The Way Things Should Be

This story, The Way Things Should Be, is a short-story that ties up the loose ends of Part II in regards to the Nishiki siblings; setting the scene for Part III.

Kazuma lay at his length on the bed within Garian Shinjo’s spare bedroom, his forehead soaked with beads of sweat. His breathing was shallow and he was beginning to run a high fever, but there was little to be done to help him. It had taken them sixteen years to discover a means to remove the Shirushi brand after Garian’s initial failure. Now they where succeeding. Tyrell watched from the sides as Karis did her best to alleviate Kazuma’s suffering.

‘The boy has surprising tenacity,’ Garian said. ‘Most men his age would be dead by now.’

‘He was always wilful,’ he needed to be. The Shirushi brand poisoned the mind and corrupted the mind and that with only stage one. Kazuma had been afflicted with stage three. The man who’d inflicted it, Shinzō, had originally thought stage three to be full proof – that it couldn’t be resisted. Tyrell was proud to say his brother proved everyone wrong. What made it more impressive was the fact he done so with the debilitating addiction of the Bakkōtō to contend with at the same time.

‘Still, he did very well to fight it so long. But willpower only takes you so far, as you can see.’

Kazuma was a shadow of his former lively self; had been since the day and hour he was branded. His eyes where sunken, he had grown physically weak and emaciated, and he was rarely as active as he had been in recent years. He could barely produce the effort to get out of his bed most days. The sight of his brother in that condition had broken Tyrell’s heart. The only family he had left where Karis and Kazuma. Their parents had committed suicide when Kazuma’s human body died, permitting his soul to the Soul Society.

‘How long will this take?’ He finally mustered the courage to say it. He only hoped he was ready for the answer.

Garian was slow in giving it. He looked at Kazuma writhing on the bed with a sympathetic cast to those chiselled features. When he turned to look Tyrell in the eye he looked grave. ‘I can’t rightly say, lad. He was close to his breaking point when you brought him to me. It could be hours, or weeks, or maybe a matter of days… it could even take years.’

Tyrell clenched his fists tightly. ‘… And there’s a chance that Shinzō knows what we’re doing here?’

‘There is. Whether or not he shows up or not is an entirely different matter. If he does, then I can sever the connection at the source, which'll help Kazuma immensely. If he doesn’t, then it’s the slow and painful approach.’

Not on Tyrell’s watch it wouldn’t. ‘Keep him safe, Garian. Karis, stay here, just to be safe.’ Tyrell turned to the door with his shoulders squared, his features hard and fierce.

‘Where are you going?’ She asked him.

‘I’m going to sever the connection between them.’ He knew little about the dark arts Shinzō employed so readily, but he did know one thing. Cut off the head of the snake and the snake dies. It was all he needed to know.

‘Take this with you,’ Garian handed him a piece of paper with Japanese characters on either side. ‘It’s a contact seal I developed. Attach that to Shinzō and you’ve killed the connection between him and your brother, without killing the snake.’

Tyrell dispelled the memory from two weeks ago and inhaled sharply.

He stood alone atop a tall building in the centre of Kōhai Tochi. His red jacket, white trousers, and black under-shirt rippled in the high wind; his brown hair blowing every which way but straight. In his hand was his zanpakutō, a length of powerful black steel easily longer than 6ft. His light blue eyes surveyed the scene below him. Residents of the accursed realm stalked through shadows like wraiths in the night, while crime and vice ruled from the shadows. He truly hated the place but circumstances demanded he be here; If not for himself then for his brother who was still writhing in a sickbed.

‘Target spotted,’ he heard in his earpiece. It was Fujimoto Namikaze who spoke. He was a purple-haired Quincy-Shinigami hybrid who baffled most racial specialists around the world, who claimed such a combination was impossible. ‘He’s in the central spire of the complex, right-hand side, near the window. I’ve got a shot.’

‘I’m almost in position,’ another voice said. It belonged to Kensai who was a Shinigami of the famed Kuchiki house and one of Tyrell’s oldest friends. He joined the Order to stop Shigeru’s downward spiral, but failed. ‘Right, I’m here,’

‘Give me a second,’ Juunan cut in. ‘I ran into some trouble, but nothing I couldn’t handle. Okay, I’m here.’

Tyrell grinned from ear-to-ear. Ten days he’d planned this attack. Ten days he and his team had prepared. Ten days. It was a long time to sit and plan, but worth it. They’d broken through into Shinzō’s personal base without alerting so much as a single soul to their presence, and now their target was before them.

‘You know the plan, guys. On three… One,’ he narrowed his vision on the spire, ‘two,’ he took a deep breathe, ‘three!’ Two Kidō spells streaked towards the tower accompanied by a torrent of shining blue arrows, courtesy of Fujimaru. Tyrell watched as the spire Shinzō called home caved in on itself, the man in question emerging from the smoke and flames. Taking the contact seal in-hand, Tyrell propelled himself forward, caught the man unawares, dragged him through the remnants of his spire, and then hurled him into the floor.

‘Seals applied, boys. We’ve been here long enough, I think.’ Fujimaru, Kensai and Juunan appeared at his side, and in the next instance, Kensai had a Senkaimon opened. The four left behind a fuming criminal, who’d likely be looking their heads.

Kazuma’s progress was astounding. Weeks on from Tyrell’s mission he was recovering his former strength. His eyes where no longer sunken, he looked healthier, and he was sleeping easier. His energetic nature was beginning to return and he was looking more his former self with every passing day.

‘It won’t be long now, little brother.’ Tyrell ruffled his blond hair and grinned down at him.

Kazuma sighed with relieve and tossed aside his blankets. He still wasn’t fully recovered, but he was a big improvement. ‘I can’t wait. First thing I’m going to do when I’m recovered is eat the biggest chicken I can.’ He was drooling at the thought.

‘I’ll cook it myself,’ Karis supplied. She hugged her little brother tightly, delighted to have him back again. ‘I’m sorry it took us so long to help you.’ ‘Yeah,’ Tyrell finished. ‘Next time, I’ll be faster. I promise.’

Kazuma merely grinned though; a sight neither Tyrell nor Karis had seen in a number of years. It was a refreshing change. ‘I’m counting on it,’ the brothes clasped their hands together, sealing the promise. ‘Now it’s time we were getting back. The Dragonforce won’t organize itself you know.’ That it wouldn’t. That it wouldn’t.

The End.