Fly in the Stone

Prologue
''Five-hundred feet whispered over the dry stone courtyard. Like slips of paper folding themselves to stand upright, the white-robed executioners shuffled into place. Before him, at the end of the death-lined courtyard, the imposing structure of a palace loomed. Red lacquer eaves curled up at the corners, vicious fangs, and the stark silhouette of the roof tiles cut against the gray sky.''

''Alone, he began to walk between the silent lines of executioners, whose squared masks resembled those of the Kidō Corps members who accompanied condemned Shinigami to the sōkyoku. With each step, they raised the blank banners they carried in front of them and slammed them into the stone, drumming out a thunderous, macabre rhythm that echoed across the empty courtyard. From somewhere in the distance, the bell of an exorcist chimed in tune with the death march. The sound and the narrowed eyes of the executioners exposed him. Judged him. Guilt crawled along his skin. Yet he was helpless to turn back as his steps carried him towards the central stairway at the foot of the palace.''

''He climbed the stairs, and as he rose above the courtyard the incline became steeper, increasing with the stillness around him. His legs were heavy, slow and feeble, but at last he reached the top. There, he found a blood-red ribbon lying on the pavement. A soul ribbon. He followed its winding course, wading through the shadow of the deep veranda until he passed through the threshold that led to the inner courtyard. Bright light flooded in from the skywell above him, forming a patch of white in the center of the room. At last, he discovered the origin of the soul ribbon at the base of a stone fountain: it was attached to the foot of a white crane who perched on the edge of the basin. The crane turned its head to the side, its eye dilated, and he saw his reflection in its gaze. At some point, but he didn’t know when, the thunderous drumming from the courtyard had stopped. All was silent.''

''As he proceeded through the open doors into the next room, the crane turned its head to watch him, rotating at a stiff, uneasy angle. It seemed to be accusing him, and he was bothered by the familiar sensation. A crane was the symbol of the Tsunayashiro, he realized—The clan his family served.''

''At the back wall of the second room, which was lined with carved, dark wood panels, four banners hung above a narrow platform. The far left banner, in windflower blue and bearing the symbol of the Kuchiki, had been shorn in two. The next banner, that of the Shihouin, was scorched to the point of being barely recognizable. The fourth, that of the Urahara, had been eaten by moths and was riddled with holes, while the banner of the Tsunayashiro was stained black with blood.''

''The crack of a gavel striking judgment echoed in the room, whose shape now resembled the octagonal inner assembly hall of the Central 46. The banners still hung on the walls, surrounding him on four sides. He looked up and once again met with the square-shaped masks of the Kidou Corps executioners. They began to chant, evenly thumping their banners against the staggered wooden platforms. From behind the first placard on the bench above him, a voice declared his sentence:''

"Do not seek aesthetics​ in waging war, do not seek virtue in death..."

''The ground trembled, shaking the banners from the walls. They slipped down into the wide chasm that suddenly opened beneath his feet. He stared into the looming darkness below, from which the shape of a skull-like mask began to emerge.''

"Do not think your life is your own..."

He tried to make out the form of the mask, sensing deep within himself that it would provide the answer to the question his jury sought.

"If you wish to protect each of the heads of the court nobles, then you must even tear down the separation of the worlds and slaughter every foe..."

He fell.

Shū Kasumiōji jerked upright, wide awake, and the first thing he noticed was the pounding in his chest. Another dream, and he knew it was prophetic. But aside from the certain doom it promised upon the four Noble Houses, he was uncertain of its meaning. Thunder rumbled from outside, and he heard the steady patter of rain against the rooftiles. The cool humidity settled heavily on his chest, and he found he was still shaking from nervous adrenaline. Shū reached out in the dark for his wife, but he only found a depression in the futon where should have been sleeping. The soft flicker of lightning confirmed that she wasn’t in the room. He sighed, suspecting his restlessness had disturbed her. Sparking a contained between his fingers as a light, Shū reached for the lantern just as a dull cacophony of footsteps thundered along the hallways towards the sleeping chambers. Shū was up in an instant.

"Lord Shū!" He stepped out to meet them, and the servants seemed surprised that he had responded to their cry so quickly.

"What is it?" He asked, still pulling on his kosode.

"Sir!" the guards acknowledged him, kneeling to place their fists on the floor before delivering their report.

"A group of Shinigami on patrol in the West Rukongai apprehended a shipment of Kanki while in the second district. Fortunately, we were able to intercept them before they could return to the Gotei."

Kanki? Shū had heard of the alkaline drug, which was formed from a mineral extract of. While it was troubling that someone appeared to be manufacturing it, he couldn’t see what its relation was to the Kasumiouji.

"I see," he said. "I assume that’s not all you have to report?" he asked.

"Yes sir, it seems the contraband was marked with the Kasumiouji’s insignia."

Shū's eyes widened with horror.

"Wait here," he told them. He returned to his room and retrieved his Zanpakutō. As he grasped the saya with its design of white cranes, he felt a strange sense of discomfort. He shook his head, leaving his troubling dream behind him for the time being.

There were more pressing matters at hand.

Shū followed the guards into the outer courtyard of the clan estate. One of the servants threw an oiled leather raincoat across his shoulders, but it did little to prevent him from being drenched by the downpour. But he ignored the bone-chilling rain, hoping it wouldn’t effect his health.

“Has Rurichiyo been notified as well?” he asked. Even though Shū was invested with power of his own as the clan steward, he refused to handle clan affairs without her knowledge. It was a matter of principle.

“We couldn’t find her sir,” they told him. He frowned. On the other side of the courtyard, a company of guards surrounded a large hand-pulled cart. Someone brought a torch, and Shū peered inside to inspect the stacks of crates. In the flicker of the flames, he saw the outline of a three-sectioned lotus flower within a triangle painted on the rough wood: their clan symbol. Shū felt his stomach clench at the implications, and sweat mixed with the rain pouring down the side of his face.

“Lord Shū!”, the trusted Shinigami who had served Rurichiyo even before Shū had become a member of the household, approached him.

“What’s the meaning of all this Ryūsei?” he asked, the bewilderment in his voice obvious. He reached inside the crate they had opened and inspected the white powder of the Kanki, feeling the numbing effects on his fingertips. It must have been a high concentrate.

“From the Shinigami’s report it seems the smugglers were transporting it from one of the clan mines.”

“So... someone within our clan has betrayed us?”

Ryūsei shook his head. “It’s hard to say.” For a moment they traded a knowing glance, and Ryūsei looked away. With the perilous situation of the Tsunayashiro, whom the Kasumiouji served, any mark against them could allow for cause for the other lower noble houses to turn against them. Either the Kanki had been an inside job, or someone was seeking to sabotage them. Shū hoped it was the former.

“That’s not all,” Ryūsei continued, “There’s something I need to show you.” He led Shū to the storage shed at the other end of the courtyard. As they approached, he felt a strange, twisted reiatsu seeping out from within. He pressed his shirt sleeve to his mouth, feeling nauseous.

Inside, a man was chained to the center support pillar of the storage room. His tattered clothes clung to his skeletal frame, and pale, unseeing blue eyes bulged from his head. As soon as they entered his head whipped in their direction, and he began to groan and snarl, working up foam at the corner of his mouth. He shuddered against the chains, lurching towards them but being caught back by the shackle around his neck. Shuu noticed that his body was covered with open wounds, and a black, foul-smelling puss oozed from his broken skin.

Ryūsei unsheathed his Zanpakutō, and the prisoner drove himself into a frenzy at the sight of the blade.

“My apologies,” he muttered.

Shnnnk.

Ryuusei cut cleanly into the man’s heart, stabbing all the way through into the wood behind.

“Ryūsei!” Shuu yelled in alarm, the color instantly draining from his face.

The man’s head lulled forwards onto his chest, and Ryūsei drew out the blade smoothly, flicking black blood from the tip.

“Wait,” he said. A moment passed, then two, and thunder rumbled from outside. Then, the carcass moaned, shuddered again, and began to suck in the blood pooling from its mouth. Shū instinctively took a step back. Without warning, the creature snapped its head up, its feral stare locking onto Shū. It screeched, hideously, and lunged against its chains. Shū pulled a slip of paper from his sleeve and shot it towards its forehead with a fine-tuned burst of.

“,” he commanded. The spell bound on the paper activated, and the creature’s eyes dilated before the pupils blurred, becoming dark. Finally, the body slumped back against the pillar, dropping unconscious.

“What is that thing?” Shū stammered, clearly shaken. “Why won’t it die?”

Ryūsei sheathed his sword and looked at him, but did not respond, giving Shuu his answer.

“Do you think... this could be related to the ?” Shū could barely speak the word, referring to the forbidden, grotesque blades the Kasumiouji were sometimes required to make on behalf of the Noble Houses. Shū took a deep breath, immediately regretting it on account of the stench of the decaying flesh. He cupped his chin in his hand as he began to think.

“Will you go to the Gotei 13 for me?” he asked.

“But—why would you alert them to something like this?” Ryūsei asked. “It would be better to handle this ourselves!”

“Yes, and we will. But we know this is related to the Noble Houses, and as such it would be best to be open in our confrontation. Specifically, Byakuya Kuchiki may be our ally in this, as he is aware of the situation with the Tsunayashiro.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“I have a very strong suspicion that it is related to the houses,” Shū replied cryptically. He turned to Ryūsei, facing the man directly. “I only ask that you trust me in this.”

Ryūsei initially seemed conflicted, as he should have been. But an expression that resembled guilt crossed his face, and he nodded.

“You have my support,” he promised. “What should I tell Lady Rurichiyo?”

Shū looked at the half-decayed body slouching in front of him, and a shiver ran across his skin. For some reason he thought of the crimson soul ribbon tied around the foot of the crane, and frowned.

“Nothing... Not until we receive further information.” But even as he said it he felt a knot form in his throat. He was betraying the principle he had sworn to himself to uphold. It’s to protect her, he said to placate himself. Still, he could not ignore the worm of doubt that slowly crept around him.