Post by Knowledge on Sept 25, 2013 13:47:54 GMT -5
Participants
+ Junko Aizawa
+ Kyousuke Tsukimiya
and a mystery guest
To anyone who didn’t already know, the fact that the Shinigami had been victorious in Hueco Mundo would have come as a surprise. Seireitei hadn’t changed much since the occupation of Las Noches had begun—slightly fewer Shinigami in the white fortress-city, perhaps, and a great deal more Senkaimon between it and the palace of night—and it was a strange feeling for someone like Kyousuke who had not only seen and taken part of the fighting, but now oversaw the occupation itself. The mood on the black-clad side of the Dangai was no different than it had been prior to the invasion; a general uneasiness that Kyousuke was more than willing to attribute to Gilgamesh’s rule. The captains, not Gilgamesh, had led the forces of Soul Society that day. The Shinigami had rallied behind Mitsutaka Karahashi, not the Golden King.
Kyousuke vaguely wondered if Gilgamesh knew his power was dependent on the man he kept as his right hand and the captains who served underneath him. Kyousuke himself, since the dubious honor of his promotion, held a rank similar to Mitsutaka’s own at least on paper, but the Captain-Commander was, as far as the captain of the Second Division was concerned, still the ultimate authority in all Shinigami matters, and more than that, he was family.
Kyousuke hadn’t wanted his new job when he had first received it—to this day, his attitude remained unchanged, but the convenience of it was undeniable. That much authority and an entire dimension in which he could quietly strive toward his goals made Kyousuke wonder if he had finally earned Gilgamesh’s complete trust. The king’s trust was important—integral, even. The man’s sudden and unannounced appearance in the Special Detention Facility had been a complete surprise, but somehow Kyousuke had managed to turn the entire situation into an advantage. There was no illusion in his mind as to the conditions of his independence—Kyousuke was being used, of that there was no doubt—but trust and responsibility meant the assassin was moving in the right direction.
The dark-eyed captain sighed, gazing at the sheets of paper strewn out haphazardly across his desk. Kyousuke didn’t share the stereotypical aversion to paperwork that most field officers of his caliber possessed, but sorting through hardcopy that Kiriko had already meticulously filled out was a very dull task indeed. It was, in a sense, a strange kind of real-world example of Kyousuke’s relationship with the past: he loved to read about it, but he realized to try and tamper with it was foolishness. Nobody could change the past, not really. The closest anyone could get was to lie about it. To misinform and modify. To twist the perception of what it was that had occurred.
None of what was on his desk was anything he didn’t already know—it was senseless repetition of things that were commonly accepted as fact and had been for days, if not longer. Some were reports that required his personal seal, others just a casual scribble of approval. Kyousuke wondered if he would be able to convince Kiriko to accept his seal for safekeeping so she could remain autonomous while he was gone, but it felt almost as if Kiriko would take it as a proposal of some kind. He imagined her flustered reply, probably something along the lines of but Captain, it’s against the rules! They’ll punish you!
He chuckled despite himself; the idea was too funny not to laugh at. For all her efforts to remain composed, it was almost too easy for Kyousuke to push her off balance. It was rare for him to tease his lieutenant in such a fashion, but every once in a while he couldn’t resist; a consummate professional she may have been, but some days Kyousuke felt his lieutenant needed something to take her mind off the endless droves of work she slogged through without complaint.
For all other occasions, he simply cooked for her.
He scooped up a handful of finished documents, straightened them out and arranged them in a neat pile, and then his eye caught on the corner of a small envelope he hadn’t noticed before. He pulled it free from underneath the orders to report to the Third for the psychological evaluation he had received as part of his promotion almost three weeks ago and turned it over.
It was from Junko Aizawa. He opened it and read the beautifully penned note inside—nobility indeed—and saw that it was dated the same day he had received the evaluation summons.
Kyousuke knew Junko hadn’t been involved in his evaluation—it had all been Gilgamesh’s idea—but she had known he was going to be at the medical facility that day. The note was an invitation, carefully worded, asking him if he would come for a cursory post-war medical checkup. How had be missed this? He thought back and realized he had gone straight for the official-looking documents first, and silently chided himself for it. Amateurish, Tsukimiya, he thought to himself.
He rose to his feet, still clutching the expensive letter paper. This was a meeting he could use to his advantage, and the bruises Cho-Ah had given him served as an excellent excuse, even now, weeks later. He’d even be able to pay Mitsutaka a visit.
The only question was what Junko actually wanted with him. Was it about her son? About Kyousuke? Or was it just a thinly-veiled request for a social call, one captain getting to know another?
No, the circumstances were too extreme, and there were too many reasons for Junko to speak to Kyousuke for it not to be at least one of them.
Wait and see, he thought, but his old mantra seemed tired and worn, and it felt halfhearted even to Kyousuke. It was a tired phrase that was beginning to lose its meaning. When had he started feeling that way?
Last time I was at the Third. How appropriate.
He shrugged into his haori—there was little point in trying to hide his identity since the war’s conclusion, even Shushana Senganza had recognized him on sight—and headed out of the empty Annex. He considered leaving a note for Kiriko, but didn’t think it was necessary. She was probably busy anyway; Kyousuke had more or less dropped Cho-Ah in her lap and introduced the two of them, dropping the not-so-subtle hint that Cho-Ah was looking for a very specific type of tutelage.
He set off at a leisurely pace, making a point to probe each corner before he turned it, survey each street before he travelled down it. When he had first tried melding his eyesight with his spiritual sight he had been pleased with the result, but since then he had started to notice irritating details and shortcomings, and they had begun to pile up. There was something about the way it felt that was wrong, somehow, like faint distortion through thick glass. In a word, the sensation was artificial, and no matter how hard Kyousuke concentrated, the feeling remained. He made a mental note to bring it up with Mitsutaka when he saw him, but continued to project his consciousness outwards through his surroundings as he got closer and closer to the Third. Even at this distance, he could feel Mitsutaka, whose presence dwarfed that of the Third’s own captain. Even at this distance, he could sense his... Well, perturbation was a very mild word for what Kyousuke felt coming off Mitsutaka, but there would be time to address it later. Right now, he was a subordinate, not an older brother, and subordinates didn’t make inquiries into their commanding officers’ well being.
Kyousuke strode past the gates of the Third Division, heading straight for the General Hospital building, zeroing in on the telltale spiritual signature of the Aizawa matriarch. It was remarkable, really, how much it reminded him of Jasper’s. As he pushed the doors open, he spied the same brunette receptionist who had been on duty when he had last been here.
She raised her head and smiled warmly. ‘Welcome back, Captain Tsukimiya. Are you here to see Dr. Shigure?’
Shigure? The name was vaguely familiar. Had he—
‘Hello, Captain. What a pleasure seeing you again.’
Kyousuke turned toward the voice, grateful that someone had saved him from a potentially embarrassing situation, but the relief very quickly turned into despair as he realized who it was. Behind her slim reading glasses he saw the same emerald-green eyes that had momentarily captivated him, and the dark golden curls that were so neatly arranged into a bun was hair he had let down himself as the woman it belonged to had been busy taking off his uniform.
He wanted to disappear, but resisted the urge to invoke onigokko right there and then. Instead, he painted a warm smile of his own his lips and bowed politely to the woman. ‘Doctor,’ he said in greeting, trying not to look down the front of her uniform as she returned his bow. It was difficult seeing her as just a psychiatrist after what the two of them had done together, and he found his eyes wandering to the white sash around her waist with the boldly emblazoned red cross of the Emergency Relief Center jauntily off to one side. Very chic.
‘Are you here to see me about something, Captain Tsukimiya?’
‘Ah, no. I’m actually here to meet your Captain, I have some bruising that I’d like her to take a look at.’
‘I’m off-duty for an hour or so,’ she said, her voice bringing images of her lying naked on the intricately patterned rug in her office into Kyousuke’s mind. ‘If it’s just bruising, I could take a look for you, and perhaps we could catch up.’
Kyousuke didn’t want to think about what she meant by catch up.
‘No, I’m afraid I have things to speak with Captain Aizawa about, too. Wouldn’t bother her with something as simple as a bruise otherwise, of course. She’s no doubt a very busy woman.’
If the blonde was disappointed, she didn’t let it show. ‘Perhaps another time, then. Do you remember how to find my office?’
‘Of course. Have a pleasant break, doctor.’
She bowed again and left Kyousuke with the receptionist, and Kyousuke very nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Instead, however, he turned to the brunette with an expectant look.
‘You’ll find the captain in that direction, Captain Tsukimiya.’ She pointed down one of the hallways toward what looked like a set of offices.
‘Thank you.’
He made his way down the corridor until he reached a door with the Third’s insignia stenciled onto it, with the words JUNKO AIZAWA, CAPTAIN underneath. On the other side, he could feel her presence quite clearly, but he had not yet chosen to reveal his own identity—at least not in that fashion.
He knocked.
°1,853
+ Junko Aizawa
+ Kyousuke Tsukimiya
and a mystery guest
To anyone who didn’t already know, the fact that the Shinigami had been victorious in Hueco Mundo would have come as a surprise. Seireitei hadn’t changed much since the occupation of Las Noches had begun—slightly fewer Shinigami in the white fortress-city, perhaps, and a great deal more Senkaimon between it and the palace of night—and it was a strange feeling for someone like Kyousuke who had not only seen and taken part of the fighting, but now oversaw the occupation itself. The mood on the black-clad side of the Dangai was no different than it had been prior to the invasion; a general uneasiness that Kyousuke was more than willing to attribute to Gilgamesh’s rule. The captains, not Gilgamesh, had led the forces of Soul Society that day. The Shinigami had rallied behind Mitsutaka Karahashi, not the Golden King.
Kyousuke vaguely wondered if Gilgamesh knew his power was dependent on the man he kept as his right hand and the captains who served underneath him. Kyousuke himself, since the dubious honor of his promotion, held a rank similar to Mitsutaka’s own at least on paper, but the Captain-Commander was, as far as the captain of the Second Division was concerned, still the ultimate authority in all Shinigami matters, and more than that, he was family.
Kyousuke hadn’t wanted his new job when he had first received it—to this day, his attitude remained unchanged, but the convenience of it was undeniable. That much authority and an entire dimension in which he could quietly strive toward his goals made Kyousuke wonder if he had finally earned Gilgamesh’s complete trust. The king’s trust was important—integral, even. The man’s sudden and unannounced appearance in the Special Detention Facility had been a complete surprise, but somehow Kyousuke had managed to turn the entire situation into an advantage. There was no illusion in his mind as to the conditions of his independence—Kyousuke was being used, of that there was no doubt—but trust and responsibility meant the assassin was moving in the right direction.
The dark-eyed captain sighed, gazing at the sheets of paper strewn out haphazardly across his desk. Kyousuke didn’t share the stereotypical aversion to paperwork that most field officers of his caliber possessed, but sorting through hardcopy that Kiriko had already meticulously filled out was a very dull task indeed. It was, in a sense, a strange kind of real-world example of Kyousuke’s relationship with the past: he loved to read about it, but he realized to try and tamper with it was foolishness. Nobody could change the past, not really. The closest anyone could get was to lie about it. To misinform and modify. To twist the perception of what it was that had occurred.
None of what was on his desk was anything he didn’t already know—it was senseless repetition of things that were commonly accepted as fact and had been for days, if not longer. Some were reports that required his personal seal, others just a casual scribble of approval. Kyousuke wondered if he would be able to convince Kiriko to accept his seal for safekeeping so she could remain autonomous while he was gone, but it felt almost as if Kiriko would take it as a proposal of some kind. He imagined her flustered reply, probably something along the lines of but Captain, it’s against the rules! They’ll punish you!
He chuckled despite himself; the idea was too funny not to laugh at. For all her efforts to remain composed, it was almost too easy for Kyousuke to push her off balance. It was rare for him to tease his lieutenant in such a fashion, but every once in a while he couldn’t resist; a consummate professional she may have been, but some days Kyousuke felt his lieutenant needed something to take her mind off the endless droves of work she slogged through without complaint.
For all other occasions, he simply cooked for her.
He scooped up a handful of finished documents, straightened them out and arranged them in a neat pile, and then his eye caught on the corner of a small envelope he hadn’t noticed before. He pulled it free from underneath the orders to report to the Third for the psychological evaluation he had received as part of his promotion almost three weeks ago and turned it over.
It was from Junko Aizawa. He opened it and read the beautifully penned note inside—nobility indeed—and saw that it was dated the same day he had received the evaluation summons.
Kyousuke knew Junko hadn’t been involved in his evaluation—it had all been Gilgamesh’s idea—but she had known he was going to be at the medical facility that day. The note was an invitation, carefully worded, asking him if he would come for a cursory post-war medical checkup. How had be missed this? He thought back and realized he had gone straight for the official-looking documents first, and silently chided himself for it. Amateurish, Tsukimiya, he thought to himself.
He rose to his feet, still clutching the expensive letter paper. This was a meeting he could use to his advantage, and the bruises Cho-Ah had given him served as an excellent excuse, even now, weeks later. He’d even be able to pay Mitsutaka a visit.
The only question was what Junko actually wanted with him. Was it about her son? About Kyousuke? Or was it just a thinly-veiled request for a social call, one captain getting to know another?
No, the circumstances were too extreme, and there were too many reasons for Junko to speak to Kyousuke for it not to be at least one of them.
Wait and see, he thought, but his old mantra seemed tired and worn, and it felt halfhearted even to Kyousuke. It was a tired phrase that was beginning to lose its meaning. When had he started feeling that way?
Last time I was at the Third. How appropriate.
He shrugged into his haori—there was little point in trying to hide his identity since the war’s conclusion, even Shushana Senganza had recognized him on sight—and headed out of the empty Annex. He considered leaving a note for Kiriko, but didn’t think it was necessary. She was probably busy anyway; Kyousuke had more or less dropped Cho-Ah in her lap and introduced the two of them, dropping the not-so-subtle hint that Cho-Ah was looking for a very specific type of tutelage.
He set off at a leisurely pace, making a point to probe each corner before he turned it, survey each street before he travelled down it. When he had first tried melding his eyesight with his spiritual sight he had been pleased with the result, but since then he had started to notice irritating details and shortcomings, and they had begun to pile up. There was something about the way it felt that was wrong, somehow, like faint distortion through thick glass. In a word, the sensation was artificial, and no matter how hard Kyousuke concentrated, the feeling remained. He made a mental note to bring it up with Mitsutaka when he saw him, but continued to project his consciousness outwards through his surroundings as he got closer and closer to the Third. Even at this distance, he could feel Mitsutaka, whose presence dwarfed that of the Third’s own captain. Even at this distance, he could sense his... Well, perturbation was a very mild word for what Kyousuke felt coming off Mitsutaka, but there would be time to address it later. Right now, he was a subordinate, not an older brother, and subordinates didn’t make inquiries into their commanding officers’ well being.
Kyousuke strode past the gates of the Third Division, heading straight for the General Hospital building, zeroing in on the telltale spiritual signature of the Aizawa matriarch. It was remarkable, really, how much it reminded him of Jasper’s. As he pushed the doors open, he spied the same brunette receptionist who had been on duty when he had last been here.
She raised her head and smiled warmly. ‘Welcome back, Captain Tsukimiya. Are you here to see Dr. Shigure?’
Shigure? The name was vaguely familiar. Had he—
‘Hello, Captain. What a pleasure seeing you again.’
Kyousuke turned toward the voice, grateful that someone had saved him from a potentially embarrassing situation, but the relief very quickly turned into despair as he realized who it was. Behind her slim reading glasses he saw the same emerald-green eyes that had momentarily captivated him, and the dark golden curls that were so neatly arranged into a bun was hair he had let down himself as the woman it belonged to had been busy taking off his uniform.
He wanted to disappear, but resisted the urge to invoke onigokko right there and then. Instead, he painted a warm smile of his own his lips and bowed politely to the woman. ‘Doctor,’ he said in greeting, trying not to look down the front of her uniform as she returned his bow. It was difficult seeing her as just a psychiatrist after what the two of them had done together, and he found his eyes wandering to the white sash around her waist with the boldly emblazoned red cross of the Emergency Relief Center jauntily off to one side. Very chic.
‘Are you here to see me about something, Captain Tsukimiya?’
‘Ah, no. I’m actually here to meet your Captain, I have some bruising that I’d like her to take a look at.’
‘I’m off-duty for an hour or so,’ she said, her voice bringing images of her lying naked on the intricately patterned rug in her office into Kyousuke’s mind. ‘If it’s just bruising, I could take a look for you, and perhaps we could catch up.’
Kyousuke didn’t want to think about what she meant by catch up.
‘No, I’m afraid I have things to speak with Captain Aizawa about, too. Wouldn’t bother her with something as simple as a bruise otherwise, of course. She’s no doubt a very busy woman.’
If the blonde was disappointed, she didn’t let it show. ‘Perhaps another time, then. Do you remember how to find my office?’
‘Of course. Have a pleasant break, doctor.’
She bowed again and left Kyousuke with the receptionist, and Kyousuke very nearly breathed a sigh of relief. Instead, however, he turned to the brunette with an expectant look.
‘You’ll find the captain in that direction, Captain Tsukimiya.’ She pointed down one of the hallways toward what looked like a set of offices.
‘Thank you.’
He made his way down the corridor until he reached a door with the Third’s insignia stenciled onto it, with the words JUNKO AIZAWA, CAPTAIN underneath. On the other side, he could feel her presence quite clearly, but he had not yet chosen to reveal his own identity—at least not in that fashion.
He knocked.
°1,853