TZC: Shuuhei and Kazeshini: Reap
Sooooo...this is okane's fault. :P She made this comment on my first Shuuhei/Kazeshini story, and then liralen made another comment, but by that time the muses were all over this shit.
...
*laughs* No, really. I wanted to write more with these two characters, I just didn't know how. The aforementioned repeat fic-enablers just happened to do their thing at just the right time. Having said that, this isn't the fic they inspired. This is the one that comes first and makes all the rest of it work.
Title: Reap
Word Count: 720
Rating: PG-13
Obligatory Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill--I do not own Bleach.
Summary: Shuuhei didn't just decide that he didn't like to bring death right out of the blue.
Warning: I have a fair amount of blood in my Bleach fics. This time it's not extremely graphic, but not pretty.
Notes: This is the prequel to Killers and Dreamers. I argued with myself for a long time as to whether or not I had Shuuhei out of character here, and what I came up with was this: he's human. There's only so much he can take without reacting. Also, this is set very early in his shinigami career, so he doesn't have all his mental and emotional armor built up yet. I'm not saying anything else lest I scare everyone off from reading it. Please god don't let me have messed this up as much as I think I have.
Shuuhei caught one half of his still all-too-new shikai by the handle as it sailed back towards him. His hands shook, but he held his zanpakutou in a white-knuckled grip.
Shuuhei.
The chain lay in a pool of blood spreading from the half-dismembered body on his left, or perhaps the headless corpse on his right. There was just so much blood.
Shuuhei!
He twitched and reflexively tightened his grip. Kazeshini swore viciously and Shuuhei relaxed just a fraction. There hadn’t been any swearing while-
Pay attention, dammit!
Kazeshini. What’s wrong with me? I feel…
Right, like I’m a healer. Shock, probably. Listen, seal me.
What?
Seal. My. Blade. Form. Way you’re shaking, you’re just gonna drop me.
Shuuhei tried to process the request, but he just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. Everything seemed half-faded and distant, and it was just too much trouble to force it to make sense.
Shock, hmm? Is what it feels like, then?
Oh, for-fine. Whatever. I can work with detachment. I just need you to do exactly as I say.
Yes.
Good. Now-seal my blade form. We don’t need shikai anymore.
Shuuhei obediently pulled the power of his shikai back into himself, leaving a simple-and bizarrely clean-katana in his hand. He stared at the blade, mesmerized by this one unspoiled spot in the midst of the battlefield. He felt a sharp increase in his partner’s tension and wondered, briefly, what there was to be afraid of anymore. Hadn’t they killed everyone who fell within their range?
Yeah. We did. Glad you noticed.
Kazeshini’s tone was short and clipped, practically vibrating with…tension. There was that word again. Why?
Because. You’ll understand when…sheath your sword, Shuuhei.
My sword. You’re my sword.
Yeah, and I’m done fighting. It’s time to get you taken care of, now.
I’m not injured. Not badly, at any rate.
Kazeshini sighed heavily, sounding a bit like he was bleeding, himself.
Doesn’t mean you’re not hurt, kid. I already called the Fourth. Sheath your sword, it’s time to go home.
Home?
Back the way we came’ll do us for now.
Shuuhei nodded and complied, transfixed by the way the incongruously shining blade disappeared into the sheath. He turned and started back towards the rest of the division, but he tripped over a stray body part before he’d even taken a single step. He threw his hands out to catch himself. Blood splattered up into his face when his hands hit the saturated ground.
The feel of the still-lukewarm blood on his face cracked the wall of detachment separating him from the horror of what he’d done. Nausea roiled in his stomach. He jerked back, overbalanced and had to throw his left hand behind him to keep from ending up flat on his back in-in-
Something squished under his hand.
Just as Shuuhei was about to well and truly lose it, Kazeshini yanked from within him, and he suddenly found himself in his inner world staring at his zanpakutou’s weathered face.
Now’s not the time for that. You get sick here, you’ll never stop, and we’re still vulnerable.
Vulnerable? To what?
Hysteria started to creep up on him in earnest, but it all went away when Kazeshini placed one hand flat against the center of Shuuhei’s chest. Just like that, the detachment was back. Kazeshini had a strange look on his face, though, and his voice sounded like he was bleeding again.
Close your eyes. I’ll keep your feet headed in the right direction. You just talk to me so I know you’re still-awake.
Shuuhei closed his eyes and nodded to show his acceptance of the assignment.. He felt Kazeshini’s hand leave his chest and abruptly realized he really had nothing to say.
What should I talk about?
Kazeshini sounded as distant as Shuuhei felt, but he hadn’t left, so Shuuhei tried not to panic.
Anything. Talk about that captain.
“That captain.” One day, Shuuhei told himself, he needed to find out just why his zanpakutou disliked Captain Tousen so much.
Shuuhei. Talk.
So he did. He told Kazeshini about justice and duty and the preservation of life and how all those connected-how all those had to connect. By the time he stopped speaking and opened his eyes, they’d left the killing fields far behind.
...
*laughs* No, really. I wanted to write more with these two characters, I just didn't know how. The aforementioned repeat fic-enablers just happened to do their thing at just the right time. Having said that, this isn't the fic they inspired. This is the one that comes first and makes all the rest of it work.
Title: Reap
Word Count: 720
Rating: PG-13
Obligatory Disclaimer: Y'all know the drill--I do not own Bleach.
Summary: Shuuhei didn't just decide that he didn't like to bring death right out of the blue.
Warning: I have a fair amount of blood in my Bleach fics. This time it's not extremely graphic, but not pretty.
Notes: This is the prequel to Killers and Dreamers. I argued with myself for a long time as to whether or not I had Shuuhei out of character here, and what I came up with was this: he's human. There's only so much he can take without reacting. Also, this is set very early in his shinigami career, so he doesn't have all his mental and emotional armor built up yet. I'm not saying anything else lest I scare everyone off from reading it. Please god don't let me have messed this up as much as I think I have.
Shuuhei caught one half of his still all-too-new shikai by the handle as it sailed back towards him. His hands shook, but he held his zanpakutou in a white-knuckled grip.
Shuuhei.
The chain lay in a pool of blood spreading from the half-dismembered body on his left, or perhaps the headless corpse on his right. There was just so much blood.
Shuuhei!
He twitched and reflexively tightened his grip. Kazeshini swore viciously and Shuuhei relaxed just a fraction. There hadn’t been any swearing while-
Pay attention, dammit!
Kazeshini. What’s wrong with me? I feel…
Right, like I’m a healer. Shock, probably. Listen, seal me.
What?
Seal. My. Blade. Form. Way you’re shaking, you’re just gonna drop me.
Shuuhei tried to process the request, but he just couldn’t seem to wrap his head around it. Everything seemed half-faded and distant, and it was just too much trouble to force it to make sense.
Shock, hmm? Is what it feels like, then?
Oh, for-fine. Whatever. I can work with detachment. I just need you to do exactly as I say.
Yes.
Good. Now-seal my blade form. We don’t need shikai anymore.
Shuuhei obediently pulled the power of his shikai back into himself, leaving a simple-and bizarrely clean-katana in his hand. He stared at the blade, mesmerized by this one unspoiled spot in the midst of the battlefield. He felt a sharp increase in his partner’s tension and wondered, briefly, what there was to be afraid of anymore. Hadn’t they killed everyone who fell within their range?
Yeah. We did. Glad you noticed.
Kazeshini’s tone was short and clipped, practically vibrating with…tension. There was that word again. Why?
Because. You’ll understand when…sheath your sword, Shuuhei.
My sword. You’re my sword.
Yeah, and I’m done fighting. It’s time to get you taken care of, now.
I’m not injured. Not badly, at any rate.
Kazeshini sighed heavily, sounding a bit like he was bleeding, himself.
Doesn’t mean you’re not hurt, kid. I already called the Fourth. Sheath your sword, it’s time to go home.
Home?
Back the way we came’ll do us for now.
Shuuhei nodded and complied, transfixed by the way the incongruously shining blade disappeared into the sheath. He turned and started back towards the rest of the division, but he tripped over a stray body part before he’d even taken a single step. He threw his hands out to catch himself. Blood splattered up into his face when his hands hit the saturated ground.
The feel of the still-lukewarm blood on his face cracked the wall of detachment separating him from the horror of what he’d done. Nausea roiled in his stomach. He jerked back, overbalanced and had to throw his left hand behind him to keep from ending up flat on his back in-in-
Something squished under his hand.
Just as Shuuhei was about to well and truly lose it, Kazeshini yanked from within him, and he suddenly found himself in his inner world staring at his zanpakutou’s weathered face.
Now’s not the time for that. You get sick here, you’ll never stop, and we’re still vulnerable.
Vulnerable? To what?
Hysteria started to creep up on him in earnest, but it all went away when Kazeshini placed one hand flat against the center of Shuuhei’s chest. Just like that, the detachment was back. Kazeshini had a strange look on his face, though, and his voice sounded like he was bleeding again.
Close your eyes. I’ll keep your feet headed in the right direction. You just talk to me so I know you’re still-awake.
Shuuhei closed his eyes and nodded to show his acceptance of the assignment.. He felt Kazeshini’s hand leave his chest and abruptly realized he really had nothing to say.
What should I talk about?
Kazeshini sounded as distant as Shuuhei felt, but he hadn’t left, so Shuuhei tried not to panic.
Anything. Talk about that captain.
“That captain.” One day, Shuuhei told himself, he needed to find out just why his zanpakutou disliked Captain Tousen so much.
Shuuhei. Talk.
So he did. He told Kazeshini about justice and duty and the preservation of life and how all those connected-how all those had to connect. By the time he stopped speaking and opened his eyes, they’d left the killing fields far behind.