*Disclaimer: Bleach and respective characters belong to Kubo Tite, however this story belongs to me.

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Inagawa House

The meeting with Boss Inagawa had gone better than anticipated. The Yakuza Warlord was pleased that his second-son had been given this special assignment, and agreed that Kyomushugi's tactics would be better suited than his first-son Zetsubou. A spiritual man, Boss Inagawa believed in what Inari had told his son, but something else bothered him. By putting several Yakuza Houses against each other in competition, the messenger Inari was playing with fire. He suspected the value on this artifact would be worth far more if kept, than if handed over to the white-haired fox man. If Inari's boss was so keen on paying a fantastic sum of money for this piece, then there was more to this mysterious artifact than they were led to believe.

With afternoon approaching, Kyomushugi headed back to his room to continue his research into the paranormal world. His father's confidence in him and personal spiritual beliefs had given him the reassurance he needed to go full force into the project. He nodded to his large bodyguard, who gave him a small bow in respect and moved away from the entrance to his room.

Once inside, Kyomushugi immediately frowned at what he saw. The girl Zetsubou had dumped at his feet had cleaned herself up, but she had also invaded his organized space. To make matters worse, she was sitting in his chair at his desk slumped across the notes he had so carefully gathered during his hours of research. He approached her sleeping form with deliberate strides, ready to put in her in place.

"What is it that you think you are doing?" he firmly interrupted the silence.

The young woman woke up with a start, and her pale gold eyes darted around the room as if she wasn't sure where she was. A moment later, she realized what was going on instantly apologized for overstepping her bounds.

"I—I'm sorry," she spattered, trying to organize the papers on the desk. Kyomushugi stopped her actions, slamming a pale hand on top of the notes.

"I asked you a question, woman," the words dripped icily from his thin lips. "What are you doing?"

She hesitantly raised her head to look up at him between her walnut-colored bangs. He was unusually surprised that her large eyes held no fear, only embarrassment that she had been caught. "Correcting these notes," her soft soprano voice meekly said.

"Excuse me?" Kyomushugi practically hissed.

"I…was curious," she made sure to carefully word. "I understand this—this other world, I mean. I saw some things that weren't right in these notes and made corrections to them."

"How dare you," the Yakuza prince furrowed his brows. His green-teal eyes glared at the young woman with a look that could kill. She met his gaze head on, her confidence never faltering. "What makes you so bold?"

"Because I know that I'm right," she spoke lowly, more serious this time. Kyomushugi frowned and snatched his papers away from her, looking over the changes she made. As he read through her scribbled notes and quick diagram sketches, the reality that she actually did know what she was talking about began to sink in. He moved to a wingback armchair to sit and read further.

"How do you know all of this?" he questioned, glancing up at her with curiosity.

"I've always known," she shrugged. Kyomushugi lowered the papers and turned his attention on her.

"Explain."

The young woman wet her full lips and kept her gaze elsewhere. She drummed her slender fingers against the seat of the chair.

"I have what my grandmother called 'The Eyes,' " she began slowly. "For as long as I can remember, I've been able to see ghosts, and they see me. But," she paused, finally lifting her eyes to his, "that's not the only thing I see."

Kyomushugi crossed his arms. "Continue," he spoke less sternly this time.

"Sometimes they come as dreams in the night. Sometimes it's when I'm awake. But either way, they're things I shouldn't know. Flashes. Images. Just…" she trailed off.

"They're things that haven't happened yet. And no matter what I do, they always come true."

The young Inagawa unwrapped his arms and leaned forward with interest. "Are you saying that you can predict the future? That you're," he paused to search for the right word, "psychic?"

"No," the woman shrugged. "More like…a visionary? Sometimes they're not events. Sometimes they are just people or objects. But I know deep down," she pressed an open palm to her heart, "that these things are all important."

Kyomushugi slowly nodded and sat back in his leather armchair. He contemplated what she had said, then looked up at her with suspicion. "Why should I believe you?"

"One of my visions was about you," she explained. "So it's not about whether or not you believe me. What is going to happen has already been set in motion."

The Yakuza prince thinned his lips, struggling to decide whether or not to believe anything this girl said. She was a sex slave, bought and paid for, so he would not have any reason to trust her, but his instincts began to gnaw against logic. His thoughts went back to his father and Inari, both of who firmly believed in these other worlds. If he was to find this legendary artifact, then he would have to take a chance on the unknown.

"What did you see?" he hesitantly asked.

The young woman fished around in the folds of her robe until one of her hands emerged with a scrap of worn paper. She pushed up against her chair and strode across to him with elegant steps. "This," she extended her hand, two fingers holding the paper towards him.

Kyomushugi took the scrap from her, and his thin hand brushed against her warm skin. A small spark lit up in that moment—something he hadn't noticed before. But he pushed the awkward feeling aside and unfolded the crumpled parchment. Sketched out on the paper was a drawing of an object: a dark orb surrounded by a transparent hexagonal sphere. It didn't seem like much, but it felt like something suddenly clicked into place.

"What is this?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm…not sure," the young woman admitted. "But I feel like you're looking for it. You're looking for something, aren't you? Something important?"

"Yes, I am," he said calmly. Kyomushugi was stunned but he didn't show it on his face. Instead he studied the drawing in wonder, curious if this was the object Inari's master was willing to pay such a gross amount for. It seemed harmless enough, but for now he would remain cautious.

"There's one thing I'm not certain of," he continued after a few moments. "Why tell me all of this? Revealing your power to me—especially to someone like me—puts you in a dangerous situation. Your powers are too great to be let go. You'll never be able to leave."

The young woman briefly took her eyes off of him, contemplating his words. "I don't always know why I say or do the things that I do. Just that they're important. I don't write my own future, as you can probably tell, all I do is follow the course that has been laid out in front of me."

"That is a very trusting way of looking at life," Kyomushugi criticized. "I believe in my making my own path."

The girl nodded. "It's often more difficult to have faith in something than take charge of your own life."

"Are you attempting to lecture me?" the Inagawa spoke with caution.

"No," she smiled, shaking her head. "Just offering a different viewpoint."

Kyomushugi studied her audacity with a curious eye. No one dared to talk to him the way she did, and it was unnerving—more so the fact that her straightforwardness didn't bother him as much as he thought it would. "You're not afraid of me, are you?"

"Why would I be afraid of you?"

"Most people are."

"I'm not like most people." The woman stepped closer until her thigh brushed up against his knee. The heat from the small touch surprised the Yakuza prince and that feeling of want he had cast aside just moments before bubbled up again. Standing before him, she looked down into his striking juniper eyes, the color now growing darker as his primitive side came to life.

Kyomushugi had to admit that she was most intriguing. Aside from her powers as a psychic medium, it was her attitude that impressed him the most. From the look in her eyes, she truly did not fear him—something other women had told him before but had been shaking as they said it. There was truth in her voice and all that she confessed, another thing that he wasn't used to in the Yakuza world of lies and deception. She really wasn't like most people after all.

"What's your name?" Inagawa asked, rare sincerity hanging on his words.

The young woman softly smiled, her light gold orbs glistening. "Hyouki Reiyou," she said in one breath, her soprano tone now lowered into a near alto. Kyomushugi stiffened his posture, unsure what her next motives were.

Reiyou's brows furrowed in confusion. "What's wrong?"

"You don't have to do this just because it's what you were bought for."

"But I'm not," she insisted.

"I find that difficult to believe."

Reiyou's large eyes blinked. "Why?" she asked, her voice suddenly as innocent as a child's. "You believed I have these spiritual gifts, and yet you question my motives?"

"I always question people's motives. And I didn't say that I believed you have psychic powers. You just assumed that I did because I accepted this scenario."

The young woman lightly scoffed, shaking her head. "You still don't get it do you?"

Kyomushugi's lips thinned into a small frown. "I beg your pardon?"

"I can see what's in your heart," Reiyou explained. "You come off as untrusting, cold, and calculated. But that's not who you really are." She reached for his face once more.

"Your heart is sad and lonely," she whispered. She lightly cupped his angular cheeks and trailed her thumbs down from the center of his eyes to his jaw line. "It's crying. Your heart is always crying."

The gentle strokes of her soft skin on his face affected the Yakuza prince more than he expected. He could feel his walls break down slowly, crumbling down from their icy form. But this wasn't how things should be. He couldn't allow himself to show any weakness.

Kyomushugi stood, brushing Reiyou's caring hands away. He kept his back turned to her for fear that looking into her gold irises would make the rest of him melt. Fear—that wasn't something he had experienced in a long time, and yet this one young woman had the ability to stir up all that he had held in over the years. He headed towards the door with the overwhelming need to find an escape from these feelings.

"Wait," Reiyou spoke after him. Her bare footsteps followed his. "I didn't mean to…" She sighed and cautiously walked towards him. "I didn't mean to offend. Don't leave. Please."

Her hands slipped under his arms and hugged his chest, her bosom pressing against his well-toned back. An unanticipated rush of conflicting emotions that ran through Kyomushugi's veins in that very moment made it difficult for him to breathe. A knot formed in his throat but he forced himself to swallow it. With a near-trembling hand, he slowly reached up and clasped her arm, his thumb stroking her soft skin.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "Don't feel you have to leave because of something I said."

Inagawa licked his suddenly dry lips. Only after a few moments he spoke. "I'm not…" he paused. "I'm not used to this."

"Used to what?" her sweet voice reverberated throughout his bones.

"Feeling," he said flatly. "It's not a good thing to have in my line of business."

He felt her smile against his back. "Well, I won't tell anyone."

Reiyou kept her arms around him until his rigid body began to relax, then she hesitantly let go and stepped away. "I'll stay out of your way. I know you have more work to do."

"No," Kyomushugi breathed. He could hardly believe his own words or how quickly he had turned and caught her arm before she could get away. Her pale gold eyes studied him with an intensity he had never experienced before. His heart beat between his ears and he had to count his breaths.

"You can help. I'd like for you to help."

Reiyou smiled.

"But I am curious," Kyomushugi took slow steps to close the gap between them. "Earlier today you were ready to get out of here at a moment's notice. You were terrified of me. Why the sudden change?"

"It wasn't you that I was frightened of," she explained. "It was him."

"You mean Zetsubou. What did he do to you?"

Reiyou turned her eyes away from him and looked at the ground. "They don't have words for what he did to me. But that's not the only reason why." She paused and took in a breath to steady herself.

"His heart is so empty. It's like looking into an endless void filled with nothing but hopelessness and despair. Its pulse was weak and sluggish, like it was being pulled down by tar. Just being around him felt like I was hit by a ton of bricks. I don't ever want to feel that way again.

"But when I was brought to your room, that horrible feeling began to go away. You may not see it, and even others may not, but I do." She stepped close to him and placed her hand on his chest. "Your heart may be sad, but it beats loudly. Pride. Honor. That's its rhythm—and it's strong.

She pressed against his chest. "It's here."

"And here," her hands moved to frame his face, brushing back layered strands.

Kyomushugi briefly allowed himself to feel her hands against his cheeks before reaching up and deliberately pull them away. "We have a lot of work to do," he said with much less sternness than earlier. "Teach me what you know."

Reiyou nodded with a small grin, pleased that he was living up to the man she knew he was inside and thrilled to notice that he hadn't let go of her hands.

'There is much to know,' her voice said. 'And the clock is ticking.'

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Ishida Shrine

"What the heck do you think you're doing?" Souken grumbled with obvious irritation. He was on Hiyori's heels as she tore from room to room in the temple, on the hunt for something. "Don't you have any respect?"

The petite Vizard rolled her eyes and continued looking, pulling up rugs and nearly flipping over tables. She tried to tuned out the Quincy's ranting, keeping her mind focused on finding what she was looking for. With an exasperated huff, she spun around and headed towards the center room in the temple. When she got to an open doorway, a small area opened up, revealing a square courtyard with a single tree sprouting from the center. The old maple tree's trunk was strong, but not wide, and rose up nearly to the tall roofs of the shrine. A multitude of crimson red leaves gave vibrancy to the otherwise dying ground. Branches twisted and reached towards the sky, as if they were trying to connect to the heavens themselves.

Taking slower paces, Hiyori walked around the tree, examining the short marble pillars that encircled the trunk. Each held a prayer inscription and another symbol she recognized as Quincy markings—signatures of sorts that recorded the generations that had been passed down. There were a total of eleven small prism stones and one much larger formation that pointed to the north. Twelve total—evenly spaced—representing time.

She stopped by the largest pillar, a grey marble prism that easily stood six feet tall and two feet in width and depth. This was the most elaborate of all the pieces that surrounded the maple. Lines of scripture ran down the sides, but the front was decorated with an amazingly intricate geometric pattern. It was chiseled into the stone like a maze, and the totality of the labyrinth appeared like knot work. Hiyori's small fingers traced the lines, searching for what stood out above the rest. But then Souken's face got in her way, blabbing about some bullshit nonsense.

"…you come in here and just start wrecking the place! This is a temple! A place of worship! You can't just—"

"Shut," Hiyori's brows narrowed, "Up." Her eyes glared and gave the teenager a look that could kill.

"No!" Souken frowned, standing up to her menacing aura. "This is my home. And you're just blatantly disregarding everything!"

"I said," the Vizard's amber eyes flashed daggers, "shut the fuck up."

"Hey, watch your language in here," Ishida scolded. "You are in a shrine."

"It's not like I'm going to Hell for it. I'm already dead," she shot back. Hiyori tuned out Souken's whiny voice again as she went back to deciphering the puzzle. When the tips of her fingers brushed across an odd formation in the marble, her expression changed from annoyance to smug triumph.

"I need this," she said to Souken, and snapped off the Quincy pentacle he was wearing around his neck.

"Hey, give that back!" the youngster cried out and frantically grabbed for the heirloom. Hiyori easily evaded each reach, laughing and teasing him along the way. "Hirako-san!" the boy finally called out.

"Che," Sarugaki scoffed. "Fuckin' tattler."

Shinji leaned against the frame of the opening to the courtyard with a look of indifference on his face. "What? You can't handle her?"

Hiyori stuck her tongue out to Souken in victory. "Real mature," the older Vizard commented.

"Like you're one to talk."

Shinji chose to ignore her baiting for another argument—he was much more interested in what she had found. Dry leaves crunched under his leather shoes as he joined the other two in front of the large pillar. The afternoon sun cast an irregular shadow across the place, partially because of the shapes of the roofs, but mainly due to the power this area held.

"What is it?" he asked with seriousness in his voice.

Hiyori let an arrogant grin cross her face. "It's a lock. See?" she traced the carved lines again, drawing a pattern out with a finger. "And this," she lifted up the five-pointed pentacle, "is a key."

She carefully aligned the rods to the indentations in the marble, placed it within the sculpture, and pressed. The other two held their breath, waiting for something to happen. But nothing did.

"What is this shit?" Sarugaki cursed. She pulled the pentacle out and repeated the process.

Still nothing.

Shinji snickered. Hiyori slapped the back of his head. Souken rolled his eyes.

"Look," Ishida started, "you said before that this whole area was protected with seals, right? Well, maybe this is too. Why don't I give it shot?" With a grin, he added, "I am the Last Quincy after all."

"Well ain't you so arrogant all of a sudden," Hiyori teased. She dangled the pentacle out of the teenager's reach, an impressive feat considering her small size. After a moment of hesitation and much internal struggle with her pride, she rolled her eyes and handed the necklace back to its rightful owner.

Souken took in a breath and stood his ground in front of the pillar. "Remember," Shinji's voice spoke behind him, "concentrate. Focus all the energy into point and then let it go."

The Quincy nodded and licked in lips with nervousness. His dark eyes blinked behind round frames, but he forced himself to steady the anxiety building up in his veins.

'Focus,' he told himself. 'Focus.' Souken inserted the pentacle key into the grooves of the stone, closed his eyes and concentrated on the warm energy. He envisioned it like a river with its stream growing smaller in width as it flowed towards the tips of his fingers. There, he molded that flow into a dense ball, its light ever increasing in intensity as the power grew.

"Open your eyes," he heard Shinji say. The Quincy's lashes fluttered as he complied. He nearly gasped at what he saw.

As his blue reiatsu seeped from his fingertips, it began to fill the every channel of the marble labyrinth. The light built up momentum and the maze spread quicker. Soon, the entirety of the chiseled knot work was beaming with a brilliant white-blue. The framed edge of the pillar lit up last in a near-blinding surge of light. In that moment, the stone sculpture changed. The face of the structure moved back, descending as it moved itself into the depth of the entire prism. A set of stone stairs lowered themselves down into the earth, curving into a spiral staircase. When the maze piece finally reached the back of the pillar, the reiatsu dispersed throughout the steps and walls, revealing a path to unseen depths.

"Wow," Hiyori poked her head into the doorway. "I'd read about these in scrolls but I never thought I'd see one. It's a lot more impressive than I thought it was."

"Take that compliment," Shinji remarked to Souken, "first and last time that will ever happen."

Hiyori's sandal was quickly off her foot and slapped against the side of Hirako's head. He yelped in response. "Shut up," the young woman haphazardly commented. "Just follow me."

She ducked into the lit doorway and descended the stairs; the other two followed suit. Souken's spiritual energy continued to move through carved shapes in the walls as they walked down, lighting their way through the depths. The blue reiatsu reflecting off white stone made the staircase feel as if it was a piece of the ocean itself. It might as well have been deep as an ocean too, because there was no visible end to the vertical tunnel. Shinji mentally counted the number of steps to calculate how far down into the earth they were going. By this point, the total was getting high enough for him to figure out that they had traveled at least fifty feet underground and there was still more to go. Just when he was getting bored counting, the stairs finally opened up into a doorway. The Quincy's reiatsu had lead the way to a massive room at the base of the stairs, reminiscent of the underground training area that Urahara had built—only this was much more highly decorated than the former Twelfth Division Captain's taste in desert wastelands and fake skies.

It was definitely a training ground, the Vizards were sure of that. A flat, open area took up the majority of the middle of the room like a dojo. The ground was worn stone, riddled with scars from Quincy arrows and other formed weapons. Surrounding the level floor were a series of square and rectangular stones built up into obstacles as tall as buildings. They scattered and grouped together to create a more dynamic playing field. Some had fallen from their height, while others had been toppled over completely from being destroyed at the base. For the most part, the colossal prisms remained intact and there was evidence rebuilding—but on the other hand, this place looked like it hadn't been used in quite some time.

"What is this?" Souken's curiosity was piqued.

"Where Quincy learn to fight," Hiyori immediately answered. "But this is more than a training ground." Her eyes followed the lines in the walls until they reached a section of the room with a lower ceiling. She motioned with her head to the area, "It's your entire family history."

"What?" Ishida breathed. He followed the path she was nudging towards, a segment of the room several yards away that didn't have the same type of feeling or look as the rest of the grounds. As if he was drawn to that spot by an instinctual force, his feet moved towards it.

Walking was more difficult than he thought it was. The Last Quincy felt a weight drop on him as each foot picked up to take a step. He reached out a hand to touch a nearby wall, finding renewed strength in the stone and all the energy that passed through it. He paused halfway to the smaller room to take a breath.

'My family history,' he repeated Hiyori's words to himself. Up until now, he thought he a firm grip on what his family was and had always been. They were kannushi, simple folk who lived by Shinto teachings, farming and maintaining the temple as their forefathers had done generation after generation. But now it was if everything had changed. The life he thought he had felt like a lie and he felt an irrational anger bubble up. Why hadn't his parent's told him? Why didn't they teach him about the powers that dwelled within him? Why did they have to die? Souken balled a fist against the wall and leaned his forehead against the cool stone, fighting back hot tears.

'Souken,' a voice whispered.

He blinked back the tears from falling at the sound. That voice…where did it come from?

'Souken,' it whispered again. He shifted his eyes towards the small room—it beckoned him. He took in a shaky breath and forced his feet to continue their journey. Getting closer to the goal, what this room was becoming clear: it was a memorial.

At the base of a large wall, a line of incense had been left out of respect—burnt down to the stalks. Above that hung dozens upon dozens of name plaques. For recent years, there was a photograph of each person; for earlier, a woodblock print; and for even earlier years there were simply calligraphy scrolls. Each memorandum was connected to each other, creating a family tree that traced back hundreds of years. Souken followed the lines through his family tree until he reached his own parents…and him. A realization that his parents were the last people in this room suddenly hit. His knees gave out and he fell to the ground.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he whimpered, covering his face with his hands.

'Souken…' the voice said with sorrow. 'We did not keep this from you on purpose.'

The teenager sniffled and lifted his head. "Father?"

'Son.'

Souken's parents shifted into visible existence, standing with arms interlocked. His mother's round face smiled at him sweetly with sad eyes. His father looked at him with pride, his dark eyes soft behind round lenses.

'We didn't mean to keep anything from you,' his father explained. 'It simply wasn't time for you to begin training yet. And then… we never got that chance.'

"I hate them for that," Souken angrily murmured.

'Don't,' his father placed a hand on his son's shoulder. 'It was fate. Do not seek vengeance; it will only eat away at your soul. One day you will learn to forgive your enemies, as we have.'

"What do you mean?"

'Shingami and Quincy were enemies for a very long time, but that war was not ours, it belonged to our ancestors. We welcome them into our home now with open minds and open hearts.'

"But this war is now," Souken argued. "It just happened. I can't forgive them that easily."

'You must,' his mother gently insisted. 'You cannot hold on to that anger. It will only consume you. Instead, concentrate on what you have.'

"I don't have anything," Ishida admitted, his head hung low.

'You do,' she cupped her son's cheek. 'You have what's inside—this wonderful power that you will discover. And you have two friends that can help you along the way.'

Souken glanced behind him and saw Shinji and Hiyori quietly standing by.

'They're Shinigami. They can guide you.'

"Wait, how did you— " he started. "How could you sense what they were?"

His father smiled. 'Quincy have different senses. You'll learn that soon enough.' His translucent hand gestured further down the wall to cases and compartments. 'Everything you'll need to learn about who your people are and how to use your powers can be found here.'

Turning his attention to the two Vizards, the eldest Ishida spoke, 'My son is the last of his kind. Please take care of him.'

Shinji nodded and Hiyori lightly did the same. Souken's parents began to fade out of view.

"Wait!" the teenager cried out to them. With longing eyes he turned to the blonde pair. "Can you help them get to the other side?"

"No," Hiyori answered flatly, careful not to show how this spectacle tugged at her heartstrings. "We're exiles. We no longer have the ability to perform a soul burial." Her frown lines were tight, but her head added a whisper of, 'I'm sorry.'

'It's all right,' Souken's mother reassured. 'We'll find a way.'

His parents' ghostly figures faded into nothingness and then they were alone.

Shinji let Souken take a moment to gather himself, for there would be no rest for what was about to come. When he was sure the young man had steadied his breaths and his heartbeat returned to normal, it was time.

"Are you ready?" Hirako asked with a lightly humorous tone.

"Ready for what?" Souken arched his pointed black brows.

"You're the Last Quincy," Shinji grinned, his teeth gleaming. "You're going to have to learn how to fight."

"Really?" the boy grinned. "You're really going to teach me?"

"No," the tall Vizard smirked. "She is. At least, at first."

Hiyori gaped at Shinji's instructions. "What? Oh, fuck no! Unless you want me to beat his ass into a bloody pulp, I ain't teaching shit." She defiantly crossed her arms over her chest with a huff and turned her nose up.

"That's exactly what he needs," Shinji haughtily replied. "Hollows don't rest just because the living world has—this war never ends. And that means you," he pointed a long finger to Souken, "are going to have to learn fast."

"Now you're speakin' my language," Hiyori cackled like a crazed witch and cracked her knuckles.

Souken was sure her fang snarled at him in that moment. He gulped what air he could and only hoped he was prepared for this.

"Okay," he nodded. "Let's begin."

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PLEASE - READ AND REVIEW!!
Reviews make me dance like no one's watching!

Author's Notes:

I AM SO, SO, SO, SO SORRY for the loooong delay :'(
Life and all that implies happened and I took an unannounced hiatus for months. BAD ME.
If you're still reading this, THANK YOU, YOU ROCK! And you got a long chapter!

Thanks are due to JasoTheArtisan for the beta read. I knew parts needed work :)
Go finish Anonymous if you haven't yet, IT KICKS ASS. And check out the next installment, Heroes.

A a thanks for not sending me hate mail of "WHY DON'T YOU WRITE ANYMORE FFFUUUUUUUU"
here is some inside information about the "OC's" - which aren't really my OC's :P

Zetsubou is Nnoitra ("zetsubou" means "despair" - Nnoitra's aspect of death)
Kyomushugi is Ulquiorra ("kyomushugi" means "Nihilism" - Ulquiorra's aspect of death)
Reiyou is Nel ("reiyou" means "antelope" - Nel's released form)

For now, enjoy! I can't promise to update soon, but I will try :D

~hugs, F1yMordecai

"Chase This Light" - Jimmy Eat World