An Attempt
Title: Unanswered Inquiries
For: snailrevolution - aka Sharon
Pairings: Mayuri/Isshin
Rating: PG-16
Words: 2983
Summary: Set right around the Ichigo/Shinji fight ;D Isshin gets discovered, and now he’s not getting out of his situation unless he gives in and concedes defeat.
The twelfth division had been instructed quite clearly by Yamamoto to keep an eye on Karakura Town, Japan throughout their usual surveillance of the human world. They were to pay close attention to the spiritual activity there, they had been told bluntly. Mayuri hadn’t been too thrilled about the fact his team would be focusing more often than not on those annoying ryoka brats and their friends, but there was nothing he could do. The order had come from a higher-up, how could he refuse?
Those imbeciles … it was all just a waste of time.
Beep. Beep.
With an expression of utmost hate, he turned his gaze to the computer screen that had made the noise in the first place, his workers busy keeping up with the many other computers scattered throughout the room. And goodie, as fate would have it, he had scheduled a check-in with his men this very afternoon.
There seemed to be some kind of spiritual disturbance today - in where else?
Karakura Town, Japan - flashed the screen in mocking. Scowling, he turned away from the computer. It was probably nothing. The spike of reiatsu was high, but the name next to it read, with no little doubt - Kurosaki Ichigo. He went back to what he was doing, uninterested.
Beep. Beep.
Sighing, having once again been interrupted from his scrutiny of his staff, he glanced at the same computer screen, with the same infuriating location flashing on the screen. The reiatsu was stable, well-maintained, and above all - higher than normal. And the person was unknown. That would have to be looked into, but for right now, it wasn’t his top priority. And again, he returned to observing the rest of the twelfth division, bored already as he scribbled notes about progress and such in his journal for further analyzing.
Beep. Beep.
Incensed by now, Mayuri turned back to the computer of accursed cruelty with thoughts of destroying it just for kicks - it’s not like anyone would comment, they were use to seeing their Captain blowing a gasket. He paused, however, now interested as he read the reading that had appeared flashing across the screen. This reiatsu was different from the rest … it was stable and maintained as well as a Captain’s, perhaps even better. But there was something off about it, as if it hadn’t been used in a while. That hardly meant it wasn’t anything to bat an eyelash at. Quite the contrary. This was a matter that greatly intrigued him. A reading like that … in Karakura Town? Interesting, he thought, placing his journal in the hands of Nemu and steadily staring at the screen. She had been standing behind him the whole time, quiet and insignificant unless he needed her for something. And that was as it should be. He had taught her well.
Another thing that sparked his curiosity was the simple fact the name flashing next to it was encoded, as if it had been erased ... but the computer still held data of this particular person. Who could that be? Whose reading would show up like that? It was a mystery worth looking into.
“Nemu, put my journal back in my private room, would you? I have a quick request to make of Yamamoto-taichou,” he said offhandedly as he started toward the door. He barely heard her softly muttered, “Of course, Mayuri-sama,” as he left the Division quarters. She never questioned him, why would today be any different?
**
It had been a hassle to get Yamamoto to concede that his going to the human world would be useful. He had pointed out to the commander-in-chief that there was something off about this reiatsu, and that if such a being like this existed, it needed to be taken care of quietly. And who better for the job than a high-ranking shinigami, such as a Captain? Of course, Yamamoto had replied along the lines of “Since when have you ever disposed of anything quietly, Kurotsuchi?”
The battle of wits took a mere hour - and he had won. Pleased at his victory, he prepared at once for his departure to the human world. It had been a long time since his last visit there in person. It was an hour later that he was fully prepared, having run a diagnostics check to make sure his body was completely fine - after all, he naturally had to keep up with how his shell was performing, especially with any new additions on his person.
Sheathing his zanpakutou after having inspected it for inadequacies, he had a hell butterfly lead him to where he wanted to go. He stepped out onto an average street, dimly lit with street lamps for the convenience of any night travelers. Scoffing at the inferiority of the human worlds devices next to his own inventions, he headed down the street, remembering that the reiatsu hadn’t been too far from this very spot. The smell of ash was in the air. The smell … it was very similar to a disintegrated Hollow. He hated that smell, almost as much as he hated the smell of fear.
There was someone standing at the end of the very street he walked so casually down. The man looked oddly familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on who it was. He walked steadily closer, gaining on the person who didn’t, in anyway, seem afraid - nor inclined to run. The figure in the distance spoke lowly to someone else - another figure he hadn’t noticed before, but who looked similar to that young male ryoka with the strange hair color. The second figure hurriedly got off the ground and took off - as if it had been warned beforehand.
So I’ve been noticed. That’s good. Before he could even toss a menacing little smile to the shinigami garbed person before him, the man took off himself, fleeing the scene. Fast, but rusty. He caught up to the person in no time. “You there, stop.”
The shinigami, strangely enough, obeyed. The man halted, back still facing the Captain. “Kurotsuchi. What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this? Curiosity got the better of you again?”
“You could say that. And it seems you know my name, care to tell me how?”
The figure turned slowly to face him, sighing. “It’s been a while, but you’ve already forgotten little old me?”
Silence was heavy in the abandoned alleyway they found themselves in. “…. It’s been a while, indeed.” There was a particular bite to Mayuri’s voice as he spoke now. “Been enjoying your stay here, I assume?”
“Oh, very much. A wife, three wonderful children, etc. You get the picture.”
“Ah, so that’s why you ran away from Soul Society all those years ago. And here I had naturally presumed you were off to help that imbecile Urahara Kisuke.”
“Hey now, I didn’t run away. I’ll have you know I put in my two week’s notice,” Isshin jokingly replied, appearing to enjoy the banter.
“You’re a disgrace, you buffoon. How can you act so calmly when you and I both know that?”
“A fool is not a fool if he knows he’s a fool.”
“Still making no sense once so ever, I see. Glad to see some things never change,” sneered Mayuri.
“You know you love it,” teased the shinigami right back.
“Ugh, you always were saying absurd things like that. You and Urahara. I wonder how two completely idiotic people like yourselves could earn the rank of Captain.”
“Years of practice in pretending to be wise,” chirped Isshin in that cheerful voice of his, leaning against his zanpakutou. “Look, I have to get home before my son, so … if you wouldn’t mind speeding things up?”
“… Speeding things up? Are you implying I’m here to fight you?”
“I’m implying you’re here to do something to me. I don’t know what that something is, but I’m interested in knowing what it is.” Isshin had barely finished saying what he had to say before he was pushed up against a wall, a zanpakutou held against his neck. The blade was dragged against his tanned throat, nicking at the skin and drawing a thin trail of blood in its wake. Isshin didn’t so much as wince or look down. “So, you want to kill me, I guess?”
“You guess wrong.”
“Then what?” Isshin asked, exasperated, rolling his eyes.
“I hadn’t counted on it being you. If you’re here, I can very rightly assume Urahara is in the area. Where is he?”
“Ah, so you’re going to let me live if I answer a few questions?”
“I never said that.”
“I never said you did.”
“God, you’re infuriating.”
“Thank you, I’m glad I haven’t lost my appeal.”
Mayuri scowled further, pressing his blade deeper into the neck of shinigami as he roughly pressed his body against the other. “Cooperate, and this might not be so unpleasant for you.”
“It’s going to be unpleasant whether I’m a good little boy or not,” Isshin retorted with a grimace of his own. He didn’t like how close Mayuri had gotten.
“I’ll ask you once more. Where is Urahara?”
“How should I know?”
“Oh, I know you know all too well where he is. You always do, always will.”
“I’m afraid he’s out of town?”
“On a little trip to nowhere, is he?” Mayuri brought up his left hand as his right held the sword steady, trailing a single finger down the man’s jaw line in a progressive pattern, eyes locked with Isshin’s own dark ones. “Come now, cooperate.”
Isshin just kept his face blank. “I told you I don’t know. And even if I did, I wouldn’t tell the likes of you.”
“Ah, that’s right, you pledged your admiration and loyalty to that man when you were his vice. How sweet that you still care for him. Sickeningly sweet,” Mayuri spit out, voice right next to Isshin’s ear, causing the other man to wince at the acidic tone.
“Friends don’t go back on their word,” Isshin said shortly, and then fell silent.
“So, I take it, we’re going to have to do this the hard way?”
“Well, I don’t see the easy way working. You’ll get the same answer each time, Kurotsuchi.”
“I thought so.” He let go of Isshin and stepped back, putting a slight distance between them. The man sank to the ground as the support he had been given disappeared, and Mayuri only smirked. “And that, Isshin, is the power of my lovely sword.”
“Haha, you son of bitch. I never should have let you get so close,” Isshin said around a forced laugh as he turned his head to the side. At least he still had control over his head, if nothing else. And he knew very well the reason for that - it was for Mayuri to see the looks of pain, to hear the screams of his torture, as he inflicted whatever method of punishment he chose upon his victim. “Man, I’ve gotten careless as of late.”
“It would appear so. You’ve lost your old touch, Isshin. Although, it was odd that you didn’t even make a move to unsheathe your own sword when I gave you plenty of time. Perhaps … you want this?” inquired Mayuri indifferently as he inspected the blood dripping from his sword.
“You’re sick. Why would I want to be tortured?” snapped Isshin at once.
“So you merely thought you had control over the situation? How absurd. Now, Isshin, tell me what I want to hear and I’ll fix you up as good as new.”
“Bastard.”
“Ouch. Cruel, aren’t you?” Mayuri took a step forward, a smug smirk etched on his mask-like face. “Now that I have you just where I want you, where should we begin? And remember, at any time you can stop this by just telling me what I want to know.”
“…” Isshin kept his silence and closed his eyes.
The Captain kneeled before his prey, tutting as he saw all too well Isshin had closed his eyes. He trailed a finger under the shinigami’s right eye and then forcibly pried it up, leaning forward so his breath could ghost against the other’s ear. “Either keep them open yourself, or I’ll promise you I’ll find a way to keep them open. I don’t think you’ll like my way.”
“It’s not like you to offer an alternative to your way,” Isshin grumbled, opening his eyes lest some permanent damage be done to his eyesight. How would he explain that to his kids?
“Good,” purred Mayuri.
He then swiftly plunged his sword straight into Isshin’s stomach, pinning the man to the wall behind him. Although he had a good two hours before the nerve disabling poison wore off, he wanted to make sure he had left a deep enough wound for the poison to take proper effect. Before he had left the lab for this world, he had made sure to properly lace his unreleased sword with the poison used in his initial release - just in case. It was good to think ahead.
“Now we can play,” Mayuri stated a bit too sadistically - at least Isshin thought so as he tried not to look directly at the monster before him. “Look at me.”
It was an order. Isshin gulped and looked up. No further words passed from his lips, though. He refused to take an active role in this whole ordeal.
“That’s funny. You suddenly lost your bite, Isshin. What? Don’t feel like being the rebel any more?” Mayuri was goading the man now, that was all there was to it. It was no fun if the person didn’t play along, after all.
Isshin didn’t say anything, just narrowed his eyes slightly. He’d be damned if he was tortured and let something vital slip.
“Fine. Have it your way.” Mayuri sighed and settled himself over Isshin, knees on either side of the other shinigami as he brought himself face to face with smoldering dark eyes that were wishing for his utter demise at this very moment. Oh, he could tell that was what Isshin was thinking without any doubt. Isshin was a rather predictable being. Hands were placed on either side of Isshin’s head as he brought his face closer to Isshin, his little crazed smile inching closer.
“W - what the hell are you doing?” Isshin balked at once, forgetting his momentary vow of silence.
This time, it was Mayuri who refused to reply. He crushed his cold, hard lips against Isshin’s warm and supple ones, licking at them.
All too quickly, Isshin jerked his head back and away from Mayuri, cracking it against the wall and grimacing as he felt blood snaking down to the back of his neck and further.
Mayuri only laughed at what his foolish captive had tried to accomplish and lowered a hand from its position on the wall to Isshin’s neck, fingering the blood before pulling his hand back admiring the darkness of the substance. Just like everything about Isshin, it was dark. A dark red, but still dark, nonetheless. He caressed Isshin’s chin with his blood-stained fingers, coloring his face that same dark red - a sick, vindictive pleasure coming from the fact that there was blood splattered on that noble face. With his other hand, he threaded his fingers through the man’s blood matted hair, careful to keep his middle finger pointed upwards lest he accidentally hurt the poor guy. Oh no, he preferred that everything be intentional.
“I hate you.”
“Yes, yes, we’ve established that in the past, Isshin. I’m afraid we’re in the future now. And let’s see. Who has control of this situation yet again?”
It was too surreal, Isshin thought as he let his aching head rest against the wall behind him, never mind that Mayuri roughly made him look at his captor again, fingers still threaded through his hair.
“I asked you a question, you imbecile.”
“And I simply refused to answer, asshole,” replied Isshin as sarcastically as he could manage.
Mayuri sighed and let go of Isshin’s hair, letting the man’s head hit the wall sharply for a second time. “Whoops. Seems my hand slipped.”
A small whimper escaped the dark haired shinigami as more blood flowed from the wound that had only just stopped bleeding. Suddenly, hands were working their way at his shihakushyou, and Isshin realized with no little horror what was going on here.
Mayuri was going to defile his body.
And of all the sick and twisted ideas he could have come up with … why that? The knot of his sash had been finished with all due haste, and the top half of his uniform done away with as Mayuri worked his arms out of the material, peeling off the layers one by one. His chest was left bare to the night air, and he shivered, feeling too exposed for his own good. Not to mention, it had hurt like nothing else when Mayuri had tugged the clothing so brutally away from the embedded zanpakutou in his abdomen, throwing Isshin’s own sword onto the gathering pile of pitiful garments that had been ripped in more than a few places.
Mayuri, for one, was only in this for the amusement quality it was bound to provide. Plus, he had always wondered how a test subject such as a shinigami would respond to this kind of treatment. This was a great way to interrogate someone and break them. Mayuri wanted to do both.
He tugged at the waistband of the hakama with one finger, which was the only thing left. And soon, those were gone, too, thrown to the side in a careless gesture of disregard. For a moment, he enjoyed the view. It was similar to a painting, he supposed. There was Isshin, divested and shivering, all bronzed skinned and seemingly tainted with dark red blood under the soft light of the moon.
There wasn’t a thing Mayuri wouldn’t give to have Urahara here at this very moment to watch his best friend’s humiliation.
Author Notes: I do realize this doesn't quite meet the requirement of "cracky" XD But I still hope you like it, Sharon. This is the only thing I could come up with, but I was in the mood to write Mayuri/Isshin interaction and this is what you get - a perfectly spur of the moment type deal! >.>; Hope it's not too bad. I wasn't sure if I should continue or not, but I hope the last line works for everyone. ^^; Enjoy!