The drone of the engines reverberated through the transport plane, steady and unchanging, like a heartbeat. Adam sat among a handful of soldiers, his Zanpakuto resting against his leg. His destination: the Mu continent.
For the past few days, he'd thrown himself into missions, honing his new ability—Getsuga Tensho. Each swing of the blade had been another step toward mastering it, another step toward self-reliance.
But now the time had come to part ways.
He remembered Himeko's gaze as he bid farewell—a gaze full of warmth and worry. She still looked at him that way, even after everything that had happened. He didn't know what he was to her, but he knew she genuinely cared. Hua, quiet and withdrawn as ever, had been harder to read. And Carole… mischievous Carole had leaned close, whispering a warning not to forget about Hua once he left.
Adam could still hear the playful lilt in her voice, but underneath it, the earnest concern. Carole wanted someone to look after Hua, someone she could trust. Adam could only apologize in silence. Even if he could set aside their difference in age, he longed for a partner with maturity that Hua hadn't yet grown into.
His thoughts drifted, unbidden.
Someone well-developed…
"Hmn, I see. Master likes them big…"
Warm breath brushed his ear. Slender arms slid around his neck, delicate yet firm, and he froze. His heart gave a startled thump before his shoulders stiffened.
He exhaled slowly, recognizing the familiar touch.
Kyoka.
Her sudden appearances always unsettled him. She enjoyed catching him off guard, sneaking close when his guard was lowered, her little acts of vengeance wrapped in intimacy.
He didn't answer aloud—not with soldiers so close. Talking to a spirit only he could see would get him labeled insane. Instead, his left hand brushed the smooth hilt of his Zanpakuto, grounding himself, and he spoke through the mental link.
'What are you doing?'
Kyoka only smirked, lifting her hands to her chest and "adjusting" her size as if flaunting her illusory form.
Adam's brow twitched. He couldn't deny he was curious. She could freely alter her appearance at will, but he knew it wasn't reality—only the illusion she wanted him to see.
"Do you want to feel my breast?" she asked innocently, tilting her head.
"Pfft—!"
Air caught in his throat, and he erupted into a fit of coughs. Heat crept up his neck as the nearby soldiers turned to look. Adam waved them off, forcing a calm expression back onto his face. There was no way he'd explain that.
'Why are you acting like this?' he pressed, shutting his eyes to block her out. 'Weren't you sulking before? What changed?'
Unseen, Kyoka draped herself onto his lap, arms circling his neck like a lover clinging close. The soft brush of her hair tickled his jaw, her breath feathering warm against his ear.
"Why am I happy?" Her voice carried a sweetness that coiled around his mind, dreamy and intoxicating. "Because Kyoka knows she is the most important in Master's heart, no matter what happens."
Adam's chest tightened faintly. She was unlike any other Zanpakuto Spirit he'd ever heard of—her affection obsessive, bordering on dangerous. Yet, she offered him her power so willingly. He couldn't afford to reject that.
"Ah! How cruel!" Kyoka suddenly gasped, pressing her sleeve to her face in mock despair. "To think of Kyoka as just a tool…"
Adam winced, cursing inwardly. She had read his thoughts. But the sadness on her face wasn't convincing—it was play-acting.
And sure enough, when she caught his realization, she let out a soft laugh, hiding her mouth behind her kimono sleeve.
"Hmn. Master wonders why Kyoka isn't truly sad? It's natural. A Zanpakuto Spirit is but the blade's will given form. And a blade… is a weapon. So it isn't wrong to think of Kyoka as a tool."
Adam nodded quietly, absorbing her words. Yet his thoughts shifted again—to Getsuga Tensho. Why was she so opposed to him using it?
Kyoka's smile faltered. She straightened, floating before him with eyes sharp as glass, glaring.
"How would Master feel," she whispered, voice trembling with restrained emotion, "if your wife mistook another man for you—and loved him instead?"
The question hit him harder than expected. His gut twisted, his throat tight. After a pause, he admitted, '…Angry?'
"Of course Kyoka is angry!" she snapped, leaning so close their noses almost touched. Her gaze burned into his, fierce and unwavering. "Kyoka is Master's Zanpakuto! How could Master betray her with another blade?"
Her words rang with jealousy and desperation. Adam felt himself shrink back, guilt prickling beneath his skin. He apologized quickly, though in truth, her Shikai wasn't what he needed right now.
To his surprise, Kyoka acknowledged it.
"But Master needn't worry." Her voice softened again, silk wrapping steel. "A Zanpakuto is not fixed. It reflects its wielder's soul—and souls can change. By altering the release chant, that reflection can be reshaped."
She explained gently, her tone like that of a teacher guiding a stubborn student. A Zanpakuto's Shikai and Bankai were expressions of self, mirrored through release. Alter the chant, and the reflection changed too—though weaker, less true.
"Since Master seeks an offensive Shikai, change the chant. From 'Shatter, Kyoka Suigetsu' to 'Flow, Kyoka Suigetsu.' Then Master may summon blades of illusory water, unpredictable and elegant."
She smiled faintly, but her eyes glimmered with disdain. "Far more fitting than that crude, barbaric Getsuga Tensho. Such a graceless thing… it sullies Kyoka merely to be compared to it."
Adam sighed inwardly. She was offering him an alternative—graciously, even. He promised to abandon Getsuga. Her satisfaction was immediate. With a delighted hum, she settled back into his lap, head pillowed against his chest.
Her warmth in his lap should have soothed him, but instead the thought cut sharper than any blade:
If a Zanpakuto is truly a reflection of me… then why are you mine?
The moment the suspicion formed, the atmosphere shattered.
Kyoka stiffened. The playful affection drained from her eyes, replaced by something raw and brittle. Her body trembled like glass about to crack. The illusion of her form flickered, the edges of her kimono dissolving into ripples, as if she were struggling to even hold herself together.
Adam's chest clenched. Through their bond, her emotions crashed into him like a storm surge—terror, overwhelming and absolute. Not anger, not indignation.
Fear.
A suffocating, primal fear that gripped his lungs as if invisible hands were wringing the air out of him. He gasped without realizing it, his heart hammering painfully against his ribs.
Kyoka's hands shot to his uniform, clutching desperately, her slender fingers digging in as if she could anchor herself to him physically. Her voice broke into fragments, trembling, almost childlike.
"N-no… don't… don't throw Kyoka away…! Don't abandon me, Master!"
Her elegant façade was gone—shattered completely. The dignified, coy spirit who teased him mercilessly was replaced by something frantic, desperate, almost pathetic. Tears welled in her eyes, shimmering like liquid crystal, though they never fell. Her whole body quivered as though she might shatter into pieces if he even thought of pushing her away.
Adam's gut twisted. The sensation bleeding through their link made it worse: the abyss of her dread was pulling him under. His own throat felt tight, his breath ragged, his stomach knotted. He could feel her despair as if it were his own.
"Kyoka! Stop!" Adam's voice cracked out, louder than intended. The soldiers jerked around in alarm, hands instinctively hovering near their weapons. He ignored them completely.
He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly, desperately, as if he could physically keep her from falling apart. "I'm not leaving you," he whispered, firm yet gentle, the words tumbling out without hesitation. "I'm here. I'm not throwing you away. Never."
Kyoka stiffened as clarity returned, then a choked sob escaped her lips. Her illusion faltered further—her form flickering between clarity and distortion—but her arms wrapped around his torso, clinging with a desperation that shook him. Her nails bit into his back through the fabric of his uniform, anchoring herself to him.
"P-please… don't… don't abandon Kyoka…" Her voice was broken, uneven. Each word cracked like fragile glass. "Kyoka… doesn't want to be alone again… Kyoka can't… can't…"
Adam's chest ached as the raw flood of her terror poured into him through their bond. It wasn't just fear of rejection—it was the fear of loneliness. A loneliness so vast and hollow it turned into despair.
He tightened his embrace, whispering against her hair, his voice low and steady despite the soldiers' alarmed stares. "You won't be abandoned. You won't be alone. I won't let it happen. I promise."
Slowly—agonizingly slowly—the tremors in her body began to ease. The panic in her eyes dimmed, replaced by fragile relief as she buried her face against his chest, breathing in shallow, uneven gulps.
Through their bond, he could still feel the echoes of her fear—like faint aftershocks—but they dulled beneath the warmth of his hold.
Her emotions were real. Genuine. No illusion, no trick. After all, a Zanpakuto Spirit is pure in some sense. They lack the ability to truly deceive.
Adam exhaled shakily, his heart still racing. He had more questions than ever—doubts gnawed at the back of his mind—but this wasn't the time to chase them. Not while she was still trembling in his arms.
He stroked her back once, reassuring, before urging her softly to return to the blade. Only then did he lift his head, meeting the wary, suspicious gazes of the soldiers around him.
Now he had to find a way to explain his sudden outburst.
—————
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