New Fic: Blood/Water (prologue, chapters 1&2)
Finally...! After more than two months of slaving over this multi-chaptered story, I'm almost 90% satisfied with it. This is the belated debut of my first multi-chaptered, plot-driven fanfic entitled "Blood/Water." It's the result of the AU Deathmatch between myself and adam_epp, who's been posting chapters for his story "Dreams and Fears" earlier than me.
The original objective of the challenge was to write a story that kept everyone in character. I don't know if I succeeded with that -- only the following weeks, and your reader's reaction -- will tell me. As usual, because I'm a stubborn, foolish woman, this was all done without a beta, so if you find any grammatical errors or typos just comment and I will send you many hugs and hearts. ♥
I plan to upload at least 3 chapters every week. The whole story (roughly fifteen chapters) is in fact finished, but really it's a lot to read in one sitting. Besides, I'm not quite happy with the ending yet. There are also some loose ends and scenes that are not necessary for the plot, and are best written as short, separate vignettes. It's only slightly IchiRuki, with a couple of other canon pairings tossed into the mix.
I have lots of notes regarding this story (including a map, I'm such a dork) but I'll save it for another post next time. It's funny, Adam said something like "you don't have to construct a whole world like Tolkien, you know" and guess what -- I did exactly that. Heheh. I was inspired by the idea of Tolkien's obsessive-compulsiveness! I did research on poisons, serial killers, geography, and history for this story. All this stuff, alas, will be seen in the future chapters as not to overwhelm you.
title: Blood/Water (prologue, 1&2/15)
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 3700+ (this installment)
summary: In the Commonwealth of Karakura, an innocent young woman is on trial for the murder of her sister. Ichigo Kurosaki, rookie inspector for the Metropolitan Police, feels duty-bound to investigate the case. What he doesn't know yet is that he's about to come face-to-face with the sordid, unscrupulous side of his beloved archipelago.
disclaimer: All Bleach names are the creation of Kubo Tite.
Blood/Water
by Laurie Bunter
Prologue: 200 Cherry Blossom Lane, Seireitei
The light in the sick room shifted as the moonlight filtered in through the window. The air stirred. A shadow seemed to move across the highly polished parquet floorboards.
Byakuya Kuchiki considered the tableau.
The room was in its usual condition of disarray: his eyes absentmindedly swept over the glass medicine cabinet left ajar, the overflowing trash bin at the foot of the bed, even the discarded acupuncture needles on its metal tray and the half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol beside it.
He did not expect to come home to this. His wife, dead, covered beneath a white cotton sheet; his wife, alive… her deep violet eyes haunted, almost guilty.
Byakuya Kuchiki blinked. His Hisana was dead. The woman clutching her hand, refusing to move away from her body, was only her carbon copy. It was her younger sister, Rukia.
The man had many cares on his mind: the real estate deal that fell through today, for instance. There was that urgent call from a source that asked him to investigate one of his business partners; he brushed it off as corporate paranoia. There were dozens of angry leaseholders demanding to speak to him personally. These things hassled him as the fading condition of his wife lurked in the back of his head. Byakuya almost forgot that he now had a sister-in-law, someone who had just exchanged her assumed last name to take his own. It was Hisana’s wish, and he always honored Hisana’s wishes.
Now, however, their only common link was gone. He could no longer do exactly what Hisana asked of him.
“I’m so very sorry, Nii-sama.”
Strange how her voice choked, Byakuya thought listlessly. He resisted the urge to comfort his sister-in-law. He felt awkward showing Rukia any tenderness. Instead, he waved her away to station himself by his wife’s bed. “You’ve done enough,” he said. “Please go.”
Reluctantly, Rukia let go of Hisana’s hand. She got up from the floor and turned to the door.
“The police will be here soon,” he added. “Better know what to tell them when they make the initial report.”
“The police?” Rukia echoed, dumbstruck.
Byakuya turned away, and lifted the sheet covering his wife’s face. “Yes, the police. I called them as soon as I found out. You will be taken into custody soon.”
His back was turned towards her, but Rukia could see that he was about to kiss her sister’s pale lips.
Rukia’s face slowly drained of color.
She ran down the hallway, just in time to see the housemaid let in two uniformed inspectors into the house. One of them looked vaguely familiar.
A shadow fell across her path. It was Byakuya’s grandfather, Ginrei, who leaned heavily on his cane. “My dear child,” he said, his head bowed in apology. “This was not my idea at all.”
The blood flooding in Rukia’s heart turned to snow.
Chapter 1: At the Courthouse, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
The air in the courthouse smelled of a hundred bodies growing stale in the summer weather.
It was another one of those sultry days in the Commonwealth of Karakura and no one was going to escape the heat. Not Judge Yamamoto who was sweating beneath his long white hair and beard. Not the unruffled prosecution panel or the indifferent team for the defense -- they were all collectively sweltering beneath their black robes despite the air conditioning.
Definitely not Ichigo Kurosaki, who sat scowling in the back of the crowded room. He was dressed in mufti, and watched the proceedings with a slight expression of distaste and scorn. Droplets of perspiration beaded his forehead.
Something about this case irked him. From the hour the case was handed to the Metropolitan Police of Karakura until the warrant of arrest was issued, Ichigo had a bad feeling about it. Yet it was not his case, and it was not his job to tell the defense that the King’s Counsel had railroaded them into a speedy trial. He was, after all, just another inspector in this tiny archipelago. This crime didn’t even happen on his turf, what right did he have to comment on it?
The heat was definitely getting to his head. There was no logical reason for Ichigo Kurosaki to be so irritable.
The only one the summer heat didn’t seem to affect was the accused, already dressed in the standard white robes of those condemned to death: Rukia Kuchiki.
“Why did they even bother to tag her?” Ichigo Kurosaki growled to himself. The red leather detector on her pale neck was the ultimate humiliation. Only notorious smugglers and repeat offenders were issued those devices that monitor the wearer’s location and made escape nearly impossible. “She even looks more young and fragile with that stupid thing on,” he muttered to himself. “It totally gives her the sympathy vote of the jury.”
Ichigo did not want to admit it, but it certainly won his sympathy. Not that she needed to win it prior to donning the red collar in public. He felt bad for her the moment he saw her.
There was something about that girl. Her eyes were always so cool and warm at the same time ⎯ like dry ice. Ichigo knew that if he had met this woman under different circumstances, she would blow both hot and cold and burn him alive.
Right now, however, were the worst circumstances possible.
Rukia Kuchiki’s head was bowed but she was not crying. There was no fear in her face: only resignation.
If there was one thing that Ichigo Kurosaki couldn’t accept, it was resignation to one’s fate. He didn’t believe in fate. He believed in shaping his own. If he believed in fate - hell, he wouldn’t be an inspector. He would let the guilty be found out by their crimes.
But things didn’t work out that way in real life: the guilty needed to be actively ferreted out. They needed to be pursued and exposed for what they really are. It wasn’t that he believed in human justice - the court system was flawed and Ichigo was highly suspicious of it - but he personally liked to know he could sleep with his conscience at night.
“The jury is taking too long.”
Ichigo was almost startled by the statement whispered in his ear. He turned around to see a stranger cooling himself with a paper fan. The man’s face was in shadows, partly obscured by a large striped hat.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yes I am,” the stranger replied. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been attending the trial since the start.”
“Who are you?” Ichigo blurted out.
“Kisuke Urahara,” the man smiled toothily. “No, I’m not a ghoul for the courts,” he added. “I’m here because the accused is one of my best customers.”
Great, Ichigo wanted to roll his eyes. He’s just another busybody, an amateur detective with a crack theory.
“Would you be interested to know,” Urahara leaned over confidentially, “that she didn’t do it?”
“Go tell the press,” Ichigo said, bored. “I’m not here for the neighborhood gossip.”
“But I’m not a small-time gossip, Ichigo Kurosaki.” The eyes were twinkling behind the paper fan.
Ichigo sputtered. “How do you know my name?”
“Your hair makes you a distinctive character, inspector,” Urahara said. “Orange hair and a snarl - you should try smiling. You’d stand out less that way.”
The inspector decided this man was not worth his time. He was about to stand up, anyway. If he grabbed a snack quickly, he’d be back before the jury made its call.
“Wait!” Urahara said, clutching at Ichigo’s arm. “I know why she’s innocent. The case against Rukia Kuchiki isn’t waterproof. Ask any of their tenants, they will tell you ⎯ ”
But before the man in the striped green hat could say more, the lights went out and a collective groan echoed throughout the hall plunged into darkness.
There was a scuffle and before he knew it, the hand holding his arm had involuntarily let go.
Temporarily blinded, Ichigo only heard the twitch of a butterfly knife.
He jumped out of his seat. “Hat man!” he hollered. Without thinking of the repercussions, he raised his voice even louder. “No one move! Someone’s been hurt. We need a light here!”
The buzz of sound became insurmountable. Ichigo could hear the disturbance by the exit. There were yells and curses in the air.
Ichigo caught Urahara as he was about to crumble to the floor.
“Tell me what you know,” he demanded of the man.
“The Kuchiki may be known for the wealth,” Urahara mumbled, “but some envy their beautiful skin and glossy hair.” Then he passed out.
The lights were suddenly restored and Ichigo Kurosaki found himself holding a stabbed man. Blood covered his hands.
Ichigo couldn’t hear his thoughts over the screaming.
Chapter 2: At the Courthouse, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
Judge Yamamoto was still at the helm. A day had passed.
After the excitement in court, everyone was eager to go back to waiting for the fateful result of the murder case of the year. The man stabbed in the courthouse, Kisuke Urahara, turned out to be an eccentric middle-aged gentleman who owned a candy shop. He had never been to the courthouse before, and so it was sheer dumb luck for him to be targeted by the anti-Kuchiki rabble.
The attempted killer was apprehended: Kaname Tousen, former petty criminal, now a self-styled religious fanatic. He was talking to himself about the righteousness of murder when he was taken into custody. When questioned about his motives, Tousen grew eloquent with his silence. A psychiatrist was asked to check out his mental state.
The newspapers screamed Random Stabbing at Kuchiki Poison Trial: A Conspiracy? and Courthouse Chaos: Diversionary Tactic a Failure, Kuchiki Escape Plan Foiled! Ichigo glanced at the headlines that morning and snorted. He didn’t believe in shelling out cash for such trash.
Ichigo was just relieved that the stabbed man was saved ⎯ rushed to the hospital, only round-the-clock surgeries dealt with the multiple stab wounds that punctured his internal organs. He’s still unconscious, Ichigo thought ruefully. I wonder what he was trying to tell me.
The young inspector shook his head. Perhaps this case was making people hysterical and paranoid.
“Ichigo.” A meaty hand clapped down on his shoulder.
The inspector almost jumped out of his skin. “Damn it, don’t do that,” he hissed.
The man sitting behind him grinned. This time it was his best friend, Yasutora “Chad” Sado. The mestizo had been there for an hour and Ichigo hadn’t realized it.
“The jury is taking too long.”
“Oh yeah? I heard that same line yesterday,” Ichigo replied. “The last guy who said to me that got stabbed. I should make him pay for my jacket.”
“It’s no joke,” Chad said.
“No one’s laughing,” Ichigo said grimly. “Least of all the Kuchiki. They are one of the most powerful clans in the country, and this whole trial makes the family look bad. Man, they employ a hundred people in their posh Seireitei resort! Do you realize how hard it was to find a jury? I heard the courts had to ferry in some people from the far-flung districts of Rukongai.”
“Yeah,” Chad was quiet. After several moments, he said: “She didn’t do it, Ichigo.”
“Are you saying that they arrested the wrong person?”
“Maybe,” Chad shrugged.
Ichigo frowned, knowing exactly what was on Chad’s mind because it was on his own. Chad noticed that his buddy’s knuckles were clenched so hard they were turning white.
“Why are you so worked up?” Chad asked. “I don’t even know why you’re here. Isn’t it your day off?”
Ichigo’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Yes, it was his day off, but he felt compelled to come anyway. He had a strange premonition about the whole situation, and he was waiting to see if he was right. Perhaps the odd feeling he got, the first time he saw Rukia Kuchiki, would then go away.
Put on the spot, he got defensive. “Oh yeah? Then why are you here?”
“A friend’s on the jury,” Chad said. “And I was in the area. Pet license.”
“Oh.”
Why did Ichigo often make the effort to slip away from work, just to catch a glimpse of this girl? The courthouse was just across a few blocks away from the office. Was that it? Maybe it was professional interest. Ichigo was surprised that not thirty days had passed since the initial arrest to the trial. This sort of speed was unprecedented in the history of the Commonwealth but no one had lodged a formal complaint. The uproar over the murder of Hisana Kuchiki, the angel of Karakura’s children’s hospitals and orphanages, of course explained everything. It was her bleeding heart that opened up the purses of the Kuchiki clan and poured funds into charitable works. It was a good thing she had limited her largesse to the Karakura mainland, and not to the other islands - if she had, then the hysteria surrounding the case would have easily doubled.
Yesterday’s ruckus in court was only the tip of the iceberg. Ichigo was vexed. Cases like this attracted all the crazies… made them come out of the woodwork. Hell, if it made him interested… surely it riveted everyone else.
Hisana Kuchiki. The wife of the famous Byakuya Kuchiki, dead in her bedroom after a quiet evening spent in the ancestral Kuchiki mansion in Seireitei. Ichigo remembered the initial news report the day after he saw Rukia Kuchiki brought in for temporary custody. This move irritated the small Seireitei outpost but it was something that the Superintendent himself had ordered.
Today's news was no different: strong on speculation, short on facts.
Last March, 28-year old Hisana Kuchiki succumbed to arsenic poisoning after eating a home-cooked dinner especially made by Rukia Kuchiki, 21, the victim’s sister. The siblings were celebrating the first year anniversary of their reunion.
During this week’s trial, the King’s Counsel called on Momo Hinamori, a member of the Kuchiki household staff, to testify against the accused. Only upon threat of contempt of court and indefinite gaol time did Hinamori admit she saw white powder on victim’s plate after she had cleared the table. The reluctance of the witness to testify is attributed to her fear of her employer, Byakuya Kuchiki, CEO of the Kuchiki Group.
According to Hinamori’s testimony, the victim was violently ill before expiring. She was not brought to the hospital for the medical emergency. Doctors later certified that Kuchiki’s symptoms were consistent with cases of arsenic poisoning. Furthermore, tests run on the deceased were positive for traces of the poison.
The Karakura Daily News has learned from insider sources that the accused was recently named as the sole benefactor of the victim’s estate, estimated at 1 billion Karakura pounds. Sources close to the family, speaking on conditions of anonymity, mentions that the victim’s husband, Byakuya Kuchiki, settled the estate upon her soon after their marriage five years ago.
The accused has yet to give any public statement aside from her plea of innocence.
The Kuchiki sisters were already newsworthy before the victim’s tragic death. It had been revealed that the Commission on Social Services mistakenly parted the orphaned siblings twenty years ago, allowing the elder Kuchiki to be adopted. This became a landmark story that sparked official inquiries into the internal affairs of the CSS. The Kuchiki family repeatedly asked for the press to respect their privacy regarding the situation.
Before her untimely death, Hisana Kuchiki - well known in high society for her charitable causes - vowed to help other orphans find their missing siblings.
Almost everyone believed Rukia did the deed. It was done out of spite, said some; Hisana was adopted by a good family soon after they were orphaned. Rukia, however, grew up at one of the orphanages in the slums of Rukongai. No one knows what sort of life Rukia Kuchiki had led before she was found, or even what name she was given at the orphanage.
These facts - and the 1 billion Karakura pounds - were the only motives supplied for the crime. The inspector was suspicious. While most heinous crimes didn’t require a motive for conviction, Ichigo Kurosaki himself was uncomfortable with the lack of one. “Hell,” Ichigo said under his breath. “Who still uses arsenic, anyway?”
After several hours, the sound of feet shuffling filled the room. The jury was finally back. Many of them were fanning themselves vigorously, as if dissatisfied with their conclave. Some of them had huge frowns of frustration on their faces. These jurors averted their eyes from the accused.
Across the room, Rukia’s eyes encountered those of the inspector. I am innocent of this crime, those eyes said. I did not kill my sister.
Her gaze was defiant and yet oddly trusting.
It was as if she knew who he was, and why he kept showing up, even if Ichigo himself had not yet found the reason.
Ichigo’s hands balled into tight fists. He wanted to believe this stranger. Yet this was not his case. She could be sentenced as guilty in the next moment. How could he help her now?
Somewhere along the trail of evidence, someone in the ranks must have made a dreadful mistake. If he had more time, he could do a little investigation of his own.
The inspector blinked. When he looked up again, her gaze upon him was gone.
“She’s innocent,” Chad repeated.
Ichigo wasn’t sure where his friend’s belief came from, but he had learned to trust Chad’s instincts. They were as finely honed as his own.
The young inspector could only hope for more time.
“What says the jury?” Judge Yamamoto said. His indifferent tone spoke highly of his expected outcome. It was an open-and-shut case, for all he cared. He had no idea why the jury took two days in deliberating the outcome.
The forewoman stood up, a petite and slim woman who wore a pale yellow sash at her waist. “Your honor, it is my misfortune to inform you that this jury is at a stalemate. We cannot come to a consensus regarding the guilt of the accused.”
“What?” the judge almost hollered. One eye cocked open and glared at the group that suddenly cowered in the jury box. Among the twelve, only three people looked openly defiant of his authority: a one-armed woman equipped with a cocky grin, a thin man wearing glasses and a natty tie covered with crosses, and a buxom young woman with spectacular auburn hair. The younger woman’s eyes almost quivered upon contact with the judge, but she rallied and held his gaze.
“Yes, your honor,” the forewoman repeated. “We understand that. Yet we have found it impossible to reach a consensus, as some members refuse to be convinced and have already stated that it is impossible for them to believe otherwise.”
“I am alarmed by the behavior of this jury,” Judge Yamamoto bellowed. “A miscarriage of justice would be a grave offense if anyone here is found to have been influenced by outside forces or monetarily benefiting from the outcome of this case.”
The crowd’s eye swept up and focused on the husband of the deceased. Byakuya Kuchiki was in the room. His face was impassive. If he was bothered by the hardly veiled reference to him, not a single facial muscle acknowledged this fact.
“Let it be known that I will not let the integrity of this court be mocked by either the powerful or the moneyed! It will not be cowed by underhanded attempts to undermine its authority as an institution dedicated to justice!”
Yesterday’s little stabbing was forgotten in the wake of this revelation. The news hounds in the room jumped at the judge’s statements, some of them mumbling observations into handheld tape recorders. A quick sketch artist was on the scene, detailing the judge’s flailing nostrils with surprising accuracy. One man with conspicuous tattoos on his face was scribbling away notes into his Blackberry like mad.
Judge Yamamoto took no notice of this flurry of activity. He was still hammering away at the jury. “Perhaps you just need more time. The court is willing to recess until you have come to a suitable verdict of Guilty or Not Guilty.”
The crowd waiting for the outcome of the case was uneasy. Several pitched voices were raised in an outbreak of voluble comments.
“This is stupid, of course she’s innocent.”
“Why don’t they just convict her? There are no other suspects.”
“This is a clear example of rich people getting away with murder.”
“Silence!” he barked.
“Your honor,” the forewoman had just a hint of injury in her voice, as if she was taking her court-assigned duty more seriously than the judge took his. “It is impossible to reach a consensus with this set of jurors.”
Judge Yamamoto opened both eyes, and surveyed the jury, the crowd, and then the barristers. His piercing gaze studied the accused before he spoke. “Very well. The case of the Commonwealth against Rukia Kuchiki is suspended, as a fresh trial will be ordered within a month’s time. The accused shall remain detained at the Penitence Gaol and cannot post bail. This is still a charge for murder. This jury is dismissed.” Upon that curt announcement, the judge swept out, highly displeased.
The crowd whooped and booed. The King’s Counsel looked fit to kill the jury. The defense team tried to look smug, as if they had prayed for this outcome.
The media ⎯ led by the man with tattoos ⎯ doggedly pursued Byakuya Kuchiki as he crossed the corridor with a light, fast step. The reporter was uncommonly persistent even as a bald bodyguard pushed him back and snarled. A row between the two seemed inevitable, but ended as soon as Byakuya sidestepped into the safety of his waiting limousine.
And the accused ⎯ such a petite, delicate figure ⎯ disappeared from sight almost instantly, whisked away by the bailiffs before she could be verbally attacked with catcalls and boos.
Ichigo Kurosaki stood up. He knew what he had to do.
Continue Reading here: Blood/Water Chapters 3-5
The original objective of the challenge was to write a story that kept everyone in character. I don't know if I succeeded with that -- only the following weeks, and your reader's reaction -- will tell me. As usual, because I'm a stubborn, foolish woman, this was all done without a beta, so if you find any grammatical errors or typos just comment and I will send you many hugs and hearts. ♥
I plan to upload at least 3 chapters every week. The whole story (roughly fifteen chapters) is in fact finished, but really it's a lot to read in one sitting. Besides, I'm not quite happy with the ending yet. There are also some loose ends and scenes that are not necessary for the plot, and are best written as short, separate vignettes. It's only slightly IchiRuki, with a couple of other canon pairings tossed into the mix.
I have lots of notes regarding this story (including a map, I'm such a dork) but I'll save it for another post next time. It's funny, Adam said something like "you don't have to construct a whole world like Tolkien, you know" and guess what -- I did exactly that. Heheh. I was inspired by the idea of Tolkien's obsessive-compulsiveness! I did research on poisons, serial killers, geography, and history for this story. All this stuff, alas, will be seen in the future chapters as not to overwhelm you.
title: Blood/Water (prologue, 1&2/15)
genre: mystery, suspense, alternate universe
rating: T
word count: 3700+ (this installment)
summary: In the Commonwealth of Karakura, an innocent young woman is on trial for the murder of her sister. Ichigo Kurosaki, rookie inspector for the Metropolitan Police, feels duty-bound to investigate the case. What he doesn't know yet is that he's about to come face-to-face with the sordid, unscrupulous side of his beloved archipelago.
disclaimer: All Bleach names are the creation of Kubo Tite.
Blood/Water
by Laurie Bunter
Prologue: 200 Cherry Blossom Lane, Seireitei
The light in the sick room shifted as the moonlight filtered in through the window. The air stirred. A shadow seemed to move across the highly polished parquet floorboards.
Byakuya Kuchiki considered the tableau.
The room was in its usual condition of disarray: his eyes absentmindedly swept over the glass medicine cabinet left ajar, the overflowing trash bin at the foot of the bed, even the discarded acupuncture needles on its metal tray and the half-empty bottle of rubbing alcohol beside it.
He did not expect to come home to this. His wife, dead, covered beneath a white cotton sheet; his wife, alive… her deep violet eyes haunted, almost guilty.
Byakuya Kuchiki blinked. His Hisana was dead. The woman clutching her hand, refusing to move away from her body, was only her carbon copy. It was her younger sister, Rukia.
The man had many cares on his mind: the real estate deal that fell through today, for instance. There was that urgent call from a source that asked him to investigate one of his business partners; he brushed it off as corporate paranoia. There were dozens of angry leaseholders demanding to speak to him personally. These things hassled him as the fading condition of his wife lurked in the back of his head. Byakuya almost forgot that he now had a sister-in-law, someone who had just exchanged her assumed last name to take his own. It was Hisana’s wish, and he always honored Hisana’s wishes.
Now, however, their only common link was gone. He could no longer do exactly what Hisana asked of him.
“I’m so very sorry, Nii-sama.”
Strange how her voice choked, Byakuya thought listlessly. He resisted the urge to comfort his sister-in-law. He felt awkward showing Rukia any tenderness. Instead, he waved her away to station himself by his wife’s bed. “You’ve done enough,” he said. “Please go.”
Reluctantly, Rukia let go of Hisana’s hand. She got up from the floor and turned to the door.
“The police will be here soon,” he added. “Better know what to tell them when they make the initial report.”
“The police?” Rukia echoed, dumbstruck.
Byakuya turned away, and lifted the sheet covering his wife’s face. “Yes, the police. I called them as soon as I found out. You will be taken into custody soon.”
His back was turned towards her, but Rukia could see that he was about to kiss her sister’s pale lips.
Rukia’s face slowly drained of color.
She ran down the hallway, just in time to see the housemaid let in two uniformed inspectors into the house. One of them looked vaguely familiar.
A shadow fell across her path. It was Byakuya’s grandfather, Ginrei, who leaned heavily on his cane. “My dear child,” he said, his head bowed in apology. “This was not my idea at all.”
The blood flooding in Rukia’s heart turned to snow.
Chapter 1: At the Courthouse, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
The air in the courthouse smelled of a hundred bodies growing stale in the summer weather.
It was another one of those sultry days in the Commonwealth of Karakura and no one was going to escape the heat. Not Judge Yamamoto who was sweating beneath his long white hair and beard. Not the unruffled prosecution panel or the indifferent team for the defense -- they were all collectively sweltering beneath their black robes despite the air conditioning.
Definitely not Ichigo Kurosaki, who sat scowling in the back of the crowded room. He was dressed in mufti, and watched the proceedings with a slight expression of distaste and scorn. Droplets of perspiration beaded his forehead.
Something about this case irked him. From the hour the case was handed to the Metropolitan Police of Karakura until the warrant of arrest was issued, Ichigo had a bad feeling about it. Yet it was not his case, and it was not his job to tell the defense that the King’s Counsel had railroaded them into a speedy trial. He was, after all, just another inspector in this tiny archipelago. This crime didn’t even happen on his turf, what right did he have to comment on it?
The heat was definitely getting to his head. There was no logical reason for Ichigo Kurosaki to be so irritable.
The only one the summer heat didn’t seem to affect was the accused, already dressed in the standard white robes of those condemned to death: Rukia Kuchiki.
“Why did they even bother to tag her?” Ichigo Kurosaki growled to himself. The red leather detector on her pale neck was the ultimate humiliation. Only notorious smugglers and repeat offenders were issued those devices that monitor the wearer’s location and made escape nearly impossible. “She even looks more young and fragile with that stupid thing on,” he muttered to himself. “It totally gives her the sympathy vote of the jury.”
Ichigo did not want to admit it, but it certainly won his sympathy. Not that she needed to win it prior to donning the red collar in public. He felt bad for her the moment he saw her.
There was something about that girl. Her eyes were always so cool and warm at the same time ⎯ like dry ice. Ichigo knew that if he had met this woman under different circumstances, she would blow both hot and cold and burn him alive.
Right now, however, were the worst circumstances possible.
Rukia Kuchiki’s head was bowed but she was not crying. There was no fear in her face: only resignation.
If there was one thing that Ichigo Kurosaki couldn’t accept, it was resignation to one’s fate. He didn’t believe in fate. He believed in shaping his own. If he believed in fate - hell, he wouldn’t be an inspector. He would let the guilty be found out by their crimes.
But things didn’t work out that way in real life: the guilty needed to be actively ferreted out. They needed to be pursued and exposed for what they really are. It wasn’t that he believed in human justice - the court system was flawed and Ichigo was highly suspicious of it - but he personally liked to know he could sleep with his conscience at night.
“The jury is taking too long.”
Ichigo was almost startled by the statement whispered in his ear. He turned around to see a stranger cooling himself with a paper fan. The man’s face was in shadows, partly obscured by a large striped hat.
“Are you talking to me?”
“Yes I am,” the stranger replied. “I’ve been watching you. You’ve been attending the trial since the start.”
“Who are you?” Ichigo blurted out.
“Kisuke Urahara,” the man smiled toothily. “No, I’m not a ghoul for the courts,” he added. “I’m here because the accused is one of my best customers.”
Great, Ichigo wanted to roll his eyes. He’s just another busybody, an amateur detective with a crack theory.
“Would you be interested to know,” Urahara leaned over confidentially, “that she didn’t do it?”
“Go tell the press,” Ichigo said, bored. “I’m not here for the neighborhood gossip.”
“But I’m not a small-time gossip, Ichigo Kurosaki.” The eyes were twinkling behind the paper fan.
Ichigo sputtered. “How do you know my name?”
“Your hair makes you a distinctive character, inspector,” Urahara said. “Orange hair and a snarl - you should try smiling. You’d stand out less that way.”
The inspector decided this man was not worth his time. He was about to stand up, anyway. If he grabbed a snack quickly, he’d be back before the jury made its call.
“Wait!” Urahara said, clutching at Ichigo’s arm. “I know why she’s innocent. The case against Rukia Kuchiki isn’t waterproof. Ask any of their tenants, they will tell you ⎯ ”
But before the man in the striped green hat could say more, the lights went out and a collective groan echoed throughout the hall plunged into darkness.
There was a scuffle and before he knew it, the hand holding his arm had involuntarily let go.
Temporarily blinded, Ichigo only heard the twitch of a butterfly knife.
He jumped out of his seat. “Hat man!” he hollered. Without thinking of the repercussions, he raised his voice even louder. “No one move! Someone’s been hurt. We need a light here!”
The buzz of sound became insurmountable. Ichigo could hear the disturbance by the exit. There were yells and curses in the air.
Ichigo caught Urahara as he was about to crumble to the floor.
“Tell me what you know,” he demanded of the man.
“The Kuchiki may be known for the wealth,” Urahara mumbled, “but some envy their beautiful skin and glossy hair.” Then he passed out.
The lights were suddenly restored and Ichigo Kurosaki found himself holding a stabbed man. Blood covered his hands.
Ichigo couldn’t hear his thoughts over the screaming.
Chapter 2: At the Courthouse, All Souls Square, Tsubaki-dai District
Judge Yamamoto was still at the helm. A day had passed.
After the excitement in court, everyone was eager to go back to waiting for the fateful result of the murder case of the year. The man stabbed in the courthouse, Kisuke Urahara, turned out to be an eccentric middle-aged gentleman who owned a candy shop. He had never been to the courthouse before, and so it was sheer dumb luck for him to be targeted by the anti-Kuchiki rabble.
The attempted killer was apprehended: Kaname Tousen, former petty criminal, now a self-styled religious fanatic. He was talking to himself about the righteousness of murder when he was taken into custody. When questioned about his motives, Tousen grew eloquent with his silence. A psychiatrist was asked to check out his mental state.
The newspapers screamed Random Stabbing at Kuchiki Poison Trial: A Conspiracy? and Courthouse Chaos: Diversionary Tactic a Failure, Kuchiki Escape Plan Foiled! Ichigo glanced at the headlines that morning and snorted. He didn’t believe in shelling out cash for such trash.
Ichigo was just relieved that the stabbed man was saved ⎯ rushed to the hospital, only round-the-clock surgeries dealt with the multiple stab wounds that punctured his internal organs. He’s still unconscious, Ichigo thought ruefully. I wonder what he was trying to tell me.
The young inspector shook his head. Perhaps this case was making people hysterical and paranoid.
“Ichigo.” A meaty hand clapped down on his shoulder.
The inspector almost jumped out of his skin. “Damn it, don’t do that,” he hissed.
The man sitting behind him grinned. This time it was his best friend, Yasutora “Chad” Sado. The mestizo had been there for an hour and Ichigo hadn’t realized it.
“The jury is taking too long.”
“Oh yeah? I heard that same line yesterday,” Ichigo replied. “The last guy who said to me that got stabbed. I should make him pay for my jacket.”
“It’s no joke,” Chad said.
“No one’s laughing,” Ichigo said grimly. “Least of all the Kuchiki. They are one of the most powerful clans in the country, and this whole trial makes the family look bad. Man, they employ a hundred people in their posh Seireitei resort! Do you realize how hard it was to find a jury? I heard the courts had to ferry in some people from the far-flung districts of Rukongai.”
“Yeah,” Chad was quiet. After several moments, he said: “She didn’t do it, Ichigo.”
“Are you saying that they arrested the wrong person?”
“Maybe,” Chad shrugged.
Ichigo frowned, knowing exactly what was on Chad’s mind because it was on his own. Chad noticed that his buddy’s knuckles were clenched so hard they were turning white.
“Why are you so worked up?” Chad asked. “I don’t even know why you’re here. Isn’t it your day off?”
Ichigo’s face was a mixture of embarrassment and anger. Yes, it was his day off, but he felt compelled to come anyway. He had a strange premonition about the whole situation, and he was waiting to see if he was right. Perhaps the odd feeling he got, the first time he saw Rukia Kuchiki, would then go away.
Put on the spot, he got defensive. “Oh yeah? Then why are you here?”
“A friend’s on the jury,” Chad said. “And I was in the area. Pet license.”
“Oh.”
Why did Ichigo often make the effort to slip away from work, just to catch a glimpse of this girl? The courthouse was just across a few blocks away from the office. Was that it? Maybe it was professional interest. Ichigo was surprised that not thirty days had passed since the initial arrest to the trial. This sort of speed was unprecedented in the history of the Commonwealth but no one had lodged a formal complaint. The uproar over the murder of Hisana Kuchiki, the angel of Karakura’s children’s hospitals and orphanages, of course explained everything. It was her bleeding heart that opened up the purses of the Kuchiki clan and poured funds into charitable works. It was a good thing she had limited her largesse to the Karakura mainland, and not to the other islands - if she had, then the hysteria surrounding the case would have easily doubled.
Yesterday’s ruckus in court was only the tip of the iceberg. Ichigo was vexed. Cases like this attracted all the crazies… made them come out of the woodwork. Hell, if it made him interested… surely it riveted everyone else.
Hisana Kuchiki. The wife of the famous Byakuya Kuchiki, dead in her bedroom after a quiet evening spent in the ancestral Kuchiki mansion in Seireitei. Ichigo remembered the initial news report the day after he saw Rukia Kuchiki brought in for temporary custody. This move irritated the small Seireitei outpost but it was something that the Superintendent himself had ordered.
Today's news was no different: strong on speculation, short on facts.
Last March, 28-year old Hisana Kuchiki succumbed to arsenic poisoning after eating a home-cooked dinner especially made by Rukia Kuchiki, 21, the victim’s sister. The siblings were celebrating the first year anniversary of their reunion.
During this week’s trial, the King’s Counsel called on Momo Hinamori, a member of the Kuchiki household staff, to testify against the accused. Only upon threat of contempt of court and indefinite gaol time did Hinamori admit she saw white powder on victim’s plate after she had cleared the table. The reluctance of the witness to testify is attributed to her fear of her employer, Byakuya Kuchiki, CEO of the Kuchiki Group.
According to Hinamori’s testimony, the victim was violently ill before expiring. She was not brought to the hospital for the medical emergency. Doctors later certified that Kuchiki’s symptoms were consistent with cases of arsenic poisoning. Furthermore, tests run on the deceased were positive for traces of the poison.
The Karakura Daily News has learned from insider sources that the accused was recently named as the sole benefactor of the victim’s estate, estimated at 1 billion Karakura pounds. Sources close to the family, speaking on conditions of anonymity, mentions that the victim’s husband, Byakuya Kuchiki, settled the estate upon her soon after their marriage five years ago.
The accused has yet to give any public statement aside from her plea of innocence.
The Kuchiki sisters were already newsworthy before the victim’s tragic death. It had been revealed that the Commission on Social Services mistakenly parted the orphaned siblings twenty years ago, allowing the elder Kuchiki to be adopted. This became a landmark story that sparked official inquiries into the internal affairs of the CSS. The Kuchiki family repeatedly asked for the press to respect their privacy regarding the situation.
Before her untimely death, Hisana Kuchiki - well known in high society for her charitable causes - vowed to help other orphans find their missing siblings.
Almost everyone believed Rukia did the deed. It was done out of spite, said some; Hisana was adopted by a good family soon after they were orphaned. Rukia, however, grew up at one of the orphanages in the slums of Rukongai. No one knows what sort of life Rukia Kuchiki had led before she was found, or even what name she was given at the orphanage.
These facts - and the 1 billion Karakura pounds - were the only motives supplied for the crime. The inspector was suspicious. While most heinous crimes didn’t require a motive for conviction, Ichigo Kurosaki himself was uncomfortable with the lack of one. “Hell,” Ichigo said under his breath. “Who still uses arsenic, anyway?”
After several hours, the sound of feet shuffling filled the room. The jury was finally back. Many of them were fanning themselves vigorously, as if dissatisfied with their conclave. Some of them had huge frowns of frustration on their faces. These jurors averted their eyes from the accused.
Across the room, Rukia’s eyes encountered those of the inspector. I am innocent of this crime, those eyes said. I did not kill my sister.
Her gaze was defiant and yet oddly trusting.
It was as if she knew who he was, and why he kept showing up, even if Ichigo himself had not yet found the reason.
Ichigo’s hands balled into tight fists. He wanted to believe this stranger. Yet this was not his case. She could be sentenced as guilty in the next moment. How could he help her now?
Somewhere along the trail of evidence, someone in the ranks must have made a dreadful mistake. If he had more time, he could do a little investigation of his own.
The inspector blinked. When he looked up again, her gaze upon him was gone.
“She’s innocent,” Chad repeated.
Ichigo wasn’t sure where his friend’s belief came from, but he had learned to trust Chad’s instincts. They were as finely honed as his own.
The young inspector could only hope for more time.
“What says the jury?” Judge Yamamoto said. His indifferent tone spoke highly of his expected outcome. It was an open-and-shut case, for all he cared. He had no idea why the jury took two days in deliberating the outcome.
The forewoman stood up, a petite and slim woman who wore a pale yellow sash at her waist. “Your honor, it is my misfortune to inform you that this jury is at a stalemate. We cannot come to a consensus regarding the guilt of the accused.”
“What?” the judge almost hollered. One eye cocked open and glared at the group that suddenly cowered in the jury box. Among the twelve, only three people looked openly defiant of his authority: a one-armed woman equipped with a cocky grin, a thin man wearing glasses and a natty tie covered with crosses, and a buxom young woman with spectacular auburn hair. The younger woman’s eyes almost quivered upon contact with the judge, but she rallied and held his gaze.
“Yes, your honor,” the forewoman repeated. “We understand that. Yet we have found it impossible to reach a consensus, as some members refuse to be convinced and have already stated that it is impossible for them to believe otherwise.”
“I am alarmed by the behavior of this jury,” Judge Yamamoto bellowed. “A miscarriage of justice would be a grave offense if anyone here is found to have been influenced by outside forces or monetarily benefiting from the outcome of this case.”
The crowd’s eye swept up and focused on the husband of the deceased. Byakuya Kuchiki was in the room. His face was impassive. If he was bothered by the hardly veiled reference to him, not a single facial muscle acknowledged this fact.
“Let it be known that I will not let the integrity of this court be mocked by either the powerful or the moneyed! It will not be cowed by underhanded attempts to undermine its authority as an institution dedicated to justice!”
Yesterday’s little stabbing was forgotten in the wake of this revelation. The news hounds in the room jumped at the judge’s statements, some of them mumbling observations into handheld tape recorders. A quick sketch artist was on the scene, detailing the judge’s flailing nostrils with surprising accuracy. One man with conspicuous tattoos on his face was scribbling away notes into his Blackberry like mad.
Judge Yamamoto took no notice of this flurry of activity. He was still hammering away at the jury. “Perhaps you just need more time. The court is willing to recess until you have come to a suitable verdict of Guilty or Not Guilty.”
The crowd waiting for the outcome of the case was uneasy. Several pitched voices were raised in an outbreak of voluble comments.
“This is stupid, of course she’s innocent.”
“Why don’t they just convict her? There are no other suspects.”
“This is a clear example of rich people getting away with murder.”
“Silence!” he barked.
“Your honor,” the forewoman had just a hint of injury in her voice, as if she was taking her court-assigned duty more seriously than the judge took his. “It is impossible to reach a consensus with this set of jurors.”
Judge Yamamoto opened both eyes, and surveyed the jury, the crowd, and then the barristers. His piercing gaze studied the accused before he spoke. “Very well. The case of the Commonwealth against Rukia Kuchiki is suspended, as a fresh trial will be ordered within a month’s time. The accused shall remain detained at the Penitence Gaol and cannot post bail. This is still a charge for murder. This jury is dismissed.” Upon that curt announcement, the judge swept out, highly displeased.
The crowd whooped and booed. The King’s Counsel looked fit to kill the jury. The defense team tried to look smug, as if they had prayed for this outcome.
The media ⎯ led by the man with tattoos ⎯ doggedly pursued Byakuya Kuchiki as he crossed the corridor with a light, fast step. The reporter was uncommonly persistent even as a bald bodyguard pushed him back and snarled. A row between the two seemed inevitable, but ended as soon as Byakuya sidestepped into the safety of his waiting limousine.
And the accused ⎯ such a petite, delicate figure ⎯ disappeared from sight almost instantly, whisked away by the bailiffs before she could be verbally attacked with catcalls and boos.
Ichigo Kurosaki stood up. He knew what he had to do.
Continue Reading here: Blood/Water Chapters 3-5