Chapter Text
Kisuke groaned under his breath, cracking his neck and ignoring the sharp pains after Aizen’s little torture session. It had hardly been professional, nothing like the borderline artistry of an Onmitsukido interrogation, more like he was just celebrating having finally caught Kisuke after years of him slipping away from his grasp.
Unfortunately, everyone had to make a mistake at some point, and today was apparently that day for Kisuke. He could only blame himself after weeks of almost no sleep, in addition to being alone, thus an easy target. Stupid, he had gotten too complacent.
He was startled from his thoughts by a presence approaching. He couldn’t discern much, their magic was so tightly bound it was only thanks to his extensive training and genius that he could even notice it. Though, he could tell that it was very…
Warm.
He was admittedly surprised when a faerie slipped between the bars of his cell (no deterrent on their own, it was the sealing chains that were keeping him contained). Their kind were incredibly rare, the guardians of magic fountains, beings made of pure magic like no other species could boast.
This one had bright orange wings with hair to match, the structure resembling a swallowtail butterfly, particularly Peacock Swallowtail despite lacking the usual blue and green coloring. The forewings curved gently to several inches above their head, quite large for a being only about five inches tall, and ended in a sharp point. The hindwings had a ruffled appearance, and a rounded tail at their corners. The coloring resembled a sunset, with oranges, yellows, and red making up the majority, similar to the backs of a Mexican Silverspot, though there were a few purple accents that differentiated them. Finally, the thick black markings, like the lead in a stained glass window, resembled nothing so much as the pattern of a Monarch Butterfly’s wings.
Now, the question was, why were they here? In Aizen’s stronghold or Kisuke’s cell, answers to both would be nice, though the latter was a bit more pressing. The fae could not lie, though they could twist the truth, but Kisuke was accomplished enough at that himself so he wasn’t overly worried.
Before he could even begin to ask a question, the fae spoke.
“I’m not going to hurt you, unless you try to hurt me first,” he announced, “I’m here to see if I can heal you any, no nefarious purposes on my side.”
Usually someone saying they had no other purpose was inherently suspicious, but coming from a fae who couldn’t lie it was an entirely different matter. “Why do you want to heal me, Faerie-san?” He blinked innocently, voice light a cheery, entirely unbefitting of their situation. He knew his act could be unsettling, that was the point right now.
The little fae merely leveled him with a spectacularly unimpressed look. “Because that bastard doesn’t like you. Because irritating the megalomaniac control freak is always a good way to spend my time. Because I don’t think you deserve to sit here in pain when you’re already fucked just by getting caught by the bastard. Because we’re basically in the same situation and I wanted to meet you. Take your pick, all of them are true.”
He tilted his head, desperately wishing for his fan to wave around as he thought. “You’re rather straightforward for a fae, aren’t you?” He stated more as a distraction than anything. He also noted that they hadn’t approached despite stating a desire to heal him.
“I’ve never been too good at the whole wordplay thing. I like literature as much as the next guy, but loopholes and double-meanings aren’t my style. I prefer the direct approach, it doesn’t waste so much time. Now, are you fine with letting me heal you? Because I’m not dumb enough to get close without explicit permission, and an Oath not to try and grab or hurt me while you’re at it.”
Kisuke smiled, somewhat amused by the blunt little thing. “Alright then. I don’t mind you healing me, and I swear upon mine magic not to try and grab or hurt you as long as you don’t give me cause.” A shiver ran through him as the binding magical Oath settled over his core. Breaking it would be… unpleasant at best.
“Great,” the fae nodded to himself, then walked forward. Though, he was graceful and light enough on his feet that Kisuke could describe the stride as ‘gliding’ without being too poetic. Kisuke also noted that he indeed wasn’t particularly skilled at wordplay, since promising not to hurt him without cause was very open to interpretation. Either he missed it entirely, or he noticed it for the test it was and chose to ignore it. Either way was interesting.
Of course, Kisuke had no intention to actually try anything. He would have to be a fool to alienate one of the few allies against Aizen he was likely to find in this place.
Ichigo went for his right hand first, since it was closest and also wouldn’t require climbing on Kisuke right off the bat. He placed his hands gently near one of his broken fingers, and began singing softly under his breath in, Kisuke was very interested to note, a language he didn’t recognize. The short song ended and the familiar cool buzz of healing magic was pushed into his hand, a bit rough in execution but the fae had more than enough skill for some crushed bones it seemed.
Kisuke blinked when he felt one of those tiny hands tap gently on an undamaged part of his hand, to catch his attention he assumed, and began to trace out letters.
D-o-n-t-r-e-a-c-t.
He inclined his head a fraction of an inch in acknowledgement, and felt what he recognized as a shallow telepathic link being offered, one that only allowed the exchange of surface thoughts rather than anything deeper. One of the kinder and least intrusive mind magics. It seemed to be touch based from what he was able to tell, making it another reason for the little faerie to get close enough to heal him. Not so bad at wordplay afterall, hm?
Naturally, he accepted.
“Sorry about this whole production, but Aizen has his damn camera flies all over the place. Fucking creep. Can’t talk about anything I don’t want him to know aloud.”
“I see. Yes, that does make sense for someone of his… personality.”
“Just call him a control freak. Bastard. Anyway, come up with a conversation topic out loud, something he knows you would ask. It’ll be suspicious if we sit here in silence the whole time.”
“So, Faerie-san, what’s your name? And why are you in this lovely fortress, if you aren’t a follower of Aizen?” He smiled as brightly and fakely as possible.
“Kurosaki Ichigo. No, my name does not mean strawberry. It’s spelled with kanji for one and protect. I’m here because Aizen is a freaky bastard who likes to experiment on things that annoy him.”
“I also was a pretty big pain in his ass before he caught me. I was pretty good at sabotaging his plans, or holding his lackies up until someone else could run off with whatever he wanted. Good times. Then he set up a trap, figured out who I was, and then threatened my family until I swore an Oath to not try to escape, not try to contact anyone, never fight him, never interfere with his plans, and never ask someone to help me. That sort of thing.”
“Ah, so that’s what you’re doing. Definitely not asking me for help.”
“You know exactly what I mean. You want to kill his ass, I want to kill his ass. I’ve heard him whining about how damn smart you are, which means you’ll come up with an actual plan, unlike me.”
“Kurosaki-san, then. Whatever do you mean by experiments?”
“My dad was a dragonblooded human. Mom was a High Elf. Aizen wanted to figure out if he could artificially create a Faerie. Turns out you can if the subject is hellishly stubborn with a ridiculous capacity for mana and a body resilient enough to withstand having its fundamentals rearranged, something I had thanks to the mixed human and dragon heritage. Humans are noted for their adaptability, after all. Unfortunately my body was also rendered unstable by that whole mess, and it needed a counterpoint to balance out the new Faerie stuff. Coincidentally, artificially turning someone into a demon has the same requirements, and demons happen to be the perfect opposite to Faerie, as beings uniquely capable of channeling corrupt magic through their bodies. I survived that too. Now I’m a Faerie-Elf-Human-Demon mess, and the incompatible magics regularly attempt to poison me.”
That was absolutely fascinating, but Kisuke had the sense not to pry further into what was clearly a sore point. He was a socially incompetent amoral mad scientist, not stupid.
Maybe he could pry later.
After Ichigo’s almost-rant, they descended into what would hopefully look like awkward silence to an observer as he finished with one hand and then ran around to work on the other. Really, they had just moved the conversation to telepathy.
“So, you aren’t allowed to fight him, correct? Nothing about assassination or poison?”
“No, but I’ve thought of that. First of all, I don’t have the skills to get past basically anyone, much less Aizen. Second, he has a stupid amount of precautions against assassins of your ability, as in explicity you and some Yoruichi person, I heard him gloating about it. I don’t stand a chance.”
“Unfortunate but not surprising. How about supporting another in fighting him?”
“That can work. Do you think you’d be able to manage it on your own?”
“Is his Hogyoku complete and fused with him? If yes, then no. Otherwise, as long as I have time to prepare and the element of surprise, I am more than confident.”
“He’s not fused with the Hogyoku yet. It keeps resisting him.”
“Oh, really? Do you know why?”
“Aizen hasn’t figured it out yet, but uh… it thinks he’s boring. His stupid egomaniac power trips and his whole wish for ultimate power thing is apparently really dull. Basically it just doesn’t like him.”
“Well, that’s a relief. It certainly buys us time. Are there any other limitations on you I should know about?”
“Almost all my magic is unusable. Fae basically bleed magic, so every day he hooks me up to a mana battery and drains me until I have just enough to stay healthy with. My wings are damaged as well, and having my mana drained keeps them from healing. The wings are vital for channeling serious magic for a Faerie, so some light healing and really weak magic is all I can manage.”
Kisuke frowned slightly, again wishing he had his fan to fidget with as he thought. “I think that directly confronting him may not be the best idea. Neither of us are at our best so long as we are under his control, after all. Perhaps instead, we ought to prioritize an escape, so we have time to heal and the resources to make a proper trap for him.”
“That sounds like a great idea, except for the part where I swore a magical Oath not to escape from here. I’ll be ripped apart from the inside before I can step out the door.”
At this, Kisuke smiled. He had already thought of a solution to that little issue. “Who said you would be escaping. In your current condition, if I were to decide to kidnap you while making my escape, you would hardly be in a position to resist, correct?”
Ichigo looked up from the pulverised knuckle he was currently attempting to piece back together, and raised an eyebrow. “Huh, maybe I’ll actually make it out of this hole alive.”
“Yes, well first I’ll need to find the opportunity to escape.”
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, attempting to come up with an idea that might actually work.
Eventually, Ichigo finished with his other hand. “Hey, can you lift me up to your shoulder? It seems a little rude to just climb you, and I can’t exactly fly right now. Aside from a few wounds on your chest, the rest of your injuries should be on your face, unless there’s something else?”
Kisuke grinned winningly, not reacting in the slightest to the wounds on his face. With a quick movement, he was flipping his hand over and splaying his palm wide in offering. “No, that sounds about right. Hop on, then.” He carefully hid his fascination as Ichigo stepped right into his hand, tiny footsteps barely felt as the fae kneeled in the center of his palm. Doubtless so he wouldn’t lose his balance at any sudden movements. Kisuke attempted to be considerate, keeping his movements slow as he lifted his hand towards his shoulder, though the consideration was at least in part so he could study the sensation of a tiny person sitting in his hands.
It was undoubtedly an interesting situation. Kisuke wondered if Kurosaki-san was aware of just how big a show of trust this was. While Faeries were undoubtedly more durable than their size suggested, if he put effort into it, all he would really need to do was close his hand and squeeze , and that would be it. Obviously he wouldn’t, both because he was a fascinating and incredibly rare species that he could very well go a thousand years without encountering again, and also because he was interesting even without taking his species into account. It was a rare find indeed for someone to draw his gaze as more than a research subject or potential target.
He almost felt regretful when Kurosaki hopped smoothly off his palm and onto his shoulder. The fae moved with admirable steadiness on what was surely rather unstable ground, considering the slopes and angles present in human musculature, as well as the fact that Kisuke breathing would be shifting the ground beneath his feet. Kisuke refrained from turning his head to observe him, contenting himself with tilting his head slightly and watching out of the corner of his eye as Ichigo approached. He could see him in much clearer detail, this close, and he couldn’t help noticing that he had rather attractive features. The overly serious expression was rather cute, though he knew better than to say that out loud.
Kisuke almost sighed in regret when Ichigo slipped under his chin, and out of his line of sight, though the feeling of him leaning up against the crook of his neck was worth the loss. The previous singing in an unknown language started up again, though with some new words and phrases thrown in. It was longer as well, perhaps because of the larger surface area, or the injuries were simply more complex. He knew he was missing a few teeth, for one thing, and his left orbital socket was undoubtedly fractured. There might have been some nerve damage as well.
“Tch, if you were a normal human you would be drowning in your own blood. One of your ribs punctured a lung.”
“Ah yes, I almost forgot about that. Whoops.”
Kurosaki sounded somewhat incredulous when he spoke next. “Seriously? What kind of pain tolerance do you have, that you forgot you had a punctured lung? I wouldn’t have noticed if my magic hadn’t scanned you for injury, your expression hasn’t changed at all.”
“I’ve experienced many things in my life, Kurosaki-san,” Kisuke attempted to sound aggravatingly mysterious, but it was tragically made rather difficult by being chained up and heavily injured. It was hard to pull off the classic I-know-something-you-don’t aura under such conditions.
“Yeah, whatever.” He seemingly stopped talking to focus on healing the exciting variety of injuries.
“Hey, I think I have an idea. I kinda hope I’m wrong, but he’s probably going to try and do to you what he did to me. Not exactly the same, for one thing apparently elven genetics are necessary to bind to Faerie ones, something about being similar enough for my body to accept them, but the Demon part. I think he’s done it before, he knows it works on Spirit Touched humans, that’s why he was so willing to use the process to stabilize me, he had experience with it.”
“Yes, I know what you’re talking about. The reason you survived was because Elves are noted to be the descendents of Faeries and Humans, which is why they would have taken to the changes like they did. Rather more importantly, I know who you’re talking about, Aizen’s trial run in Demonifying some of the strongest Spirit Touched at the time. They call themselves the Visored these days, I actually helped to stabilize them. We keep in contact, attempting to find a way to deal with Aizen through our own methods.”
“So you know how it works, then.”
“I know it isn’t a pleasant process.”
“Understatement. It lasts for days, and every single second is spent in agony. You don’t even get to fall unconscious, it hurts too bad. It feels like every single cell is being ripped apart, all at once, and that’s just the beginning. Eventually your body stops hurting, but that’s just because it’s reached your soul. You feel yourself get unmade, bit by agonizing bit, and stitched back together into something different. And the worst part is once it’s all over, it feels natural. Like nothing is wrong. Even though something so fundamental about yourself has been picked apart and rearranged, it feels right. Like this is how it's always been. How you’ve always been. Somehow that’s the worst part of all.” By the end, it was more a rant than anything else. Kisuke wondered how long he had been dwelling on this, alone in hostile territory, never able to let his guard down even for a moment to process what had happened to him. How very… tragic.
“...I see.” Was there anything else he could say? I’m sorry would do nothing, it wasn’t like he was the one who inflicted that pain, so it would be paltry at best. I understand was even worse, it was practically an insult to what he had endured.
“You don’t, not really. But if we can’t come up with a plan before Aizen decides to see if you make a good test subject, then you’ll know. I wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”
“You’re quite kind, aren’t you Kurosaki-san?”
“Kind? You call that kind? You have some low fucking standards. That’s just basic decency.”
“Hm, really?” Ichigo really was quite kind, Kisuke was only more certain of that now. It was a truly rare brand of kindness, the type that stemmed from a genuine soul that looked at the world’s cruelties and knew it didn’t want to be the cause of anymore. “Well, I would like to know your idea if we aren’t able to escape before Aizen decides to find out how I’d look as a Demon.”
“Yeah, prepare for the worst and all. I’m gonna need you to fill in any holes, here, thanks. The idea depends on whether you can modify a telepathic link enough for me to shelter your consciousness in my soul for the duration of the transformation. For about a week you regress back into your mind as a defense mechanism, and your shiny new Demonic instincts step up to the drivers wheel until you drag yourself out again. You have to basically fight the personified manifestation of those instincts in your soul and prove to them that you’re strong enough to be in control again. They are, in part, your survival instincts, they want you to live, even if that means trapping you in your mind until you prove that you’re the better option to keep yourself alive. The trick here is to circumvent that process, or most of it. The second the changes settle in, we’ll need to drag in your Demon as well, so you can sort out your shit without being handicapped by days of exhaustion, agony, and sort of wanting to die. The issue is that, once you return to your body, the memories of the transformation will hit you all at once. From my experience though, the memories aren’t nearly as bad because the mind literally can’t comprehend the sheer scale of the pain and violation it just went through. It still hurts like hell, but it isn’t the mind-twisting pain of experiencing it as it happens.”
Kisuke blinked once, twice, three times, and began turning the plan over in his head. “That is quite a well thought-out plan. Though, doesn’t it rely rather heavily on me creating a never before seen type of magic on an unknown time limit, meant to draw my consciousness into your inner world, which also happens to be highly invasive no matter how I look at it.”
Ichigo’s magic became restless, the emotion Kisuke felt from it being primarily confusion. “Wait, you can’t? If not, the whole plan is doomed from the start. Sorry, I figured that you wouldn’t have much issue with it, considering Aizen’s inferiority complex towards you, and however much I hate him and think he’s an idiot in the ways that matter, he is pretty smart about book stuff. He’s ranted for hours about all the supposedly impossible shit you’ve managed. If he didn’t loathe you so much I’d say he had a crush.”
“Please never say anything remotely similar to that again,” Kisuke butted in, feeling vaguely nauseous about the implications. “Also, I never said I couldn’t do it. I was just surprised at the… trust.” There was a lot more Kisuke wanted to say about that, particularly about the fact that Ichigo was letting a plausibly insane, unethical, not-quite-retired assassin into his soul , but somehow he couldn’t make himself bring it up.
Kisuke didn’t want Ichigo to think twice about the trust he showed. He selfishly wanted to hoard this kindness. Ichigo was one of the very few genuinely good people in the world, and he deserved far better, but frankly Kisuke was not nearly a good enough person to consider relinquishing this.
They had barely known each other for half an hour, and he already felt this strongly about the matter. What a novel experience. He hadn’t even latched onto Yoruichi this quickly, but then again, she was far too similar to himself for him to have opened up so quickly.
Ichigo was speaking again, bringing him out of his lightning-quick considerations. “Why wouldn’t I trust you? We have the same goals here, there’s no reason for you to hurt me. Even if you have plans that I don’t know about, I don’t mind being used if it doesn’t go against what I think is really important.”
Kisuke almost choked. That was something he had never expected to hear, not even in his dreams. People didn’t just say they didn’t mind being used or manipulated, even if it was for their own good. They certainly didn’t look at Kisuke and trust that he wouldn’t hurt them without reason, and that was perfectly natural considering how many people he had already hurt for no good reason at all, just a signed order and he had obeyed. Maybe this was because of their circumstances, because Ichigo didn’t know who he really is, but Kisuke wanted this . He wanted his trust, his concern, his affection, all of it. When he put his mind to something, he had never completely failed, and he didn’t plan to start now.
Then, step one, he supposed, was getting them both out of here.
“Alright then. I shall do my best to live up to your expectations, Kurosaki-kun.”
“Great. If we’re lucky we’ll piss the bastard off so much he’ll have a stroke.”
“Unlikely considering the resilient physiology of a Spirit Touched, but a pleasant image nonetheless.”
“See, you get me just fine.”
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