Fables and Cautionary Tales
The Foolish Young Duke
The young duke was a romantic, and prided himself in holding the affections of several women, keeping a feather in his cap for each of them.
But the young fool had a mouth opened more easily than his breeches. Naturally, the other lovers of his favorite lasses and mademoiselles found it all too easy to learn who was visiting their women in the night.
The young, foolish duke was killed in a duel, one against five, though Yumichika would brag that he deliberately lost, so his story would have a far more romantic ending than dying a sick old man.
--
The Child Who Never Grew Up
The baby, they said, had come too soon. She was born in a field, at a wedding party, her mother screaming as everyone else danced to the sounds of the drums and bells, in circles around the maypole.
She was tiny, with big eyes like a cat and her mother's soft hair. Some guessed that it would be red, when she grew up; others fondly guessed that she would become a great beauty.
None of them got beyond guessing, for the baby died before sunset, never growing up.
Yachiru, regardless, turned out splendidly. Though she never really did grow up.
--
The Goatherd's Unmarried Daughter
She had been found, nestled in the straw, as a baby, and was taken in by the old goatherd and raised as his own daughter. The snaggletoothed child was eager in her work, with strong, tanned limbs and butter-colored hair.
The foundling girl grew into a woman with a lovely face (if you ignored her crooked smile), but when the time came for her to marry, she would not choose a husband, despite her many suitors and their gifts.
Nel had been found, nestled in the snow, as a woman, after a sudden snowstorm took her precious life away.
--
The Doctor With Glass Eyes
They called him a doctor. Though, by all accounts, he wasn't.
He was a sight to see, with black, glass eyes shining, herbs stuffed in the leather beak drowning out the stink of the dying. The clothes made the man, and the man was a plague doctor.
As he watched those filthy mongrels dying, prodding at them with his stick, he couldn't help but want to take those discolored bodies apart and see the little worms and humors making them sick.
Even as the black pustules covered his own body, Kurotsuchi couldn't ignore the disturbing, sinful, yet curiously wonderful ideas.
--
The Educated Concubine
By the red light of the lantern in the corner, the whore educated herself.
As her client slept, she knelt, her nose to the paper, reading the brush-painted words on paper. He was a fat man, and he stank, and his stink remained on her. It disgusted her.
But her mind remained untouched, made higher, purer by the words on the page.
She mouthed words, for she read slowly, from inexperience and lack of vision. But she would become quicker with time, she knew.
Truly, there wasn't anyone in Soul Society who treasured libraries or glasses more than Nanao.
--
The Strange Child from the Orient
The strange child from the orient was shoved towards the fire with snow in his hair, humiliatingly short-one of the first things they took from him, when they captured him years before.
Yet he tolerated this cruelty, laughing along with them as he waved his silk arms and told fantastic stories in broken English.
He didn't tell them that he spoke English almost as well as them, nor that he dreamed at night of his family killing them all and taking him home.
There were lots of things Gin didn't tell his captors. It gave him power, after all.
--
The Lost Treasure of the West
She is pushed out for display, dressed in a great many silk robes. Her thin yellow hair is tied into foreign knots and secured with silver combs. Her hair is too brilliant for gold.
Her blue eyes (blue like the sky, her captors advertise) are tightly closed, keeping hot tears from rolling down her cheeks. They do not touch her lightly-painted face, her blossom-red lips.
The occidental beauty is out for all to see, and available for any man to purchase for a night, a week of nights, an entire lifetime.
Matsumoto, Germany's lost treasure, resents her slavery.
--
The Blind Serving Girl
Momo knew her master loved her. He gave her a room, he did; a pretty dress, and a job too.
She knew her master loved her, even when his breath was hot with whiskey and he told her to undress, to let him have her. Even when he got angry and threw things at her, leaving her to nurse her angry bruises and wait for him to be kind again.
She knew her master loved her, even as her blood stained her pretty dress for the final time. He just didn't love the child she was going to give him.
--
The Victim of the New World
The New World was much more enticing when they were still in Spain.
After several weeks of traveling, the sight of land seemed like heaven on earth. They kissed the sandy beaches they landed on, and marveled at the greenness of it all.
They traveled onward, confidently, with the grace of God at their sides, tales of glory in their minds, and guns on their backs.
None of them expected the demons, with terrible red bodies and skulls for masks.
Least of all Doldonie, who held up his crucifix in vain as one of the otherworldly creatures tore him apart.
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The Unselfish Bridegroom
He didn't ask to be married, really, but he had absolutely no choice in the matter. His family was rich, her family was rich, and of course their parents wished to be all the richer.
He didn't hate the girl who was supposed to be his wife, really; in fact, she was a rather nice girl. He only wished that she liked him, just a little bit, because their wedding night was downright embarrassing.
Hanatarou didn't ask for many things, really. So, he was surprised that, when he asked for death, feverish and ill beyond his wildest imaginings, he died.
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The Creation
Sometimes, if she thinks back far enough, she can clearly remember the day she was born.
It was very bright, and very cold, and her limbs were heavy. She was naked, but she did not feel exposed. She did not know anything, to know that nakedness was weakness, was embarrassing.
Sometimes, if she thinks harder still, she can remember seeing her father for the first time. His face was the color of flesh, but his eyes were still that chemical yellow, that always yellow.
His smile was wide, was wild with success.
Nemu did not have many memories to visit.
--
The Boy Who Loved Dolls
As a child, they said he would become a doctor. It was expected of him, after all, and it brought everyone great joy when the child more than happily replied that, yes, being a doctor was what he wanted to do.
He could grow up, become a gentleman, an upstanding member of society. All his peculiarities could be ignored.
And yet, even when the boy became a man, who became a doctor, who became an upstanding member of society, Szayel still played with his sister's expensive French dolls every night. He couldn't help how much he loved the little darlings.
--
The Ice Boy
They had thrown his hat onto the ice, and the pond wasn't completely frozen over. They dared him to go get it, but he needed no encouragement. His mother had knit the hat for him, especially for him, and nobody else. It wasn't a floppy, too-big hand-me-down. It was his own hat, and it fit him perfectly.
He carefully stepped, and slowly, but no amount of care could have kept the thin ice from rupturing beneath his feet. He couldn't swim.
Hitsugaya's hair was frozen white, when they fished him out. But they never found the hat.
--
The Honest Son
His was a world of starched white collars, and bow ties, and emerald necklaces with gems brighter than his eyes. It was a quiet, sterile world, and the child liked it.
The baby was an unnatural presence.
It always cried, the dreadful thing, and Mummy needed it to be quiet for her big dinner party that night.
The child entered the parlor with blood on his hands, on his face. “The baby is quiet now, Mummy,” he told her. He prided himself on being honest.
After the funeral, Ulquiorra was sent to the asylum, not knowing what he did wrong.
--
The Fair Tax Collector
His face is not an unwelcome one, as a tax collector. Rather, he is loved.
He comes bearing gifts of cookies and sweets for the children, and gentle requests of payment for their parents, which are never too demanding. He is a respectful, kind man, when collecting their coins.
Outside, a girl waits for him, wrapped in her heavily-embroidered skirts. She leads him into the barn, and her silver buckles shine as the eldest daughter pays her own taxes in flesh.
All good things come with a price, Aizen thinks to himself, as he accepts the girl's warm sacrifice.
--
The Lucky Man
It was a truly lucky day.
He had found a tuppence on the ground on the way to the inn, which was wonderful chance enough, until one of the patrons (her face as red as her carrot-colored hair) told him she was ever so fond of smooth heads, in a more than suggestive way, and asked if he wouldn't mind a romp in the stables.
Unfortunately, it was then that Ikkaku lost his lucky tuppence. He was knocked about his bald head, the woman taking the whole of his earnings and stuffing them in her red bosom, laughing wildly.
--
The Man Who Drank to the Health of the World
Every night, he drank to the health of the whores and the old farts who lived in the world.
In the morning, he would be just another ragged figure on the road, with a clay jug filled with stinking alcohol clenched in his hand. He'd yell at them, the sons of bitches, with threats and heckles. He'd scare the children and the weaker women, and he liked that; but most would leave him be, like an old dog, with his growls and his aching limbs.
As night fell again, once more, Kenpachi would drink to the rest of the outcasts.
--
The Death of the Fox God
A god had been killed in the forests of Britain.
Though the air was thick with the sound of howling dogs and hunting trumpets, a few brave souls managed to emerge from their homes and hiding places, horrified by the sight, but determined to help as best they could.
The god, the great Komamura, attempted to lift his head and move, to die with more dignity, to go down with a fight. His white paws turned red with blood.
And yet, the single human bullet proved too fatal, and the oldest fox in all the world angrily breathed his last.
--
The Boy Who Thought Himself a God
He liked to fancy himself a god, sometimes. Or, at least, the human-seed that grows up and earns the favor of some buxom goddess, who grants him a boon in return and makes him truly mighty.
He'd ride all across the wild countryside on a horse that would never get tired. He would fight dragons and rescue their beautiful captors, and at night, he would tell the best stories and receive the best mead, and have a delicious prize waiting in bed.
He liked to fancy himself a god, even though Urahara knew he was just the stable boy.
--
The Happy Midwife
She found her death ironic, to the extent where thinking about it after the fact it would make her smile.
The village midwife, she had seen her share of babies and birthing, forced wetly into the world with red faces and screams from both mother and child, and wanted for one almost madly. She cried when her husband, a man with wide shoulders who held her gently at night, finally gave her a child of her own.
It was ironic that she died giving birth to that child, but Unohana took comfort in the fact that the baby girl survived.