Do Strawberries Grow in Winter? (Closed)

It was snowing. Watari trudged past burnt structures in the Rukongai, the collapsed frames of buildings that had once been homes occasionally creaked and groaned under the white powder that heaped up on the debris. In his hand he held a bao bun, red bean, a small restaurant was still open nearby, somehow it had managed to scrape together business.

The blazing nights had been everything he’d envisioned, a week of bloodshed, violence and chaos. Noble against Noble, Shinigami against Shinigami, strata against strata. It had fallen into place so conveniently that when anybody tried to trace anything back to him all they found was mess and gibberish. As far as anyone knew, the Captains had accused the nobles of an assassination attempt and the now “criminals” Yuki Kameko and Meili Baozhai had been co-conspirators in foundational crimes.

Or at least - that was the story to maintain the balance in the Soul Society. More trudging until he reached a gate, he pushed it and its lonely creak from hinge grinding against metal whined to greet him. A path stretched down from a vast snowy mound, perhaps some of the denizens further away would remember, but most of the citizens who remembered this estate had been caught in the fireball that had eaten away at the Soul Society.

He broke crisp strawberry plants under heel as leaves and roots shattered as he went off the beaten path. Up in land to where they’d tracked Yuki’s final moments. After that the Baozhai had got to work creating convolutions and false ends. Nobody was quite sure where they’d gone - for all Watari knew they could be still in the Rukongai, watching him from the shadows and plotting his assassination.

Then he reached the place he’d stood four years prior, when he’d let the Soul Society squirm a bit and then he’d brought justice back. They had all been so thankful - how repulsive. He munched on the bun and as he chewed he looked at the shallow grave that had been buried here.

“In a way I have a lot to thank you for - you really did stir something in me in the best of ways” the Head of the Suzumei mused as he swallowed and dusted off frost and snow from the makeshift gravestone.It was a nameless grave. A nameless grave for ultimately a nameless person, a failure to the soul society.

A chill blew from the north, it looped under naked trees and peered at strawberry plants, it wove around his body and hugged his haori close.

“Happy anniversary, captain”

Snow. Such a peaceful display of nature.

The air seemed to hang still as soft snowflakes slowly flitted to the ground. Time - time seemed to hang still as the young redhead stood silently on the barren streets of the Gotei. She stood in stark contrast to her environment. Crimson hair, wild and unkempt, seemed to be a beacon among the white snow, while her black shihakusho did nothing to help.

A chill wind howled through the streets as she felt the cold nip against her skin - hollow and bitter. Words that could easily describe both the wind and how Reika felt. She had failed all those years ago - failed to end Yuki and her friend, Meili. Failed herself. Though overall, it had worked. Whispers and reports seemed to tell that the nobles were at each other's necks. Infighting seemed to be the norm, though much of it being blatantly in the open had died down.

Now it was all cloak and dagger, their power seemed to be waning. It was beautiful - a failed plan had culminated in fruition. Yet that day seemed to haunt Reika. How powerless she felt against Yuki, even though that woman was truly broken.

That day, she remembered so clearly. Laying on those cobblestones as her body ached, unable to move. Meili came and took Yuki away despite the captains that came. What a brave action, it’s too bad that small fry didn’t die by the blade.

Reika lay for dead, ready to accept her fate. But only luck had been on her side - she was thought gone from her mortal coil, cast aside in a pile of corpses to be returned to the Soul Society. They expected her reishi to return whence it came - it’s too bad she was too stubborn to give up. The redhead had to have her revenge.

Through sheer willpower alone, Reika rose when the cart of corpses was left alone and limped away. Her thoughts were racing, her heart beating wildly in her chest. She couldn’t return home a failure. She couldn’t face Watari - she didn’t even know if he was alive! What could she do? Lead a noble house? No. She was only filled with one thought, Yuki.

She did what she had to do, go into hiding.

Word rose quickly about how the “criminals” Yuki and Meili tried to incite an uprising through their assassination attempt. Using this, Reika used her family's connections to secure a gigai and passage to the human world. She had to find them.

Four years - four years she had spent in the human world. Four years had she trained to become stronger.

Yet, despite it all, Reika seemed more and more conflicted.

Finally, after all this time, she had returned as a shadow of her former self. The young woman stood in those empty streets, looking up at the broken structure that used to be the home of Yuki Kameko, the place where it had all begun. Even as the snow fell softly, she could still see the flames wrapping the structure, the smell of smoke and blood lingering in her senses. Now it all seemed so hollow and distant.

Looking down at the snow, Reika could see the big imprints through the snow. So it seemed she wasn’t the only one coming to this desolate spot. It seemed odd. This estate lay abandoned and unwanted since that night. Who in their right mind would even come here?

The gate hung open, the fresh snow pushed aside. It was recent, no tracks led back out. “Guess I’ll have company.” Reika murmured softly despite having reservations against going in. She had to face her fears. This was her return.

Treading softly through the snow, Reika couldn’t help but cautiously follow the markings in the snow, her hand on her blade as she trudged through the broken path. There in the silence, she heard a murmur of words. Freezing in place, she spotted a lone figure standing there among broken strawberry bushes.

That scruffy unkempt hair, that tall form. Reika could recognize it anywhere. Watari, her adoptive brother. In an instant, she could feel his spiritual energy press against hers like a warm hug. Had he noticed her? No, he was too busy monologuing like normal.

Her heart leaped in her chest - what could she do? It had been so long since they had seen one another. The man probably thought her long dead. She couldn’t help but feel an ache in her heart. Would he be mad at her? Would he strike her down in anger? Would he be happy to see her? She didn’t know what to do.

Reika hesitated for a moment, steeling her heart and courage as she silently pressed forward. With soft steps, she neared him and with all her courage, she pressed her body to his back, resting her head against him as her arms wrapped around his waist. That old familiar warmth pressed against her form like a warm hug. “I did not die today, so I will not fear death tomorrow.” Those words came softly as she quoted one of the many books that Watari seemed so fond of. “Forgive me, brother.” She croaked softly as tears rushed to her eyes. “I… I had to find them and kill them. I failed you. I failed… I failed our family.” She said through a hushed sob.

A presence in the area, familiar yet alien at the same time. His hand brushed his Zanpakuto lightly as the feeling of the spiritual pressure bounced off his senses and scattered in his mind. Was there someone else here, or was this a trick of Bezaliel? It felt so familiar - but it was a presence he’d discarded four years prior.

Reika.

Whoever it was, whatever it was, it embraced him. An image flickered into his mind, of mutilated and distorted bodies crossing the ground towards cowering Shinigami. The shambling horrors and their clacking limbs wrapping around their bodies and then this? This was not Bezaliel, it did not speak in that wispy voice and its embrace was not cruel. So what was it?

“Are they not already dead? Yuki’s desires have been turned against her, the Gotei 6 sees her as a criminal who assassinated the Captain Commander and the Baozhai her accomplice, a turncoat” He’d shrug as she cried, emotions coming to the surface but scattering just as they met his eyes. Four years she’d been away and he had thought she was dead and she had spent the entire time away for some selfish grasp at redeeming her self-imposed honor.

He pulled away from her and turned to draw his Zanpakuto.

“Unsure why the Baozhai would go to such extents to develop kido to mask their identity and then falter at the last hurdle” his haori caught in the wind, the hiragana for six would’ve caught this things eye as it approached, so it likely knew what captains were capable of. What was it? Somebody using kido to hide their appearance, even masking their reiatsu? Some sort of abominable asauchi that had grafted reika’s appearance onto it to seek a new master?

“It’s commendable that Yuki sent you with such . . . pitious knowledge of me but your window has long closed. I have to say, wearing the face of my dear sister had crossed my mind, but I’m surprised your dog of a leader would go to such extents to kill me” Watari wanted to obliterate it, to wipe the stain of whatever this was from the snow it defiled.But that would be an insult to Reika’s name, he owed it to her - wherever she was now - to slowly and painfully extract out just how exactly it managed to wear her face.

“Beauty is bought by judgment of the eye, not uttered by base sale of chapmen’s tongues, I will bind you and extract word by word, just exactly how you are what you are” it dared to wear her face and steal her brilliant red hair, it dared to stain her cheeks with truthful tears, Watari could not bear it. He would make it suffer.

“They’re not dead.” She said quietly. Truth be told, in the human world, she seemed to run into the pair more often than not, yet failed to even bring herself to take them down. Something in her stopped her every time. Selfconfliction was a beast that she couldn’t seem to conquer as in her heart, Yuki was still a friend despite everything that had happened.

“That’s why I-” Watari drew away from Reika, causing her to stop midsentence.

That familiar warmth that once washed over her body was now met with cold ill-fated air as the wind howled softly around them. He drew his zanpakuto as if he was ready to slay her for even showing up once again. Did he hate her? Was he mad? His ramblings about Meili’s family set her on edge as the woman found herself taking a step back from the man.

In the human world, she had only heard what she had considered rumors of happenings in the Seikerei. By the way her dear brother was acting now, it seemed it was true. Had the Baozhai family moved against the Suzumei in the absence of their leader? There were so many unanswered questions to be asked, yet no time for them to be answered.

What ill-will did this to Watari?

It hurt. He called her a false and drew away from her with ill intentions. Bazaliel gleamed in the light of the sun as he was posed at her. What could she do? Drawing Boreas would only add fuel to the fire of Watari’s conflict. Even if she were to call upon her spirit’s name, Watari would only call foul, adding more to this false claim that she was someone else pretending to be her. What in the Nine Hells could she possibly do to show the truth to him?

Conflicted, Reika could only think of one thing to do. Boreas flew into the air as the young woman cast him in front of Watari, scattered the snow before the man with a solid thud as she gave a pensive smile, tears casting down her rosy cheeks. “It’s me.” She whimpered softly.

Reika wiped her face with the back of her sleeve. “The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!” She said as she took a step toward him, completely unarmed. “Don’t you remember?” Her arms were outstretched toward him as if she was welcoming him to a warm hug.

What would make him realize she was real? What memory could only her and Watari know? What could she truly say or do to let him know it was the real her?

It was tragic really. At this moment she was fraught with true fear - with true disappointment. This was was nothing like facing the raging Yuki all those years ago. No, this was family. It was something truly deeper than friendship. Reika had to have her brother back; had to let him know beyond all doubt it was really her.

Tears streamed down her face more and more as she approached him, “I’m not Connie Venientecksposition. I didn’t use a ladder to… to get here.” Her voice was breaking the closer she got. The young woman’s body was wracked with grief the closer and closer she got to him. The thought of losing the only real family she had cut so deep that she had forgotten her little patchwork family she had in the districts - a family that had probably assumed her dead as well.

“I…” She sobbed silently, collapsing to her knees before Watari as she fought against herself, her body heaving with sobs as she forced herself to turn those azure eyes to her brother, wrapping her arms around her own frame. “I don’t want to make like a leaf and be tree, like all those years ago.”

“It’s me, Watari. It’s me, Reika. Please believe me, my dearest brother.” What more could she possibly do for the man? Calling back to the first time they had met, it was only them around. No one could possibly remember that moment. She could do nothing more. It was sad really. Reika sobbed heavily, defenseless against the madman she called her family.

In his mind, she could easily be dead to rights, “She was learning as quickly that what was right and what must happen weren't always the same thing.” The words she quoted were stern as she managed to break through her emotions. “Strike me, Bill. If you don’t believe me true.” Reika was truly deep in Watariland now

Snowflakes floated absently through the air, they landed on her hair and melted shortly after. He watched them as her idle words left her mouth and hung dead in the air. Bezaliel hung in the air, leveled at her breast and yet she pressed onwards, speaking of vorpal blades and ladders to misery. Was this really what they’d resorted to? To devastate him in the pursuit of revenge was to create a walking cadaver.

“Do you enjoy my suffering? What is this mockery? Did Yuki take your corpse and skin you, fit you perfectly like a garment on one of her imps to taunt me? Meili Baozhai, is this you? Is this some sick joke” But he did not smell blood, nor did he smell rot. In fact when the breeze blew just right all he smelt was her, and somehow that made it worse. Was this mimicry a walking mockery? Two feet driven to shamble towards him and stab him in the deepest places just right.

One shove. That’s all he needed, it’d tear through fabric and part pretty pale skin and it’d be over. She’d be silenced. The raving voice of this demented specter silenced . . . but. What if? The blade would waver slightly and he’d take a step backwards from her as she continued to sob. What was . . . it doing ? Why didn’t it draw its zanpakuto? Why didn’t it end his misery?

The first year he’d sat for a long time and he had contemplated what he could’ve done. Maybe if he had moved a little bit faster or maybe pushed a little bit harder? Maybe Bezaliel called faster and his actions were a little bit more deliberate. Maybe he wouldn’t have lost her.

The second year he thought, maybe she’d come back? Or maybe it was all a game? So he traced the reiatsu tethers over and over, following the looping reishi that faded in the distance and extracting the recount of what people had recorded from their minds by force. But he didn’t find her.

The third year. Reika was dead. Yuki and Meili are gone. He’d dragged that captain here through the broken ruins and made the dogs' flailing limbs search for him until eventually their fingers bled and their bones snapped under the strain of a hopeless search. You did not come back.

And the fourth year?

Spring.

Summer.

Fall.

Winter.

Watari what did you do in the fourth year?

There was no Reika.

So what did you do?

I brought Reika back.

His lips parted for a moment and his legs buckled as he stared upwardly at the woman who was not but was also his sister. For Reika - he was slow, he couldn’t find and she did not want to come back.

Because he was Watari.

A hand pushed against the snow leaving a glowing imprint in the crisp powder. Heat would radiate outwards, peeling the snow away flake by flake, flurry by flurry. To the ghost standing in front of him it would be like petals of snow peeling backwards, evaporating into the air.

So what did Watari do in the fourth year?

Under the snow, a perfect mosaic, each tile perfectly slotted into place by hand, of Reika Suzumei.

“You came back” a croak from frayed vocal chords and chapped lips.

“Reika?”

Watari spewed his words of contempt at the woman - deliberate and heartbreaking. It seemed he was truly hurting to say such horrible things to his long-lost sibling. But such was his way. Like backing a creature into a corner, the man always seemed to lash out. The reality was finally dawning on him and now he had to deal with all the hurt that he tried to force into the shadows in order to hide away his heart.

As he collapsed to the ground, she could easily see that Watari was at his lowest, completely defenseless; he believed. Almost croaking as he said Reika’s name, the woman couldn’t help but crack a smile as she wiped away the tears that stained and streaked her face as she uttered a sound of confirmation. “It’s me.”

Just a few feet away from him, she gingerly moved forward, trying not to spook the man with her actions. As she reached forward with her left hand, her right went behind her back, wrapping her fingers firmly around the hilt of a dagger. “My dear Watari.” The woman sniffled as she moved closer on her knees, ready to embrace him with a loving smile.

In an instant, that smile was wiped clean as Reika’s mouth opened in shock, her eyes filled with terror. The wind stirred hard as if a sudden gust of wind had kicked up, as the loose snow clashed into Watari. Blood splattered all over the poor broken man as Reika attempted to wrap her hands around her neck.

Thud.

The young woman collapsed to the ground, her head leaving her body in a clean cut as she lay twitching in the once pristine snow.

It was done.

A lone figure clad in a once flawless white hooded cloak stood beside Watari and the corpse of Reika with their blade drawn. The blooded figure simply placed its zanpakuto back in its sheath before turning to Watari. Their face completely hidden by the drawn hood of the cloak looked down at the broken man in pity.

Once a man to be feared now laid buckled, covered in the blood of his sister. It was beautiful - it was sad. Soft hands reached out and gently cradled his head. The flesh of the stranger was cold to the touch as they pressed to his cheeks. Tender thumbs stroked against his face as a soft smile appeared on the cloaked figure.

He blinked.

Loving lips smoothed over his forehead before the lone figure withdrew from Watari, walking several feet away from his as if they were about to leave, pausing for a moment as they looked down at the body of Reika Suzumei. A soft giggle was uttered as their voice broke the silence caused by the sudden violence.


It became more than evident that the figure was female by the tone of the giggle, “Titus.” She said sternly.

In a blink of an eye, Titus stood beside the bloodstained cloaked figure, bowing before them. “Bury this Bingwen trash and be sure to clean my dearest brother.” The way they spoke was colder than the air about them.

The figure removed its hood, revealing long crimson hair. “And be sure to send the family our condolences. That should be more than enough to prevent them from trying again until Meili decides to come back.” The tone was commanding and harsh. Such was to be expected after spending all that time away from the Soul Society.

Reika turned back to her brother and gave a sneering smile, “Come on, Watari. You should’ve trusted your gut." She gestured to the headless corpse before him as it slowly began to change back to normal, revealing a dark-complected woman with black hair.

Kicking the body, she merely scoffed. “You’re better than that. A pair of blue eyes and some tears, really? Even Bezaliel could do better than that. Get up!” The woman was mocking him, trying to get his ire up. Trying to see that true vindictive Watari that she remembered. Moving back before him as Titus began to remove the corpse, she showed that genuine Reika smile that Watari would remember as she held out her right hand.

“Come. I’ve got much to tell you.”

She loves me
She loves me not
She loves me
She loves me not

The vorpal blade went snicker-snack and Reika’s head was calmly bisected from her body, it rolled gently across the snow and for a moment Watari heard the sound of laughter from somewhere. Guttural. Merciless. Wolflike. A momentary twitch of motion from his head as he looked at it rolling, a pretty snowball for a pretty dead thing. A stuffed white rabbit maybe? Snicker. Snack.

Watari came back.

Blink once.
Blink twice.

What are the three words every Suzumei must know? A thousand crisscrossing silver lines spreading like a spider web across every limb and joint, a thousand cuts and slices from whips brought down. What are the three words every Suzumei must know? Do not trust. Do not believe. Do not

She loves me
She loves me not.
She loves me.

“A sick joke” He puppeted, muppeted really, his mouth opening and closing like a child might puppet the verbalization. On strings he seemed to vaguely listen to what Reika was saying as the pretty snowball continued to stain the ground as a red snail trail passed his feet. Reika had left some sort of warmth on his cheeks but did it mean anything?

Somewhere Titus did human actions, did what a good servant should and tidied up the remains. He vaguely acknowledged those as well.

You could pull her teeth out. One by one. But that’s not who you are anymore, you’re the man who sits around and puts mosaics in the snow on ruined estates while you pine over former loves like a puppy. She’d look nice though you know, this Reika, this “sister” - could she be a sister if she had been cast out as being dead - without teeth.

“Reika”

Come on Watari, that’s a good lad, hearts beating right, lights are on the stage, they’re all looking at you! Looking for answers from the Captain of the Gotei 6! The noble lord! Watari Suzumei! Whatever that means to anybody who wants to wear it. Well it means very little. Exactly it all means so pathetically little. For all you know this is Yuki and that’s Meili right there at your feet.

He raised a hand and energy coiled around his finger spindling like a thin wire it attached itself to the fallen woman’s blood before pooling it all free into an orb that hovered in the ear leaving him clean. He dug his index finger into his hand and flicked a droplet at the orb causing the sphere to discolor - satisfied Watari gestured grimly at the orb sending it flying somewhere into the distance.

Show time. Pull a molar for me will ya Watari?

He hadn’t been thinking straight before, now he knew what he should’ve done the moment he saw Reika appear.

A flash step and his hand snapped around her neck, holding her in place as he turned her head left and right looking at those cool blue eyes that seemed to stare through him and grimly acknowledging the smile that seemed to know him.

And those t e e t h, we could mount them on the homunculi, think of those love bones grinding and grating across the estate Watari, she doesn’t need her brain, she just needs to look pretty.

She was lovely.

Watari’s other hand snapped to her wrist drawing a thin line of blood that again he coil a wire of energy that bound the two blood streams together, for a moment nothing happened and then a small blue glow emanated from the blood.

He let her go.

Hollow. That’s all he felt. And tired.

It was Reika.

“Go on then, did you know we formally cast you out? Technically you aren’t even a formal member of the family anymore, “Reika Suzumei” my dear sister died to the hands of the Wolf”

Watari would take the hand she originally offered and begin taking her up the path away from where they’d separated all that time ago. For a moment his vision shuddered, two events playing out simultaneously and an odd sense of deja vu, but he shrugged that off. This was what this was. Reika and Watari, this was their dance.

“Baozhai are in ruins, family still exists but it’s a shadow, probably puppeted by Meili but i can’t prove it. Hatayama have apparently been studying, which would be lovely if Hatayama-san ever takes the vacated Captain Commander spot and I guess there’s the Suzumei - we’ve been sleeping. We did what we wanted, we created “change”” with that he felt the urge to spit but withheld it. What was “change” when you lost . . . when you lost. . .

She loves me not.
She loves me.
She loves me not.

The man before her seemed to be in shock, lost in thought at what happened. The young woman could really believe that the man seemed stuck in time. He was always the reactive type, now he was nothing but a stone statue, bequeathed to the snow that fell from the skies above.


Then he spoke - the statue cracked. First, it seemed inhuman, a puppet as he spoke. The devious machinations within came alive. Motions of movement cause the statue to come alive as glowing magic raised from the broken man’s hand. A spindle of blood, an orb of light. Watari came more and more alive as the puppet became human. A glimmer of light seemed to arise in Reika’s eyes as her brother slowly came to life once more.

A blink of an eye found an iron grasp around her neck as those blue eyes looked her over like an appraiser seeking to find her value, her worth. She knew in her mind that he wanted to find out if she was real, but it still hurt her heart. The heart within the youth’s chest fluttered, beating harder and harder by the second. Oh, how easily he could snap her neck with his hand wrapped around it. No one would be any wiser considering she was already a ‘dead’ woman walking.

Strumming my pain with his fingers~

With another snap, this time to her wrist, the orb of light appeared once again. Only this time did the man seem satisfied. Breaking the silence again, his words of consternation wounded her. She understood that she had been gone for years, presumed dead even, but to remove her from the family as another nameless soldier of the Gotei cut deep.

Singing my life with his words~

“I-” she tried to start.

Killing me softly with his song~

Watari grabbed the hand she had offered before and began to pull her along. Gone was the strength she had before. That proud nature that held her firm as she cut down the assassin - she was nothing but the lost child that stood before Watari once again. Staggered steps followed behind the man as he pulled her along like some petulant kid. She wanted to scream, she wanted to yell at the man at the top of her lungs as he pulled her along down the old forgotten path lost to time.

Killing me softly with his song~

Reika pulled free from the man’s grasp, pulling her hands to her side, fingers clasped into fists as she shook with both anger and fear. “This is how you greet me?” Her voice wavered until it found its strength. “Telling me I’ve been cast aside like some lowly garbage!” The woman looked at Watari with tearful eyes, her anger turning fear into courage as she lashed out at him.

Telling my whole life with his words~

“I have fought - I have struggled to be here. Now you look at me as if I’m a wild dog. Trying to take me along with you like another animal to be ‘tame’." Reika righted herself, finding her centered as she looked on at the man with now courageous eyes. “Say what you want, I am Reika Suzumei, Stormcaller of the house! You gave me this name and I’ve made it mine. There is no one, not even you who can take that from me.”

Killing me softly with his song~

She stood valiant, her reiatsu flowing from her body as she seethed at the man before. The woman that slew the assassin reemerged once again as dark tendrils exuded from her body. “I’m not that poor girl you used back then. Accept it, you bastard.” And she wasn’t. Despite everything, she had become what used her - Reika had finally become a true Suzumei.

Watari Suzumei, Head of the Suzumei House and Captain of the Sixth Squad took a long and considered breath in and then out. His hand twitched in a motion that he found comforting each finger flexing and clicking its joint in turn from thumb to pinky. He still held her hand, in the front of wintry breezes that kissed his skin, Reika’s hand was the only warm thing in a few hundred miles, disregarding the retainer that somewhere in the distance dealt with a quickly cooling corpse.

“Do you think I care for you so lowly that I would treat you like such?” He turned to her, his eyes meeting an icy blue stare. Where was the confidence? The bastion of the woman who could kill so easily and now let it fold away like a gambler’s last hand. Or was that the truth of it, Watari could not exist without Reika and in turn Reika could not exist without an expectation of Watari. Two performers on a stage, a duet that only moved towards tragedy.

“Do you think I would cast you out?”  his thumb moved its way across her knuckles dragging itself softly from knuckle to knuckle across her hand. Pinky, Ring, Middle, Index, Thumb and reverse. Thumb, Index, Middle, Ring, Pinky and return. What was she to him? Well he knew that somewhere within the snow, it was obvious. Could she not see what she was when her visage had literally and painstakingly been embedded into the ground of the scene of her disappearance.

“I’m not taking your name” the Head spoke gently “dead children don’t have names” had she seen it then? When she spoke her name, he had seen the tiniest flicker of electrical current had stroked menacingly up her Zanpakato - was that theatrics coming from her? He hadn’t really thought her the type, witty yes, devilishly so, but theatrical? No, that was something she’d learnt from him.

“How do you want to be greeted - what sort of self-indulgent question is that? You were standing there, you saw what I did with whatever that fetid construction of Meili’s was, you saw what I spent years doing in pursuit of getting over you” Thumb Index Middle Ring. A long sigh and he dropped her hand, he turned, maybe Bezaliel was right, maybe it would be easier if he just pulled her teeth out and sewed her mouth shut. Maybe erring on the side of insanity just made it easier to understand people. Things were easier when you could just maim your problems away - but that wasn’t exactly the man he was trying to be now was it?

“You want acceptance”His arm blurred snapping outwards towards her with the same impetus as it had before, Bezaliel’s desires twitching in his brain as he momentarily considered crushing her windpipe for whatever her mewling was - to feel was such an alien experience, to care was something that he wished he could do but to do that meant he’d have to be vulnerable.

His arm dropped.

Watari was so tired.

He shrugged.

“Cool” A bastard aye? Probably right, he was sure his father had done worse things down the line so that wasn’t an insult that meant anything in particular. You know who also was a bastard? Reika, for not sending him a damnable message for four years, for making him think that she was dead. What sort of bastard was she if she’d done that to him?

“Take it”

Despite the rage, the theatrics, and the waning wind, Watari held onto her hand. He didn’t raise his voice, spit venom, nor curse or cry. No, his thumb gently moved across her knuckles as if to soothe the fear, the anger within the fiery redhead as their cold blue eyes met one another. One filled with rage, the other emotionless - two polar opposites locked in a battle over nothing.

Yet, the cold air lingered, tossing and occasionally turning with gusts as the snow fell softly around them. The chill bit and gnawed at embittered flesh fraught with internal turmoil. Only the warmth of the soft touch of a once-cold man seemed to permeate the chill. There was confusion, there was anger, and then nothing.

Watari seemed to fall away. The once proud man who was ready to destroy the Gotei was now a husk - an empty vessel. Where had he gone? This wasn’t the person she left all those years ago. The person she initially fought to get back to; to protect. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

Reika had learned from Yuki about the machinations that Watari had put into motion, and how he had used her. She felt the truth in her heart, but looking at the man now - her heart faltered. Was it true? Had the few short moments with him already set in place the poisons that once clouded her mind once again?

She faltered. The rug was pulled out from beneath. There was no fight, no ill intent. Just a broken man who shrugged and handed her what she wanted. The sight of having a false Reika slaughtered before him seemed to be the breaking point. Did he actually care about her? Was the sight of losing her twice over completely breaking him?

Silence blanketed them like the snow around them as Reika stood there, trying to find the words to speak. What more could she say or do? She couldn’t fix the broken. Hell, she couldn’t even fix herself.

“I…” She turned away from his gaze, looking to the ground as soft flakes of snow coated the path around them. Raising her right hand, she rubbed her upper left arm, trying to find some comfort or create some barrier between herself and the man. “I tried all these years. Tried for you. I fought Yuki. I fought Meili. I killed countless hollow. Just to get back here.”

The words felt empty, just like how she was feeling right now. “But, I felt like I couldn’t return - that I had to be stronger for you. That I couldn’t be a failure. I know-”

She sighed, the heat from her breath casting a warm cloud as she did. “I know I should have reached out sooner… but I felt like I couldn’t.” The woman raised her arms with a shrug, “It’s not like I had the means to even do so.”

A nobody from nowhere. The young shinigami didn’t have the connections of Meili, nor the know with all to grab a communicator. That night, she was flying on pure instinct, pure rage. Fight-or-flight kicked in and she ran after the two that caused all the havoc that night. Yet it was all for naught. Sure, Reika was stronger. But she failed to kill her friend. Why was she really here to begin with?

“I’m sorry.”

Why was she saying that? It made no sense. He had set this all in motion - turned her against her friends and now she was apologizing. But why? Why this man of all people? “I’m sorry.” The voice of the proud woman wavered as she wiped away the tears that stung her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.” She sobbed as she buried her face into her hands.

A laugh cracked from cold lips and echoed through the clearing, the trees around them seemed to be hugging closer, themselves confused at what the silent joke had been that Reika had told. The laughter was pitiless, a bit conceited and honestly bitterly mechanical. It clacked from his mouth like the mocking puppet she had made of him.

S o r r y, the man’s head pulled the letters one by one into his mindseye before disregarding them. Reika Suzumei, Stormcaller, giving him an apology for being late. For. Being. Late. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. He saw it, he saw it! That was the joke, he got it now, that was why he was laughing. It was funny wasn’t it? Did she know why too? This morbid irony, she was four years late and not a moment too soon.

She had come back. This wasn’t a trick. This wasn’t a hallucination. This wasn’t a fake. This was her. In all her beauty, the way her red hair caught the light in just the right way, the way she held herself with such care - most of all . . . the way those tears gently filled her eyes and she became wracked with sorrow.

“Oh my fur and whiskers dear” Watari murmured, taking a small step forward and then with more certainty another. Perhaps the right thing to do now was skin the rabbit, but truth be told he couldn’t do that to Reika. Maybe she was right, maybe he was a monster in this wonderland after all and one day that vorpal blade would snicker-snack his head from shoulders.

The queen of hearts had kept her away. She was right, had held her back while she dealt with spades and clubs and whatever else sat in Yuki’s deck, this was all part of her game wasn’t it. This all came back to Yuki, another thrust into his heart just to spite him - she took away the one thing he truly cared about and then brought her back after he’d suffered.

“It wasn’t you” Watari’s arms wrapped around Reika’s form as she sobbed “Why are you apologizing, it wasn’t you?” It was them that had kept Reika and Watari apart, they had stopped them from true greatness, four years of stagnation driven by the hands of the girl who still spited them all. He held her tenderly, there were streams now of the feelings that had been driven from him by the assassin, the streams of emotions pooled into the empty husk that had moments before been Watari.

“They kept us apart, just another domino in a long line. What did Yuki tell you? That I didn’t love you? That you weren’t a member of the family? That I didn’t care about you? It all makes sense for her story right, why keep you running for four years until now?” He let the prying questions sink in, he had to make sure she was protected and that she knew that this wasn’t his doing, because it wasn’t! Yuki herself had taken Reika away and if they had fought, this only meant one thing in Watari’s mind - she had stopped Reika from coming back.

“Do you know how long it’s been since we took away the weight of your name - how I fought for Reika Suzumei to mean something?” His embrace loosened only slightly so he could shift his mouth to her ear, a secret only meant to embed itself in the deepest core of her being.

“A week”

Reika felt the sudden warmth surround her, engulfing her in the midst of her tears. She didn’t have time to react, to pull away. No, she surrendered herself to the feeling. Closing her eyes, the young woman found herself wrapping her arms around Watari’s torso, a fuzzy feeling washing over her frame.


HELP

It wasn’t her. No fault of her own. The Queen of Hearts and her doting fool kept poor Alice away while the Mad Hatter dealt with things. Such seemed to be the endless story that kept rewriting itself over and over again. No matter how hard Reika tried to rewrite the pages, change the chapter, or rip the book in twain, someone else seemed to be writing her part - leading and directing her through all the motions.

The fair creature that was Reika played the part of a fool. Those that knew that she was a naive little shinigami took control of her whims and pressed her buttons right. They harnessed the wind for their own use. Whether it was for good or evil, they knew which way to bend her.

“What she tell?” The redhead’s voice came muffled as she spoke into Watari’s chest. Those cerulean eyes looked up into his, faltering to speak as she knew the truth might cause him to become an angry man. She didn’t want to disturb this moment, this warmth. “I…”

The woman withdrew her hands to her chest, clinching her fists as she looked down at them. “Just… don’t be mad. Please.”

                                                                   Snicker-snack.

Finding her courage, she spoke softly. “She told me the truth. You used me. Took my trust and twisted it against my friends.” Once again, she could feel tears welling up in her eyes as she thought back to the kindness that Yuki had shown her - the love. It felt so real. But now in Watari’s grasp, his poison seeped in, clouding her mind. Questions after questions.

“We fought together. We talked together. It felt so real.” Was it real? Was it another ploy?

This is hell. This is hell. Yes, it’s literal hell.

Yet as Reika fought herself internally as she closed her eyes in order to fight away the tears so she wouldn’t become another mess, Watari told her it had only been a week since she was cast out. He had waited over four years, assuming that she was dead in order to do so. A person who didn’t love her, who truly didn’t care would’ve dropped her the night that she disappeared.

It hit hard. The redhead whimpered softly into her fists as she dug her nails into her palms. Pain sheered down her forearms as blood was drawn. It was real - this was reality. She looked back into Watari’s eyes as tears ran down her stained face. “R-really?”

“Entry fifty thousand, five hundred and eighty one of the Suzumei ledger, the wider family decrees that as Reika Suzumei has been absent due to natural causes or otherwise, all powers she held and ties to the house will be stripped immediately”

Drip
Drip
Drip

“Entry fifty thousand, five hundred and eighty two of the Suzumei ledger, the wider family decrees that use of heritage kido is prohibited unless agreed upon by the wider family at large”

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

His gaze flickered downward as he saw crimson mark the snow, he broke the embrace to reach for her hands, to give her stability as what was true in this world slowly dawned on her. Watari held her hands as her blood seeped through fingertip to fingertip, to an onlooker they’d no doubt look silly but he held her eyes.

“It’s all written there” a gesture of his head in what would be presumed as the Suzumei Estate “a written record of the truth. You can go now if you don’t trust me, if Yuki has truly stolen you from me and you can go look at what she did” The Head dropped her hands and took a step back, his blood mixed with hers on one hand, but no magic flowed through it, no identity, no framing of noble blood to keep her safe. It was just them. In the snow. Letting cooling blood mix with snow.

A small smile crossed his lips as he looked at her, looking at her musing over the fact of things, realizing and living the events that Yuki and Meili had planned meticulously just to spite them both. But his eyes fell to the snow, the secret to his smile, their blood fell in such a pretty way.

It seemed strawberries still did grow in winter.

“How can I be mad at you Reika? The only use you’ve had in any plan is helping me see what sort of web Yuki has been spinning. She’s probably out there laughing at you right now, her and Meili both! “Look what we’ve done” they will say “we sent her off to kill the Hatter!””

Drip.
Drip.
Drip.

A Hell Butterfly emerged from one of his sleeves and cautiously teased its antennae against the cool winter air before flying somewhere a couple of meters away, a short flash and a doorway appeared.

“I’m no monster Reika, if you really want to know how I feel about you, the truth is that I - “ somewhere a branch snapped and Watari moved, Bezaliel left his hand streaking through the air and cleaving through foliage. The Shinigami tilted his head as he heard a small yelp as a squirrel tumbled, cleaved in two and fell through the branches. He frowned and turned back to Reika as if continuing a thought.

“If you want to go to Earth and live with Yuki then you have utter freedom to do so. I will not stop you”

He read something that seemed from memory, something deeply ingrained as if it was by heart. Reika faltered, Watari seemed so sure of himself, but he always had, save from some rare lapses she managed to catch. But she was always there when it happened. A supportive ear, a cheerful voice. It always seemed to perk him up.

She understood though. He was letting the veil drop, showing light on the shadows that were the Suzumei. It was rare, even when she was on the inside for him to even reveal such things. But to peer at the records and rules for the noble house… it was something notable. Why was he suddenly doing this? Was it a sign that he really cared?

The Suzumei’s theatrics overshadowed the moment as strawberry blood mixed with hers. Drip. Drip. Dripping down like a blossom of life in a barren wasteland of snow. A bright beacon against the white snow as Watari’s words wove another web of lies that seemed as real as the very breath Reika breathed.
Hot breath lingered in the air like heavy fog as she locked eyes with Watari as she believe his words like gospel. As he dropped her hands, she wanted to cling on for dear life, but she simply laced her fingers together, watching, waiting. She was lost in his gaze.

The Hell Butterfly spurge forth a door, she knew where it lead even before Watari spoke.

“Howl.” She said coldly, the mist of her warm breath escaping her as the zanpakuto at her side vanished in a blink of an eye, returning to her side in an instant as the door that appeared shattered into multiple sliced pieces, falling to the ground and scattering to the cold wind that swept the empty estate.

Reika had made her choice as Watari brought down those once proud walls. Though she was only a Suzumei in spirit only, having been cast out, she had made up her mind. Given into the poisoned spirit that was Watari. A firm right hand reached up and grasped the man’s collar firmly, pulling him down with all she could muster as she kissed him.

“I’ll be damned if Alice is going to be separated from the Hatter once again.”

Watari grabbed her wrist as she held him, his eyes like a storm as a thousand different ways to break her bones came into mind. What was she doing? What was he doing? Well he knew what she was doing, destroying that lovely Senkaimon he had offered her to get away. She could be a world away already, away from him. She could be free. But she chose this? She chose him? And worst of all she had decided to kiss him.

“No. . . “ The man hissed through gritting teeth as he pulled away from Reika’s grip. She wasn’t his sister anymore, but that didn’t mean he didn’t feel strange about it. Nothing bound them by blood or official registration. They were two people who shared the same name. Same journey, same path.

Go on then. Pull her teeth out. She wants to be your puppet, then you can do what you want with her. But she’s not a puppet. She thought she was, but everything he’d done was either for justice or for her. In fact in this world that Yuki and Watari had spawned out of madness and foolishness, the only bearing of truth on the map anymore - was Reika. She was untouched and touched, a boat that was moved by the currents of intertwining fate itself.

“No you won’t be leaving me again”

His hand moved from her wrist to holding her hand.

Thumb.
Index
Middle
Ring
Pinky

Pinky
Ring

Watari leant forward and the wind whistled through the trees, barely intelligible words that held so much power and significance that Titus miles away would turn as he held a corpse wantonly in one hand in their direction. The old man’s hand would hover to his Zanpakuto and then drop, as the energy like that was gone in a moment.

Words of power.
Words of authority.
Words of finality.

The snow around them was pure and fresh.

On his palm, spun a ring, an ornate crystal - stained red.

“You want acceptance,” Watari smiled warmly at her.

“Cool” He echoed.

“Take it”

He said no, pulling away from her. She felt her breath catch in her throat. Perhaps she had gone too far with what she did, but it felt right and natural.

But he went from pulling away to grabbing her hand, his warm finger moving over soft joints. She felt the warmth of blush cross her face as she watched his thumb move over her joints. Watching, wanting - needing.

Reika wanted nothing more than to be with him. To make him happy. She was addicted to the mercury of the Mad Hatter. Drip. Drip. Drip. The poison seeped into her skin, coursed through her veins, and poisoned her mind. More and more she dipped her fingers in, creating the designs that Watari made. It was a curse, it was a passion. His words made her feel something that her friends didn’t. Nothing they seemed to say or do could help her see the light of day as delved deeper and deeper into Wonderland.

Words whispered, lost to the wind, and ears were spoken, yet none listened as the young woman looked on in want. Look on with a skipping heartbeat as she locked into those cold blue eyes that stared deep into her heat. Thump. Thump. Thump.

The snow fell pure and white, cascading on an ancient rite that seemed to shudder the world around them. Reika felt cold. Reika felt warm. Reika felt a lot of things that she could describe nor find the words to even speak as Watari spun a red crystal ring in his hand, spouting words that seemed to sing to the young woman’s heart.

Any fool would say no. Any fool would see through the facade as the man echoed the word ‘cool’. But Reika’s eyes looked on in awe. Dauntless at what was happening. The man was proposing to her, at least that’s what it felt like.

Thump.
Thump.
Gasp.

She stared through the ring like it was a beast to be conquered. Felled by the mightiest that the Gotei had to offer. Pale skin grew cold as she trembled lightly all the way to her feet. The woman didn’t know what to say, what to do. All that remained was the beating of her heart. The beating came stronger and stronger like the ticking of the clock.

She spoke. Courage sprang forth as she held out her left hand, speaking in a firm voice like a captain to their subordinates. “You take it, Watarai.”

Bezaliel’s disdain bit into the back of his mind, the Zanpakuto Spirit would’ve much preferred to gut her, but that had partly been why he’d tossed the Zanpakuto away, he wondered if Reika had noticed familiar energies flooding into the void of the scabbard at his waist as the Zanpakuto resealed itself after what Watari had forced it to do.

“This was always what you wanted wasn’t it?” a bemused thought crossed his mind, maybe the encounter at the tree all that time ago wasn’t completely random. Maybe Reika had been attempting to bring this event into fruition from the moment they had met and Yuki had been in the way? Games within games, plans within plans. Did Watari care? No, because there was a truth in all of this and the truth was simple, Reika didn’t tire him, she didn’t challenge him, if she was puppeting him then so be it. She won.

He spun the crystal ring between thumb and forefinger and it glinted off the sunlight staining his hand shades of red.With resolution he looked into Reika’s eyes.The only hesitation was what this meant, it meant no more secretive planning, Reika would always know, it meant trusting somebody other than himself and Titus. It meant . . love.

But he did love her.

“Reika Stormcaller, you will be my wife”

And it seemed so empty, so inarticulate, surely there were better words, words that he could drag from something somewhere that would mean something more. But those simple words were what he needed and that was what he was taking.

The ring fit perfectly as it slid onto her finger.

A ring of blood. Oddly fitting.

The ring spun between the man's thumb and forefinger, casting a hypnotic light of shades of red as Watari spoke the words she never actually expected from the man. He never trusted so much. Never dropped his shield unless he was utterly defeated by himself. Whatever toxic substance in his mind seemed to fall to the wayside as he asked those magic words.


Reika felt the color on her face raise as the heat of a thousand suns washed over her face. Time seemed to stand still as he spoke those words. They seemed so foreign, so unreal. It felt like Alice had fallen down into the rabbit hole. Only this time, it was Reika who had dove headfirst into the darkness only to emerge on the other side of fantasy.

The ring slid onto her finger, it fits like it was made just for her. A ring of red, just like her hair. It looked like the blood that dripped into the freshly fallen snow. This ring didn’t seem like any ordinary ring - no. It was something more. Something that sang to her heart.

Voiceless, despite the young woman’s heart, screaming out in joy, she looked into the man’s eyes. The man who proposed to her. The man who wanted her for who she was, not for position nor power, for she had surrendered it all.

“Yes.” She managed to say, her voice seeming to seize up in excitement. “YES!” Her heart finally behind the words as she jumped into him, her arms wrapping around the man’s body as she buried her face into his chest, pulling him into a tight hug as she pulled him close.

She wanted him. She needed him. The poison flowed through her veins, clouding her mind more and more. Reika was deep in Watariland and there was no light to be seen as the world of fantasy and mercury danced around as visions of wonder within her mind.


“I love you.” She said muffled as she nuzzled her face into Watari’s chest, enjoying his warmth against the bitter cold world around them. Yuki didn’t matter anymore. Meili didn’t register at all. No, all there was was Watari Suzemei, her future husband-to-be.

///End