Fic: Epitaph
Title: Epitaph
Characters: Yachiru, Kenpachi
Warnings: character death, violence
Ratings: PG
Yachiru doesn't remember anything before Ken-chan.
Before Ken-chan it was nothing but darkness and red, lots and lots of angry splatters of red.
If she thinks hard, she can remember a crying woman with pretty long hair and sad eyes. For days the woman would seclude herself in her dark room, humming softly or else sobbing for her husband. Sometimes she would rock her baby and whisper wild stories of a great bear befriending a tiny rabbit
“They lived happily ever after,” the woman happily recanted. Her dark eyes were missing that tiny light that glimmered of hope, so when the baby stared at her eyes she saw nothing but two endless dark pools. “Always seeking new adventures and making new friends!”
The baby smiled and suddenly a tear fell from the woman’s empty eyes. “Because of you he’s gone!” she screamed in hysteria and a servant had to run in to take the baby away. Slamming the door behind and leaving the woman to howl in pain, weeping for hours at a time
Something was broken inside this deplorable woman but the adults were too busy hiding her from the world to offer any help.
The baby was left in her crib, picked up to be changed or feed and then forgotten. Many times the woman would wander into the baby’s nursery and smile, counting her tiny little finger and toes before some tiny thing sent her to madness.
Indeed that’s how the tiny babe spent her early life, listening to the woman’s wails at night and hearing stories at day. It continued repeatedly until finally the woman didn’t cry anymore and there were no more stories
Soon afterwards the cries and stories were replaced by angry shouts. The baby’s caretaker were busy arguing over who would take care of her. She had become a burden, now that she was alone without any money or power, and no one wanted to take care of her.
Someone suggested that the baby should be sent to the country where an old aunt would raise her. It was unanimous and soon the baby’s modest belongings were packed and a carriage was called for. A wet nurse and a young man would accompany the baby until they reached the country, there a letter would be delivered- no a family ruling that this baby would be raised far away, never to be seen.
However, no one had mentioned how dangerous the journey would be- otherwise a guard would be hired. But the selfish adults did not care for the safety of the baby, now that she had nothing.
Along the journey the wet nurse covered the baby’s eyes to protect her eyes from the harsh sun. It seemed that the baby would always be shrouded in darkness, never experiencing the joy of seeing colours but always black and gray.
But then something unexpected happened. The baby finally saw colour, she saw red for the first time, lots and lots of red. No sooner had the carriage reached Kusajishi that the carriage was attacked by thieves, and there had been screams and tears. The carriage had been turned over and she tumbled onto the floor, her many blankets cushioning her fall.
Men barged into the carriage, cursing and shouting for money before running off. The baby poked her head from within the blankets and she saw, finally saw colour for the first time.
On the floor was her wet nurse, her eyes lifeless, red trickling from her head. Her neck had been sliced wide open and more red continued to ooze, covering her breast. The young man was on the floor, his stomach gutted by a knife.
For days the baby laid trapped in the broken down carriage, staring at the red and breathing in the coppery stench. Occasionally a footstep would startle her but whoever it was they never entered the carriage.
She probably would have died- no she would have died if it weren’t for that great laughter in the air. Such a sound! It broke through the still forest, echoing against the trees, causing the birds to fly away.
Indeed it was such a great shout, such a great sound that it seemed as though the very ground was shaking. Her tiny heart began to race and she found she wanted to hear more of it.
All the sounds she had heard were cries and screams that this sudden new sound excited her. This new sound was so much better than all the sounds she had heard in her short life and she needed to hear more of it.
Somehow she crawled out of the overturned carriage, hitting the ground with a painful thump but she ignored it, her determination set on pursuing that great laughter.
Her fingernails became covered in mud, her tiny palms redden, and her pretty kimono became torn and dirty but still she did not stop following that sound. Faster and faster she crawled wanting to hear more of that sound, understanding that this was happiness. For the first time she was hearing happiness, no more sadness, no more anger but true happiness.
The trees themselves seemed to make way, becoming lesser and lesser as she reached this laughter as if encouraging her to continue forward despite her tiny body’s protest.
But then the sound stopped. She had reached a small clearing that created a circle and like the carriage, it too was covered in red and smelled of copper.
There was a cry in the back of her throat, as the baby realized that all these men were lifeless just as her wet nurse. Certainly they wouldn’t have made the noise. Therefore she would never be able to hear that sound again.
"Where did you come from kid?”
A giant- a giant it must have been for his fingers alone were as long as her body- sat on a polished stone, covered in red. His hair was jet black, dirty and sweaty, sticking to his forehead. A long scar ran from his left eye to his jaw, the deep scar making a contrast to his tanned skin.
He stared at her oddly, following her clumsy movement before she accidentally cut her pink palm on his sword.She stared at oozing blood in wonder, surprised that she too could make the colour red. Surprised that she could create some colour in her black and gray life, and maybe just maybe she could also create that great sound.
Unable to hold her excitement she shoved her tiny fist at the giant, pleased with the pretty colour. The giant stared at her, surprised at her lack of tears. “Kid, what’s your name?”
Name? She didn’t have one. The woman had played with her as though she was a doll and her caretakers had treated her as a burden. For so long she had been ignored, left to the darkness and the woman’s madness.
The giant stood then and she arched her head up as he stood as tall as any tree, as strong as the grizzly bears as wild as the wolves.
">“Yachiru the name of the only person I’ve ever cared about. I’ll give it to you,” he said his voice sturdy watching her closely for any sign of fear. But she was not afraid; she had only known pain and anger, and for the first time she was witnessing something else.
“I will be Kenpachi.”
Yachiru doesn’t remember anything before Ken-chan but she thinks that’s okay.
Before Ken-chan was nothing but misery and neglect, nothing but sadness and anger.
With Ken-chan she got to hear more of his great barks of laughter, especially if he found himself a good fight. That great laughter, she soon realized, meant that Ken-chan was happy and as long as he was happy she was happy too.
She enjoyed each moment with Ken-chan as he moved though Roukongai in search of a good fight. She enjoyed seeing all these bright vivid colours, hearing new sounds, smelling new things
When Ken-chan finally found a good fight, he would hold his sword on the right hand, Yachiru on the other and charge into battle. He would let out a great bark of laughter, so great that it ruffled the trees and shook his opponents. Sometimes Yachiru would be hit but Ken-chan would make sure to give an extra hard punch to the poor bastard.
He would take whatever money they had and buy her some toy or pretty kimono whenever they were in town.He would change her diapers, burp her, feed her and always set her down for her afternoon nap. Of course he would complain, hollering that babies were disgusting and too fussy and simply too much work, but he never abandoned her in one of the many towns they traveled to.
Years went by in the same fashion until Yachiru thought of something. What if Ken-chan lost? Each new opponent was becoming wilder and stronger; and there had been many times when Ken-chan had a hard time winning. His injuries were becoming deeper and bloody- once his bicep was split open to shove the tissue and vessels inside.
Then she thought of something. What if Ken-chan died?
Yachiru knew from experience that if there is too much blood then the person could die.
She remembers crying about this one night, thinking that dying would certainly not suit Ken-chan. He was impatient and animated, never still and silent.
“Oi Yachiru if ya don' get here ya ain't eating.”
He paused slightly, frowning when he didn't hear a response. “Oi!” He rose from the stone he was sitting at, grumbling in annoyance. “What the hell ya cryin' for?”
She sniffed, breaking down into new tears. “Who hurt you?” he asked a murderous tone in his voice. “Because when I find that -”
“No!” she sniffed. Ken-chan had already taught her how to fight and she could more than handle herself.
“Well what the hell is it?”
“I-I don' want Ken-chan to die!” she bawled out, rubbing her red eyes with her fist. “That's it?” he questioned rolling his eyes. “I ain't sick. I ain't gonna die.”
“No,” she continued. “What if Ken-chan loses? What if Ken-chan dies?”
“So what? That's the price ya get for a good fight!” he reasoned but the waterworks wouldn't stop. “Listen you, no one lives forever. We all gonna die someday!”
This time she broke into more tears. He sighed, easily picking her with up her oobi and putting her on his strong back. “Ya know when ya have a hard fight and fall asleep?”
Yachiru blinked. “Yeah.”
“Well that's all it is. So quit bawling over nothing!” She sniffed, her eyes becoming glossy once again. “I'll try not to die any time soon, got it?”
Yachiru smiled happily, clapping her hands and cheering out loud.
“But when I die you better not be bawling, got that?”
“Hai!” she said cheerily, sitting down on his shoulder.
And so Yachiru watched as another sword struck Ken-chan's body.
He let out that familiar bark of a laughter that means he is happy that this turned out to be a good fight after all. Kenpachi rips off the black eye patch, grinning manically at the approaching opponents. His lips pulled back in a sinister smile, his eyes glinted darkly, lusting for blood.
With another yell, he charges at the armies, swiping his rusted sword at the throngs. They keep coming at him, these soldiers that do not fear death but live only for Aizen's cause.
There is a harsh crack then as he beheads another opponent, its blue eyes wide before growing blank as life leaves him. Immediately there is another soldier taking his place and just as easily Kenpachi beheads him too. He cuts off limps and heads, punches and breaks bones.
The adrenaline keeps him focused and fighting, stronger than any drug. This feeling, this excitement. For too long he has missed this familiar sense of battle. He is running solely on basic instincts, the wild instincts that separated humans from animals.
Again he lets out another bark of laughter.
“Keep them comin’!”
Another wave of soldiers come rushing, this time bringing cannons to try and stop this great beast. But Kenpachi does not waver for a moment, he continues to take out as many soldier, and when one of them get luck and strikes his body, he does not pause. In an instance he brings down the culprit.
He is fighting an entire army and is destroying over three-quarters of it. The last move had been quick, too quick and for a moment he cannot help but wonder why he hadn’t seen it sooner. It was some sort of illusion, that’s why he hadn’t seen it. The illusion somehow dulled his senses.
Well that was a pretty cheap trick, he thinks. He had finally gotten the fight that he craved for years, ever since he fought that kid Ichigo. This fight makes him feel alive and aware of his surroundings, something he hasn’t done so in years. But now it has ended too soon.
Kenpachi yanks away the sword that came crashing at his lungs. The soldiers are hesitant for a moment, wondering how someone can survive a crushing blow. He fights and he fights until finally he cannot breathe anymore.
It was his own fragile body that prevented him from finishing that great battle he craved for.
It takes him a long time to come down, perhaps because of his large size and when he does he looks up to see a very still Yachiru. “Dumbass!”
And then everything becomes dark and he can no longer hear the cries and shouts of the enemy, he can no longer taste the blood in his mouth, or feel the dull pain in his chest. For a moment his mind forms a vague outline of the previous Yachiru, the only woman he had ever cared for.
Slowly she approaches him, her eyes examining his overly large bloody body. This is the first time she had ever seen Ken-chan so quiet.
“You can rest now, Ken-chan, I’ll finish these guys off for you,” she whispers in his ear.
And then she pulls out his rusty sword from his strong grip, and dashes throughout the scene taking out as many monsters as she can. The monsters retaliated, confused as to how someone so small could have such an extraordinary amount of power.
When Ikkaku finally came with the division, he finds Yachiru sitting unusually quiet, watching the remains of the bloody battlefield. She is covered in blood, her uniform is torn, and she is clutching the rusted sword of Zaraki Kenpachi.
“Madarame!”
He’s more startled at the lack of her stupid nicknames.
“Take taichou back to the camp grounds, count how many survivors we have left, and get me a count on how many are capable of fighting.”
“Y-yes, fukutaichou!” he yells out, somewhat bewildered by the formality.
Yachiru closes her eyes at the overwhelming silence, trying to picture Ken-chan’s harsh laugh. It was his harsh laugh that had saved her after all, and he had been laughing and happy.
“Um fukutaichou?” Ikkaku begins hesitantly approaching the little girl. He is afraid of the angst and tears he will find her in.
She of all people had known Zaraki-taichou for so long.
“What is it baldie?” she asks in her usual chirpy voice.
“Didn’t I give you an order?”
“Yeah.” He doesn’t even notice the nickname.
“Are you alright?”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be? Ken-chan had lots of fun!”
Eventually Ikkaku leaves to bring back more shinigami to carry the large size of Zaraki. It takes five men to carry him back to the crowds.
She would have broken into tears, would have screamed and gone hysterical, like her poor mother had. But Yachiru does not want remember anything before Ken-chan. She wants to remember Ken-chan’s great laugh and their adventures as they roamed through Roukingai in search of a good fight.
Before Ken-chan is nothing but darkness and sadness.
Thus, she will never crumble to her mother’s madness and despair. She does not even remember her anymore, so she cannot follow her mother’s path. All she can remember now is her promise to Ken-chan and the wise sayings of her adopted father.
So when they ask her for what shall be carved in his epitaph, Yachiru eagerly says, “The price for a good fight!