Flowers From Hell

Scarred

Summary for this chapter: Held together by half a dozen strings and a mask of black leather. Held together by a scarlet length of chain woven with blood-red petals. Held together by duty—or a sense of it, anyway.

Some chapters will not be part of the actual canon's storyline until I give the word by way of popularity. This chapter is a kind of test to see how the non-canon chapters are received. If they are warmly welcomed, more different non-canon chapters will be posted, though the actual chapters will be posted as well. Again, you wanna know what's happening, ya gotta read dis :3

This is kinda like a dystopian future kind of thing. A hard, weary war is finally over—after the sacrifice of several of the Thirteen Court Guard Squad Shinigami and the retirement of the Captain-Commander. Hilarious!

Oh, yeah, this is from Ken's point of view. If that wasn't obvious to you. (No offense intended.)

THIS IS THE OLD CHAPTER THREE—IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR THE ACTUAL NEW CHAPTER, IT'S THE NEW CHAPTER THREE. HAPPY HOLIDAYS EVERYBODY

Still don't own 'em...

"Captain Commander Yamamoto. The enemy has fallen," reports young Captain Hitsugaya Toshiro from his position on top of a branch. He is perched upon it as though he were a bluejay, ready to take flight at the word of his master.

"Understood. Call in the troops," replies the Captain-Commander with an ancient sigh. He is relatively unscathed, which angers something deep within you, until you realize that he unscathed on the outside. Inside, he is scarred.

You watch as the remaining captains Flash-Step to the cliff Yamamoto is sitting at. He stands with some difficulty and assesses the scraggly remnants of his pride and joy, the Thirteen Court Guard Squads.

Captain Kyouraku looks near-dead, his eyes dull and his tasteful pink haori long since forgone for his white one, which is nearly gray from the dust of the now-empty plains. Lieutenant Ise is limping heavily and her left arm from the elbow down is gone, bandaged by someone else's torn shihakushô.

You suspect that that someone else was a fallen comrade.

Shaolin is silent, ever the loyal one. Her forehead is badly cut, and it appears as though some creature has chewed upon her haori, which is shredded to the point of humility. Lieutenant Ōmaeda is nowhere in sight, and it is very clear to you that he is dead, obliterated like the army that you have been fighting for over a decade.

Lieutenant Kira is kneeling in the rock, hair shaggy where your captain had insisted would help his eyesight in the battlefield. He is shaking, his hands sliding over his arms in an attempt to tame the fear shuddering through him. The end of the war did not signal the end of his terror. How he has managed to climb up to the Lieutenant's spot in the Third Division is far beyond you.

Captain Kotetsu's wide eyes are slitted as her own former captain's had been in life. She is securing bandages around her lieutenant's stomach, while the latter, Yamada Hanatarō, winces and pulls away the needle from stitching a gash in Captain Kotetsu's back.

Ichigo-san, with a profusely bleeding wound decorating his abdomen, is leaning heavily against you, counting upon you to keep him upright. He still has all of his appendages, but his zanpaku-tô was nearly shattered, and he has hit the rock bottom of his reiryoku to repair it. Even now, he's sagging, threatening to lose consciousness.

Captain Kuchiki is lying on the ground, while a Third Seat from the Fourth Division tourniquets his right leg, which has been lost from the mid-thigh down. Half of Lieutenant Abarai's sad face is horribly disfigured, burnt from one of the enemy's zanpaku-tô.

Both Captain Komamura and Lieutenant Iba have toppled in battle, the former just a few weeks previously. They were heavy blows, but mourning was short-lived, and wrath replaced it. You know that hatred of the enemy multiplied in stature after the loss of every Shinigami, but Captain Komamura meant losing both a respected figure and a military disadvantage.

Lieutenants Hisagi and Kuna are sitting on the same rock, back to back, refusing to acknowledge one another, and everyone knows that, deep down, both blame the other for the loss of subordinates in the Ninth Division.

Toshiro-kun has fallen to the ground after relaying his message, one arm hanging limp beside him, staining the ground beneath him red. There is a long gash along his chest, and his lieutenant, Matsumoto Rangiku, is carrying him, her hair cut short when she was told that long hair was a nuisance in battle, part of her cheek torn off.

Captain Zaraki is hunched over the limp body of Lieutenant Kusajishi, his body littered with injuries. You can see the one that stole away Lieutenant Kusajishi's life, a seemingly-inconsequential hole through her forehead, dying her pink hair an ugly crimson.

Captain Kurotsuchi has disappeared, but Nemu-san is there, and if her twisted expression is anything to go upon, he is probably dead. Or perhaps more fittingly, you think with a surge of smug, vicious satisfaction, he was captured and slowly tortured to death. The thought is sweet on your tongue, reminiscent of the last peppermint candy you'd ever had before the war.

Captain Ukitake is wasting away, coughing with blood on his breath, but he was always wasting away in the first place, and even with your untrained eye, you can see that he will survive past the immediate now. Lieutenant Kuchiki is on her hands and knees, hacking away; she had caught an illness that was circulating the troops for quite a while, but she, too, will be fine. The Thirteenth Division will not lose their leaders.

How fortunate. You feel a stab of bitterness.

Hide is still alive. You can see him, and feel blissful relief, because you had calmed your nerves this past decade with the scant knowledge that, as a Fifth Seat, Hide would not be in the direct line of fire. You had hoped he wouldn't be a seated officer at all, but of course that was too much to hope for.

He is remarkably unharmed except for a long burn along his forearm, which you can see because of the singed-away spirit cloth. Nothing that can't be healed. Ice seems to run through your veins despite the warming sensation of relief and you shiver.

"Analyzing... Everyone...?"

You start. You had not realized that Ichigo-san had the energy to see what you were doing, let alone understand it. "Ichigo-san, you shouldn't be speaking. Rest."

"I can't... As a captain... not when Old Man Yamamoto's... About to say something important..." Sure enough, Captain-Commander Yamamoto's resolute eyes slide over the others and latch onto Captain Kurosaki, who gives a sort of huff and tries (read: tries) to straighten slightly.

"Looks like... Old Man Yamamoto's... Made his decision..." Your eyes narrow, trying to discern the entire conversation passing between somewhat reluctant pupil and wizened teacher. As it is, you apparently cannot translate thin air, and your concentration is slipping because of Captain Ukitake's ragged gasps.

"Captains, lieutenants, and seated and non-seated officers of the Thirteen Court Guard Squads, we have emerged from this war victorious." Captain-Commander Yamamoto's voice is heavy. "However, we have suffered a plethora of casualties, and during this past decade it has come to my attention that I am deteriorating. My age gives me away to frailty, and frailty cannot be allowed within those who must protect and serve all."

A wave of murmurs and resigned nods ripples through the crowd. You purse your lips, but silently, you concur with the eons-old Shinigami's wisdom. After this war, he could have gone perhaps one or two more years before people began to whisper of his incompetence, and demand his resignation. To retire now is the easier choice. It will give the people new hope in the form of a new Captain-Commander.

"As my last act as Captain-Commander, I shall appoint my successor." His dark eyes open slightly, and they once more alight upon your captain and friend. "Kurosaki Ichigo."

You jaw drops. You can't help it.

Ichigo-san is the Captain-Commander?

Yamamoto-dono explodes into reishi particles, and there is silence for several heartbeats.

Ichigo-san shifts slightly so that he is facing you. "Go... ahead," he murmurs in shallow gasps. "You want to leave... The blood... With Nagachika-kun... Right? Go... Ahead."

You swallow. Such a tempting offer. Before, when Yamamoto-dono was in power, deserters would be punished. But now you have the chance to run, and with Hide. Alone, away from this Hell. You two... Could be free.

Held together by half a dozen strings and a mask of black leather. Held together by a scarlet length of chain woven with blood-red petals. Held together by duty—or a sense of it, anyway. There is nothing keeping you from doing it—except for your duty.

"I will stay, Captain-Commander."