𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 | 𝐁𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 [MINOR EDITING]

²³ ʟᴇғᴛ ʙᴇʜɪɴᴅ

See, I had a perfectly logical reason as to why I'd had Keishō transform himself back into, well, himself. It's so I wouldn't have a guilty conscience when I punched him, looking like a child. I'm sure if he'd expected it, he would've been able to avoid my hand, with his Shunpo and whatnot.

"Lady Abaron!" Inari shouts. I hear him rush forward from behind me, most likely to apprehend me, but I escape his grasp and leap at my brother.

"Hands off, Inari!" I snap, and glare over my shoulder at him. I turn my attention back to Keishō, who's eyes are wide and the collar of his shihakushō balled up in my hands. "Between you and our mother and that bastard father of yours, I can't even begin to choose which of you disgusts me more! Our own mother kills us, and you're okay with that? She didn't do it to protect you, Inari; she did it to spite your father, the man that stole your humanity! Your powers! And you tell me you're not angry at her? You're "happy"? That's bullshit!"

"Abaron—"

"How can you possibly be happy..." My hands are shaking so much that I lose my grip on his shihakushō. "... with this life?"

This time, I let Inari pull me off. I don't have the energy to yell or fight a second more. These past three months, I now realize, have taken a greater toll on me than I'd thought.

"We are dead," I say through gritted teeth. "We are dead, and there is nothing more for us now."

"That's not true, Abaron," Keishō says, and he sits up, a hand over his mouth. He sounds pained. "We have each other. We have this clan. This clan is our family."

I scoff, but comes out broken and impatient.

"This clan is not my family!" I growl. "It's hers."

The door slides open, and standing in the doorway is a wide-eyed Shōri. How long has it been since she's looked like this? I wonder.

"Big brother?" she whispers. "Is that really you?" Keishō lowers his hand, revealing a large gash on and under his lip, and smiles. And maybe it's just me, but his chin now appears to look sunken in. I stare down at my hand.

Did I do that? It's just like that time at the Sōkyoku when I'd cracked the stone at the base of the pillars...

"Big brother, you're hurt," Shōri has realized. She runs into the room, and Keishō automatically kneels in front of her.

"No, I'm fine," he promises. "I just tripped, and hit my chin. Besides, it's nothing the Fourth Division can't fix. That is their specialty, after all."

Shōri sighs, relieved, before taking on her previously docile expression.

"Welcome home, brother," she says. Something within me snaps, and I have to leave the room before I scream in front of Shōri for a second time.

-

"Damn it. Damn it, damn it, damn!"

I'm frustrated. I'd gotten answers, but for some reason, I'm not satisfied with their answers. Maybe it's because I hadn't heard it from my mother, myself. And now that she's dead, there's no way I ever will.

Wait...

"Bokyaku, if you can hear me, please, speak to me."

I sit down on the floor of my room, and cross my legs. Meditation, as it had been discovered, is the best way for me to focus.

"You called?" "You called?"

I open my eyes. "I'm sure you heard our conversation about Keishō, and you've been alive as long as my mother's been a Soul Reaper. So tell me— Is it true, about my elder brother?"

"It's true!" Kyaku chirps.

"Yes, indeed; your brother has been a fine Soul Reaper for centuries, now. The abilities of his Zanpakutō are invaluable, and nothing to take lightly." Bōkyaku goes silent for a moment, his next words hanging on a breath. "I must ask: Why is it you find this so difficult to believe?"

"I... I don't know," I answer. "Maybe I'm just not over her death. Maybe I'm tired of being left behind." I sigh. "My mother was a Captain of the Fifth Division. My brother is a Soul Reaper, too, and Shōri could utilize her spiritual energy long before I was. I don't want to be forced to eat their dust. I... I need to catch up!"

"In due time," Bōkyaku promises. "You must learn to use us to do so."

"Good luck!" Kyaku adds. I nod, and their presence fades.

"Right."