The Rat that Devours the Snake: Kitsui vs. Screamer

Like Father and Son
A day passed in the blink of an eye. A week soon after and even a month passed Kitsui by without him really being aware of it. Days melded together and the weeks seemed to wiz past and join together in one long blur. Yoshiaki Hiroshi was a tough man, but fair and his training and various chores filled Kitsui's hours until the sun set to signal night.

The two sat around a small wooden table in Yoshiaki's home nestled in the mountains some distance away from the town he had met the grizzled Shinigami in when he randomly entered The Nest Bar. They watched the television while eating a bowl of warm soup and a few crusty rolls. The rugby was on, and right now, the team in black where hammering the team in blue. Yoshiaki cursed and crumpled up his betting slip, cursing about "stupid odds" before rising and tossing more wood onto the fire blazing in at the end of the room, turning off the television with a muffled curse.

The living area was spacious and unadorned, save for a picture of a beautiful young woman with flowing blond hair and a slim figure. She wore a dress that exposed her neck and the top of her breasts, though her smile was radiant. It was Yoshiaki's departed wive, who died from a hollow attack some ten years back. "Come on lad," The elder said, ducking out into the night, "we need some more firewood."

Very much a humble man with a passion for farming, Kitsui was beginning to enjoy the warmth of a fire just as much as Yoshiaki had his entire life. He'd heard tell of this new oil heating system, but he'd felt the heat in The Nest when Yoshiaki took him back three weeks ago and a few nights besides, and nothing beat aside the chill like a good log fire. Besides, it wasn't as if Yoshiaki was backward or anything. He just had his preferences like any man had.

Ducking out the door after his mentor, Kitsui lifted the chopping axe resting against the front door and removed the sleeve that guarded the blade against the elements. Their work was done quickly but carefully, the night of the moon and from the hanging lamp offering enough light for them to work. Their axes made a rhythmical cutting sound as they set aside their cut logs and set up another and then another. Always the same repetition over and over. Kitsui still remembered how Yoshiaki had first taught him how to chop wood properly, and his stance showed how he used what he had been taught.

Kitsui found the whole process rather enjoyable. Maybe it was the knowledge that he was doing something productive that made a simple task like cutting wood so enjoyable, though there was more to it than that. His mind seemed to empty of all troubles when he set his mind on the task at hand, whether that be herding the various sheep Yoshiaki owned, tiling the soul of his humble farm house, or cutting wood as he was now. He was one with the axe in his hand and he moved with a purpose he'd never felt in his entire life.

"That should be enough," Yoshiaki said, snapping Kitsui out of his trance. The sky had darkened and the stars were out. Had it been that long? There was a massive pile of wooden logs leaning against the wall of the house and Yoshiaki wore a smile that said he was pleased. "That should keep me in timber all winter," He joked, hustling the youngster back to the warmth of the fire.

"... I lost all track of time," Kitsui breathed, hands shaking from the quickness of his exertion. The older man only laughed as he lowered himself to sit cross-legged in front of the fire. Throwing in the timbers and poking it with the metal poker, he simply shook his head. "Work boy," He said, laughing a little, "when you work and enjoy work, you do it all the better. Its the same with your training," His eyes reflected the embers, "when you enjoy a task and take pleasure in it, times becomes meaningless as long as your doing it. I knew I;d find a use for you."

The two sat in front of the fire, talking about meaningless things all through the night. It was strange, Kitsui thought as he climbed the stairs to hit his bed. "What is this I'm feeling?" The only person he'd ever been close to before was Shagetsu, and that was because he was a constant companion; a voice of reason, a shoulder to cry on and quick with advice in a difficult situation.

"Its called friendship," Shagetsu answered, sounding pleased, "it means your opening up and learning to trust in others aside from me. Remember the bond you have created Kitsui... because one day, you may have to fight with every fiber of your being to preserve it."'' Friendship? Kitsui liked that idea. Yoshiaki was like the father he'd never had. He stopped and turned to see the older man walking past the bottom of the stairs.

Without thinking, Kitsui hurled himself down them and threw his arms around the older man. No words were said, and Yoshiaki grinned, with a single tear running down his cheek. "Bah. Off to bed with you now," He whipped his face and nodded, "I'll see you in the morning."

Preparation for the Coming Storm
The next morning, both rose early and walked into the light of the slowly rising sun. The grass was slightly damp beneath their feet and the baying of sheep sounded occasionally at their backs; mixed with the clop clop of horses nestled in the heat of the stable beside the house.

They moved with a purpose Kitsui remembered from his wood chopping, and they flowed through the forms of the Yuengiri with grace and precision. The youngster had no idea how he came to know the moves he were performing with such fluidness, though they seemed familiar to him. Like the memory of a dream, hazy and disjointed, though sometimes legible. The same black-haired man he'd seen during his various battles seemed to be showing him how to perform the skills, and when he'd told Yoshiaki about it, he simply grinned and pointed at his head. "Your memories are showing you the way... though whose memories are another matter" He had said, but who else could the memories belong to if not himself?

He cast everything aside and found the purpose he'd discarded for his break foray into his mind. The light reflected off the types of the blunted practice swords they used, "to avoid killing one another", Yoshiaki claimed, but the weight was similar to that of Shagetsu and when he'd tried with his own zanpakutō, Kitsui found he could adapt the motions without much trouble.

At timed intervals their swords clashed, steel ringing on steel before they parted and struck again. Sparks flashed with every clash and both wore faint smiles, pleased at the company as well of the skill the other demonstrated. This routine had been adopted throughout the five weekdays. Training in the morning, and chores through the day. It was all training, and the two bonded as a result.

Dancing through the forms he'd mastered almost a century ago, Yoshiaki allowed himself a moment to savor the morning breeze. He loved nature. It was the very reason he lived isolated, but he was always in the loop. Kenji saw to that, as did Koichi Hiroshi, though few others knew he was, in fact, alive. That was one secret he had not told his nephew, for it would only sadden him.

At the weekends, they'd travel to the city and rent rooms there well within walking distance of The Nest Bar. Everyone had started calling Kitsui Yoshiaki's kid, and he didn't mind really. "He's got a fire in his belly... and the desire to learn and be taught." The elder thought, sparks flashing twice more as they increased the tempo of their training. "His sword arms improved, as has his speed. He times his strikes better and incorporates the Yuengiri styles as though he'd merely forgotten them and was now remembering."

Kitsui was feeling himself stronger, though. Maybe it was the chores as well as the training. His swing was improving, and the only training they'd been doing was the Yuengiri styles that Yoshiaki imparted with a great deal of knowledge. Again they clashed, the beat of steel-on-steel echoing in his mind. "I think I could life a happy life here," The youngster considered, "In happiness and peace. Find a girl, settle down, have a few kids and life free. That sounds pretty good," He smiled and performed Kumo O Setsudan as Yoshiaki did and both strikes resonated through the hills and left both locked in a stalemate that Yoshiaki broke by leaping backwards.

"Very good Kitsui," Pride entered his tone, "that was well done." Neither had been harmed throughout the exchange, even had they not have been using dulled weapons. "In a month or two, you'll be considered a Yuengiri yourself." He turned his back, and several circle-shaped targets formed around him. "Time to test those original techniques of yours," He flashed away to a relatively safe distance and nodded, "and no holding back, Kitsui. I want them all destroyed."

Nodding, Kitsui grinned and raised his left hand, "Sekkakasai!" He roared, flames springing from his open palm and directing itself towards the targets. Each exploded in a fiery display of spiritual energy that left not a one floating in the sky. He took a breathe and turned to see Yoshiaki nodding in satisfaction. "Nicely done. Now," He turned towards the house, emotion gone from his voice, "we hit the pub!" And happiness rushed in like water through the open floodgates.

Kitsui ran after him, catching the towel his mentor throw over his shoulder and whipped the sweat from his forehead and chest. "You ready?" And both vanished as one...

The Snake and the Rat
The Nest was quiet as usual, with the same regulars who frequented it on most nights. The barkeepers wive, Alice, smiled when she saw Kitsui and moved to welcome him, asking after his progress and his health. Yoshiaki sat at the bar for a change and regarded the barkeeper with a hearty smile and a few coins. "The usual," He said, receiving a large pint glass of tenants. "Don't know why I drink this stuff," He muttered, taking a long slug. "It tastes like piss water. Looks like it, too."

The barkeeper laughed, thinking it was a joke no doubt. "It is good to see you well," The barkeeper said, his chin rippling as he moved his head from side-to-side, "too many odd things happening lately." That caught Yoshiaki's attention, though he looked as though it were old news. "Troubles always been around," He replied, delving for information.

"Not like this, though. People - kids mostly - disappearing in the night, with no clue to where they went. Best be lookin' after that boy of yours, friend." That put a note in the old Shinigami's middle. "Just our luck... They cant find Kitsui, so those Arrancar are gonna be content enough to kill anyone who may have seen him..." Rising, he apologized hastily and grabbed Kitsui by the arm and dragged him off to the side.

"They're looking for you," And Kitsui only nodded slowly in reply... He knew. "Alice told me... about the disappearances. Seems you've drawn the same conclusion as I have. Yoshiaki... its Screamer. He hated - hates - me with a passion and won't rest until I'm dead." The elder knew where this conversation was going and decided to cut around the bush completely.

"I'm going with you. I didn't train you all that time just for you to up and get yourself killed. If he proves too much for you, then I'll step in and show him what it means to fight an Hiroshi."

More, coming soon.