DeathGod

The Seireitei was kind of cold today. Division Ten Captain Isshin Shiba nonchalantly pulled his arms into his shihakusho in a attempt to look like he hadn't gotten the chills and had pulled his arms closer for warmth. Granted, the temperature was always lower here. That's what happened when the literal personification of death lived in the same city as you, but most people eventually became use to it. Isshin himself hardly ever felt the cold any more. He'd gotten use to the unnatural chill after his first fifty years of service. Yet today the wind just whipped straight through his layers and bit at his bones.

Isshin actually shivered today. He'd shivered! He hadn't shivered on the job in over three decades. Even Engetsu's warmth barely kept the chill away.

Good thing he had his darling Masaki at home to warm him up when he got back. She was probably all swaddled up in a blanket right now, in this adorable little nest of fabric, and was munching on chocolate chip cookies. She always wanted chocolate chip cookies these days, but not nearly as often as she was wrapped up a blanket or two.

His poor little sweetheart Masaki could never feel warm anymore. Isshin could wrap her in twenty blankets and she'd still be cold. She joked it was their baby that sucked up all the her warmth. Her permanent chilliness worried Isshin though. He'd been around plenty of pregnant women before— his clan was large, and he'd even been present for the birth of three of his adorable nephews and niece —and he'd never seen a woman so consistently cold as Masaki was. The other ladies were satisfied after a blanket or three. Even Isshin's mom had looked at him strangely when he mentioned it last time, but the constant cold hardly affected Masaki— besides her constant need for a blanket —so he watched her very carefully and played his role as a loving, devoted husband.

A deep rumble interrupted his thoughts as the heavy wooden door in front of Isshin slid open. The door was large, carved with temple theme of designs of death and skeletons. It only opened about three feet, but it was unfortunately enough room for the Priest to step through.

The Priest was decked out entirely in white with in a long robe that flowed down his body and a veil that covered his entire head except for his eyes; eyes that narrowed in disgust when they saw who waited outside the door. His high pitched voice grounded out in annoyance. "The Death Lord will see you now, Captain Shiba. Please try not to make a mess of anything while you are here."

Ouch. A reception that was almost as cold as the weather. Then again, Isshin never was a favorite of the Priest. He was much too rambunctious for the order-loving man, and Isshin likewise thought of him as too boring and dull. They had had a few clashes before. There were no hard feelings on Isshin's side in the end though. They were both doing their jobs.

Serving the Death Lord.

Isshin nodded. "Thanks man."

The Priest stepped back and Isshin slipped through the opening he left behind. As usual, the inside of the building looked amazing. It was ancient, all black-as-night stone and white-as-bone marble, carefully carved with the symbols of death. Black columns lined against the walls, each marked with their own design. White torches attached to black walls gave off a ghostly fire for light. The bleached bone floor was filled with grinning faces of black skulls, all carved over thousands of years ago and preserved by the magic of the place.

This was the Temple of the Death Lord, and this was where Isshin liked to call his second home.

He knew the place so well that the Priest guiding him was only a formality. Isshin knew this temple like the back of his hand. Hours upon hours of his life had been spent here. He'd wandered the halls much during the beginning of his service, and he wandered through them even more in the past six months as a captain trying to avoid his paperwork. He could walk to the throne room blindfolded.

Which was why he was so surprised when the Priest took a wrong turn.

Oh man. This was awkward. "Uh buddy, you took a wrong turn there. We were supposed to go left not right. The throne room is the other direction."

The Priest stiffened, and if possible his demeanor grew even more cold. "That may be, but the Death Lord has asked for you to visit him in his quarters, not the throne room. So in fact we are indeed heading the right direction."

What? The Death Lord wanted to see him in his own personal room? What the heck. That was weird. Business of any sorts was conducted in the throne room. It always has been. It was like, a law by this point. Isshin had to be here for business, because why else would he, a captain of the shinigami, receive personal summons in the middle of the night?

"Ooookaaayyy then. Lead the way." Isshin said.

The Priest snorted like he was offended and turned from the shinigami. A couple twist and turns later and the Priest led Isshin to a door that by all appearances looked exactly like all the others doors in this place, if you looked past all the magical wards and barriers guarding it—and if you happened to miss how the temperature dropped a couple degrees just in front of this particular door, that was okay too. Or if one ignored the eerie feeling that just oozed out of the room. Besides all that, the door looked exactly the same as the others.

The Priest knocked on the door. "Death Lord, Captain of the Tenth Division Isshin Shiba is here to see you." and opened it on some unseen command a couple seconds later.

Despite how much Isshin had been to the Temple, he'd never been inside the Death Lord's personal room before. He gaped a little when the door swung wide enough to reveal what laid behind it. The inside was crazy. Like eight different designers decorated the place, and each had an extreme sense of style and zero ability to coordinate. The floor was a shaggy purple carpet which contrasted harshly with bright neon pink and green walls. A old, enormous Victorian-style bed sat in the very center of the room on a raised platform. A interesting combination of musical instruments and weapons decorated the walls. There was a large bookshelf that was filled to the brim with manga and magazines. The curtains to the three large windows were dull pink with a single white stripe running down it's length.

In the center of the west facing wall was a large wooden frame. A picture? Yeah, it had to be. It was so old looking. The picture was probably once been a majestic portrait, but age and grime had covered the painting to the point the only decipherable feature of the person was dull sandy blob on top of a less sandy blob.

Who the heck was that? Whatever, it probably wasn't that important. Instead, Isshin focused his attention on the other person in the room.

The Death Lord himself sat on his bed and flipped through a manga with practiced ease. He was tall and lanky and wore a mint green jumpsuit that only emphasized the fact. A pair of sunglasses covered his eyes, but it did little to distract from his almost star shaped afro. The moment Isshin stepped into the room he glanced up from his manga and broke into a smile with a warmth that belayed the lower temperature of the room.

"Isshin!" The Death Lord set him manga aside and stood up. "Good to see ya man! Thanks for comin' so late at night!"

Isshin smiled back. He set Engetsu by the doorway as custom dictated and made his way to the bed. He made a sly comment about the room's decorations, to which the other man just laughed and apologized for the time once more.

The Death Lord patted the edge of the bed, and Isshin sat on the soft mattress as his mouth rambled on. "No problem man! I was already up anyways 'cause Masaki had a sudden craving for home baked chocolate chip cookies, and she had to have them now or she would die. Specifically the home baked part. I was just finishing the last batch when I got your message. So what you reading today?"

"My favorite. You know, the one with the pirates." The Death Lord sat down and held up his book to show off the cover.

"The one with the flying ship and the living afro skeleton right? Ah man, that one is the best! Wish I could read the rest of the volumes. Not that you would let me. Little hogger, holding onto all the manga. Too bad I can't be reading it all the time. Rangiku would kill me if she caught me reading on the job."

"Nah. She'd probably faint in surprise to find you actually reading something, come back to life, and then kill you." The Death Lord disagreed, a large grin on his face.

Isshin chuckled. "Yeah, then Masaki would fly over in all her pregnant glory and try to start a fight. Rangiku would start yelling, then Masaki would, and it would devolved from there. And let me tell ya, that would be one heck of a cat fight."

"I bet. Reminds me of a saying I read in a manga somewhere. It went something like 'Dude, if you wanna get in between those two, then I am not paying for your funeral'. He was saying never to get between two arguing women. But," The Death Lord's smile tapered slightly. "speaking of Masaki, how is she?"

"Huh?" Isshin glanced up. What was with his sudden change of topic and slightly depressed atmosphere? That couldn't be good. Yet the Death Lord asked, and Isshin was not afraid to spew about his amazing wife. "She's doing great! Like I said, she's been alternating between craving home baked chocolate chip cookies and despising them with a passion. It bet you that by the time I get back home she'll have finished most of them. And then in the morning she'll toss the rest in the trash with no hesitation. We were a little worried at the beginning because humans don't always have an easy time holding half-shinigami babies, but she has been taking it like a champ! The doctors say the baby is developing well too, though it's too soon to know the gender. But her body is holding out, so we don't have to worry about her collapsing any time soon. In fact, the only thing I'm nervous about is that she is so cold all the time and-"

"Cold?" The Death Lord interrupted. He leaned closer to Isshin, the Chill of Death he carried became more prominent. His gaze locked onto the shinigami, a frown on his lips. "Did you say she is always cold?"

"Yeah?" Isshin hesitated. He wasn't sure if he liked how the Death Lord looked at him. "I could throw ten blankets on her and she would still be shivering."

The half-frown developed into a complete frown, including the furrowed eyebrows and intense stare. Isshin stiffened. He felt like he'd been caught pulling a prank by Captain-Commander Yamamoto himself. The Death Lord seemed to contemplate him for a moment as his lips moved in unspoken words. Isshin glanced around but he didn't feel any magic being activated. So the Death Lord wasn't saying a spell. Then what was he say that Isshin didn't hear?

The Death Lord sat back and the feeling dissipated.

Isshin let out a deep breath, suddenly aware of how his lungs burned. Did he hold his breath that entire time? He didn't even notice.

"Isshin."

His name was said in all seriousness, the kind that didn't allow for any argument or disagreement. It was the voice that forced all shinigami to obey. Even he, a captain, had to agree to whatever the Death Lord said next. Not even Central 46 or Yamamoto would go against this voice.

"Isshin. I want you to bring Masaki here."

"Me?" Masaki's voice squeaked in surprise, and she pointed to herself with wide eyes. "The Death Lord wants to see me?"

"Yeah." Isshin nodded. He went across the room and threw some blankets into a small bag. Gotta keep his wonderful wife warm even when out and about after all. His gaze drifted to their bedroom before he shook his head and turned back to the blankets.

Masaki took a second to absorb that bit of info. She took a bite of a cookie mindlessly. "But what in the world could he want with me? I mean, I know human and shinigami couples aren't typical, but that shouldn't warrant the attention of the Death Lord himself."

"I don't think it was about that." Isshin hurried to the kitchen and packed the rest of the cookies. Just to be safe. Again, his gaze drifted to their bedroom before he forced it away and focused on his task. "He doesn't care about stuff like that. He encourages relationships like ours actually. He was pretty happy for us when I first told him we were pregnant. But…."

Masaki peeked over at her husband's back as he drifted off. He stood at the kitchen counter, both hands on a large plastic tub filled with the rest of the cookies. He looked down at them, but Masaki could tell his mind was back at the Temple of the Death Lord. She encouraged him onward with a small "But?".

"But," Isshin's hands tightened around the tupperware. "Tonight, when he asked about you, he seemed… sad for some reason."

Masaki frowned. "Sad? Sad for what? Did he sense something involving death in our future?"

Isshin turned around but didn't meet her gaze. Instead he bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I-I don't know. He could have."

The silence was bitter, and it coiled around the house like a serpent of unease. Isshin hated it, but he couldn't fight this feel of helplessness. He was a captain of the Gotei 13! He had a zanpakutō, a shikai, kido, bakudo, a bankai, and hundreds of other weapons at his disposal. He had a ton of friends to call upon, a whole family clan that would fight for him. He was even good friends with the God of Death himself for heaven's sake! He shouldn't be able to feel this powerless.

Plus… plus there was that feeling deep in Isshin's gut he'd been trying to ignore since he got home. It made his stomach roll just at the thought. This deep, dark feeling that told him to go to their room and pack more than just a blanket and a snack because both he and Masaki weren't going to be back for a long time. He wanted to dismiss the feeling, shove it to the back of his mind and forget. For some reason he just couldn't.

"Hmphf!" Masaki puffed out her cheeks and determination filled her eyes. "Stop being so depressed, stupid. Let's go find out what he wants already."

Isshin stared, caught off guard. "Huh?!"

"You heard me. Stop being depressed. It's not going to help anything, so let's just go already." Masaki heaved herself off the couch with little grunt and a grumbled. Four months pregnant and she already looked like ungainly penguin, she'd decided. Half the time she certainly felt as cold as a penguin in the Arctic.

He rushed over, and she gratefully accepted the hand he offer to help her up. Her body started to shiver, and Isshin instantly replaced the discarded blankets on her shoulders. Masaki tugged the three blankets to cover her front, one hand clenching the fabric together once it settled.

Isshin smiled. "So we're going?"

Masaki nodded. "Yes."

Aw shucks, who was he to argue with a adorable face like that.

"Alright then." He pulled her into a hug and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "I'll keep packing then."

He stepped away to grab the cookies, but Masaki's hand slipped out from the blankets and grabbed his sleeve. "Isshin?"

"Yeah?"

"Can... can you pack some clothes? I know it's weird, but I just have this feeling that we will be needing them."

Isshin's throat closed up.

Isshin was sure they were a curious sight to anyone up late this night. A shinigami captain who carried a cocoon of blankets that contained his pregnant human wife. A odd sight indeed as they snuck around their home city. They crossed the Seireitei like a pair of thieves, sticking to the shadows and avoiding contact at all cost.

He wasn't quite sure why they snuck around like this. There was this deep dread in his stomach kept him out of the light. Masaki hadn't said a word about it either. She probably felt the same thing.

Isshin came to a stop in front of the Temple doors and carefully put Masaki down. Being wrapped in so many blankets, she kind of just slid out of his arms, her feet made quiet contact with the stone. The innocent bag in her arms twisted Isshin's gut painfully at the sight.

In the end, he took the blankets out of the bag just so they could fit all the essentials. Somehow they both agreed without speaking a word that they would need to pack more then clothes. The bag was small, but it contained everything personal that they might need if their terrible feeling ended up being right. Isshin prayed that it wouldn't.

A small hand wrapped around his, and Isshin clasped both of his around his wife's chilly hand. "You ready?"

Masaki gave a nod and a tiny "Uhuh."

"Okay," Isshin let go of her hand and stared at the wooden doors. His grip on Engetsu's handle tightened and he spoke his next couple steps out loud to mentally prepared both himself and his wife. "We'll walk up to the doors and I'll knock, then we wait for the Priest to open and he'll guide is to the Death Lord's room. Sounds good?"

"Sounds good."

"Okay." Isshin took a single step, and jerked back in surprise when the door rumbled and then opened on its own accord. "Oh! Oh, okay. That's happening. Guess we can skip steps one through three."

Masaki giggled, and Isshin couldn't help the smile that crawled up on his face. He held a hand out back to her and she slipped her own hand into his.

The door opened its three feet and clanked to a halt. It rumbled for a moment, as if it hesitated, then slide over another two feet. Isshin's jaw dropped. Holy crap! The door opened five whole feet! For some reason that stupid door never opened completely. Five feet was definitely a brand new record. He'd never seen it open so wide. Even the Death Lord himself got four feet of entrance.

Where was the Priest though? Shouldn't he have hurried over as fast as possible to investigate? It's not like the door was quiet or anything. Strange that he hadn't showed up yet. That even more of a surprise then the door. Typically Isshin could just think of a disruptive idea and the Priest would come scurrying over.

"Where is the Priest?" He mumbled to himself.

"I've dismissed him for the night." Masaki let out a squeak as a deep voice answered Isshin's question. The air grew even more cold as a tall individual stepped out of the dark. "He's a nosey little fish turd, always been more loyal to the government then to me. He doesn't need to know what's going on."

"Death Lord!" Isshin dropped into a quick bow even as he tried to process what the man said about the Priest. Masaki followed his example slightly slower, hindered by her belly.

The Death Lord held up his hand. "No, please, don't bow. I don't deserve it coming from you guys. Just follow me." He stepped back inside the temple.

Isshin hesitated. What did the Death Lord mean by 'I don't deserve it from you guys' exactly? He was the God of Death. Everyone had to bow to him. It was their sign of respect for all that he did for the living world.

Masaki mistook the reason for his hesitance and tugged on his hand. She started into the temple by herself and he jumped to her side. Some small part of him that was ignoring the entire situation wanted to see the look on Masaki's face when she saw the inside of the Temple of the Death God for the first time. After all, shinigami and Priests were the only ones allowed in it. Humans and mages never saw the inside.

True to his expectations, Masaki was floored by the inside of the building. She gaped at everything and anything, a small hand flew to her stomach the moment her foot touched the white stone floor. Isshin took a moment to appreciate her reaction. Jaw dropped, eyes wide with wonder, small gasps of surprise every time something new popped up.

It was slightly heartwarming. Isshin had been in the temple so often that the awe had worn off, but seeing Masaki's reaction brought it all back. The inside looked exactly the same as it did earlier, but the whole place was somehow brighter now that his wife was here.

Well, that and the torches were a bit stronger then earlier. The flames were less ghostly, and a bit more orange in color. Strange. He'd never seen that before.

The Death Lord led them to his room. He held the door open for both of them like a gentleman, but once they passed through he shut it so quickly the wood protested with a small groan.

Isshin grabbed Engetsu's handle to leave it at the door again, but the Death Lord stopped him with a wave of his hand. "Nah, keep your zanpakutō on ya. I don't mind."

Isshin nodded, but marked it off in his mind. Okay, weird thing about tonight number seven. "Sure." And was surprised by the small wave of relief from himself that followed. Guess he needed Engetsu's mental support more than he thought.

The Death Lord waved his hand and summoned three black chairs. They appeared in the middle of the room with the particular sensation of shinigami magic— a hint of deathly chill and the smell of incense —one of the chairs facing the other two. An obvious cue to sit down. He and Masaki sat in the pair of chairs; Masaki pulled her feet up and tucked them into her side and under the blanket. She left the bag on the floor as her gaze wandered around the room.

The Death Lord sat in the opposing chair, slouched low in the seat but stretched out so he only came in contact with the end of the chair and the tip of the back. He crossed one leg over the other and stuck both hands in his pockets. Once again, Isshin was struck by how the Death Lord posed a extremely unlikely figure. It was kind of hard to imagine that the man in a mint green jumpsuit in front of him was the God of Death. Despite his appearance though, the unnatural chill and aura of power he carried belated that.

The Death Lord glanced at both of them before he spoke. "Thank you for coming, you guys. I know this was sudden, and really weird, but it's very important."

"No problem." Isshin answered. Masaki hummed her agreement, too busy still checking the room out to answer fully. "Hey, when the God of Death tells you to do something, you do it."

The Death Lord frowned, but it was only visible for half a second before he hid it under a relaxed smile. "Yeah, I try not to abuse my power as a Death Lord, but sometimes it comes in handy. But still, thank you guys for comin'. It's nice to finally meet ya Masaki."

Masaki snapped her gaze from the old portrait at her name. "Oh, it's nice to meet you too. Thanks for inviting me over! Not a lot of humans get to go inside the Temple of Death, much less meet the Lord of Death face-to-face, so this is a huge honor."

The Death Lord grinned and placed a hand on his heart. "Nah, I'm the one who is honored to meet you. And your husband too. Both of ya are somethin' incredibly special."

"Eh?" Isshin raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"

"We'll get into that in a bit," the Death Lord waved him off nonchalantly. "But before that, Isshin, tell me the story of the Death God."

Woah. Isshin could have gotten some serious whiplash from the sudden change in conversation. Not that he was about to let go that easy.

"What does that have to do with me and Masaki?" He asked cautiously.

The Death Lord tilted his chair back, balancing his weight on the back two legs. "Everythin'."

Everything? That didn't make sense. Granted, Isshin was a shinigami, the Death God's personal race of warriors and servants. It made sense for him to be involved, but that didn't explain Masaki. Was it because they were married and she was carrying their kid? That still didn't make much sense. The Death God's origin story was all about magic and Masaki wasn't even a mage for goodness sake. How was an ancient story connected to the both of them?

The Death Lord raised a single eyebrow and urged him on at the silence. "Come on man, you know the story. Everyone knows it. We teach it since preschool. Tell it to me."

Isshin devoted a couple seconds to internal panicking. This was way weird, and severely off-track from any of the hundreds of ways he came up with on the run here of the possible ways this conversation could go. He didn't have a pre-prepared plan for this conversation. He floundered mentally for a bit, but kept his face rock still so he wouldn't worry Masaki with his uncertainty.

"Okay." Isshin got his crap together enough to speak and sat back in his seat. "I just know the elementary stuff really. Forever hundred years ago the world was full of magic, but empty of anything else for a super long time. Then something shifted in the magic, and the gods of Death and Life were created. They looked like us, but had special magical forms they could take. Death was a really powerful monster and Life was a person made of light. The other thing that was created in the same moment was every single soul that ever existed, though they were not of pure magic like Death and Life.

"The two gods wandered around the Earth for a bit, Life created plants and Death killed them as they tried to discover their powers. But after awhile the harmless spirits that hung around grew twisted and corrupt, becoming monsters known as hollows. The monsters ran around killing and devouring other souls, upsetting the balance of magic and threatening the entire world. Death stepped in to slay them, and both gods were surprised to find all the souls the hollow had eaten were released after it's death. But after their release, the spirits just wandered until they became hollows again. Eventually Life got the idea to take the spirits and put them in containers they called bodies and created the first animals. But Death's power affected everything alive, and the bodies would die— and the newly released souls added to the hollows being created at crazy rates —and so he came up with the idea to put the old souls in new bodies and created the reincarnation cycle.

"Then they created humans together because they wanted to have others like them around. Some they taught magic to, which is where mages come from, some they left alone as humans, and others were taken personally under the god's wings. The Death God's favorites became the shinigami and he gave them some power over his domain, including his ability to slay hollows. We don't know about the Life God's people, because we lost all records about them over two thousand years ago, when the Life God just up and disappeared. No one knows what happened to him, but his power of life is still working so we know it wasn't too bad.

"Death created Hell afterwards, where he sent the souls of the people who don't deserve to be reborn are sent.

"One day, bored with his existence, the Death God decided to enter the cycle of reincarnation. He was reborn just minutes later as the first Death Lord. Since then there has been eight Death Lords, with you being the latest one. And that's it really."

Tada. Done. The Death God's story, not exactly told as his elementary teachers had, but Isshin held his right to a creative license.

"Hmmm," The Death Lord rocked back and forth on the two chairs legs. His chair creaked every time he moved. Back, forth, once, twice. "A nice rendition of it. But like a manga I read once said, 'Close, but no cigar'. It means that your story was mostly right, but it was missin' a few key details."

Isshin sat up. "What?"

Masaki's eyes went wide, one arm wrapped around her stomach.

"Yep. Key details like the fact that the Life God was actually the Life Goddess and that she was killed by some mysterious power that we still know nothing about, her followers slaughtered and scattered to the wind. Key details like how that she and the Death God loved each other and that he grew depressed and angry after her murder. Or that Hell had already been created, but it only became a true hell after Death locked his anger and fury inside it which twisted and warped Hell to the terrible state it is, savin' the innocent living world from his uncontrollable wrath."

The Death Lord had leaned forward sometime during all of this, all four of his chair legs on the ground. Isshin hadn't seen him move, his motion so slow and gradual. Everything about the Death Lord was tense, from his stiff posture to his cold voice, and Isshin's muscles had tightened before he even realized. He could sense that Masaki was as wound up as a spring besides him, both arms clenched around her stomach.

"Other key details like how the Death God couldn't handle livin' without Life and decided to enter the reincarnation cycle with her, waiting to be reborn when she was. Key details like how he wasn't reborn minutes later as the Death Lord. He instead went up to his good buddy Shinji Hirako, gave him a few powers like the Mask of Death and the ability to pass souls from their bodies, told him to watch over the world, and then entered reincarnation. Stuff like how the Death God hasn't been reborn since."

Out of all the world shattering statements that the Death Lord had revealed, only one managed to stick in Isshin's slightly overwhelmed brain.

"Wait a minute. He hasn't been reborn since?" Isshin repeated. Panic had started to worm it's way to his brain, a cold, slimy, unwelcome presence. There was a lot of major information that could be translated in many bad ways, and he could feel his imagination being kicked into overdrive. Which wasn't helpful at all, so he stuck with his two main panics. "But what does that make you? What does that have to do with us?"

"Me? I've got some power, but I'm really just a placeholder. All Death Lords are. We're just here to make sure people keep dyin'." The Death Lord frowned and threw his hands up behind his head to interlock his fingers. "'Course, why the leaders of the Seireitei back then decided not to tell the whole truth is somethin' I'll never understand. Nothing would have happened. People would have gotten used to it eventually. Now we gotta keep up this whole stupid charade. Don't even trust me either. Gave me a babysitter in the form of my Priest. Ridiculous." He snorted in annoyance.

Isshin stared at him for a second. That was interesting and all, but after everything else revealed it wasn't exactly his highest priority "…. But what does that have to do with us?"

The Death Lord rolled his eyes— or at least, it looked like he did, hard to tell with the sunglasses —and turned his attention to Masaki. His body language changed instantly, his rough demeanor melted to respectful gentleness. "You've felt it, haven't you?"

Masaki stiffened. She smashed her lips shut and tightened her grip on her stomach. She seemed to shrink under the blankets, wanting to vanish into their deep folds.

The Death Lord smiled softly. "I know you have. It's why you're so cold all the time. Been feelin' the Chill of Death this entire time. Probably barely even noticed my own with how strong his is already."

Masaki said nothing, only burrowed deeper into the fabric.

Isshin, on the other hand, gaped with his mouth wide open.

Holy crap! The Chill of Death? There's no possible way Masaki could create it, much less have enough to be able to compete with the Death Lord. That was a Death thing. Anything with power that came from Death carried the Chill of Death. All shinigami had it, barely enough to drop the temperature of their skin by a couple degrees unless their zanpakutō specialized in ice. Shinigami captains could lower the temperature of the air around them. Rumor had it that the Captain-Commander, and Captains Kyōraku and Unohana could actually make frost if they concentrated hard enough. To top all of them, the Death Lord lowered the temperature of the whole city by just living there.

Why would Masaki…? Unless...

"Does this mean our kid is the next Death Lord?" Isshin blurted out.

The Death Lord stared at him. "No."

Isshin relaxed slightly. Only sightly. That was good-ish news. Didn't really explain much, but at least their kid wouldn't be buried under all the crap that a Death Lord wo-

"You're not having a Death Lord. We're picked by the one before us, and when our time runs out the power is magically transferred by some ancient spell. Definitely somethin' only an adult could go through. I wouldn't put that on a baby. No, you two are having the Death God himself."

Silence.

…

…

Masaki gave a tiny gasp. Isshin's head snapped around and he instinctively reached for her hand. She was pale and her hand that covered her mouth shook. Her familiar, yet now so strangely cold skin was a comfort and jump to his systems. Isshin moved his jaw to speak, but all that came out of his throat was a loud croak.

He tried again, this time managing a choked "Wh-what?"

"Congratulations," the Death Lord gave a sly smile. "You two are having a boy."

".….. Wh-what?" Isshin repeated dumbly.

The other man sighed. "Now I've finally gone and blown his mind." He mumbled to himself. "Not the fact that the Life God is actually a girl, or that Death Lords aren't actual gods, or that he's been lied to his entire life by the government he serves." He paused and reconsidered. "Then again, I would be surprised if my kid turned out to be the Death God too."

The Death Lord raised his voice, gently addressing the stunned parents in front of him. "I've suspected for a while. About four months ago Isshin started havin' unusually strong traces of Death magic on him, which was what first caught my attention. It was super weak stuff let me tell ya, but it was way too similar to mine, a lot more untamed and raw. Confused the crap outta me. Then it got stronger and stronger as time went on and I knew something had to be up. So I did some investigatin' and my suspicions grew. But it wasn't until I saw Masaki with my own two eyes tonight that I knew for sure."

He dropped his hands on his lap and leaned forward, the lights in the room reflecting off his sunglasses in a way that screamed anticipation. "Now, are ya ready to go into hiding?"

Masaki flinched. "What?!"

Isshin full on jerked out of his seat in awkward motion, still partially frozen in shock but too surprised to not move. "Hiding? Why would we have to do that?"

The Death Lord cocked his head and his eyebrows disappeared behind his sunglasses at he furrowed them in confusion. "Don't you want him to have an actual childhood?"

When he received two blank stares, he shook his head in consternation. "Think about it you guys. Once Central 46 and the Captain-Commander find out your son is the Death God, do you think they are going to let him outta their sights?"

Isshin paled as all the blood drained from his face in horror. They would not. He knew they wouldn't. There was no way either of them would let something as powerful as the God of Death out of their clutches, even if he was just a baby. Central 46 would attempt to control everything about his kid's life. Captain-Commander Yamamoto would mostly reign them in, but the old man wasn't above manipulation himself. Everything he would know and do would be controlled by people who didn't actually care about him. Their kid would never be able to think for himself or know how to have fun.

Isshin shuddered. That wasn't a life he would give to his kid. That was barely a life at all. Death God or not, their kid deserved some time to be a normal person, though it couldn't last forever. He would make that their son would have the chance.

Even if it meant leaving everything behind.

Regret started to creep into his mind. What about his division? How would his family take them disappearing? As far as Isshin knew no one in his division had reached a bankai yet. He would leave them without a captain. They were all his brother-in-arms, from the weakest members to his third seat and lieutenant. It was almost as hard as leaving his real family. Kuukaku would kill him for vanishing without a word the week before she completed the big firework show she had planned. Kaien was about to celebrate fifty years of being a lieutenant and Ganju was getting his first secret family spell soon. He would miss all of that.

Plus, how in the world would they be able to hide anyways? The Second Division had some crazy insane tracking spells. Isshin had seen them find cleverly hidden people who'd used with their own crazy spells. Some of them had blown his mind. Yet all the Second Division needed was just a trace magic and they could find anyone. He'd be hard pressed to constantly suppress his magic, and surely their son's growing power would attract attention. Ancient power like that wasn't easily ignored.

Even if they did managed to hide for long enough, how were they going to support themselves? Masaki was a master with needlework, but that could only bring so much and Isshin was hardly qualified for a regular job. They would be hard pressed to support two of them. Add a baby to that and it was going to be rough for a while.

"Of course," the Death Lord's voice broke into his reverie. "it's not like I would drop ya off and leave you to figure it out in your own. What kind of man would do somethin' like that? If it's my idea that you go into hiding, then I should at least help."

He flicked his hand. The air behind the chairs shimmered. The special Death Lord Senkaimon popped up, blood red paper decorated with white skulls and bones in a black wood frame. It opened without a sound and a familiar figure stepped out.

The newcomer was tall and deceptively harmless appearance-wise. Messy blond hair, a shadow of a beard growing in his face that framed exhausted eyes with dark circles underneath. He looked tired and worn out like he'd spent several late nights up in a row. But the fact he wore a captain haori delayed any thoughts of his ability to put up a fight.

Isshin couldn't help the large grin that appeared on his face. "Kisuke Urahara! I don't know whether to be surprised or not that you got wrangled into this!"

Six Months Later

Genryusai Yamamoto sighed and leaned back in his chair as the Death Lord's magic flared one last time, and then snuffed out.

He could feel the effects immediately. A final giant wave of cold as the Death Lord's magic escaped his body and fled this world. The resulting wind barely ruffled his beard, but it was what was behind the wave of power that concerned him.

There was a magical emptiness. Chill and silent to all those who could see far into Death's magic. Those who couldn't use his magic simply saw the side effects. It was unnerving, and for a brief second he wished that he couldn't feel it. All shinigami were used to to the cold and quiet, but this was entirely different.

Juushiro Ukitake closed his eyes and bowed his head. The man who passed had been a honorable one, and the world was colder for it. Figuratively, and literally he guessed. After a moment Juushiro sighed, a tired, worn out sound. "So it has begun."

"Yes." On the opposite side of the line of captains, Byakuya nodded. He appeared as unconcerned as usual, but the grip on his zanpakutō was tight. "The time of the Le Shi is upon us."

Kisuke Urahara hummed. "Yep. The great time where no death is possible. Typically a rough time anyways, yet we have no candidate to fill up the role of the Death Lord and are short a captain as well."

Yamamoto allowed himself a frown. That was the undeniable truth. The Death Lord did not pick his successor before he passed, which was headache in and of itself. A new headache. There had never been no successor before. Even from the beginning, there was always someone waiting to pick up the where the last one left off. That fact that there wasn't one this time was grave news. Central 46 rumbled uncertainty, full of doubts that the Death Lord power could even be transferred if the previous one didn't pick the new one.

To add to his headache their newest captain, Isshin Shiba, vanished six months ago along with his wife. There had been chaos in Division Ten upon the realization that the man hadn't come to work in over two weeks. It had only grown when they found his house ransacked and wife missing as well. The lieutenant was little use in rounding up the panicking members, but the third seat managed to pull them together. A impressive feat for one his size and age. It would be wise to keep an eye on him.

It was a great shame about Isshin's disappearance. The man was popular with the commoners along with being one of the Five Noble Houses. He had been a month away from being told the truth behind the Death Lord as well.

Now Yamamoto had two positions to fill, and one of them was of major importance to the entire world. What a mess.

"We will focus on finding a new Division Ten captain at another time." He rumbled and drew all eyes to him. "As of now, the Death Lord successor is our top priority."

Shunsui Kyōraku reached up and tilted his sugegasa straw hat downward with a single hand, a small melancholy frown on his face. "His time came so quick, I don't think we really had any time to prepare. Especially after the way his health dramatically plummeted about a month ago."

"Yes, I do agree. He fought a good ten months, but that last one in particular was the worst of it." Juushiro agreed as he folded his arms and tucked each one into the opposite sleeve. "I, for one, am just glad that he no longer has to suffer, and can join the Death God in the reincarnation cycle."

There was a small smattering of agreement from around the room.

Yamamoto held up a single gnarled hand off his staff, to cut off any conversation that might be continued. "We all honor the Death Lord and are saddened by his passing, but this is no time to slack off. It is the time of the Le Shi!"

A fire burning up his side and down his chest. It burned, oh, it burned so bad. Like a branding iron. He could barely think, his mind in a haze that comprised of few things.

Light, light from the roaring blaze going on only feet away.

What happened? His head felt funny. There had been a loud noise, and then his stomach flipped to his mouth, and now he was here.

Dim headlights, the car across the road was right side up, but it's roof was touching the ground. How?

Hunks of metal thrown everywhere, twisted and warped. A heavy weight pressed down on him, something choking crossed his throat and dug into his waist.

Cold, freezing metal pierced his chest, a painful contrast to the heat running through his body. Every time he breathed was a stab. Metal slivers wormed their way closer to his lungs, deadly little pellets of cold in a burning mass of flesh.

He…. He should be dead, shouldn't he? That's why everything was so painful?

He should be.

Why wasn't it stopping? It hurt so much why wasn't he dead yet!

"All across the entire world, life has stopped giving up."

Blood? That was blood right? It was everywhere, on her clothes and on her hands. Where was it coming from?

Last she remembered was arguing with him again. They did that a lot. But about what this time? They've argued so many times it was hard to keep track. Especially recently.

What had then been doing again? Oh, that's right. Arguing. They had been arguing… arguing, but it felt different this time. His eyes had looked different, in a way she had never seen in the five years they'd been together.

So they had argued…. and then he did, he did, he did something? Something involving his hand. Like he reached down, grabbed something, and then held it up to her forehead.

Then there had been a click?

She reached up to touch her forehead. Huh, that was weird. There was like, a lump. Except it went inside her skull. It was the opposite of a lump. And it didn't have a end. It just went straight into her head, like a, like a hole.

Hole! That's the word! She had a hole in her head! Hah! How silly of her to forget.

"No matter how terrible the injury, no matter how close to death they may arrive, none of them shall pass through the gates and enter into reincarnation. They will be trapped in a prison of flesh."

He leaned forward. How interesting. Very, very interesting. No matter how many times he wrapped his hands around its' neck, it refused to die.

It turned blue like all the others, gasping and choking, clawing at his hands with it's fingers until it fell unconscious. Then it would come back within just a few moments. By this point the neck was a solid mass of purple and green bruises. None of the others ever got this far. What was so different about this one? It didn't have any magic that allowed for self healing. He made sure to check for that before he picked it out of that nice house down the street.

Better find out why it was so different from the others.

"Because of this, this whole world will now be plagued by hollows. The souls of the tortured who cannot rest will now hunt without distinction or mercy."

"Hey, boss." the man shifted uneasily. "Ya know da chick we got in da basement?"

"Yeah. What 'bout her?" The other man snapped, distinctly annoyed.

The underling hesitated and then bit the bullet and deliver his news. "Yeah, well, she gone."

The boss's face turned bright red, like one of those cherry tomatoes red, and he exploded. "What! Ya idiot! How'd ya lose her so easy? She could barely move an inch! She couldn't even use magic! We've only had her for 'bout three months and ya've already messed up an' let her escape!"

"Hey, it's not my fault!" The underling defended himself. "I turned 'round for one second ta gets some fun-time toys an' she was gone! Da chains were still dere an' everythin'! It's like she vanished like a ghost or somethin'. Givin' me da chills."

The boss snorted. "Ya idiot. Imma gonna go see for myself what really happened."

He'd barely levered himself out of his seat when a blood-chilling screech rang through the air.

"As shinigami, we are the only ones who can enact Death's power during this time. We are the only ones who can kill, whether it be hollow, mage, or human. We are their last hope."

The shinigami raced to the car. It was upside down like the other one, all mashed and mangled from the wreck. He'd already checked the other car and all four inhabitants had passed on. He hadn't checked this one yet. Both cars had their headlights on, a dim beacon in the middle of a empty stretch of road. There was no one around for miles, and he truly had no reason to be out here. It was pure accident that he passed by tonight.

That weird chill from earlier made him anxious. He went out to see if patrolling would help it. That's when he stumbled upon this crash.

He slid to a stop and batted away the petroleum-charged flame to reach the person in the driver's seat. He was probably quite a sight a trapped driver, he thought, emerging from the flames like some demon from Hell.

Yet as it turned out, it was the shinigami's night to be shocked.

The driver had a spear of metal lodged straight through his chest, pale from blood loss and body half roasted. His sightless gaze was locked in the other car's headlights. There was no possible way he could still be alive. Even magic from the Death Lord himself couldn't save such a wound.

The shinigami bowed his head to honor the life lost. But when he raised his head, the dead man was looking directly at him.

He squeaked.

The dead man's mouth moved, and to his horror, desperate words spilled out as frantic as the blood that came with it. "Make it stop, please, just make it stop, make it stop, makeit stop, makeit stop, makeitstop, makeitstop, makit-"

The zanpakutō flashed out in a bright glare and sliced off the dead man's head before he could speak any more.

"It is our duty, one we must bear proudly and without complaint. To do so is a stain on our devotion to the Death God, something I or any of the others will not allow. We shall carry our burden for however long it takes for the next Death Lord to be chosen. Though the exact time of the Le Shi may be uncertain, we shall not falter, not even for a second! It goes against our very nature to do such. Why? Because we are shinigami, and we shall serve our master by completing our duties given to us by him! For the Death God!"

As one, the entire assembled audience of captains all bowed and uttered a single agreement. "For the Death God!"

A/N: Wassup folks! How did you guys like this? It's my first Bleach fanfiction, so I hope I got everything right. I wrote this at least two years ago, but never posted it or showed it to anyone besides my little sister who's never seen a single episode of Bleach. But I was talking to JinMukang and mentioned that I had it. She asked to see it someday. Then one day I got the urge and pulled it out from the dark and showed it to her. To my surprised she loved it. So I decided I was going to share it with you all.

This is a one-shot. And it's probably gonna stay that way unless it gets popular or I'm struck by enough inspiration. IDK. I'll wait to see on the reaction it gets before I do anything else.

Sorry for the fans waiting on my Spidey story. It's not what you hoped for, but at least it shows I'm still alive.

Thanks guys!