it?” Seinosuke asked wryly. “At least according to the tenet memorized by every Shinigami. ‘Do not seek the aesthetics​ in waging war. Do not seek virtue in death...'”

“I’m well aware,” Shū cut him off. “And your manner of speaking could be construed as subversive. You forget your place, Yamada-san.”

“Ah indeed, forgive my insolence.” An uncomfortable moment of silence lapsed between them. Seinosuke led him through a series of corridors, then down several flights of stairs. Shū was silent, absorbed in his thoughts.

After what seemed like an eternity, they reached a door on the ground level which was sealed by an elaborate carved hexagram. Seinosuke placed his hand on its center, and lines of reishi poured into the outlines of the seal. They entered the laboratory on the other side of the door, which Seinosuke used for the medical research he wished to keep hidden from the nobles. Shū guessed that this wasn’t even his most private study, as he likely had others with a similar, clandestine purpose.

“The specimen you had sent to me had quite a unique composition,” Seinosuke told him. “Normally, I take pleasure in prolonging someone’s life, even against their will but this...” he shook his head, completely unabashed at his own sadism. “...Is one case that proved to be the opposite. It was simply impossible. To have such a creature that won’t die no matter how many times you kill it. Although,” he paused as he thought. “There was a similar ability, once held by one of the Sternritter in the past war with the Quincy. Apparently, it was a technique referred to as "Zombification." I heard its symptoms were troublesome to reverse.”

There was a table in the center of the room, covered with a large cloth. Seinosuke pulled the sheet aside, revealing the body of the undead corpse Shū had had sent to him for an autopsy. The naked body twitched under the glowing stakes of Kidō that pinned its wrist, ankles, and chest to the table, but most shocking was the fact that it was missing its head. Shū cupped his sleeve over his mouth and nose, but instead of the putrid scent of decaying flesh that he had expected, the room was filled with the sterile smell of disinfectant and—should he hazard a guess, formaldehyde.

“Where is its head?” he asked. Seinosuke gestured towards a glass canister near the monitors on one side of the room. A dark shape was suspended in some greenish liquid. Shū saw the mass of hair and looked away. “Ah, I see. I didn’t think these things could live without a head attached.”

“Indeed... Isn’t it fascinating?” Seinosuke began to gush. “In a way, it reminds me of a gigai. But as opposed to those soulless puppets, the entire body’s composition seems to retain a will of its own...”

“So,” Shū cut him off. “What was it you wanted to show me?”

For the first time, Seinosuke’s permanent smirk wavered. “You’re quite business-minded, aren’t you?” He sighed. “Anyway, dissections aren’t exactly my specialty... that was more the territory of the former captain of the Twelfth Division.” Seinsosuke reached over to a tray near the table and removed a scalpel. “But after a few examinations I was able to gain a sense of the specimen’s physiology.” He activated the scalpel by pressing his thumb into the flat of the blade, and at once a matrix of yellow light extended from his fingertips. The lines of Kidō were joined by small orbs of light that formed a hexagram-shaped pattern, and the entire structure hovered around Seinosuke as he made the first incision into the Undead’s torso.

He cut straight up; the body squirmed and twitched beneath the blade. As he carefully sliced open the chest cavity, the orbs lowered themselves and extended spiderwebs of energy to keep the skin peeled back. Unable to reconnect itself, the subcutaneous muscles quivered, sending out black tendrils of flesh that wormed towards each other. As far as Shū could tell, the organs were all intact, albeit discolored: completely riddled with black splotches.

“Those dark spots,” Shū pointed out, “Are they tainted because of the Kanki?”

“That’s what I thought at first as well,” Seinosuke said. “But take a closer look. As you can see,” he explained, “The body is actively attempting to reconnect the tissue that has been severed. But here’s the real question: where is it getting the energy to do so?”

“What do you mean?”

“All beings have a finite supply of reiryoku, and this level of regeneration is on par with the abilities of, say, an Arrancar. But this simple konpaku doesn’t possess nearly the amount of spiritual energy for that. So... how is it able to keep reconstituting itself, its flesh?” he glanced up at Shū, then carefully pulled out a strand of smooth muscle with a pair of tweezers, holding it up to the light. As if alive, it squirmed against the tweezers, then, to Shū’s surprise, doubled in size.

“Is that—”

“It’s not a parasite. The body is infested with a strand of bacteria. But regardless, these organisms closely resemble the spiritual composition of a Hollow.”

The hair on the back of Shū’s neck stood on end. “I don’t understand…” he began, “What you mean is that, the bacteria must feed off of living souls for their source of reiatsu?”

“Actually that’s where things get interesting. It seems that these Undead aren’t drawn to Kanki because their brain is addled with it. Rather, Kanki was the medium originally used to create them. So I suppose you could say they have a pathological instinct that drives them towards their origin. However, Kanki is created from Sekkiseki, and Sekkiseki represses spiritual energy. ”

“I fail to see your point.”

“My point is that, why would these bacteria cause the organism to crave a substance that suppresses reiatsu? Hollow, as you pointed out, need reiatsu to survive.”

“So then, how does the bacteria survive?”

“Whatever it is, it isn’t in any way that can be detected through normal means. But I was able to determine that the bacteria do feed, in a manner similar to the weakest of Hollows, who draw in ambient energy as they breathe. To put it simply, the bacteria infesting this body draws in whatever the opposite of spiritual energy is. Anti-Hollows, in a way.”

Shū’s head was swimming with the flood of terminology, but even then his eyes widened with the implications of Seinosuke’s statement. “But that isn’t everything, is it?” He asked.

Seinosuke shook his head, then smiled. “Indeed. The reason why it took my so long to conduct my analysis is because someone engineered these bacteria to resemble the Bakkōtō.”

Shū was aghast. Technically forbidden by Central 46, the Bakkōtō were creations of the Kasumiōji: parasitic weapons that mimicked the power of Zanpakutō. They had been built only at the request of the Tsunayashiro, who at the time had been in need of a secretive weapon that wasn’t built from an asauchi. That was how the Kasumiouji had originally risen to prominence. But the question now was why someone was attempting to replicate the technique.

“Who would have the technology to do such a thing?” He asked. Seinosuke did not immediately reply, instead setting the scalpel aside and clapping his hands together, ending the surgical Kidō construct with a snap. The skin of the Undead knit itself together over its chest.

“I’m not qualified to answer that question,” he said, “But what I can tell you is that whoever made these things used a highly advanced form of Kidō. Blurring the lines between soul and Hollow—changing the means by which the creature draws in energy, converting anti-reiatsu to reiatsu, and of course disguising the physical form and reiatsu to resemble another being entirely—I think you should ask yourself who might have that level of skill.”

“Besides you, you mean.”

Seinosuke smiled. “I may be an expert in reiryoku, but this would call for mastery in several fields in which I am less familiar. I’m afraid I couldn’t replicate such a thing.” He spread his hands apart. “Truthfully, I would say that the only persons in Soul Society who would have both the aptitude and an interest in creating these things are Mayuri Kurotsuchi and Kisuke Urahara.”

Shū’s eyes narrowed.

“I see,” he said. Shū cupped his chin in his hand as he thought. As plain as the naked body lying before him, he could see through the ploy: someone was trying to frame the Kasumiōji by attempting to mimic their Bakkōtō technique. And among the enemies of the Kasumiōji and those who were proficient in Kidō, Shuu could only think of one family who were even capable of resorting to such a technique.

He turned to Seinosuke.

“Thank you,” he said. “Your analysis has been invaluable to the Kasumiōji.”

“Of course,” Seinosuke nodded his head slightly, smiling easily as always. But there was a glint in his eye, something that suggested to Shū that he wasn’t entirely genuine.

“I trust,” Shuu told him, his voice deadly serious. “That you will keep all of this in strict confidence.”

“My lips are sealed,” he promised. Shū nodded, but secretly he didn’t trust Seinosuke farther than he could throw him. Nonetheless, given the nature of his situation, he was left with no other option, regardless of whether or not he trusted the medical specialist.

“If you don’t mind,” Shū said, “I would like to contact my emissary immediately via Tenteikūra.”

Seinosuke hesitated a moment, but then assented. Sending out a Tenteikūra from Seinosuke’s lab would not only place Shū in direct contact with Ryūsei, but it would reveal if anyone else had been using a Kidō technique to spy on him while he had met with Seinosuke. In other words, it was a security measure: ensuring that Seinosuke still recognized the authority held by the Kasumiōji over any other potential broker.

Shū took his fan and traced a square through the air. The edges of the spell glowed green, and a black line of ink-like reishi traced itself up the length of Shū’s arm. But just before he established a connection with Ryūsei and the task force, the spell cut off suddenly. Bright chunks of Kidō hovered in the air for a brief moment before disintegrating, and Shū frowned. He drew another square, then recited the incantation for the spell as Seinosuke observed him wordlessly.

“''Black and white net. Twenty two bridges, sixty-six crowns and belts. Footprints, distant thunder, sharp peak, engulfing land, hidden in the night, sea of clouds, blue line. Form a circle and fly through the heavens!''”

Again, the Kidō began to form as it should, but just before establishing the link, it cut out. This time, there was a sharp snap and the crackle of static as the spell faded away.

“Is something the matter?” Seinosuke asked. He wasn’t smiling, as he too recognized the seriousness of Shū’s inability to contact to the reciever.

“I believe that something is interfering with the transmission of the spell,” Shū said.

“Who do you believe could be responsible?”

Shū looked at Seinosuke for a moment without replying, as if gauging the extent of his innocence. A strange expression crossed his face. Who? Why had Seinoskue picked that word, immediately assuming the interference had been intentional? “The transmitters,” he muttered to himself. Shū turned abruptly to leave.

“Once again, your efforts are appreciated. You’ll receive the rest of your compensation within the next few days.”

“Ah, so you’re leaving?”

“Yes. I just realized something that I must attend to, urgently.”

“What should I do with the specimen?”

“Dispose of it at your discretion.”

With that, Shū was gone. Left to himself, Seinosuke shook his head, then turned to look at the body lying before him. He placed his fingers on the skin of the corpse, then smiled.

—

Meanwhile, outside the Central Medical Institution, a mysterious figure observed Shū closely as he descended the steps to his palanquin. In his haste, he had forgotten to cover his head with the hooded cloak, and his features were clearly visible to the person watching him from a distance. Enveloped in shadow, they waited, biding their time in the shadows, gathering evidence.

Overhead, thunder rolled through the clouded skies, and an uneasy rain began to fall, whispering on the stone tiles of the courtyard.

The Summit
In a location within the kizokugai...

The leaders of the Four Noble Houses, or their operating representatives, had been called together within the Noble Summit Assembly Hall. In fact, it had been nearly sixteen years since the last time a major meeting had convened there—back when Tokinada Tsunayashiro tried to overthrow the order of the Soul Society and the world itself through his devious schemes. Just as they had done back then, the leaders of the nobility stared at each other evenly across a diamond-shaped table, the tall, pointed backs of their throne-like chairs casting long shadows on the table’s reflective surface. The atmosphere was tense, nearly stifling as uneasy reiatsu clung to the air.

On one side, the infamous Yoruichi Shihōin sat with her legs and arms crossed, her expression masked by her habitual, cat-like smile that was only faintly visible in the corner of her mouth. Next to her sat Byakuya Kuchiki, the leader of the prestigious Kuchiki clan and distinguished captain of the Sixth Division. His expression was impossible to read as well, and he calmly observed those around him without speaking. In reality, the burden of the summit rested on his shoulders, as the nobles had gathered to discuss the betrayal of one of his clan’s members, who had defected from the Gotei 13 only two days before.

Opposite to Yoruichi were Sadaharu Urahara and Maiko Urahara, who represented the Urahara clan. The last family present was the Tsunayashiro clan, whose main branch members had been massacred by Tokinada sixteen years before. Taking their place was Rurichiyo Kasumiōji, the leader of the Tsunayashiro’s most powerful vassal clan. Next to her, Lord Shū stood attentively, serving as the link between the Kasumiōji and Tsunayashiro due to his mother, who came from a branch family of the Tsunayashiro.

As soon as the task force had returned to the Seireitei, the Shinigami had been questioned, and each had given a carefully detailed eye-witness account of the failed mission. These accounts had been compiled into a detailed report given by Ryūsei Kenzaki, the emissary of the Kasumiōji who had been present on the mission. Shū had confirmed with Ryūsei that there had been some interference with the Jigokuchō-like transmitters. It appeared that someone had directly sabotaged them, and Shū had his suspicions as to who was responsible for the entire ordeal. He leveled his gaze at the Urahara members across from him.

“...That concludes the report of the task force assigned to the investigation within the Rukongai,” Ryūsei ended his formal report, then bowed to the nobles before taking his place behind Rurichiyo and Shū. Shū nodded at another Shinigami, who had been waiting in the corner of the room.

“Before we begin, we have also requested that Van Satonaka, the 3rd seat of the 9th Division, provide his testimony,” Shū explained. “Normally, we would be able to provide a visual recording of the relevant events; however, there appeared to be some interference with the transmitters used by the task force, so we are unable to provide that kind of evidence at this time.” he said pointedly. He then motioned for Van to step forward. “Satonaka-san, can you please describe to the summit your involvement in the mission, and whether or not you noticed Megumi Kuchiki acting strangely during your assignment. Did she give any indication of her betrayal or cause you any reason to doubt where her true loyalties lied?” he probed.