Planning for the Future

Previous Story > Calm Discipline meets Quiet Fury.

The town of Nishiendo, Rukongai, was beginning to bustle with activity as those within began another day’s work. Men worked diligently in the fields around their homes, while others worked within the forests for the firewood that would heat their homes. The woman were mostly busying themselves by carrying large baskets of clothes that had either just been washed or where on their way to be washed. The sight was reminiscent of the daily activities Kusaka often seen within Horiwari, only there it was done to a greater scale with more organization. The Kori clansman was seated at the lone window of the double room where his two young cousins, Itazura and Mariko, lay sleeping. Mariko had been injured and scarred quite badly and the shock of the event had drained her by a quite a good bit physically, mentally and emotionally. She’d life with those scars for the rest of her life, which wasn’t going to be easy. She was still a child herself and children had a habit of being nasty pieces of work. Itazura, while mostly unharmed, was exhausted for the same reasons as his sister: they were close. They had always shared everything and done everything together since they were up and walking. An injury on her was like an injury to him. He might not have been harmed physically, but the damage to his mental and emotional state was just as severe as Mariko’s, if not worse.

The two reminded Kusaka of his own relationship with his brother, Sojiro. Like their cousins they did everything together and were rarely separated for long periods of time. It just wasn’t natural. It just didn’t seem right to Kusaka. He’d grown up with Sojiro, developed as a Shinigami with him, gained in knowledge with him. The only time they hadn’t been together was when they’d walked separate paths: Sojiro’s led him to protect the Soul Society and Kusaka’s had led him on a two-hundred-fifty year journey that spanned the Human World. Then they had reunited when Kusaka’s oldest friend, Kenji Hiroshi, formed the Ryū Order.

‘Good. They’re still sleeping,’ Sojiro whispered from the doorway. He was dressed in a rich white and gray-coloured Shihakushō with delicate flowered embroidery running up the right of his chest. Black knee-high boots stood out against his gray pants. ‘I was sure they’d be up and about, or trying to be at the very least.’ Sojiro was as soft-spoken as his calm features suggested.

‘I don’t like this,’ Kusaka replied, changing the subject. His thoughts had wandered as Sojiro spoke and he needed to speak his mind. ‘Yes, they volunteered, but they should’ve been better prepared for this.’ Anyone else and he would’ve discarded the issue out of hand. But these two were his cousins, even though Kusaka was almost as old as their father was. The Dangai had a way of doing that to you. Kenji for instance was technically the youngest of the four Shiba sibling’s, but his time in the Dangai had accelerated his age to the point that Rosuto, his older brother by almost an entire century, was only a bare handful of years ahead of him. The same was true for Kusaka because he was almost the same age as his uncle now. ‘If they’d been better prepared then this wouldn’t have happened.’

Sojiro knew his brother all too well. He was pondering something else, something he was for doing even if he didn’t necessarily agree with him. ‘Okay, I’ll bite,’ Sojiro sighed, admitting defeat. ‘What do you have in mind?’

The Rei Furashuu momentarily surrounded Kusaka’s right hand, a veil of black energy that was constantly moving about the limb possessed of a deep purple outline, which he had lifted from his knee, a smile spreading to his face.

‘They’re both members of the Kori Family, brother. It’s time they learned to use their birthright.’ The Rei Furashuu was, after all, a technique passed down through the Kori bloodline. Only someone with a spiritual signature linked to that bloodline could even hope to replicate it, though anyone within the family could manifest it. But the training required was harsh, the preparation brutal and discipline required. It was even harder when it wasn’t learned as a zanpakutō given power and since neither Itazura nor Mariko had manifested their Shikai states, the harder option was what Kusaka was being forced to teach.

‘If you’re sure about this,’ Sojiro added hesitantly, ‘then I’ll make the preparations. But it certainly will not be today, Kusaka, and certainly not tomorrow either!’ The very fact that he was agreeing to it at all was mind boggling. The training required to perform the Rei Furashuu wasn’t something that could be started willy-nilly. It required patience, time, perseverance and many, many failed attempts before the slightest progress was made. It wasn’t an ability one learned overnight. What Kusaka was proposing would take weeks of hard work, focus and sacrifice on everyone’s part. That was what he was proposing.

‘Of course I’m sure.’ Kusaka replied casually. His feet were leaning on the window sill while he rocked back and forth on his chair. ‘As soon as they’ve got their strength back we’ll begin. Do me a favour and stay with them a while, would you, but don’t begin until I’m back? I’ve gotta speak with Kenji about this and pick up a few things as well. He might worry if one of his captains and one of his lieutenants are gone for weeks on end without a word.’ Getting to his feet, Kusaka leapt out the window, figuring it the quickest exist. ‘Later, bro,’

Four days of rest and relative relaxation greeted Itazura before the medics of the Ryū Order treating him and his sister finally gave him and her leave to be up and about. It was quite frustrating to be treated so delicately, like he was going to break at the slightest touch, and the first thing the young Kori clansmen did when they entered the great outdoors – out the window no less – was to grab their zanpakutō and bring some much needed exertion to their stiff muscles. Mariko showed some degree of hesitation when it came to wearing her jacket open because the jagged X-shaped scar was visible for the whole world, and decided not to, but Itazura managed to get around that problem by taking their exercises away from watching eyes into the forested area where Kenji Hiroshi had famously trained with Maki Zhijun and Rikimaru Ichinose. Only Sojiro followed and he kept a good distance to give the siblings their privacy. Once there the two worked their arms and legs with simple exercises before settling into more complex manoeuvres. They pumped muscles that had become cramped and stiff from days of inaction, performed push-ups and sit-ups and finally decided that they’d stop with a swim to round off their efforts in the relative cold of the river that flowed through the forest beside the town of Nishiendo.

When Mariko shed her clothing for the swim she hesitated. Even with her bra still on, the distinct scarring was clear against her skin. So before their swim began Itazura comforted his sister by showing off his own scars, which only their father, uncle Shin, cousin Kusaka and Tedasuke Shiba had been previously made aware of. The scar was about six weeks old and had been inflicted by a Hollow during one of his errands to Western Rukongai. It had been Tedasuke who’d rescued him that day and Shin who’d asked Kusaka to take Itazura to Horiwari to prevent Yukimura from learning of the attack until the scar had been treated properly. Ino Hiroshi had managed to reduce a great deal of the scarring, but removing it completely was impossible. The scar was clearly visible in the light, but in a shaded area it was quite difficult to discern because it lay in the shadow against the muscle of his shoulder blades. Three lines almost identical in length had been rent into his now muscular back and now each bore a pale white colouration against his white skin. The sight seemed to cheer her, as he was hoping it would. It meant it was something she didn’t have to bear alone, for her brother had already dealt with it and knew what she was going through. Heh, another thing they now shared.

‘So that’s why you were dragged off to Horiwari,’ she concluded with a shake of her head. ‘And people at the estate say that you’re just like daddy. You’re more like Shin if you ask me, lying to mother and me like that.’ But the comment lacked any real sting and he hugged her, again expressing his apologies for not preventing the wounds in the first place. He’d even said he should’ve taken it in her place had he been quicker. ‘As you said to daddy, there was nothing we could’ve done to prevent this. Stop worrying. Now, are we going to have a swim or not?’ Then she pushed him into the cold water and leapt in afterwards!

He surfaced and spat water from his mouth like a fountain’s spout. ‘Yuck,’ he sounded with a twist to his features, eyes closed and right hand brushing his tongue as though that would get rid of whatever taste plagued him. ‘A little frog landed in my mouth!’ It went bouncing away down the river on green flower beds floating on the rivers surface. ‘That tastes even worse than Ino’s cooking!’ It wasn’t that she was a bad cook. Not really. She just filled her dishes with so much garlic that it became near inedible to anyone with taste buds.

They took their time returning, because they wanted to enjoy themselves, the water and the forests. In the water their doubts seemed to wash away for a time, leaving them peaceful and without a care. There was nothing either of them had to be about today in the first place anyway. In a way they were simply celebrating their survival, even if it had come with a cost. But that same cost had hardened Itazura’s resolve. Kusaka and Sojiro seemed content to guard them until they were sure they could return to the Seireitei without drawing too much attention to themselves, especially from the likes of Raiden. There was probably a very good chance that Raiden actually thought them to be dead, unless of course he happened to find his brother’s charred corpse. If so they’d spy on him a lot more easily. But his cousins being there presented another opportunity, one only they could help him with. One way or another, Itazura was going to learn how to use the Rei Furashuu – the technique long passed down from one generation of the Kori family to the next. It was symbolic of their bloodline, of their very family. Of the bonds they all shared. One way or another, Itazura would learn that ability, if only so he could better protect his sister and himself. And if Kusaka or Sojiro didn’t help then he’d find someone else in Horiwari who would.

‘You’re thinking about something,’ she could tell from the way he flicked the lock of silver hair that fell onto his forehead out of the way. He had always had that habit ever since they were kids. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m thinking about asking Kusaka and Sojiro to teach me how to use the Rei Furashuu,’ their father had put off their training because he didn’t think they were ready for what was required to utilize it. But what better time was there than now? Whether or not they were ready for it or not, Itazura would learn that technique. ‘Then I’m going to blast Raiden and his old man to the moon and back; damn the consequences.’ They’d pushed him too far this time. Making little of his father, who’d raised the ungrateful bastard and his mother who’d helped in that capacity, was bad enough. But now he had played party to the people who’d almost killed his sister as well. Some insults couldn’t be forgiven and Itazura hadn’t a mind to do any forgiving. Not this time. Some people were beyond redemption, beyond his usual creed that everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt.

Kenji remained silent for a time, weighing the consequences and options of the story Kusaka told him, and of the steps Kusaka was taking to try and prevent it happening to his cousins again. He couldn’t afford to lose Kusaka for too long a time though, least his plan to deal with Averian would go up like so many festival fireworks at Halloween. But time might yet work in his favour he finally considered after sharing Ino’s council. He and she were linked mentally and physically, her emotions like a ball of feelings in the back of his mind, easily interacted with after some practice. She told him it wouldn’t be a problem. Besides, he couldn’t deny Kusaka his request, even if his plan was going to be implemented tomorrow. It’d be like slapping him in the face and throwing all their years of friendship aside like so much garbage.

‘Send Tadashi my condolences,’ Kenji said in reply at last. ‘And tell Shin that he’s to give Yukimura a break, too. She’ll need some time to herself.’ No parent wanted to see their children hurt. It was a subject Kenji was all too familiar with. The Central 46 had attempted to make Kentaro’s life a hell and they’d mostly succeeded; their machinations driving a wedge between father and son that Kenji was still trying to prize free. He only abandoned the trail of thought when Ino counselled him to keep his thoughts on the present.

‘I am sorry about this,’ Kusaka said with a grin. ‘I know you’ve got that master plan of yours, which probably includes me some way, to work through.’

‘I’m still waiting for the right moment, which won’t appear for a while yet. I will tell you one thing, Kusaka, I need my brothers. Without them…’

‘I know,’ Meian and Rosuto were the strongest within the entire Ryū Order. Even Kenji himself and Kusaka, who admitted it grudgingly, was no match for either of the elder Shiba brothers. ‘I only wish you’d tell us all more, but I suppose there’s that many steps it’d take forever. Anyways, you know where I’ll be. And I’m taking Kireina with me.’

Kenji merely laughed at that. He had been overjoyed when he’d heard that Kireina was dating Kusaka. He and Kusaka where as close to brothers as was humanly possible regardless, so Kenji hadn’t been too worried about it. Meian and Rosuto weren’t as understanding in the beginning, though at least they were beginning to come ‘round to the idea. ‘Just don’t push those two kids too hard, alright? I remember the last person you tried to train.’ He left crying and refused to come out of his room for three straight days. When he had it was to request a new teacher.

‘Oh come on, that happened once for crying out loud!’ The two were back to their old antics, their positions forgotten. Any minute now they’d be wrestling like big children. Only the arrival of Maki Zhijun stopped the two friends coming to friendly blows, for Kenji was leaning forward, fists clenched, while Kusaka already had his fist drawn back for a strike. ‘Well, I’ve got somewhere to be and little time. Later,’ dropping the fist to his side, Kusaka left with a backwards wave to Kenji and a nod for Maki. When he returned to Nishiendo, he was going to be putting Itazura and Mariko through utter hell.

Kusaka uncoiled a length of cloth with a white and silver theme throughout, with a segmented circular band near the bottom of its length. The piece appeared to be an arm warmer, well made, with the segmented part fitting on the wrist. Not an arm cloth then. More like armour designed to cover a single arm solely. Strips of white and silver, with occasional strips of grey, made it quite eye-catching. Kusaka measured it for a time until he left it sitting on the suitcase atop his bed, which held whatever he and Kireina would need on their trip away. Which meant it was absolutely massive! By no means was Kireina a light traveller. With that accomplished he sat down to wait, for Kireina was late from her patrol. He wasn’t worried though. Not really. He stopped worrying about Kireina shortly after he met her, because she was far from defenceless. In many ways she was just as resilient as he was. She’d proven that when he and she first met, as well. The memory crept up on him then, unbidden, but not unwelcome.

The Human World, eight years ago…

''The Human World opened up before Kusaka, the wind greeting him immediately and blowing his clothing and hair every which way imaginable. He’d stepped out of the Senkaimon gate into the heavens above an ocean; probably the pacific if he recalled his earlier travels any. He was dressed in a loose fitting black jacket open at the front to reveal a toned but noticeably burn-scarred stomach and chest, and equally black trousers. His zanpakutō dangled from a belt loop via a piece of string, the sheath colliding with his leg with every gust of wind. This high up he could see for miles in any direction, not that there was much to see beyond the outline of planes and the white line following in their wake. There was the occasional bird as well, though they paid him as much heed as he paid them which wasn’t a great deal.

‘Time to get to work then,’ he wasn’t here on vacation. He liked the idea of a holiday, but a certain Arrancar with a god complex was preventing anyone having any fun. Averian truly was a despicable bastard. And now he was searching out another powerful ally by the name of Saburo? Things couldn’t have gotten any better than that. Kurayami, the supposed demon Shinigami, wasn’t enough for the power hungry Arrancar? Apparently not it seemed. Now he was looking for Arrancar’s like himself, only this one was rumoured be close to seven-thousand years old. ‘Lovely,’ Kusaka claimed as he descended. ‘Kenji sits on his tod with more woman to droll over than sense and I’m stuck taking out the trash. How is that remotely fair?’

And all he had to go on was the fact this Arrancar had, according to the report, which was six weeks old he might, “more spiritual energy than he knew what to do with”. Couldn’t Yoshiro have plucked a description from the heavens when he was at it? “Sir Arrancar looks like a wrinkled old shar-pie with more droopy skin than Lady Christmas”. Bleh! This was going to be a serious waste of time, effort and energy on his part and a sore head for anyone who heard him complaining about it when he got back to Horiwari.

He must’ve searched for three hours straight before he finally began sensing the spiritual energy Yoshiro had first described some weeks earlier. Powerful and quite expansive, even from the remnants he sensed in the area. If this fellow joined with Averian things were going to get very problematic. Another hour elapsed before he tracked that signature back to its source. Sitting in a café drinking what looked like coffee was the most human-looking Arrancar Kusaka had ever laid eyes on. Not even a mask remnant was discernible nor a Hollow hole visible. And for someone reputed to be seven-thousand years old, he looked no older than Kusaka did himself. He was smooth skined and lithe, his posture aristocratic in outlook seated on that delicate white chair, hair combed downwards carefully and neatly. Oh, fucking fantastic! The place was crowded, so he couldn’t go in all guns blazin’. Curse him!

‘I ain’t cut out for this covert crap,’ descending into an alleyway, Kusaka slowly made his way towards the café. Just as he reached the doorway, however, a woman with long auburn hair and a blue outfit intercepted him; eyes directed to the sides to stare in the direction of Saburo’s sitting form. She put her fingers to her lips, took him by the arm and walked him back into the alleyway he had left only moments before. In the thin confines she finally sighed.

‘We won’t defeat him,’ she said finally. ‘Better to retreat for now and try again later. The two of us alone won’t be enough.’ She had a way of persuading him and before he was really stopped to think he was agreeing with her. He treated her to a dinner which, in his eyes, cost heaven and earth and talked the day away. She returned with him to Horiwari, where Kenji nearly bit his head off for leaving Saburo alive. Imagine Kusaka’s surprise when the woman he’d been treating to dinner was his best friend’s sister? Yeah, the surprises went all around.''

The Present, Kusaka’s room…

‘I can’t help comparing this to the last big trip we all took,’ a voice said from the doorway.

Kusaka snapped out of his trance and turned his head to regard the dead eyed gaze of Kazuma Nishiki. His posture was slumped, his features devoid of life and enthusiasm. The way he looked and held himself lately you’d have thought that a strong wind would blow him over. In fact, the only thing seemingly keeping him on his feet was the suit of armour he wore decorated with delicate vines and trees; all symbols of his former control of wildlife, now lost in lieu of destroying those very forces he once commanded so magnificently. Long blond hair spilled down his back with the fringe and bangs lying about his chest and shoulders, which was as sure a sign as any that he’d rushed on his way here. Kazuma was usually anything but untidy.

‘I’m hardly going to be away for two-hundred-fifty years,’ was Kusaka’s simple reply. ‘I don’t have that kind of time anymore, little buddy.’

Now on his feet, Kusaka rubbed his young friend’s hair, much in the way he would have done when they, including Kenji, had travelled the Human World together. Kazuma dropped his head and smiled, which was followed by a low laugh, which were the first signs of life seen in the youngster in days. He then put the youngster into a loose headlock and only released when Kazuma cried “uncle”.

‘Look after the place while I’m gone,’ Horiwari seemed to be the only place where people of differing races and clashing ideals could life together in peace. It was like a little slice of heaven in Kusaka’s eyes. ‘And make sure Kenji doesn’t do anything stupid, like getting himself killed. Without me to pull his ass from the fire,’ and he was heralding back to their first battle with Dastan right now where he literally did what he just described, ‘the ass wouldn’t get much work done.’

‘I assume this ass happens to be my brother?’ the speaker sounded happy, excited and altogether too agreeing for it to be anyone other than Kireina.

She swept into the room, auburn hair swinging about her shoulders, emerald eyes gleaming in the sun’s light pouring through the open window, her smile true as opposed to the fake one she donned so frequently in the years before she and Kusaka met. As usual her Shihakushō exposed her shoulders and neck and Kusaka was overcome with the sudden urge to kiss her, but decided against it for now. That could wait until later.

‘None other,’ both Kusaka and Kazuma replied, sharing a sudden look that betrayed their surprise. It didn’t last long and both boys went back to their study of Kireina, who had lifted her eyebrow in mock seriousness.

‘Here we have two of his oldest friends, calling him an ass. What would Kenji say?’ She made a distinctive “tut tut” sound, shaking her head all the while, which of course made her hair resume its dance about her shoulders.

‘He’d probably sock me one,’ Kusaka said finally, which Kazuma promptly done. ‘What the hell was that for!?’

‘You insulting Kenji and not getting socked by someone could be considered quite unnatural. As a Shinigami it is my duty to protect the balance of the world.’ Clever little shit.

‘Just be careful the next time protecting those worlds involves socking me in the mouth. Anyways,’ and Kusaka rounded on Kireina. ‘It’s high time we we’re gone. Itazura and Mariko won’t teach themselves. See you later, kiddo.’ He and Kazuma hugged one another before departing, a strangely emotional interaction between two men who viewed the other as brothers. His back turned on his room, his hand in Kireina’s, Kusaka left knowing that it’d be some weeks before he was back again…

Next Story > Means to an End.