Hope You've Guessed My Name. [Yaksha/Rukia]

"I didn't ask for a written novel. A name suffices. I generally feel there isn't ever such a thing as useless information."

He examined her cards, nodding once, curtly, his expression still completely unreadable. Her hand was a very impressive one, of course, as befitting someone like him. He folded his hands together over his chest, exhaling slowly, eyes canting to the side; for a moment it looked like his attention was elsewhere, like he had noticed something for the first time. But he finally did start to speak, in a cool and detached tone.

"When I was young, I had little love for humans. I found myself stuck in a small town, surrounded by small people with small minds. Almost invariably, I found the dead to be better company. And that included hollows, naturally. I always felt a certain kinship with them. When I was young hollows were...so very different. There was competition. The humans were all so densely packed, and hollows would have hunting grounds that were less than a mile wide. They were crafty. They were powerful. Humans worshiped them as gods, in places. Hollow used to be a designation that one could feel proud of, Rukia. And now it is that the humans and hollows have all bred so incredibly rapidly, and while humans have only grown craftier and more canny over the years, the standards to become a hollow have become so very lenient, and now when one mentions hollows it's with a sour taste in their mouth."

He rose from the table slowly, walking towards the kitchen once more and returning with a glass of wine; he began to pour a hefty measure into Rukia's glass, then into his own.

"I reject the very notion of hollowfication as a tragic circumstance, which must be rectified. I wish to show the world that there can exist such a thing as a happy hollow. Is that a sufficient answer, Rukia? I have no interest in being reminded, day after day, of how far my brethren have to come. And so I live here, rubbing elbows and proving that I am in no need of your Soul Society's...help."

"Please stop volunteering information. You'll quickly lose bargaining chips at this rate."

Again, his voice was airy and light, seeming almost devoid of any emotion. It seemed like she was hearing the words from the other end of a long, wind-blasted tunnel, one that had stripped them of all context and feeling, turning them as cold and as precise as a thrown dagger. The monotonous tone was almost distressing, particularly when one realized that he was hardly even moving now, as he shuffled the cards once more, this time with even greater precision.

"It seems you caught onto the nature of the game quickly. But your inadequacies will become clear before much longer. This game is as much about your opponent as yourself."

He flicked out five more cards negligently, then scooped up his own, sucking at his lower lips. Yaksha's poker face was...well, to put it simply it was like staring at an iceberg. He simply looked at the cards in absolute, unyielding silence; the silence of one trying very hard to make no sound at all. It was a hungry, cloying silence, one that seemed to batter at the chest and leave a horrible, nauseating sense of pressure there, demanding that it be filled.

And yet Yaksha let it ride on for a full minute, before setting his own cards down on the counter, and then drumming his fingers on the table.

"The Kuchiki family. Tell me about them. Are they all shinigami? How has your experience been with the clan as a whole? How many siblings do you have?"

He glanced up at her for just a second, and then rose his hand in a slow, almost chiding gesture to stop.

"Before you speak. Make sure you think long and hard about what that information is worth to you."

"That's good. You're a fast learner. Remarkable, as a matter of fact. As a sign of respect for you, I'll wager something I hold rather dear to myself. Should you win this next hand, I will tell you about my comrades in arms; those who have aligned themselves with me, in my upcoming endeavours."

His expression was still as obdurate and unmoving as a rock as he folded his hands over the table, placing his own cards on the table. He examined them all, jaw set ever so slightly as he stared at them quietly, calmly. He then reached out and placed down a single card, drawing to replace it. He set his cards back down, and met Rukia's gaze.

"I thank you, Rukia. For passing this time with me. It's been quite productive. I apologize for turning this into something so farcical, but I can't help who I am. My soul and heart aches to know more, and you're simply too appealing a target for me to let you go without a fight. But you and I both know that you could slaughter me with a flick of your hand. In a sense it's...far more relaxing, knowing I'm so thoroughly outmatched. It means I needn't waste time with anxiety or fear. I'll simply...cease, should you find it in your interests to do so."

He pushed his own cards forward, eyes locked onto hers. He then flipped over his cards, one at a time; the ten of hearts, the ten of diamonds, the ten of clubs, the jack of clubs, the jack of diamonds.

"I call. It's time to see if the fates will continue to favor you, Rukia. You can hone your weapon all you like, but at a certain point, you simply have to accept that your weapon isn't well-suited to the task."

"Ah."

Yaksha said nothing else, simply reached idly out and scooped up all of the cards, continuing to shuffle them in absolute silence as he met Rukia's gaze. He looked...almost detached, on the verge of boredom, as he met her gaze. It was uncanny, to see someone so uniformly unexpressive, someone who kept so very much of his thoughts and feelings concealed. He set the deck down once more, and then splayed out the cards one at a time, and spoke in a soft, chiding tone.

"You were so blessedly close. You felt it, didn't you? That single wretched moment of uplifting warmth, telling you that this was the start of a long and beautiful winning streak. Telling you that your victory was inevitable, and that you could finally shut me up. And now you're feeling the sinking sensation that makes you wonder if you'll ever be able to make back your losses. This is Vegas, Rukia. This is life for so many tens of thousands of people. Fluctuating between manic highs and desperate lows."

He began to deal out still more cards, looking down at his hand, and then folding them over, hand placed over them.

"It's your turn to bare your heart and soul, Rukia. Don't worry. I'll be sure to put it to good use."

"Yet again, Rukia, you offer more than necessary. This game will quickly become a hopeless one if you can't ascertain the weapons you have available to you."

He once more flicked out the cards over and over, his expression smooth and obdurate as he fanned his own out, baring his teeth in a mirthless, cold expression; it was the kind of smile that reminded one that when apes bared their teeth, it was a threat. He drummed his fingers on the table, eyebrows raising slowly, meticulously. His every motion seemed crisp and precise now, as measured and perfect as if he had a ruler. It was...unnerving, to see someone whose movements could be measured in micrometers.

"If the ultimate evil is to deliberately blind oneself, then the ultimate good is to understand. You no doubt find this needless frivolity; a distraction from what's important. But I want you to understand what makes these things important, Rukia. No good can come from engaging on a path when you have no clear idea of where you are, or where you're going. You'll never win this game if you can't face yourself, Rukia."

He folded his hands in his lap, eyes meeting hers. And for the first time there was something...else there. Something pleasant, and warm. He stared at her, his voice turning into a smooth drone, nearly mesmeric in its intonation. He spoke without pause, in a voice that almost seemed to wash over her.

"You speak of your past as if it's a pain. You share information as if you fear it will be used as a weapon against you. How can you even dream of becoming something great if you spend your entire life staring straight ahead? How can you be certain you won't repeat the mistakes of Hisana?"

He leaned forward once more, eyes widening, voice taking on a voice of absolute, cold, precise authority. He spoke in the same leaden, absolute tones which one would use to express that the sky was blue.

"She abandoned you. She ran, because she was afraid, and she was uncertain. She carried that stain with her, until her dying day. And since then you have watched person after person enter and leave your life. You have spent so many centuries trying so very hard to keep yourself distanced...and you don't think you'll carry that same weight to your grave? You wish to erase the sins of your sister from this world, and you wish to do so...by keeping everyone else at arm's reach?"

"Then again...the case could be made you only got to where you were because you were abandoned. Ooooh, that one...that accusation hit a nerve, didn't it? To think that your adversity and your hardship is what made you great. You reject that notion wholeheartedly, don't you? You reject it so thoroughly that you rush headlong, leaving everyone else behind you, trying so very thoroughly to prove that you never needed Hisana's pity. That, to the very end...you did it alone. And your reward will be...to die alone."