Bleach 1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

They stood at the edge of the forest, already sensing the dark, twisted reiatsu within. The white haired man coughed heavily into his hand, earning a glance from his companion.

"Are you up for this," Shunsui asked as he lowered the straw hat over his eyes.

"I've had better days," Jūshirō admitted, "but we've put this off for long enough. I will endure." Shunsui nodded and they both stepped forward into the woods, making their way towards the entity housed within.

They noticed the stench of death and decay long before they ever saw the corpses, and the deeper they went, the stronger the smell became. Bodies littered the ground haphazardly and in varying states of decay. Many, they noted, looked to have been cut down while trying to flee from their attacker.

Overwhelmed by the stench, Ukitake suddenly doubled over, coughing blood into his hand. He recovered slightly when his friend knelt beside him and began rubbing soothing circles into his back, but when he noticed the unmistakable bloody remains of a small child, the hacking coughs started again and left his throat raw.

"Maybe you should leave this to me," Kyōraku said as the sickly wet coughs died down. "This is my fight after all."

"Shunsui," Ukitake began, "you don't have to do this alone. I want to be there for you."

"You are, old friend, but," he hesitated, "I don't want you to witness this."

The white haired man sighed, but eventually nodded. "Alright."

Shunsui squeezed his friend's shoulder as he stood up and looked off into the woods. When he met his friend's eyes again, Jūshirō had already settled himself at the base of a tree. With a final nod to each other, Shunsui began to make his way further into the forest, pausing only briefly to leave behind the flowery pink kimono he wore draped over his captain's haori.

The reiatsu became stronger as he continued on deeper into the woods, and the number of bodies littering the ground increased, so much so that they were piled on top of one another. And when he reached the center of the forest, he could make out the uniforms of the fallen Onmitsukidō, the stealth force.

He knew the reports, had heard them from Suì-Fēng's own mouth. She was not happy, not only for losing some of her own men, but because he had gone over her head to Yama-jii, practically pleading with the old man to let him handled this on his own, this mad woman now referred to as the Demon of the Rukon District.

For years now, this woman had dominated the forest, killing indiscriminately any who dared venture in. Men, women, children, animals and even hollows fell victim to her blade. She had become a legend, a myth to much of the Eastern Rukongai, but in Inuzamurai, the district where this bloodstained forest was located, she was feared.

Men would tell stories of how they faced the demon and lived, though such stories were often lies. Women would tell their children that she'd come for them in the night if they didn't behave, even though by all accounts she'd never left the forest once in search of prey. And children would sing rhymes about her while they played, even making up games to test their bravery. Who could stand with their backs to the forest the longest, who could venture furthest? Is that what happened to that child? Was she a victim of child's play?

Crazed laughter drew his attention to the tree tops where he spotted her. Her nude body was covered in grime and blood from self-inflicted wounds. Her brown hair was matted and crusted with mud and in each hand she held a curve ax like weapon. Her dark unfocused eyes settled on him.

"I've been waiting," she called down to him. "It's been so long since someone new came to play with me."

"You're making me break one of my own rules," he said, as she dragged one of the weapons across the skin of her belly casually, making blood blossom and bead on the cut. "I don't like to fight with women."

"My apologies." Dark crimson reiatsu seeped from her blades and enveloped her form as she leaped at him then, twisting in the air as she brought her blades down on him, but he blocked her attack easily with his long sword. Undeterred, she continued to attack, swinging her arms and slamming her blades down one after the other repeatedly.

He deflected her attacks and angled his own zanpakutō towards her. He narrowly missed her, but as their blades connected, hers began to crack. Their fight continued on this way, with close calls and narrow misses, but she wasn't strong enough to land a solid blow and he had never intended to inflict damage on her body, merely her zanpakutō.

The sharp edges of her blades were chipped and tiny fissures lined the blade, but the crimson reiatsu tendrils that had wrapped around her at the start of their battle held strong. When the blades finally shattered though, the tendrils evaporated and the zanpakutō reverted back to its unassuming form and its welder collapsed to ground.

He stepped forward tentatively, kicking the hilt of her weapon out of her hands before he knelt down beside her and pulled her into his arms. Drawing his thumb across her cheek gently, he looked up then to see Jūshirō offering him the kimono he had left behind. With her shattered sword beside her, Shunsui wrapped his pink kimono around her small naked frame.

"What's your name," he asked quietly when her now clear bright grey eyes had fluttered open.

"Kaminari."


	2. Twenty-Five Years Later

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

**Twenty-Five Years Later**

It was early morning when Kaminari stepped to the edge of the cliff overlooking the valley below. She stood tall over the ridge as the wind blew through her rich wavy brown hair, long since freed from the mud it had once been encrusted in. The yukata she wore left her arm bare, providing a glimpse of her strength and revealing the butterfly-shaped Hōmonka left behind courtesy of Suì-Fēng.

Now faded and worn, the ever present pink kimono lay draped over her shoulders, concealing the small bundle fast asleep on her back. Black hair peeked out from under the collar as the boy slept with his head pillowed on her shoulder. His arms pushed through the sleeves and hands fisted in the threadbare material. Feeling him stir, she craned her neck and watched as his crystalline blue eyes slowly fluttered open.

"Are we there yet," Ryuko mumbled through a yawn.

"Almost," she said pointing to a village in the distance. "It's just over there."

On the horizon she could see their destination, a small town in West Rukongia where the barefooted denizens were already bustling to prepare for the upcoming festival. They'd been traveling for days and now that the little town was in sight she could practically taste the sweet rice wine that would be flowing freely.

They continued on and had reached the edge of the valley when Kaminari stopped suddenly, her hand falling to the hilt of the zanpakutō strapped horizontally on her back. In a flash her weapon was drawn, deflecting several throwing stars just as they were surrounded by several men. Black cloth kept their faces hidden and though they wore clothing similar to that of the Stealth Force, the crest on their uniform was not that of the Onmitsukidō.

Ryuko jumped from Kaminari's back and took his stance behind her, readying himself to fight as the masked men surrounding them pulled out their swords. One of the men lunged at him, swinging his weapon as he did, but Ryuko dodged the blow and used the man's momentum to flip him over, sending him crashing to the ground as another man approached with his blade level. The boy grabbed his wrist before he could attack and sent a hard kick to his stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Sparks flew as Kaminari blocked her opponent's sword with hers and countered with a move of her own. A moment later and he was sent sprawling to the ground with a gaping wound in his chest where two more of his comrades met the same fate. She rounded on the last one, their swords clashing as they fought.

He was breathing hard, but Ryuko had finally managed to knockout the two men he'd been fighting. Standing triumphantly over them, he watched on as Kaminari continued battling their last attacker, memorizing the way her muscles shifted with each swing of her blade. His eyes widened suddenly then, but more out of shock than pain.

Blocking and attacking each other in turn, the masked man threw another shuriken towards her, but she flash stepped out of the way easily and reappeared behind him where she plunged her zanpakutō into his back. As the last man fell to the ground dead, Kaminari looked back towards Ryuko just in time to see him collapse with the small four point blade she had just dodged sticking out of his chest.

"Kami-" he gasped out when she rushed over to him, but she shushed him firmly as her hand reached for the protruding object, feeling an oily substance coating the edge that made the skin on her fingers tingle and burn.

Poison.

She pressed a hand to his wound to stem the blood flow while the other dug into a pouch she kept hidden in her yukata and pulled out a small red gem. She urged him to eat it and when he did the bruises and cuts he'd received during the fight began to heal, but the poisoned gash in his chest remained unaffected. There was little she could do, but gather him up into her arms and flash step them to the only place where she knew he could get help.

She arrived at the West Gate in a matter of moments and quickly flashed an entry permit. By the time she finally reached the Fourth Division the boy's breathing had become shallow and his pulse thready. Several healers buzzed around her, carting the small boy off surgery as she told them what had happened, even giving them the star so they could analyze the poison coating its sharp edges.

Left alone in a waiting room, Kaminari sat distraughtly with her head in her hands until she felt a familiar arm wrap around her. Looking up she saw the Eighth Division Captain and she returned his embrace, letting herself be comforted as they waited together.

* * *

Hot water beat down on her skin, washing away the traces of blood she was only vaguely aware of, some of which had belonged to Ryuko.

They had waited three hours before Captain Unohana herself came to them with an update on the boy's condition. "He's stable," she had said. "We were able to close his wound and negate the effects of the poison." He would live, and with only a small scar as a reminder. Kaminari had never been so relieved.

A shy, wide-eyed looking healer led Shunsui and her through the maze of corridors to Ryuko's room where they were keeping him overnight. He was small for his age and lying sedated there on the large hospital bed made him look even smaller, but she was grateful to only see the single IV drip connected to his arm. They had stayed for awhile before Kyōraku led her out of the Fourth, pausing only long enough for her to drape the worn kimono over the sleeping boy's form.

Through the streets of Seireitei and into the Thirteenth Division, she was greeted with a warm smile and an offer of a hot shower which she readily accepted. It had been awhile since she'd seen either of them and Ryuko could never wait to be spoiled with the chocolate and toys Jūshirō always seemed to have on hand for him.

When Kaminari emerged from the shower, she found the two captains drinking tea as they waited for her. Taking a seat next to them, she quietly took a sip from her own proffered cup.

"Has this happened before," Shunsui finally asked, "you being attacked that is."

"Bandits are common in the lower Rukongia."

"That's not what I meant," he scolded.

Kaminari hesitated. "We've been attacked three times before at the shrine."

"Do you know who they were, why they attacked you," Jūshirō asked.

"No," she answered shaking her head, "but they wore this." She pulled out a piece of fabric she had torn from one of their uniforms during the fight. On it was the crest.

"I'm not familiar with this insignia," he said thoughtfully, passing the material to the other captain. "Maybe we can find out some information for you," he offered.

"Thank you," Kaminari said gratefully.

They let their conversation drift as they continued talking until eventually Lieutenant Ise came to retrieve her captain and Kaminari decided to return to the Fourth Division. She accepted Jūshirō's offer to be escorted back, but as they were making their way through the Seireitei a baldheaded shinigami suddenly appeared before them, blocking their way.

"That's as far you go, Demon of Rukongia!"


	3. Retribution

Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach or any of the characters thereof, but I do claim the creative liberties to this story and the original characters.

* * *

A half empty bottle of sake lay discarded next to him as he reclined lazily on the rooftop with his hand tucked into his shihakusho.

"So, this is where you've been hiding while I've had to deal with those new recruits. I swear, you're as bad as the captain."

Ikkaku cracked an eye at the other man, watching as Yumichika carded a practiced hand through his dark hair before placing it on his hip. The picture of a nagging wife. "How are the newbie's anyway?"

"As pitiful and inept as usual," the fifth seat said, taking in the empty sake bottles littering the gold terracotta shingles.

"You said that about the last group."

"Was I wrong?" A noncommittal grunt answered him and he sighed exasperatedly. "Well, are you going to stay up here all day or are you going to come help me train those bumbling morons?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm up," Ikkaku muttered, stretching out languidly before he rolled to his feet.

They began making their way back to their division and had almost reached the gates when they suddenly spied the sickly white haired captain walking alongside a lean brunette woman. But as they passed, a niggling feeling sprouted in the back of Ikkaku's mind and it was another moment before comprehension finally flickered in his black eyes.

"That woman…"

Rage grew and swelled with his recognition and before he could even stop himself he was already flash stepping towards her.

* * *

_The heavy reiatsu bore down on them as they traveled through the forest and Ikkaku's heart was already pounding at the thought of the impending fight. His companion, however, was less than enthusiastic._

_Bits of leaves and dirt clung to his hair stubbornly from when he had tripped and fallen over a tree root and he couldn't stop the frustrated sigh that escaped him as he pulled out a stray twig. Yumichika's face was scrunched up in disgust, not only at his own disheveled appearance, but at the stench of decay for which he willed himself to stop breathing. He trudged on nonetheless, dutifully following the bald man deeper into the woods, but when they made brief eye contact he was certain his glare promised pain. One way or another, Ikkaku was going to make this up to him._

_They found her standing atop a fallen tree with her back to them, her curved blades clutched in each hand. She made no move to attack them, but they knew better than to drop their guard. It was only when Ikkaku took a tentative step forward that she even acknowledged their presence at all and only with a half turn in their direction. The threat was clear though and Yumichika swallowed against the wave of unease that suddenly swept through him._

_"I've come to fight you, Demon," Ikkaku shouted to her. His scabbard and blade grasped firmly in his hands as he fell quickly into his stance. And despite the sweat that dripped down his neck, his lips were twisted into an eager grin._

_She eyed him slowly, her gaze flickering only briefly to his lover before once again focusing on him. "You've come to die," she corrected and in an instant, she was upon him._

_Their swords clashed and Ikkaku was pushed back with the force of it, but he quickly righted himself and braced for another onslaught. Nicks and cuts covered his torso despite having blocked several of her attacks, but he, however, had yet to land even a single blow of his own. Her movements were fast and unpredictable, but their fight continued on and with him on the defensive._

_She landed a heavy blow to his shoulder, cutting deeply into his flesh, and he collapsed to the ground with a howl. Ikkaku had expected her to deliver a finishing blow, but it didn't come as she had rounded on Yumichika instead who had stood by silently, watching their fight as he gnawed on his thumb and completely defenseless. She sliced into his forearm when he shielded himself instinctively, but her second blow was blocked by Ikkaku's scabbard. He made to attack her, to finally cut her and draw blood, but hesitated when he felt two thin arms wrap around him from behind._

_Yumichika dragged him backwards with as much strength as he could muster, feeling the front of Ikkaku's yukata dampen and stain with his blood. But even as Ikkaku struggled against him in a bid to continue fighting, he knew they had to get out. To stay was suicide._

_The edge of the forest was closer now and he continued to bodily drag the baldheaded man with him even as the mad woman dogged them with each step, driving them out with her brutal attacks, cruel laughter and crushing reiatsu._

_They collapsed on the ground when they finally breached the tree line, breathing hard and grateful when she didn't follow after them. Yumichika gazed back into the trees with wide eyes, ignoring his bleeding arm and sweaty skin. The man beside him growled lowly though and before he knew it, he was pinned to the ground with a strong hand fisted in his yukata._

_"Don't you _**ever**_ interfere in one of my fights again," Ikkaku yelled, even though he was just as relieved to be out of the forest as the other man. He shook his fist, still bunched in the man's clothing and repeated, "don't ever."_

_Yumichika stayed on the ground, watching as the bald man stalked off and feeling just as distraught at being yelled at by his lover as he was with facing the demon. Her taunting laughter drew his attention once more, just in time to see her receding form disapear into the forest._

* * *

They had heard rumors. Before either of them had become shinigami, before their first encounter with Kenpachi Zaraki, they had heard the rumors and the stories and had scoffed at them. But as they traveled from district to district in search of new and stronger opponents, they eventually found themselves in Inuzamurai. And when they emerged from the forest, battered and bruised, Ikkaku couldn't help feeling slightly jaded.

He'd been denied.

Denied not only a proper fight, but the chance to die in battle and it was a long time before he could forgive Yumichika for that. It was why he had demanded his lover swear to him to never hinder him in his fights again and why he had demanded Zaraki deliver the killing blow. But his captain had surprised him, chastising him instead before walking away and leaving him kneeling in the dirt and staring after him in awe.

He'd been lucky.

Lucky to have survived both encounters with these two demons and he swore to himself then that he would become stronger and fight them both again. And now that he saw her, he'd be damned if he missed out on the opportunity.

Ikkaku skidded to a halt in front of them and shouted, "that's as far you go, Demon of Rukongia!" His hands were already gripping his sword and scabbard as he eyed the woman and he caste a slight glance at the white haired man standing beside her. "I'm sorry Captain Ukitake, but I can't let you pass. Not with her anyway."

"Explain yourself," Jūshirō demanded as he placed himself between them.

"Do you know who that woman is? What she's do-"

"I am well aware of her history," the captain cut in. "Now stand down, Third Seat."

"It's alright Jūshirō," she said, stepping around him. Kaminari hadn't missed the use of her old name, had hoped never to hear again in fact, but she had long since decided that if any of her victims tried to seek retribution then she would give them the chance to take it. "If he has a problem with me, I want to hear it."

"Don't you remember me, Demon?"

"It's a blur," she admitted with a vague wave of her hand and it was true. Much of her time spent possessed by her own sword was a dark haze, but there were a few things she could recall. "Your bald head certainly seems familiar enough," she said, giving him a measured look. "Tell me, did I mark you?" He looked thoughtful for a moment before he finally jerked his shihakusho aside to reveal the jagged scar she'd left behind on his shoulder. A souvenir from their first encounter. "Ah, now _that_ I remember. Our fight was cut short wasn't it?"

"Our next one won't be," Ikkaku declared.

"So you've come to challenge me then, to seek revenge?"

"I've come to finish our fight."

Kaminari nodded in understanding, her hand falling to the hilt of her zanpakutō. But just as they were about to attack Ukitake stepped in between them once more.

"Wait," he shouted, raising his hands up to hold them at bay before adding sternly, "if you two insist on fighting then so be it, but it will not be here where passersby can be injured."

"The Eleventh Division's training grounds should suffice," Yumichika offered. "It's not very far from here."

The fighters agreed and the group walked the short distance to the Eleventh with the third and fifth seat at the lead, but along the way the two would caste furtive glances back over their shoulder. Whether it was to make sure she was following or that she wouldn't attack them when their backs were turned she wasn't sure, but in the end it didn't matter.

"You don't have to fight him," Jūshirō said quietly beside her as the division gates loomed ahead.

"Yes I do." Ikkaku wasn't the first to come seeking retribution, and Kaminari doubted he'd be the last. "You know I do."

They had quickly commandeered one of the large sand covered training fields and it wasn't long before a large crowd had gathered around them as those busy sparring stopped to watch. But the two fighters paid them no mind as they stepped into their stances, clutching their weapons in a firm grip.

"I almost forgot to ask," Ikkaku said as he leveled his sword at her. "What's your name?"

"Kaminari of Inuzamurai," she answered.

"Well Demon Kaminari, I'm Eleventh Squad's Third Seat, Ikkaku Madarame."

They attacked then, meeting in a flurry of sparks as their swords clashed together before disappearing and reappearing in flashes of shunpo. His movements were a blur as he poked and jabbed with zanpakutō and sheath while she was slashing and blocking him in turn. They broke away eventually, pausing in their attacks long enough to survey the damage they've done to each other.

Both were breathing hard, and despite the cuts that littered his body, Ikkaku was certain his Cheshire grin couldn't be any bigger. In their first encounter, he had struggled to land even a single hit, had failed even. But he could touch her now. The cut on her cheek was bleeding slowly and she was favoring her left side where he'd landed a solid blow with his scabbard, no doubt leaving behind broken ribs in its wake.

If she was to be the measuring stick with which he gauged his improvement, then he would break her.

"You're not quite like I remember," he commented idly.

"Sanity has tempered me. You seem to have improved as well."

"I didn't have shikai the last time we met."

"Then show me now," she demanded.

"Extend, Hōzukimaru," Ikkaku cried as he slammed hilt and sheath together, whirling the zanpakutō in his hands as it shifted before he leveled the sharp spearhead at her. "Your turn, Demon."

Kaminari's sword stretched and twisted with the muttered command, "bleed, Akenisou," transforming into a long curved blade. Her hands grasped the arched handle on its spine and pulled, separating it into two axe like weapons.

"Now that brings back memories." With weapons poised, they sped towards each other.

Ikkaku brought his spear down forcefully, but she dodged the attack and quickly countered with a swing of her own. She made to strike him again, but he was already twisting Hōzukimaru in his hands and slammed the pommel hard into her chest, knocking her back several paces before she finally skidded to a halt.

She took a step forward, ready to attack again, but stopped suddenly and frowned when she realized a strap on her sandal had broken.

"That's a very unlucky omen," Ikkaku warned, watching as she tested her footwear. "Maybe you should concede now."

Kaminari eyed him carefully. "A thought occurs," she said as she kicked her sandals off and shifted her feet into the coarse sand below. "If you really wanted to recreate our last encounter, then one of us should be naked."

Ikkaku let out a bark of laughter. "I'd be willing to wait while you strip," he offered, and the crowd of men surrounding them echoed him with their own taunts and laughter.

Her mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. "No doubt, but in the interest of fairness, I do believe it's your turn."

"Maybe next time." He leapt at her suddenly, swinging his zanpakutō in a wide arch.

The ground beneath her cratered and she had to use both of her blades to block his attack, but she saw her opening and took it. Knocking the spearhead away, she scrapped her curved axes along the shaft of his zanpakutō with deadly intent, but Ikkaku saw his own opening. Yelling the command "split apart", the three part pole separated and struck home, imbedding deep into her shoulder and mirroring the gash she had given him on their first encounter.

Kaminari waivered slightly, but steadied herself quickly and threw one of her axes at him with lethal accuracy. He barely managed to dodge it, but acted quickly and took advantage of her loss. She ducked as Hōzukimaru separated again and she stretched out her arm, pointing the butt of her axe towards him and summoned its twin and extending her reach, but Ikkaku back flipped to avoid her aim on his throat.

Their reiatsu flooded around them as they rushed towards each other again with a final swing of their blades and when the dust had settled, those watching were surprised that either of them were still standing.

Blood was dripping from their wounds, falling and mingling with the tainted the sand below as they panted against the other's neck, their zanpakutōs still imbedded deep into their sides.

"You _have_ gotten stronger," she whispered to him.

He pulled his blade from her and watched as she collapsed to the ground before he turned away. And then he was falling too. Black spots clouded his vision, but he could still make out the forms of his division mates as they hurried around him, shouting for the Fourth Division healers.

"Damn it," he grunted, but his wide grin was still in place even as darkness claimed him.


End file.
