Chapter Text
Standard Disclaimer: I own nothing in regards to Harry Potter or Bleach. All properties therein are those of their creators. I am only a writer working on my skills with worlds and characters that I love.
Note : Bleach is a show I love, but because of all the filler it was one that I kept coming back to on and off for years. I’ve recently had a resurgence of interest due to the introduction of the new series, and decided to give a crossover that’s been buzzing in my head a try.
Note : It really shouldn’t surprise anyone at this point that this is a Harry x Multi story.
Note : Time works funny in the Soul Society and I’m not sure if they ever explained that in the manga, so I’m working on the idea that time moves more slowly over there.
-Also, with how out of phase the Soul Society is, I’ve had a little fun with upgrading their “areas of responsibility”.
Chapter One - A World Beyond Our Own
Harry sat alone at the top of the astronomy tower at Hogwarts and stared blankly up at the stars. They were so clear from this height, so beautiful, and not for the first time he felt as though they were calling to him. As he clutched one shaking hand tight to his abdomen, feeling the measure of crimson fluid escaping despite his efforts to hold it in, he wished desperately that he could answer. That he could ask what it was they were trying to say, what message he was blessed enough to be receiving from the heavens.
The battle had been… difficult to say the least. In spite of Voldemort’s exorbitant numbers advantage, the Hogwarts wizards and Order of the Phoenix had maintained the fortress that was the school as well as the high ground. That last had especially come in handy considering the wards of the school prevented apparition from the outside to the inside, forcing the death eaters and their monster allies to run uphill to the bridge and the main gates where they entered a veritable killing ground. Eventually though, after heavy losses, the dark forces had made it inside and a full pitched battle had begun. For a long time Harry had been in the thick of it, standing shoulder-to-shoulder and back-to-back with his friends and mentors, but when Voldemort’s snake had showed itself he’d branched off to take its head.
The other horcruxes, including the diadem, had already been dealt with by that point, and just as he’d planned the moment the great anaconda died, Voldemort himself had entered the fray with the fires of wrath in his eyes. An angry opponent is a sloppy one, as Hermione was so want to tell him, and that final battle proved no different.
For two hours Harry and the dark lord flitted amongst the halls, classrooms, and towers, meeting spell with spell, battle transfiguration with battle transfiguration, and death curses with bombarda’s and cutting hexes. Harry had long ago ceased using the disarming spell. Experience had taught him that putting an enemy down was far preferable to giving them the chance to get back up again. They were evenly matched, despite the odds. The dark lord had a wider repertoire of spells and decades of dueling experience, yet even with a resurrected body he was old, infirm, and Harry was faster and stronger than he could hope to match. It became a clear matter of experience versus endurance.
Eventually though, they finally reached the end of their epic contest in the astronomy tower. Voldemort finished a complicated spellchain with one last drilling curse that finally managed to puncture Harry’s shield, taking him in the abdomen and punching hard up through his ribs.
Sensing victory, the evil wizard had taken a moment to gloat, holding his wand in a lazy fashion as he began to monologue about the inevitability of this outcome. It was the chance Harry needed. Swallowing his pain and letting it fuel him, he swung his wand forward, and cast the last spell he ever desired to see leave the tip of his wand, “Avada kedavra.”
Voldemort’s eyes grew huge as the massive beam of emerald light rocketed toward his face, and true to form his instincts kicked in to raise his own wand to counter with a spell of his own, but even as the brother wand effect kicked in and the attacks merged together, Harry’s green light overpowered that of the defensive red. The boy who lived’s attack had too much literal pain, anger, and victorious delight held within to ever be withstood, and it was further backed with the conviction of knowing it would be the last spell he ever cast.
In but a few seconds the only light that remained was his own, and soon enough it fully consumed the dark light in its verdant brilliance. When it too finally faded away all that remained in its wake was a shriveled up black cloak and a knobbed wand that slowly rolled across the floor to his falling hand as if it had a mind of its own. By then the young man was too tired to care. Harry had stumbled laughing into the nearest wall, and slid down it to end up in his current position, sat on the floor, and staring with wonder at the night sky. He found himself suffering the realization that he was no longer feeling any pain, and that the effort of holding his hand to his wound was proving too much to keep maintaining, the limb falling limply to his side to allow the blood flow unmitigated access back out of his body. That was bad right? He thought it was supposed to be at least. But wait, what was he thinking again? His thoughts were getting thick, sluggish, and the dim light around him was getting ever and ever dimmer as the seconds ticked on.
Was this it? Was he dying? He’d always imagined that the end would be a bright flash of emotion and power, a true rage against the coming of the night. He smiled at the thought, it was his and Hermione’s favorite poem. Instead, it almost felt… like… falling…. asleep… His head lolled down until his chin was resting on his chest, and Harry Potter breathed no more.
Had anyone else been present that night they’d have witnessed something remarkable after the boy who lived breathed his last. Though his body lay prone, movement was clear to behold. A shimmering hooded cloak of black descended upon his shoulders, a ring of burnished silver with a clouded ruby flowed onto the fourth finger of his right hand, and the wand in his hand began to glow with an inner flame before sticking to his dead palm and morphing in shape. A moment later the objects, and the body they were attached to, disappeared. They were never seen in England again.
Soul Society - District Eighty
Harry expected wide open fields, his parents smiling faces waiting to greet him, and an eternity of bliss. Instead he awoke to a blazing sun, tree branches waving overhead, and the sound of angry voices arguing incomprehensibly far off in the distance. That was funny. The last thing he remembered was bleeding out after fighting the greatest foe of his life. Wasn’t heaven supposed to follow something like that? He sat up groggily and made to wipe at his eyes to try and wake up in full, only to smack his head with something hard.
“Ow!” He proclaimed, coming fully awake at once. He glared down at his hand and took note of something strange. When had he picked up a sword? Though he was inexperienced in such matters, the weapon had a strange yet eye-catching beauty to it. The hilt was a long length of wood wrapped in an intricate mesh of crimson cloth. The pommel appeared to be a flat disk of gold, and the scabbard was smooth black ash if he was any judge. Pulling the sheath out enough to see the blade revealed an entrancing sight of metallic swirls that he associated with damascus steel.
“Hello, beautiful.” He mumbled. “Just what are you?”
He was understandably shocked when a feminine voice chuckled merrily in his head, {I believe the Chinese call me a Jian, but I thank you for the compliment.}
“What? Who said that?” Harry spun around to search for the speaker, and found that his surroundings had changed once more. Instead of the glenn he’d woken in he was now standing in the great hall of a dark castle. “What is this?”
{Your mind.} The voice returned, and he spun once more to meet it, this time being confronted with the clear form of a woman contained in a black silk robe and hood that obscured her features. {And it is quite sparse at the moment. I shall have to begin decorating at once.}
“W-Who are you?”
She tilted her head. “I have had many names, and forms, but most recently I was the wand, cloak, and ring that you collected.”
“Then you’re… you’re Death?”
The stranger chuckled into her hand, a dainty thing of pale skin and pink nails. {Oh, heavens no. Or… at least not quite. I believe that I am a miniscule part of him.}
“I don’t understand.” And Harry meant it. This entire situation was starting to make him feel very uncomfortable.
The woman saw this and rushed to ease his worries. {You need not be afraid. I could no sooner harm you than I could myself. You see, by collecting all three parts of me you have become my master, and for my part, I have merged with your soul. This creates a bit of a conundrum. You see, normally that would mean I keep you alive for all eternity. I cannot kill what I serve after all, except you had only just died when our merging was complete. Thus it was your pure soul that I combined with instead of your body.}
“What does that mean?”
{I was just getting to that. Because of our bond, you are neither alive nor truly dead. You are in between. Oh don’t make that face, there are countless others in the same boat. This entire realm we now inhabit is one such gathering point for them though there are others. I have brought you to the Soul Society. A place where the souls of the dead are brought to await their chance at rebirth and reincarnation. Sadly it can take a while for most. Oftentimes several centuries.}
“Why?”
{The varying dimensions of creation are large, but not infinite. If every soul reincarnated the moment they died and crossed over then every resource that exists would be consumed in a matter of seconds to provide for them. It wouldn’t be sustainable to the balance of creation. Thus these waypoints in the cosmic order exist.}
Harry rubbed his face and nodded. Though he hated to admit it, this made sense, and it was just his luck. Of course he would die and end up somewhere other than where he wanted to be. “So what is there for me now? Can I go back to see my friends?”
{It is unlikely they would be able to see or hear you in your current state. On top of that we are on the far side of the world to them now. It was here that my pieces were first separated and scattered, so it is in this place that we have landed. On a modern map the closest mortal plane is Japan. Your best bet is to start life anew here, and I have done all that I can to give you your best chance.}
“How so?”
The hood raised slightly and Harry beheld a pair of blood-red lips turned up in a smile. {Harry, we are one now, and I would not have you be less than you could be. The highest level of society down here are the Soul Reapers, or the Shinigami as many refer to them, and it would behoove you to join their ranks. If nothing else, they have the best food and lodgings around.}
“What do they do?”
{They protect the mortal world from hollows.} Heading off his inevitable next question she elaborated, {Hollows are spirits that have surrendered to their pain, rage, and misery, and end up existing only to feed their insatiable hunger for life by consuming the living and innocent spirits of the recently deceased. Soul Reapers exorcize them, and escort the dead to this plane of existence.}
“Hm,” Harry thought about it and moved over to a nearby bench, sitting down for a moment with his thoughts. “I thought my days of helping people were done. I gave everything for my friends and the Magical World. Haven’t I done enough?”
The spirit’s smile became downright warm and she moved swiftly in front of him to take his hands. {Of course you have, Harry. But we are connected now, which means we both know you would find rest and relaxation to be boring and dull. Furthermore, you enjoy helping others in your own way. Free of being forced to by that fool Dumbledore I think you could find true purpose and happiness here.}
“You really think so?”
{I do. It will be hard at first, and you’ll no doubt need to carve out a niche of your own, the shinigami are far too structured in their current state for your immediate liking, but yes you can find a place here.}
Harry looked at their clasped hands and commented, “All of this comfort and reassurance, and I do not even know what to call you.”
The smile never slipped from her face as she answered, “As I said, I have had many names, but you may call me Tiamat. It is what serves me most in this form. Now, the sword you hold is my physical form in this world, and it will serve as a magical focus for you as well as granting you even greater power. Hold still, and I will show you how to use it.}
“What?” Harry wanted to ask more, but a moment later the woman released his hand and clamped both of her own on either side of his head. At once the wizard’s mind was filled with endless memories of stabbing, slicing, parrying, and images of magical feats beyond anything he’d imagined before. When it was all said and done he gripped the hilt of the Jian once more and it felt as natural as if he’d been doing it all of his life.
Tiamat took note of his look of wonder and said simply, {I would not let my master wield me without the knowledge of how to do so well. Shinigami frequently patrol the streets of the towns in these districts. When next you see one challenge him or her to a duel. Should you win they will be honor bound to take you back to their base so that you may train to join their ranks.}
“Just like that?”
{Just like that. Worst case scenario I suppose we could just invade their complex and demand a spot amongst them, but let’s try the diplomatic approach first.}
“Alright, how do I do this?” All around him the world changed back to what it was before, the castle of his mind falling back to the trees and grass. Directly in front of him was a town in the middle of a rural area, and people could be seen milling about in all directions.
{I’d recommend going for a stroll. Who knows what you might find?}
So that’s just what Harry did. He got some strange looks from the people he passed once he reached the town, and small wonder, from what he could tell he was the only westerner here. Tiamat must have been right about different places having their own versions of the Soul Society. He was all set to start asking people if they’d seen any Soul Reapers lately, when a random teen body was sent flying out through the air from a nearby alley. A few seconds later it was followed by an apparent teenager who seemed about Harry’s age with a chipped sword resting on his shoulder.
The stranger seemed all set to follow his apparent victim when he noticed Harry, and the sheathed blade in his hand. A dark grin crossed his face and he proclaimed, “Finally! A real challenge!” And launched himself at the westerner.
The fight that followed put them both to the test and ended with the two of them lying side by side on the road gasping for breath as a crowd of onlookers stood as far back from them as was possible. Thanks to Tiamat, Harry had enough mental knowledge of swordcraft to be one of the deadliest men alive with a blade. Unfortunately, his body had not built up the muscle memory to use it all effectively yet. In contrast, the stranger had intense natural instincts and strength, but no finesse or fine skill. It had turned into a battle of endurance, and the two had ended up being rather evenly matched in that regard.
“Hey,” in spite of his current circumstances, Harry couldn’t deny that he’d enjoyed pushing himself as he had. And his opponent’s face during the clash of swords had just been so earnest and open. There were no ulterior motives with him, no agenda, he genuinely wanted to fight because he enjoyed it. There was a kind of purity there. “What’s your name?”
“Zaraki.” The guy got out between deep breaths. “I didn’t lose, ya hear me. We’re just taking a breather before round two.”
“Fine by me. I’m Harry by the way. Figure you should know who’s knocking you down.”
“In your dreams, man. Just you wait and see, I’ve got a feeling we’ll keep fighting until one of us finally beats the other into the ground.”
Two Hundred Years Later
The silence of the picturesque afternoon was broken by a massive explosion going off near the boundary of the eleventh division barracks. Byakuya groaned at the sight, and from her place serving him tea his sister asked, “What is that, big brother? It’s the eighth explosion this week.”
Byakuya Kuchiki gave Rukia a commiserating look. He had only recently brought her into his household after the death of his wife and he was still trying to figure out how best to interact with her. “That would be Captain Kenpachi of the Eleventh Division and his Vice Captain Harry Potter. The two go after each other every chance they get.”
“Why would they do that? I thought members of the officer rank could only offer challenge for each other’s positions on specified examination dates?”
“That is true.” The man agreed, “but they are not fighting for rank privileges. Rather, they do it hoping one of them will finally win, and because they know their constant collateral damage annoys the rest of us a great deal.” Another explosion sounded and he stood up. “I suppose I should go and deal with this. My bankai is the only one that has even a chance of interrupting them.”
He was surprised when Rukia stepped right up to his side. “What are you doing?”
“You may need assistance, and I need to learn my way around.”
Byakuya’s first instinct was to say no, but he couldn’t deny that if the girl was to be seen as a member of his house, being with him when he performed his duties could only increase her perceived regard inside the Seireitei. “Very well, but say nothing.” The regal man folded his hands into his sleeves and marched off at a steady pace toward the source of the violence. He’d made it halfway when the wall ahead of him exploded and a dark haired man crashed into the stone at his feet hard enough to carve a trench with his passing.
It wasn’t even a second before the same man hopped to his feet, started wildly waving his sword around over his head, and shouted, “Ha! As if that would put me down, you oversized porcupine! Have at thee!” He went to charge back in, only to be stopped by Byakyua’s hand on his shoulder.
“Vice Captain Potter, don’t you think this is a bit excessive?”
The stranger looked up, and Rukia took note of his long dark hair, bright green eyes, and the dusting of black hair along his jaw. Physically he looked like he was perhaps in his early twenties. “Oh, Byakuya, what’s up, ya surly bastard?”
The taller man groaned at the informal term of address and said, “You know exactly ‘what is up’, Harry. You’re destroying the Seireitei.”
“Now I resent that.” The man sheathed his sword at his hip and continued, “Can you point to even one structure that I’ve had a part in wrecking?” Behind him a nearby tower collapsed under the weight of a suspiciously Harry sized hole in its base. “Besides that.” Before the captain could attempt to reprimand him for his actions, Harry took note of the girl by his side and grinned suavely before literally breezing past the man to take her hand in his own. “And who are you, beautiful?”
In spite of herself, Rukia blushed as the Vice Captain pressed his lips to her hand. She was still getting used to this high class portion of the Soul Society, and was unused to such flirtation. “I-I am Rukia Kutchiki.” She managed to get out, struggling to maintain the serious bearing that everyone in her household held.
“Rukia, a beautiful name.” He purred with a wink, only to be dragged back out of reach by the collar of his robe by her very annoyed looking older brother.
“Stop it now, Potter. Your womanizing ways are well known and I will not have it with my sister.”
“Is this because my subordinate is hotter than yours? It’s not my fault you have a thing for red headed dudes.”
As if summoned by the topic, a generously proportioned girl in a black kimono with her long hair pulled into a single braid marched through the rubble to gently pull Harry out of Byakuya’s grasp.
“Vice Captain, allow me to cleanse you.” The woman shot a palm out that stopped an inch from Harry’s chest and a high powered kinetic blast of wind forced every bit of stone dust from his uniform.
“Thank you, Nemu. Your help is much appreciated.”
“Of course, and Captain Kenpachi has sadly left the field. Apparently he was summoned to a meeting with Captain-Commander Yamamoto.”
“Of course he was.” The man sighed, “Well, if the fun is done we should be moving off.” In a blur of movement Harry was back in front of Rukia, “I hope to see you around, Ms. Rukia.” Then both he and the black haired girl were gone.
Meanwhile Byakuya was staring at the rampant devastation and lamenting the fact that no doubt he was the one that was going to be asked to deal with it.
Elsewhere
Harry was employing one of his preferred methods of spending an afternoon, meandering around the roof of the Seireitei. Tiamat had been right when she’d said he could find a place for himself. In spite of all of his reservations he loved the direction his life had taken. He had a great position in the Soul Society, there were several friends he was close with, and when he wasn’t off fighting hollows he was free to do pretty much whatever he wanted. Of course if he was a division captain then he’d have more responsibilities to occupy his time, but he was more than happy to leave that to Kenpachi. Harry was lazy, and he owned it. He may have been denied eternal rest but that didn’t mean he didn’t know how to relax. Behind him, Nemu Kurotsuchi followed at a sedate pace and watched his back.
As she did, the woman marveled at her Vice Captain’s form, easy bearing, and general attitude. She had admired him since the day he’d saved her life, and had made it her mission to serve him in every way possible from that day forward.
Flashback
Nemu didn’t know what day it was, or how long she’d been strapped to that table. All she knew was that this was where she had been born. It was where she was made aware of what she was. It was where her father cut her open and examined what made her tick. She was pretty sure it was where she would die as well. Mayuri, her creator, had informed her that she was not the optimal design he had envisioned, so naturally she was only living on borrowed time. But what was she to do about it, really?
With her head as restrained as the rest of her, all she could see was the swinging lamp overhead, but her ears were clear enough to hear her father muttering under his breath as he putzed around his lab, filling a tray with all the tools and equipment he’d no doubt need to carry out his latest examination of her body. That was until there came a loud crashing noise and motes of dust rose to hover in the dim light overhead. Nemu knew better than to speak up and ask what it was, but she did listen.
“Well, well, well, Mayuri, what do we have here?” The voice was young, but powerful, full of confidence.
In contrast, her father was wary, yet fascinated. “Harry Potter, Vice Captain of the eleventh division. Why are you here?”
There was a pause, and then the other voice began to travel, was he moving? “A little birdy told me you were playing with souls, and torturing the ones you managed to create in the name of ‘science .’” The sarcasm was impossible to miss, and he’d later informed her that the spirit of his sword had somehow known of her plight. “I’m here to remove that innocent from your perverted hands and drive home the message that as long as I live such experimentation will no longer be allowed in this compound. The others here may put up with your bullshit but I’ll not have it.”
A cruel edge entered her father's voice as he answered, “You should remember which of us is a full captain, boy. And besides, how can you tell anyone when you too are strapped down as one of my experiments? Hyah!” There was a dull clang followed by a thump and a crash. Groaning in obvious pain, Mayuri demanded, “How did your skin withstand my needle? It’s sharper than the edge of a razor and harder than diamonds!?!?”
“Fuck you, that’s how. Oh, not gonna get up? My, those twisted legs look like they’d certainly make it hard for you. Why don't you be a good little psychopath and just stay there while I address the victim.”
A second later the light overhead was blocked, and Nemu took in one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever beheld: a dark haired man with eyes of pure emerald. “Hello there, my name’s Harry Potter and I’m here to rescue you.”
Flashback End
That had been the start of it all for her. The beginning of actually living her life. Harry had taken personal responsibility for her, and sponsored her training in the Soul Reaper Corps. Once she reached the rank of lieutenant she’d petitioned heartily to be his personal aid, and had been approved nearly at once. Her superior had tried to have Mayuri kicked out of the Soul Reapers completely after saving her, on the grounds that they existed to protect souls, not experiment on them, but sadly he’d been denied by their commander, Yamamoto. The mad scientist had proven too useful with his creations to the Society as a whole to be let go for an offense like that. He was however put on probation and warned away from ever interacting with Nemu again, and Harry had ended up taking the win rather than fighting a battle that was doomed to fail.
Thus had begun their long service together. Hary called her his subordinate, but in truth he never really treated her that way. She was his closest confidante, his friend, an ear to bounce ideas off of, and if she had her own way then soon enough they would be much, much, more. She was no fool, she’d seen the way his eyes wandered over the women of the Seireitei, but she was more than willing to share him as long as she got a piece of her personal hero soon enough. Based on all Nemu had seen of him she knew she’d need to make the first move, but she needed to find the most opportune moment.
“Vice Captain, where are we going exactly?”
“Oh, who knows, my lovely, adorable, subordinate. Who knows. Wherever the world takes us.” As he spoke, the hilt at his waist began to glow, and a circular portal came into being ahead of them. “Looks like it wants to take us somewhere in particular. On me, Nemu, we have some work to do.”
Time Jump
Rukia adjusted her lieutenant patch and entered the Captain’s office of the thirteenth division. There had been much talk about the fact she’d not been entered into the same ranks as her brother, but it had been decided that there would be less accusations of favoritism this way. Ahead of her was her captain Jushiro Ukitake, coughing lightly into a handkerchief before stowing it to give her his full attention.
“Ah, Rukia, that badge looks fitting on you. What brings you to my small domain.” He gestured to the bare expanse of his office. The man was far from a braggart and insisted he only work with what he needed.
A loud boom came from outside, and she quirked a brow. “That. Sir, now that I’m a lieutenant I was hoping someone could tell me why exactly Captain Kenpachi and Vice Captain Potter are allowed to continue causing mayhem as they do without repercussions?”
The silver haired man sighed and gestured to the chair across from him. “Take a seat, this might take a minute or two to explain. And you’re right, you’ve ranked high enough to know. Though I wonder if your curiosity has to do with his continued flirtations…” The man trailed off and smirked at the blush that had begun adorning his subordinate’s face. Intermittently from the day he’d first met her, Harry had been popping out of nowhere to follow her on her walks of the grounds, compliment her appearance, and even talk about the weather. She’d be a little creeped out about it if he wasn’t so damned charming.
“Yes, well, it goes back to when the two of them first arrived at the Seireitei.”
“Arrived? They weren’t recruited?”
“Harry said later that they searched out reapers to show their skills to, but none ever approached their district. I personally looked over the records of deployments and found that sadly he was right. Many of our poorer districts do not receive the attention they deserve.”
“That’s terrible!” She well remembered her own troubles before she was rescued by her big brother.
“Indeed, and Harry has since made it his job to walk through them all at least once a year. Many fresh recruits have been found that way as a result. Anyway, they showed up at our gates and auditioned for entry.” The captain began to chuckle heartily at the memory. “An audition they called it. Harry snuck in somehow and opened the gate, then he and Kenpachi single handedly beat down every current student in our academy. However that was only the start. Once they were admitted they beat up their teachers for their positions, then the lieutenants, then the senior officers, and finally the captain and vice captain. What takes an average Soul Reaper centuries to achieve took them two years, tops.”
“That is remarkable.”
“Yes, especially when you consider that Kenpachi cannot perform a bankai, but Potter can.” Easily seeing the follow up question that was coming, he continued. “Yes, Harry is more powerful than Kenpachi, and yes, he lets him be captain over him. According to the young man, he’s been in a position of power before, and would rather let someone else be stuck leading this time around.”
Clearing her throat, Rukia hid her shock and stated, “That doesn’t answer why they are allowed to constantly destroy the Seireitei.”
“Oh that’s simple. No one wants to piss them off by saying they can’t.”
“Huh?” All of the regal bearing she’d learned from Byakuya escaped at that statement.
“Rukia, I just explained how the two of them earned their positions. They actually enjoy fighting, and Kenpachi alone would take four captains at once to have a chance of subduing him. As for Harry… Yamamoto might be able to take him down, but we aren’t quite sure.”
“Whatever do you mean by that?”
“We don’t think he can actually die.”
Rukia blinked slowly at that statement. “Of course he can. All things die, even us. When a soul reaper is killed we are put right back into the cycle of reincarnation and born again in the land of the living.”
“Typically yes, though with him that doesn’t seem to be the case.” Ukitake folded his hands in front of him. “Harry claims that he is unable to die, that death is his companion, and he has shown enough evidence to somewhat prove it… after a fashion. Each of us Captains have at one point or another personally seen him die and come back; and no it is not regeneration. He has been killed sparring with Kenpachi, died in the service of protecting others on missions, and even just fallen headfirst off the tallest tower in the Seireitei while drunk. Every time he comes back within a few seconds, completely fine, and grumbling about nosy dragon ladies. Whatever that means.”
“That-That’s impossible.”
“Not for him. We’re pretty sure getting burned to ash by Yamamoto might actually end him for good, but for obvious reasons we aren’t very quick to check that theory. Any flame that hot would likely cause extreme collateral damage.”
“So you let those two continue to brawl throughout our home because pissing them off could make things even worse?”
“Pretty much. The lives they save far outweigh the inconvenience of having to rebuild a few walls and buildings here and there.”
“And his… flirtations towards me?”
“I wouldn’t worry about it too much. It’s well known that Nemu has him wrapped around her finger and that he’s an incorrigible flirt. If you find him attractive too, why not see where it goes? If you don’t like the attention then simply tell him and he’ll cease at once. Rangiku did that and now the two are simply cordial comrades. No harm, no foul.”
“I’ll think about that.” Rukia agreed.