Probing the Wound [Closed|Ayumi]

In the four uneventful days that Ayumi had lived through, loneliness became a painful constant she was slowly growing more and more aware of, yet also fatigued by. The brunette had reached the extent where her mental rope had snapped and no longer could she pass it off as her imagination playing childish games on her as usual; since the departure of their captain, the Second division had been plunged into silence, both in the physical sense that conversations were now few and far between and also in the metaphysical sense that nothing was happening and it was most certainly the calm before the storm. The suffocating sort of peace flitted over the Annex, the kind that warned her through its presence that something was bound to happen. That sense of utter apprehension, of trouble brewing innocently in a pot and bubbling to the brim like a normal pot of tea … it unnerved Ayumi. There were other factors that set her on edge as well, of course, she was no stranger to the whispers shrouding her all concerning her little event with Diabló-san. The brunette had taken great care to not spill so much as a word about her encounter with the king of hollows to another soul. The rumours would  double--no, triple! And she would have an even harder time quelling them.

But maybe she wouldn't need to quell them. Ayumi from a week ago might have made a valiant effort to clear her name but the brunette seated in the laboratory, poring over plans could care less about what was being said about it. It was one of the things she had learnt from the surprisingly wise Diabló-san and one of the things she made an effort to remember regarding their run-in. There were so many details of it that she wished to stow in the depths of her mind and never so much as disturb for all eternity--like the fleeting sensation of the arrancar's lips touching her skin, teasing her ever so lightly before he rushed away. Yet his words rang clear--like the tinkling of bells--in her semi-flustered mind; life is not meant to be lived against anyone's standards but your own. It was sharp and defined, smooth and precise and she could never forget them for as long as lived. Even now as she sat in the warmth of her laboratory and penned away at the crisscross of letters and bonds on the rough sheets of paper, it was not her dead comrades she was mourning nor friends she was worrying over but mulling over his words. Ayumi straightened her back and shook her head violently to clear it of unnecessary thoughts--she had a task to complete and she owed her full concentration to the man who had made this wonderfully busy lifestyle possible for her; Tsukimiya Kyousuke.

Tsukimiya-taichou.   

Since the war-like catastrophe that had rocked the Seireitei (that had also been dubbed 'The Great Seireitei Massacre') Ayumi had come to realise one more thing and in significance it caused any other repercussion of the war to pale comparatively--it was her connection of the Second Division's captain. He had gone missing since the disaster and in his place had come their ex-vice-captain, Chinda Kiriko. Filled with nothing but an intense respect for the other female, Ayumi could not help but wholeheartedly nod in accordance that the only one suitable for the position was the taller lady. That being said Ayumi could not silence the gossipy whisper that raised its ugly head, that streak of criticism that lashed out both at her and others equally--Chinda-fu--no, Chinda-taichou as she was now to be addressed lacked the charisma their former captain had worn with ease and grace that awe d Ayumi. There was something decidedly more solemn about Chinda-fukutaichou; not that it was a bad thing, seriousness reaped results. And so, Ayumi dedicatedly trained her attention back to the work in front of her, now effortlessly barricading the outside world and their leering rumours. Who cared, she reminded herself, if everyone felt the need to make pointless chitchat about her behind her back? She had work to do and she had been a fool for paying attention to the grossly erroneous rumour mill; no she hadn't slept with Tova Diabló, no she wasn't a spy. What were the new recruits up to? How had they even found out these things?

Was she the only person Diabló-san had felt the need to be nice to? Amidst the urge to tune her surroundings out and focus on her work like she had been trying to (futilely) for the last half an hour, a twinge of guilt--maybe regret, maybe shame--pinched her heart. In light of such suffering … how could she have been benefitted, that too by the very person who had caused it all? Was she a monster?  In little bits and pieces, fragments of the Ayumi of before--naïve, gentle and sensitive--poured through to the front as tears stung the back of her brown orbs.

The brunette swiped a ruthless hand over them to wipe the offending liquid away as soon as she felt a spirit approach her--a rather familiar one at that too, Chinda Kiriko. Ayumi could not deny that conversation between the two of them would perhaps help ease the tension that hung gloomily around the Annex--the other woman had been suffering the effects of their captain's sudden abandoning departure and no doubt, it was filling her with questions like it was filling Ayumi with them--why had he left so abruptly? Would he ever return? Why now? Did he know Tova Diabló in any way? In a sense, Ayumi thought of Tsukimiya-taichou, Chinda-taichou and herself as s three-way-link , one forged out of trust and something between friendship and family. With their captain missing China-taichou was … the only remainder of the fragmented family Ayumi had found and cherished. Try as she might the brunette could not cut her sentimental ties to the sacred relationship; she could douse herself in work and sleeplessness all she liked but it did not change the nostalgic warmth that enveloped her insides every time she thought of their very first meeting, out in the lawn where they'd eaten lunch together.

She owed them success; she owed her successes to them.

The familiar reiatsu neared and the sharp rapping on her door gave away Chinda-taichou's presence. "Good morning, Chinda-taichou," Ayumi greeted, the honorific still feeling heavy and foreign on her tongue--it didn't flow with the same ease Tsukimiya-taichou had but it was only a matter of time before it would. Residual tears clung to her dark eyelashes and Ayumi endeavoured to blink them away whilst Chinda-taichou was not looking. She set her pen down momentarily on her work, which was more or less numerous equations and bond structures drawn up on sheets of paper. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Ayumi could not deny the desire within her to ease the tension--to revert back to that shy, semi-informal girl she had been and to make things easier between them, but she smoothed her features into frostbitten professionalism and smiled at the older woman; it would not do to be anything but formal. She needed to stop caring so much.
---

1224 words // 24 GP // 24 GP total

Kiriko stepped into the room, her forehead creasing as she saw how very dark it was inside. The windows all fastened shut and all but the essential lights turned off. Finding the small form of Takasugi huddled near her desk was somewhat of a surprise, but what was more shocking was the way the other girl straightened and turned to look at her – expression perfectly blank. This was not the look of that softly eager girl from yesteryear, and Kiriko wasn't sure what to do with this new Takasugi. Were those rumors floating about really true then? She hadn't given them any thought, if they got too bad she would have snuffed them out, at least within the Second – but she had never considered there to be a kernel of truth amongst those jealous whispers. Perhaps she had to reconsider.

Gliding forward, Kohaku pressed her hands across her abdomen, long sleeves flowing downward. “Please Takasugi-san, I have not taken up that title, I am only the acting captain,” Kiriko spoke in a conciliatory tone, before her voice grew sharper, “After all, Tsukimiya-taichou is just busy right now. He will return soon.” Her pointed words were obvious. Those ugly rumors that talked about their Captain's death were something she would not abide by. He was alive. And he was coming back. Anyone who said otherwise would be met with a swift reprisal. Kiriko was not going to let people start talking as if Tsukimiya-taichou was gone forever. Who cared about the blood, for her it was just a sign of his fighting prowess. It probably wasn't even his. And that was why she still wore his haori, as a reminder to everyone who looked at it that Kiriko was not an usurper but still the Lieutenant. She was waiting for her real Captain to return and everyone best remember that.

There had been changes within Kiriko too though, it was not just Takasugi with a newfound sense of self. And instead of standing their primly she grabbed a chair and dragged it one-leggedly across from Ayumi. The scrape of metal was harsh but needed, to shock this dark depression away from her charge. Looking at her clinically Kiriko saw many things to be pleased with and just as many to be disappointed by. But it wasn't her clinical self that was really studying Takasugi. There was a bond, created by the application of their Captain, and stronger because of that. Kiriko couldn't shirk that relationship that had been built before even if she wished now to forget all about her old self. Setting the chair down with a thud, Kiriko sat with an effortless lounge, a sunning tiger that needed only a second's notice to explode with force. That was the different really, before she'd repressed her strengths wanting only to be this ludicrous idea of “good”. Now it didn't matter, she was strong and didn't care who knew it. In fact she wanted everyone to know it, to bask in her superiority.

Folding her fingers into a tent she rested her chin delicately atop them, eyes pinning Takasugi in place, “Now then, I am here to check up on your progress with the task Tsukimiya-taichou gave you. If there is anything impeding your work, please let me know. I can make it go away,” she spoke with a loose confidence, a purely arrogant tone that showed that even if the words were not believable to others that Kiriko herself knew them to be facts. The undertone of her words wasn't too subtle. Takasugi must know that Kiriko knew about all that was going on here. About the rumors, about the potential of them being true, about the shift in leadership and how it was effecting morale. That was why her offer stood, whatever it was that was bothering Ayumi, Kiriko didn't mind snuffing out a few loud mouthed brats if she had to. A purge every now and then kept the population stronger.  

WC: 663 | GP: 13 | Total GP: 33

It seemed that for the briefest of moments, worry flew across Chinda-san’s sharp features; something that stood out against the backdrop of indifference the older woman perpetually wore. Was it a response to the bland expression Ayumi had received her with or was it shock at the environment she had chosen to work in? The brunette was more than aware that she certainly didn’t work in the healthiest of places—the windows were bolted tightly shut so as to prevent as much external noise from entering her sanctuary as possible. The room was dark save for the tiny corner in which Ayumi had set her desk up, where a lamp cast its withering glow across various sheets of paper and a tiny cup of cold tea that sat ignored on the edge of her desk. With a few blinks of her red-rimmed eyes, the sting behind them dissipated and she locked her gaze onto Chinda-san’s pitch-black orbs before turning back to her work once more. As soon as Ayumi had addressed her with what she believed was the appropriate title, she was met with the lieutenant’s trademark defence.

Maybe she was the only one who had really changed, Ayumi pondered as she absorbed the sharp tones of her superior. It moved swiftly from soft as she requested Ayumi call her by her previous title to pointed as she reminded the brunette that their captain was still alive. Not that she believed the rumours stating he’d died during the attack; somehow Ayumi knew he was stronger than that, that when even she could have survived it then a resilient man like their captain could barely be scratched by it. “Of course, fukutaichou; I’m aware he will be back soon,” came Ayumi’s response as she lifted her gaze once again from her work. It was only seconds later that Ayumi was informed—crudely—that metamorphosis from the attack was not unique to her. The screech of metal against ceramic filled the air as a chair was pulled over and Chinda-san lithely threw herself onto it with the sort of rough grace and semi-arrogance that the brunette would never have associated with the prim, humble Chinda-san she had met several months ago.

That being said, Chinda-san would not have expected such callousness from Ayumi either; change was such an odd phenomenon. There was something … different about Chinda-san, an aura of cocksureness that Ayumi could only liken to an obnoxious display of various inks spilled across parchment—something brilliant and colourful that accidentally proved to be pleasing across a canvas so dull. It contrasted with the cold sort of confidence Ayumi had found for herself. The very way she pulled herself a chair without asking and strode with the confidence of a thousand suns indicated something very unlike Chinda-san, yet she was pulling it off beautifully. In fact, the poisoner considered in passing, she could even adapt to seeing Chinda-san clothed in what was once Tsukimiya-taichou’s haori. Certainly she didn’t possess his grace, but the self-assuredness she was displaying somehow fitted the role of captain exceedingly well. It would be a lie to say the hakama was anything but befitting of her.

Ripping her eyes away from her work once and for all, Ayumi turned to Chinda-san as soon as the older woman had addressed her. Ah, her work—as expected, the vice-captain had arrived to ensure she was on track with her project, but it was the latter half of her sentence that grasped Ayumi’s attention; she could make it go away. The grim meaning behind those words was not missed by the brunette and though she might have been horrified a month ago, the thought made her smirk vaguely now. Those gossiping brats would benefit from a scolding or two, she decided—and if they collapsed under it, then who cared? Not Ayumi—or so she attempted to convince herself but her change of heart had not left her entirely heartless. Vestiges of the Ayumi from before would surface every so often and there were parts of her she could never leave behind, no matter what she did. The nightmares, the flashbacks, the odd hallucination on off-days; could she ever escape them, no matter how much she stopped caring?

“I’m doing quite well—I’ve begun working on plans for a second toxin. The final rounds of testing for Ayumi’s Kiss ended last week and I’m pleased to say it was a success.” Ayumi’s Kiss had been quite demanding; the original version though fairly useful had proven to be somewhat of a hit-and-miss weapon and tweaking it to perfection had drained her. Hopefully her second project—currently unnamed—would not be quite as difficult,

“There’s really no need for that, fukutaichou,” Ayumi added softly, intertwining her fingers into a vague tent-shape that mimicked Chinda-san’s posture and lightly rested her chin on her bony fingers. “I’d much rather not scare them away.”

---

819 words // 16 GP // 40 GP total

OOC: I'm really sorry if this isn't enough for you to work with, I can definitely edit some things to make it easier to reply to >_>;

Kiriko watched her ward. Not just staring but really looking, peering past that blank exterior into the depths of Takasugi's mind. And such a jumbled and chaotic mind it was too. Kiriko had always been good at reading people, at the minute twitches of facial expressions and body language. She had turned it into an art form, this ability of discerning more than someone wanted to let on. Even though Takasugi was far more composed than normal she was not controlling her features perfectly. There was a twitch of the eyelids, a tiny smirk, the movement of her hands across the table. All of these tiny signs were indicators of something more, she just had to piece together the puzzle that Ayumi had turned out to be.

Honestly Kiriko was shocked. She had never expected Takasugi, the small wounded girl, to ever turn into someone callous and cold such as this. Takasugi hadn't done anything noteworthy to be bothered by, but the difference was still intense and undeniable. There was something cold about her that hadn't been there before. Hardened. Like tempered steel she had passed through some sort of flame and come out the other side stronger and harsher. It would have made Kiriko sad if she'd been clinging to those worthless thoughts of hers from before, but instead she was somehow pleased. This new Takasugi was businesslike and efficient. She had already finished the poison that she had struggle with for so long and instead of waiting for congratulations had moved on to the next without directive. That was the kind of decisiveness that Kiriko really appreciated in her subordinates.

The problem was, Takasugi wasn't just a subordinate. In all other cases the things she was seeing would have been good indications. She would have thought how wonderful it was for the weakest link to be toughening up. For becoming more realistic. But there was some small part of her that looked at Takasugi, that looked past the cold exterior, and saw the pain and confusion inside. That pain hadn't been cleansed, it was still there. The injuries of a harmful past. And Kiriko was reminded that Takasugi was not just any subordinate, she was Ayumi Takasugi-san, Kiriko's last mission from Kyousuke. She was the precious girl who clung to hope, to freedom, so tightly that nothing could taint her. And yet somehow she had been tainted, the luster of her shine dimming under dark realism. Kiriko had never wanted this to happen, not to Takasugi. She was supposed to be the girl to protect, not one who didn't need Kiriko's help. She was supposed to be pure, and Kiriko wasn't sure if that was still true as she stared back at the girl who copied her motions so effortlessly.

“I am certain Tsukimiya-taichou will be pleased to hear that when he gets back. I know Ayumi's Kiss was a difficult endeavor but it only shows your skill that you were able to complete it,” she spoke while she thought, her mind elsewhere but her voice to the point. Shifting, Kiriko leaned forward, her elbows coming to rest on the tabletop as she invaded Takasugi's little desk. Staring deeply into her eyes Kiriko smiled, it was not an expression of happiness really but instead something a little manic, a little too eager, “You're sure? It would be so easy you know, to make all that whispering stop. One example and I'm sure the rest would catch on, they're not complete idiots after all. And they should know better anyway, not to gossip like this. Especially about one of their own.” She pulled back, looking over her fingernails and inspecting their flawless state. Glancing up languidly she added as an afterthought, “I wouldn't even have to make them disappear necessarily if you're inclined to such mercy. Death just means they're no longer useful to me, but no one said you need all your limbs, correct?”

Frowning Kiriko debated that thought a bit in her head before muttering to herself, “Well, not a leg of course, they'll need those...” It was easier to just kill people really, rather than strategically injuring them. The things she agreed to do for Takasugi! 

WC: 700 | GP: 14 | Total GP: 47

OOC – Damnit Ayumi-chan, this is wonderful and amazing!

Despite feeling her superior’s appraising gaze on her face, the brunette barely flinched, or at least endeavoured not to. It was not quite as simple as sliding a mask into place—it took effort to layer indifference onto her face and conceal whatever she felt and it was all the harder because she was so used to not masking her expressions on a regular basis. It did bring up the question of whether she had truly changed; wearing a façade changed nothing—at the very core she was that broken little girl, desperate for freedom and naïve and eager about the world’s many wonders. Now she was cynical, she was realistic, she was pragmatic—and she was so proud of herself for having obtained this state of being. No longer did she weigh and reweigh her every action or calculate and recalculate her every word. Life had morphed into a mission of reaching for everything she needed to make herself happy, to make herself successful. How silly she’d been to rely on others for that! And yet that tired child of yesterday—that eager girl who sought approval and praise from others—would surface every time she closed her eyes, every time she ignored the world and found herself lost in horrific memories and nightmares.

Though Chinda-san had no right to fault her for changing, the attack on the Seireitei appeared to have influenced her behaviour as well. There was now something … hard about the vice-captain, something akin to the cement of buildings and the stone of Rukongai streets.

Gone was the almost maternal sort of smile she’d seen in the older woman the very first time they’d met, gone was that gentle hand reaching out to ask Ayumi for her trust. In its place had come this arrogant but professional young lady and Ayumi had nothing but respect for professionalism. She should have cultivated it within herself eons ago. The brunette did have to wonder as to what sparked such a change within Chinda-san—had the circumstances been similar to what Ayumi had experienced or was it something else entirely? Had Diabó-san taught her a different lesson? Did it have anything to do with the incident involving the many recruits of the Second Division mysteriously dying? Although she had lost much of her naiveté, Ayumi’s curiosity had yet to fade—it was important for a scientist to be curious after all.

“Thank you very much for the compliments, Chinda-fukutaichou; it pleases me to know that.” Though she’d kept her voice curt, the sentiments she’d expressed were honest; it did please her to know she was appreciated, just as to some degree it upset her to receive disapproval. Only with time would those responses fade. Seconds later Chinda-fukutaichou leaned forward, brushing aside a few stray sheets of paper in the course of the action and Ayumi could only think of how months ago, the woman would have been the splitting image of a prim subordinate, seated ramrod-straight on the chair with her palms on her thighs and her eyes never wavering from Ayumi’s. How different she was now.

“Really, it’s quite alright—as I mentioned before, I’d rather not scare them,” Ayumi repeatedly, the faintest hints of a smirk tugging at her chapped lips. The glint in Chinda-san’s eye was eager—it revealed such passion and desire for this action that would previous have horrified her; it surprised Ayumi, though she managed to swallow her shock neatly and maintain her steady gaze. “That and they should probably be in perfect health—I assume conducting assassinations with only one arm would be a challenge.” Her smirk widened slightly at the joke. “Though I really appreciate the offer Chinda-fukutaichou—would it still be available if, say, the situation worsened?” A quick raise of her eyebrows was added to the statement as she waited for her superior’s response—it was not mercy that pushed her to stop Chinda-san from attacking recruits; it was the lack of necessity and should it become necessary then Ayumi wouldn’t  hold back.

“Ah, how rude of me! Would you like some tea, Chinda-fukutaichou?” Ayumi offered, leaning over and retrieving her cup from the edge of the desk. “Mine’s gone all cold so I was thinking of brewing some more.”

---

712 words // 14 GP // 54 GP total

OOC - Yeah, it really is! I'm having so much fun writing this~

Kiriko wasn't sure why Takasugi denied her her fun. Perhaps she was not as bothered by the rumors as she appeared. Perhaps she felt bad for those men who dared wag tongues when they should be working. Or perhaps she was even slightly bothered by the notion of harm befalling someone just because they were bothering them. These were all possibilities, thoughts that would have made perfect sense only a few weeks ago. Thoughts that she felt were logical and precise. However something about them felt wrong. Ill fitting.

This new Takasugi, with the ghost of a grin at Kiriko's prodding, was not the type to feel sorry for people impeding her life. She clearly on some level relished the threat of damage to those who were hurting her with a different type of weapon. But the reluctance still remained, there in her conciliatory words, in the way she changed the subject. Still, hope, as effervescent as always in Takasugi, peaked through as she asked about the continuity of this offer.

Kiriko waved one hand freely through the air, eyes turning cold despite her open body language, “The offer stands. But if it does get any worse don't think you can intervene on their behalf anymore. I don't allow for insubordination and this is no exception. If it gets any louder, I will handle them myself.” Kiriko cared for Takasugi's opinion and was willing to be respectful now but when it came to the maintenance of her Division she would brook no openings. If this turned into a fiasco that was having ill effects on the Nibantai then she would act without recourse. Takasugi's wishes be damned. There would be nothing to remark upon except excellence when Tsukimiya-taichou returned.

Expression shifting just as swiftly as it had formed, Kiriko's mecurial mood turned sunshiny. “I would really appreciate a cup of tea, I'm afraid I missed mine this morning in the rush,” she rubbed her hands together for a bit of warmth. It was not as of yet that cold, but the early morning temperatures were still somewhat frigid after the splash of warmth they had just experienced with the weather patterns. Even the flowers weren't sure whether to wilt or to bloom right now. It was the kind of weather that mocked humanity. Many Shinigami had the same feeling as the flowers, wondering if they should just give up or strive all the harder for life now that the futility of their struggle had been shown to them.

Kiriko wasn't like that though. She hadn't been shown futility at all. Her face had been rubbed in roses instead, the thorns scratching at her eyes and tearing away the gauze of misguided intentions. There was nothing to despair about, the decline of the Shinigami wasn't upon them as so many claimed. This was just the tide of battle. They had wreaked enough havoc on the Hollowbreeds not too long ago, it only made sense that there was retribution. Neither side ever went past a line of no return, the flux was always within parameters for balance. In time they would graduate more Shinigami from the Academy and all would repair itself just as more Hollow were growing even now to replace the dead in Hueco Mundo. New people would step up and the old would wither away. They had shown how useful they were to the people and the results were clear. The discontent was high, especially with Gilgamesh who hadn't even shown himself to save his “precious” people. The future was always a surprise but the winds of change were already shifting.

WC: 602 | GP: 12 | Total GP: 59

Internally, Ayumi raised a single eyebrow at Chinda-san's silence--had she been expecting glee? Or enthusiasm? Perhaps the fact that the frail and uncertain Ayumi of yesterday was gone had somehow led her vice-captain into believing that she was now a heartless sadist. That girl--that fragile, vulnerable little girl who couldn't bear the thought of being rejected--had to go; she had been far too weak to keep up with the world, what with that exterior of utter frailty that begged to be smashed to bits and so what if this hardened and decidedly more apathetic young woman had replaced her? It was as natural as the rising of the sun or the flowing of water; it was as necessary as air or food or water. It should have been accepted just as the war had now taken up permanent residence in the memories of every shinigami who had been unfortunate enough to witness it--there was nobody who would dare to claim it hadn't occurred or that it was a dream and in the same way, her metamorphosis shouldn't have been questioned either. Am I overthinking this?

In any case, despite her seeming lack of concern, Ayumi was still pathetically human at heart and she'd yet to fully come to terms with the requirements of her profession, that is, the taking of lives. You'd assume after having done it once it would be easy and after shedding your previous hesitation it would be easier, but the brunette could not set aside her daily struggle with certain feelings and certain memories enough to attain the level of control and ruthless perfection she wished she possessed. Every day she reminded herself that in a world that moved at the speed of lightning she could not care and yet night after night, gory images that eroded away at her fluttered beneath her eyelids; sometimes it was during the day that those images would return to her with the occasioanl blink of her eyes. That faint twinge of regret that bit at her heart--regret for everything she'd done, everything she was doing--was not one she could entirely turn a blind eye to. It seemed as if the control that sat in the palm of her vice-captain's hand would forever be a faraway dream to her. And yet, she bitterly and hopefully reminded herself, dreams could come true. She'd spent dark days in the Nest chasing mirages of a sunlit future and since her release she could not think of a single day when she'd been deprived of sunlight.

It was the sudden gesture of Chinda-san's waving arm that drew Ayumi's attention. Her mild shock expressed itself in the form of her lower lip dropping a mere two centimetres which she concealed primly, embarrassed at her little slip. Though she didn't feel the intense need to protect subordinates who saw fit to gossip about her, she could not admit to a desire to want to maim them brutally either ... though it appeared as if questioning or in any way retaliating to what Chinda-san had said would reap dire consequences. Efficiency was what the black-haired woman demanded and if a few lives needed to be taken to ensure to machine that was the nibantai was running smoothly, then so be it. Better Chinda-san doing the dirty work than Ayumi, right? Even as she was thinking such an utterly selfish thing, the toxicologist could not help the rush of pride and gratitude that ran through her at Chinda-san's words, though she managed to bury it underneath a nonchalant yawn. Despite her other woman's cold tone and arrogant attitude, there wa something protective, something maternal about it--that very element Ayumi had been looking for.

... or was it there? Was she simply imagining it?

"Of course. I absolutely understand, fukutaichou," the brunette answered with a compliant nod before rising to her feet and mechanically walking towards the kettle at the opposite end of the room. Her nimble hands set about turning the kettle on and looking for two tea cups as she idly scratched her mind for more ways to make conversation with Chinda-san. The gnawing in her chest prodded her to ask a question she'd withheld for a long time now, ironically from the woman she'd once seen as a confidante. An exhale and two steaming cups of tea later, she managed to push the words past her rosebud lips.

"Chinda-san," she began quietly, solemnly--still debating over whether it was appropriate to ask such a question--as she arranged the cups on a tray, back still facing the seated woman. Was it too late to think of something else? Would Chinda-san chide her and berate her for her weakness? Was she being indecisive again? She needed a solution to this debilitating problem of hers and if her vice-captain to offer a solution then it would practical to take it; solving her issues were of prime importance--if she was hindered by her mind then how was she to progress in her career? And how would she ever know of a solution if she never asked for one?  "How ... how do you deal with nightmares?"

---

850 words // 17 GP // 71 GP total

OOC - I'm so sorry for how late this is ;;. I really am ... and I hope this post was okay? :3

Kiriko traced the arm rest of her chair with an idle finger, nail lightly drawing over the whorls of natural wood with a picture of her own design. A small sigil, the mark of the Nibantai. She was pleased today, very pleased. After all that talking and whispering about Takasugi she had come here expecting a wreck, but instead there was something better, something nicer. Like an unexpected present when you thought no one remembered your birthday. Takasugi's change was for the better, slow and sliding though it was. Kiriko could see it now, piercing the veil Takasugi held over herself. She knew each spot that needed to be prodded or pushed to help this chrysalis grow into a beautiful butterfly. Or perhaps the insect she was thinking of was a wasp. Wasps were what she really needed in the Nibantai. They were fierce and loyal, unafraid but also tactical. She could see the turning points for the girl who used to shudder beneath the breeze of a new day, Kiriko saw the path ahead. There were two endings on that trail of growth, and she knew that she could influence the end result so easily. Almost carelessly if she wasn't paying attention. Takasugi had always been malleable, that was the problem.

Frowning lightly her finger traced quicker as Takasugi got up to start making tea, her back turned to Kiriko. A butterfly, or a hornet... One would be so beautiful, so precious, so pure. The other, dark and angry, but oh so very useful. She knew what Aneue would say even before the sword chimed in. What use was beauty when you were weak? Where had naivety taken Kiriko? Didn't she want to protect her Ayumi from harm? Didn't she want to see her grow strong enough to protect herself? Were those two different things or one and the same? Kiriko didn't know, somehow she couldn't figure that out. Was allowing Takasugi to be worn down by the world so that she could be built up better in the aftermath the best way of protecting her? Or did she lose something inherent, something innocent, something Ayumi-like when that transition happened?

If Takasugi became someone like Kiriko was she even worth protecting? That thought was startling, and Kiriko winced internally at the strangeness of such an idea. Who said she wasn't? Who said she was bad as she was now? Kiriko was just better than before, not bad. She hadn't lost anything in her transition so why would Takasugi? Except... Except... There had always been something dark and lonely and bitter about Kiriko, and that wasn't the case for Takasugi. She could still remember that light in the girl's face when she and Tsukimiya-taichou had sat her down for breakfast on her first day of freedom. She could still remember that tentative yearning, as if she wasn't sure if the things she touched would turn to dust in her hands. If everything was really real. That Ayumi, that hopeful, blessed, pure Ayumi was weak no doubt. But she had truly been perfect in Kiriko's eyes.

How strange. How odd. That couldn't be true, could it? Wasn't Kiriko working towards becoming perfect right now? Wasn't that why she was doing all of these things? Why she had to go down this path? Wasn't that why Aneue was always right? Because Kiriko's old self was too stupid to do what was necessary and Aneue was the smart one here? So... How... How could she think that the utter opposite of her perfection now had been ideal? Where was this conflicting thought coming from?

Kiriko shook her head harshly, fingers clenching tight against the chair until she realized that her nails had scored small lines in the wood. Exhaling silently Kiriko flexed her hands, releasing the tension. She was in control. She was IN CONTROL. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Turn to Takasugi. The girl was still making tea, and her question after such a painful thought process threw Kiriko off kilter with only a few spoken words. She stared at the littler Shinigami, something pricking at her eyes but never quite staying. Nightmares? She wanted to know how to deal with nightmares?

Bringing it all together Kiriko never lost her composure, though there was a long moment of silence as she reeled at the question. That of all things. She forgot that Takasugi never went through the initiation and training a new recruit got when they joined the Second. She would never have been told how to handle this type of thing, just part and parcel of their kind of work. Kiriko wanted to tell her the truth, her truth. There was nothing you could do about a nightmare. You just had to get up and go to work. Pretend it never happened. Lock away the night until you didn't even think about the mechanics of sleeping. Or, as she often took to doing, forgo sleep entirely. Eventually when you were exhausted enough you would fall into sleep like a baby. Hopefully at those times the were no intrusions into your dreams, it was her own salvation.

But that truth, that prideful mess, it wasn't Ayumi's fate. No, Kiriko refused to allow that to become Takasugi's reality. She didn't have to make the same arrogant mistakes as Kiriko. She had people to lean on. So Kiriko told her what she told every new recruit, “Nightmares are difficult. Everyone has them at one stage or another, there is nothing shameful about nightmares. Our work here, it is dark and often produces feelings of shame or anger or fear. With recent events I am sure that many people are suffering from nightmares right now Takasugi-chan,” Kiriko spoke very carefully, placing each soft word alongside the next with the utmost precision. Her decision to use such an honorific was partly because of the sensitive nature of this conversation and also partly because she wanted to feel in some way closer to this girl. “If the nightmares do not go away on their own you should seek out someone you can confide in them with. Sometimes talking about them will allow the fear to run its course. When that fails, there are special mind healers at the Third who specialize in these types of things,” she offered what was usually hope before adding the last bit of administration, “It is important that you take care of yourself when you are suffering because the Division needs you fully capable for your duties.”

Kiriko had given that speech many times before, but somehow this time her last words sounded harsh. They echoed in her head, cruel and sharp, like a stab to the gut. Opening her mouth she found that nothing else would come out, so she licked her lips and tried again, “Takasugi-chan, I want you to come speak to me if your nightmares become... hard to deal with. I am here for you not just as your superior... but as your friend,” Kiriko stumbled haltingly, for the first time since she'd entered the room a look of unabashed disorder crossing her face. The ichor of her previous comment was washed away, but this closeness, this sickly sweet taste, she wasn't sure if it was any better. She felt safe with the distance of propriety between herself and others, but that couldn't last. Not with Takasugi. Not with Takasugi.

WC: 1231 | GP: 24 | Total GP: 83

OOC - Holy cow that post was like.... Just.... Oh my goodnesssssss. Sorry for mine being so halting.