V = 0

She sensed the child long before the girl worked up the nerve to enter her office. Those tiny pitter-pattering footsteps had been sign enough, but the roiling emotional onslaught of her reiatsu was even worse, a heavy pall that even those without any finesse probably could sense it from miles away. Whatever was keeping Shinoda outside it was a deep enough turmoil that the young girl couldn't overcome it that easily. Kiriko's brow furrowed as she slowly returned to her paperwork, making the conscious decision to leave the girl to her own devices. She couldn't protect her from her own issues or troubles, she couldn't even protect her from other Shinigami if the reports from Kasumi's guard that had been trickling in were at all correct. The tiny child had run willy-nilly across Soul Society lately and it had been all the guards could do to keep up with her and keep her from getting into too much trouble.

Kiriko was honestly surprised her office hadn't gotten any complaints or questions from the other divisions yet. It was that thought that kept her glued to her seat, waiting patiently for Shinoda to decide to either breach the entrance to Kiriko's office or turn around and leave. The child had to grow up someday, and even over the slow duration of her stay Kiriko could sense that she had been maturing. Something had spooked her lately though, something that none of the reports had any information on. Kiriko had questioned the guard intensely just the other day, but even he had been unable to tell her of any actual events that could have caused Shinoda such obvious distress.

She tried to tell herself it didn't matter. The girl herself didn't matter. She was just here for information purposes. To keep a weakness close so that no one else could take advantage. That was all. But Kiriko had grown used to her bubbly reiatsu being so close, to the angry and exhausted reports of her men who she'd tasked with keeping up with the girl, and to those tiny hands when they so randomly hugged her tight. As much as she tried to ignore and deflect the white-haired child, somehow Shinoda had grown on her, and Kiriko did not like that she was in such pain. Nor that Kiriko could do nothing about it without first knowing what was going on.

It hurt more though to know that Shinoda didn't trust her enough to tell her what it was that was troubling her. That was why, lately, Kiriko had been avoiding the girl. Keeping to herself, coming up with excuses for others to tend to the little ryoka. She'd been busy. It was true, but also not true. She had spent some time sneaking around like some sort of miscreant, spying on Kasumi during the day just to watch those eyes glitter and that stare turn pensive or confident in turn.

Kiriko was just glad that Shinoda hadn't given up, didn't give up, as the girl finally tumbled into the room like a lion cub let loose from a cage. The girl cast around, trying to find someplace to put her eyes that wasn't Kiriko herself, trying to tether herself to this room, and finally seemed to fixate on a chair as she clambered atop it and fidgeted. Her next question should have been surprising, but Kasumi was nothing if not unpredictable, more so than most children even, and Kiriko had long since stopped expecting logic from the girl. Far be it for her to have come here to talk about her issues, instead she wanted to know about Kiriko?

With most people she would have kept writing, finishing her notes in the latest report she was filling out. With all people really. But there was something about those little eyes, and the fluttering of the child's heart, almost fearful in nature, that had Kiriko setting her pen aside immediately and looking up at her charge. “My birthday?” she questioned softly, ignoring protocol and normal greetings since Kasumi seemed so intent on having this conversation.

Crossing her fingers and leaning against the desk, Kiriko looked over at the door as if it was a portal into another time. Staring into the past for answers. “I am not sure. I don't think anyone kept track when I was born. I was at least the twelfth child, and by then dates were not important,” she spoke softly, knowing that such a story was probably going to make Shinoda sad even though Kiriko herself felt no emotion when it came to her past. She had left that family. Cut them out of her life. Who cared now that her Mother hadn't seen fit to even remember what day Kiriko was born on? She was dead anyway, and Kiriko had never needed a Mother's love to begin with. She was fine on her own.

Her eyes flitted back towards Kasumi as her mind continued to turn, and suddenly Kiriko remembered something she had forgotten. Or perhaps it was just that she had tried to forget, pushing the memory back into the recesses of her mind so that it would be protected. Her lips twitched faintly upward, a ghost of a smile for a ghost of a memory, “My Oneesama picked a day once, to celebrate with me. It was the first Wednesday in the Spring because that was the day that the harvest festival always happened. I suppose it is as good a day as any for a birthday.”

She brushed a hand against the top of her desk, trying not to startle the human child by being too intense even as she waved away the casualness of this current conversation. “Shinoda-chan, why do you ask? I can tell that something is troubling you, and I do not think it has to do with holidays. If someone has said something to you, or harmed you, all you have to do is tell me and I will make sure they do not come near you again,” Kiriko's voice was conversational, but firm all the same, as she outlined her own commitment to the ryoka under her protection. No one had reported any scenes with Kasumi, but what else could be bothering her so?

As if in answer to her questions, the little girl's fidgeting increased, her legs kicking back and forth as she curled inward, appearing almost like a dog about to be kicked. Why was she telegraphing such fearful apprehension? Then it hit, her next sentence, and Kiriko felt her face glaze over as ice flooded her veins. Oh, of course. She wanted to leave. To go home. To the human world, where she belonged. Why would anyone want to stay with Kiriko after all, when they could be home, right? Why would anyone ever want to be around her when they had somewhere else to go? She was fine when you were in trouble, when you needed something, when you were nothing, but as soon as you became something, anything at all, it was your clue to walk away. To leave without a backwards glance.

Somewhere inside Kiriko realized she wasn't even thinking about Kasumi anymore. But it stung. It stung that even this pure little girl didn't want to stay with her. She had never expected Shinoda to stay this long, hadn't even considered that the girl would be here for more than a few days, but as the days stretched on it had just seemed natural. Normal. Comforting almost. With the absence of her Lieutenant at least the Command Annex hadn't been totally empty.

Swallowing back her spiraling rage, the hurt that rose up to drown her, Kiriko nodded coldly at her charge, all her earlier familiarity evaporating as she pulled back into formality. “I see, yes, it must be quite boring for you here. You are, of course, welcome to leave whenever you want to. I can arrange for transportation to anywhere within the human world, you only need to name a place and I can have you there in a half an hour at the most,” talking about logistics was just what she needed. Just the thing to remind Kiriko that this had all been about a give and take, she took and Kasumi gave. There had never been a relationship here, between the two of them. Kiriko hadn't wanted one. She was no Mother, not even an older sister. Kasumi would be better off back in the human world.

Formality was her armor. Distance was her sword. She allowed herself to forget and it was easy almost. Kiriko had had a lot of experience lately with forgetting, wiping away the past so that it couldn't shatter all around her. Everyone left eventually. This just meant that she would be alone again. It was better this way. Kiriko liked being alone. It gave her time to think. To plan. To focus on her own goals and ambitions. Everything was always better alone.  

WC: 1501 | GP: 30 | Total GP: 30

Kiriko's history sounded like the life of someone who had been born during one of the World wars to Kasumi.. no, worse. During the middle ages! Why hadn't her mother cared enough to simply make a small mark, a note, somewhere, a book, the wall, it didn't matter where and celebrate the day her daughter had been born? Just once a year. A birthday was only once a year! One could hardly find an excuse not to celebrate such an event! Anger and sadness mingled inside of Kasumi's chest and the girl couldn't help but to growl inwardly at the lack of attention Kiriko must have gotten during her childhood. Kasumi had thought to have it tough, but this woman didn't even know when her birthday was! With a lot of effort she forced herself to smile when the captain revealed that her sister had picked out a day to celebrate her birthday. It made Kasumi feel a little less angry to know that a tiny Kiriko had had someone to turn to.

Ready to explain the question previously posed Kasumi raised her head and looked at the captain sitting across her. Oh no. There it was again, the cold mask Kiriko wore so often. Why did she have to do that? Kasumi hated the distance it brought every time that the woman put the hideous thing on. Same face and yet so different. Mostly it was when others were around, and Kasumi couldn't seem to understand what she had done to cause Kiriko to suddenly act rather cold. The gesture saddened the girl. Not finding anything else but her comment about going home, Kasumi figured that it must have been the way she had brought up the topic that had caused Kiriko's eyes to change. The captain probably considered Kasumi impolite and selfish now. Biting her lip for a second, she ignored her erratically beating heart before putting the palms of her hands on the wooden desk and pushing off. However, instead of standing up from the chair, she leaned in a bit closer to the raven haired woman, steadying herself on her hands before smiling broadly. Blue eyes full of adoration stared at Kiriko while Kasumi tried to word everything she wanted to say. Though, sadly enough she wasn't as good with words as some people were and again only a small part rolled from her lips, showing a chip of her thoughts to the world.

“Kiriko-san, don't do that, don't look at me like that. I'm not your enemy.”

Or squad member.. Kasumi had seen the way Kiriko could stare some of her subordinates into stuttering. The poor officers didn't know where to look or what to do. Most ran the moment they could. And while now the child felt like she understood why they were so scared, she suddenly realized that she still felt safe. Her doubt about the captain was melting like snow in the sun, again. It seemed childish – now, that she was so close to Kiriko, to have been afraid of her just a bit ago. The words of concern and protection tore through Kasumi's nightmares and she felt better already. In all honesty Kasumi wasn't even sure why she so easily believed her protector when the latter said that she would keep her from any harm. Probably because nobody had even tried to harm her during her stay in a realm that she didn't belong in. Closing her eyes, Kasumi softly laughed before pulling back and jumping from the chair. Swirling around for a second she spoke, unsure what to tell first which resulted in a rant of some sort.

“I just wanted to know so I could send you a gift, or a cake! Or visit you on your birthday.”

Whether the captain would see that as a pleasant gift for her birthday wasn't something Kasumi had given any thoughts to. Dancing around the table she stopped behind Kiriko's back before her arms found their way around the woman's shoulders. Gently putting her left ear on the captain's back, right at the base of her neck, Kasumi's arms hugged tighter wanting to transmit the warmth she felt and shatter Kiriko's cold mask in the process.

“You ARE my first sensei!”

The child loudly exclaimed, before mumbling- and this time she didn't hold back.

“..and I will miss you a lot. Will you visit me? Please, Kiriko-san? When the festival comes, and you have a day off, will you come to Japan?”

She sounded hopeful and embarrassed at the same time. After a few moments of clinging to the woman, she let go and made her way towards the window on the side. The pond she had played at got her attention, and Kasumi's gaze stayed there while she continued her monologue, slowly touching the other topic.

“Hisui-san has been keeping my body alive. I like it here, but it seems to be dying without me. I would want to stay, but what will happen if I do? It'll die.. and then, I'll die, right? Or become a Hollow, or a soul, one of the people living in the Rukongai. People told me that the souls don't have memories. So I would forget everything. I really don't want to forget mom, or you. Above that, you granted me the permission to stay here so I could look for Alex-san, and I don't seem to have what it takes to find her. I just.. can't.”

Touching the glass with her fingers Kasumi traced a tiny trail of ice on the smooth surface.

“I'm scared, and and afraid that I need your help again -I'm sorry, I always bother you with everything.”

A snowflake.

She had drawn a large snowflake on the window. About to turn, she heard a soft crack when the layer of ice broke off the window, falling onto the wooden floor. With a gasp Kasumi crouched next to the pieces, trying to gather them up. But the thin ice melted under her touch and she was just making a bigger mess. Kasumi tended to make a mess out of everything. Giving up on cleaning it, she used her sleeve to rub the sting out of her eyes, not feeling like crying in front of Kiriko again. The best way to keep away the tears was by changing the subject.

“I need to ask you something..

A few moments later the child was at the desk again. Worried eyes studied the woman before Kasumi got enough courage together to bring it up.

Kiriko-san.. can you turn people into skeletons?”

After having gotten over the first shock of seeing people die at the hands of the woman in front of her, Kasumi posed the question with awe. Stubbornly believing that Kiriko wouldn't really hurt her no matter what, she knew that her curiosity had prevailed over the sediments left from the nightmares she has had lately.

|Words: 1154 – GP 23 – Tgp 41|

Something cracked, like a sharp fissure breaking her heart in half the moment that those little eyes finally lifted to meet her own and that mouth popped open to spout... spout nonsense really. A gift... On her birthday... Kasumi was such a child! And yet, the intent had registered, and Kiriko realized for once that this was someone who was leaving but not really leaving. Kasumi wanted to come back, to see her again. To remain close. To remain connected. To remain... what exactly? It wasn't as if Shinoda was truly her student, for all that the girl called Kiriko Sensei. And she wasn't a relation, through blood or kinship ties. She was a human girl! There could be nothing between the two of them, nothing that Kiriko's duty wouldn't refute. And yet, those short words, spoken so quickly that they couldn't have been contrived, did something that no one yet had managed to succeed at. They warmed her heart.

Shinoda was going. But she wasn't leaving.

She wasn't abandoning Kiriko. There was nothing to hurt right now. Nothing except the pangs of regret at her earlier overreaction. She was so used to being cast away, to being unwanted, that she had simply assumed. Taken the words from Shinoda and made them into someone else's. But this was a child, pure and innocent and carefree, and despite Kasumi's preoccupation she had never doubted Kiriko. Or their bond. And she wasn't leaving to escape, or to turn her back on the Captain, or even to get away from Kiriko's watchful gaze. That changed things, somehow, in a way that was hard to fathom or put into words. This was different, from all the other leave takings. Suddenly Kiriko understood.

Her eyes blurred oddly as the little girl danced around the room, spinning and cavorting as if there was no care in that tiny delicate head of hers. Until she paused, standing at Kiriko's shoulder, and those eyes seemed to peer into her soul, hesitant and cautious and so full of unbridled emotion that Kiriko almost gagged. This was purity. This concern. It wasn't an act. Or a ploy. It had been a very long time since she had been around uncoerced familiarity, since someone had cared about her not because she made them, not because she used them, but because they saw in her something that they liked. Something that they appreciated.

When Shinoda wrapped her arms around Kiriko, she stiffened, the warmth of that thin chest pressed up against her back and seeping through the cloth between them. Blinking furiously, Kiriko forced her blood to still and her spine to stay rigid even though she wanted to collapse. She wanted to cry. Not slow silent tears but loud weeping such as she hadn't indulged in for years. It hurt, this love. This love that she knew she could not accept. This love that had nothing attached to it but a desire to be together, to help and to aid. Kasumi truly was a bright soul. And Kiriko had to be careful, so so so careful, not to accidentally taint this clean vessel with her blood-stained hands.

So she took what she could, she let the love sink in deep, and then she shut herself off, holding back in order to protect the both of them. Kiriko couldn't let herself weaken, not at this precipice, not when the world depended on her. And Kasumi... Kasumi didn't really need Kiriko. She needed someone who would be good to her, who would love her unconditionally, and it was something that the Captain of the Second could never offer.

They lived in two different worlds. It had been a gift to have them converge for this short period of time, but now it was finally time to right things to their proper order. She would cherish what had been given, holding it in as the only unsullied loyalty she had ever received. So when the child asked, her tones rising in deep desire, plaintive even as she released Kiriko and sidled back towards her chair, Kiriko kept silent. Her mouth clamped shut and her eyes faraway. She hummed quietly, a soft murmur that could have been consent just as easily as it could have been dissent, and let Kasumi interpret what she wanted from it. Because she knew in her heart that while she would visit this girl, perhaps often, maybe even on that special day, she would never again make the mistake of letting the child in so close. It would hurt Shinoda more to continue on this path. She was too good to be pulled into Kiriko's problems, to the dark side of the world. Better to stay in the sunlight, even if it meant slowly forgetting about Chinda Kiriko. Better for everyone involved.

Even now, even as the girl mumbled and traced away at the window, describing the pain and the ugliness within her own life, even now Kiriko could see just how bright she shone. Just how far she would fall if she stuck around, if she tried to emulate Kiriko or continued to believe her Sensei to be a good person. Children should talk about death with a tinge of fear in their voice. They should look wide-eyed at the future. Children didn't belong here. And Kasumi was right, the longer she stayed the worse her physical body got. That alone was excuse enough, as if she needed another reason to end this.

“It is the nature of being a child, Shinoda-chan, that you need other's help. And that is why there are adults, to guide and assist you,” she murmured halfheartedly, watching as the little one began to tear up as she fiddled with one of her icy creations on the floor. “You do not need to die any time soon. I would welcome you here as a Shinigami, and I am certain you would become one were you to come to Rukongai, but that can wait. Many many years if we are lucky. Don't worry though, even if you forget, no matter what happens, I will remember and I will watch out for you. When you finally do pass through the cycle, I will find you. But there is no reason to hurry towards that fate, you still have a long time to live your life, Shinoda-chan.” The more she spoke the more she realized it was true. A promise to echo across the ages. Kiriko had centuries more to live, she would still be here when Kasumi was old and gray, and she would be waiting.

She pursed her lips, wondering, ever inadequate. No one had trained her to deal with a child's emotions. In any other person she would have capitalized, taken advantage of the weakness being shown to her to wrap this person around her finger. To make use of them and their grief. But this was Shinoda Kasumi, her charge and her... friend. And Kiriko felt only an impotent rage at her own inability to soothe the girl's feelings, to banish her fears and reassure her. She could offer nothing, no guarentees. Kiriko had no power that would assist the child, except her promise to keep watch. To be there for her when she died.

But there was something... wasn't there? Kasumi had come here originally looking for her Mother. That woman, Alexandra was her name. But Kiriko had sent out probes into the Rukongai, looking and searching. Nothing had come up. It was possible that there were no signs to follow, but even so someone should have remembered konso'ing a plus under that description. Each act of transporting a plus to Rukongai was documented, or at least it was supposed to be. Part of the long trail of paperwork that passed through various hands at one point or another. And there had been no signs of Kasumi's mother. Nothing at all. As if she had never even been spotted as a Plus.

So either there was an issue with reporting, or the woman was still on earth as a Plus – perhaps even a newborn Hollow-breed. And for all that Kiriko could figure out, for all that her information network could ascertain, she lacked the breadth or reach to figure out what had happened to Alexandra. Besides, Kasumi needed to go home, to live amongst humans again in her own body and own world. Anything the Shinigami had to offer her to find her long lost Mother would be a moot point now. It was useless to contemplate those types of options.

Flexing her fingers, rubbing the joints against the edge of her desk in a meditative stretch, Kiriko tried to think. There was something there... on the edge of her thoughts, but she couldn't quite reach it yet. Kasumi needed to be among humans, but hadn't Kiriko heard a report once about a human who seemed to be able to sense souls on a far greater scale than average? Fujikagi had listed a lot of humans after the Karakura Invasion, and the Second had continued to watch and document powers as they emerged in the area, and she could distinctly remember something along those lines... A human with the ability to find and locate people, across large spans of time and space. If only Kiriko could remember a name... Or a location.

She was lost in thought, deep in a trance to try and recall the details, when Kasumi slowly stood and faced her. Lost as she was in her thoughts, she didn't miss the sudden shift in the girl's reiatsu, the twist of her lips or the downturn of her eyebrows. This, then, was what had been bothering the girl. That thought passed through her mind even as the rest of it stuttered to a sudden halt as Shinoda asked the most improbable of all questions. Skeletons? How? No one knew about her Shikai, it had been a highly kept secret even amongst the Second. Only Minamoto Shun could actually connect her to that day with Tova, and all the other times she had used her power it had been in secret, times when she was sure to eliminate any witnesses. So where had this girl learned that information? And how far had it spread?

Eyes sharpening, Kiriko exhaled slowly, softly, pulling her hands back into her lap in a controlled measure that belied her sudden intense focus. Falling preternaturally still, she asked one question, “Where did you hear that rumor?”

WC: 1750 | GP: 35 | Total GP: 65

To be silent was to agree, and now that Kiriko had agreed to visit Kasumi sometime later on, the girl was satisfied, happy even. The curiosity and worry crept over her very presence like snakes, and Kasumi's eyes grew bigger when the captain asked her where she had gotten the rumor from. Despite the serious look on the woman's face, Kasumi didn't back off this time. She held her ground and blinked, wondering how she should explain the truth. Chances were real that Kiriko wouldn't believe her. A strange fear of being called a liar caused Kasumi's throat to dry out. As far as she could remember this would the first person that she would try to explain a side effect of her abilities to. A tiny frown appeared on her forehead as she slowly started out, trying to put the things in an intelligible order.

“It's not a rumor.. I've seen it. Like, I was there.”

This wouldn't work out the way she wanted it to if she didn't find a way to make Kiriko comprehend what she meant by being there. Of course she hadn't been there at that time, the water had been there. But how could someone understand something so complex? Perhaps that wasn't even the real issue. Kasumi just didn't know how to explain it, because she barely knew how it worked. Getting an idea she climbed back onto her chair and took a hold of the pen Kiriko had been writing with when Kasumi had entered the office. Picking a sheet of paper that seemed to be empty, she but it in between them on the table before starting to make a sketch of a puzzle. It wasn't just a puzzle, more of a 3D version of it.

“This is a bit complicated and weird, hmm let's see.”

Writing down 'space' and 'time' she made a bracket on the side adding 'memories'.

“Don't laugh, okay?”

She asked genuinely worried as she turned the piece of paper so Kiriko could see what she had scribbled on it. Finding it hard to decide where to start, Kasumi remained quiet for a few moments, before coloring the upper right corner and the bottom left one.

“My theory is that everything has a memory. Like you and me, we can remember what happened an hour ago, or two days ago. Water can remember it as well. When I freeze it, I can see things. Events that already happened. It's more than seeing, it's like a book I read, but you get sucked into the book. You can hear them talk, you see them, you smell things and you fee-

The seemingly endless stream of words came to an abrupt stop when Kasumi felt the skin being ripped from her hands. There was nothing else but pain and the kid gasped while her heart violently beat against her chest. It wasn't real, it wasn't her who had died, she didn't hurt. Just a memory, it was just a memory and Kiriko wouldn't do that to her. Realizing that she had firmly shut her eyes, Kasumi opened them slowly with some hesitance and stared at the broken pen in her hand. The object was partly covered in ice and some ink was dripping down the crystal that surrounded Kasumi's palm. As quickly as the panic had come, it had left. In a weak attempt to save the papers from the ink, Kasumi froze it. Pieces of dark blue fell on the side of the paper she had sketched on as Kasumi found her voice to continue.

-and then, you relive the moment.”

She took a break, not meeting Kiriko's gaze and simply stared at her somewhat shaking hand while breaking off the pieces of ice. After a moment of pushing away the horrible images, her eyes carefully peered at the woman looking for forgiveness.

“The world is like a large library with books in all languages scattered over the place and torn to pieces. I accidentally got z piece of your page, I'm – sorry.. I didn't mean to pry into your past.”

Hoping that the captain wouldn't be mad, she quietly continued.

“You see, when I relive a moment, I don't always know where it comes from, or when it comes from.”

With her finger she poked the puzzle she had drawn just a minute ago, trying to help Kiriko to visualize what it was like. As long as the woman wouldn't get mad at Kasumi, the girl would keep on rambling about it. Excited about the prospect of being capable of something that Kiriko might find interesting about her, Kasumi got a new idea. Taking the sheet she tore it into a dozen pieces before handing a random one to Kiriko.

“Sometimes, when I freeze the water, I get one memory. I don't know what it means because I don't know the others. They're about different people, different places and seem to be from different times.”

Pointing at the pile of paper on the desk, Kasumi's eyes flew to Kiriko again, wondering if she understood what Kasumi was trying to tell her. Now that she had revealed what had been bothering her lately, Kasumi couldn't help but to shyly smile. While she easily showed what she felt like on the outside, Kasumi never really bothered to explain to others why she was feeling the way she did. It felt odd to try and please someone by being honest with them. Playing with the shreds of thoughts inside of her head, Kasumi's fingers played with another piece of paper by putting it on the melting ink drop and watching the white soak up the dark liquid.

“You wouldn't turn me into a skeleton, right?”

With her head tilted to the side, she sheepishly curled her lips up as if to say that she believed to already know the answer to the question. Still, Kasumi had grown used to feed of Kiriko's reassurance. Whether that was right or wrong was yet to be seen.

|Words: 1003 – GP 20 – Tgp 61|

Her focus never wavered as Kasumi darted around the desk, plucking a piece of paper and a pen from the neat stack to the left of Kiriko's forearm. Breathing deeply, silently, Kiriko held a tight grip on her emotions, refusing to let them rise up and consume her. She was in control. She was patient. This was only a child. Only Kasumi. Not an enemy. Not a target. Not someone she needed to bury in a secret grave to hide her secrets. Her sins.
 
The past was the past and it was over now anyway. Besides, the logical side of her mind had already calculated various scenarios. If it came down to it, her word against Kasumi's, Chinda Kiriko would reign supreme. This girl was no threat to her power base. Not even with such a secret.
 
Kasumi continued scribbling on the paper, her hands moving neatly as ink flowed in dark glossy lines. Kiriko tried to understand the picture that was forming, but from upside down it just looked like a bunch of squiggles, almost reminiscent of the rice paddies from her childhood. Eventually the little girl turned the page around, holding it up to illustrate her point as she tried to explain those perplexing words from before. 'I've seen it. I was there.' That was what Kasumi had said, but it was impossible. Someone had to have planted the thought in her head, confused her in some way, because there was no way that Kasumi had ever been around when Kiriko had unleashed her Shikai.
 
As the girl's words tumbled out, a mix of description and allegory, Kiriko began to see the picture that was being outlined. Thoughts racing, ideas of containment riding right alongside academic curiosity, she loosened her hands and began to trace the edges of a puzzle piece with the trip of her pointer finger. “Hmm, you mean to say that part of your control over water is to experience what it experienced? And this can go back days, weeks, even months? The memory of water...” she tried to focus on what needed to be done now instead of her sharpening interest in the mechanics of such wonderment. If you could really talk to water, see what it had seen, that would be an amazing spy technique. You wouldn't have to rely solely on witnesses anymore. But this was a human power, one of the special abilities manifested by the soul. It couldn't be replicated easily if at all, and certainly not in the same way as Shinoda did it.
 
So later she would wonder. And plot and theorize. But for now... Watching Kasumi shrink into herself before brightening as the child finally got the worries off her chest, Kiriko ignored the constricting feeling of her own heart as the girl unloaded the fear and unease she had been carrying around. Easing the iced over pen from those tiny fingers, Kiriko smoothed the hand closed and gently placed the writing utensil on the edge of her desk. It wouldn't get anything messy there right now, and she could dispose of it later.
 
Looking back up, she kept her gaze open, frank, doing her best not to lock away her emotions as she so often did automatically. “Shinoda-chan...” She wanted to reassure her, to tell her that she would never hurt her. That she would never cause her pain. But Kiriko knew it was a false truth. A lie to tell herself as much as the child. If the order came down, if it was Kasumi or the lives of her comrades, if it was Kasumi or her duty, the answer would be painfully straightforward. Instead she switched tracts, saying what she might otherwise have kept inside in an attempt to say something, anything, to ease that ragged edge in her charge.
 
“I cannot make people into skeletons. What you saw... It was Seireitei, correct? The day when Tova attacked us. That was the first day that I used my Shikai, that my Zanpakutou awoke. You understand about Zanpakutou, right? The Shikai is a Shinigami's version of your human abilities, only limited in scope to something that we must formally activate with our weapons. I didn't know... I didn't think that that would happen, that that would be my power. I had no way of expecting it really, except a feeling, but at the time I thought I was going to die. I thought my men would die, my friends, my comrades. I didn't want to let them down, to watch them die in front of me. So I used my Shikai, and yes, it turned a lot of people into skeletons. It killed them all to make an army for my sword,” her words were drained of all tone, factual and precise as if reading a history textbook, but it took everything she had to finish the explanation so dryly and she couldn't keep it up.
 
Grimacing, her eyes slanting away as they became shrouded in ugly memory, Kiriko reached up to massage her forehead as if the past pained her. And it truly did, the things she had done, the way she had enjoyed it – certainly not on her own, it had taken Tova's meddling, but the fact remained that some small part of her soul had wanted those things to happen. Some small part of her soul had been evil enough that that was what her power manifested as. That was the representation of herself. The ability to rip flesh from the bones. To surround herself with an army of skeletons.
 
“Later, when I understood what had happened, when I realized that Aneue, the spirit within my sword...” she broke off again, a soft flinch, before forcing herself to stare Kasumi in the eyes. To be direct about this transgression. To be honest to the only girl who was fully honest to her of her own volition. “When I knew that it was Aneue who held this power, the ability to make people into skeletons, I didn't want it anymore. I didn't want my Shikai, even if it was something all Shinigami were supposed to have. I didn't like my sword spirit, we had never gotten along, and after that... She tried to control me, to take over, and I... I eventually decided that I would not be that person. A person who's power did such a horrible thing. So I got rid of her.”
 
She held herself still, formal and direct, trying not to see the revulsion she was certain would be in Kasumi's eyes. This needed to be said. It was a truth that she had kept to herself, piercing her soul, and it had to be aired in the open for once. She knew what she had done was wrong. To cut up her soul like that. But it had been the only way. To escape from Hahaue and Aneue. To escape from her past. To rewrite herself as a powerful being. As a driven being. As someone who no longer needed those powers.
 
She was better now. Maybe she would never be whole, but Kiriko didn't deserve it. Not the happiness, not the love, not the contentment. She would be a broken sword for the rest of her life if it meant protecting her dream of a better world.
 
“I am no longer a true Shinigami, Shinoda-san, because I lack a Zanpakutou. I have no Shikai, no Bankai. And I cannot turn people into skeletons anymore. But I know in my heart that I did the right thing, because now all I have are my two hands and the Shunko that I invented, and I would prefer to be remembered for those than some ability I could not chose.”
 
Kiriko's rigid stillness collapsed, breaking into pieces as her eyes suddenly blurred with emotion. She had never explained, never told anyone why she had cut up her own soul to be better. This wasn't a true confession, Kasumi didn't know what it meant to remove your Zanpakutou spirit, but it was close enough that it shook her to the core. She had forgotten what it felt like to be honest. Lying had become so easy, something she did for fun as much as for necessity. She didn't want to be close to Shinoda. She didn't want to hurt her. But she couldn't stop herself from reaching out, from gripping that fragile hand in her own calloused hands as she spoke the truest words yet, “So you need not be afraid of me, Shinoda-chan. I already promised, I will wait for you in Soul Society. You are too precious to waste.”
 
It was the closest she could get to voicing loyalty.
 
WC: 1450 | GP: 29 | Total GP: 94

Of course, it hadn't been her. It had been the spirit!

Why hadn't Kasumi thought about it before? It made perfect sense because the Shinigami used their Zanpaktous to fight, they were different from the mortals in that aspect. Koudai had told her about the Shinigami and their powers a long while ago, but it was Sayuri who had shown Kasumi what their world was like. The trip to the redhead's inner world had been short but amazing. And now that Kasumi thought about it, she could easily believe that Kiriko hadn't gotten along with her own spirit. The female in Sayuri's world had been rather hostile from the start. Either she had hated the fact that Sayuri had brought the kid along, or -from the short encounter Kasumi had figured, that she might have simply disliked Sayuri herself. The fierce spirit had even attacked the woman in front of the girl's eyes! There had been nothing that Kasumi could have done to defend Sayuri from that creature. The child's attack had been in vain, and mere moments later she had been thrown out of that world like a piece of garbage.

Nodding softly, Kasumi kept her eyes on the captain as she tried to indicate that she understood what the latter was saying. While she had no idea that one could just get rid of their Zanpaktou, she just assumed that Kiriko had thrown away her sword. If it was the weapon that released their power- if not provided it, then all one had to do to get rid of it was cast it away and never use it again, right?

In a way Kasumi felt bad for the spirit. She could only imagine being locked up in a sword for the rest of her life. Unable to get out to see the real world because your master had rejected you. But criminals went to prison, they got locked up there, sometimes till the end of their days. Perhaps bad spirits got locked up in Zanpaktous? Blinking, Kasumi forced herself to push away the dozens of ideas and questions that rapidly arose. The most important thing now was that Kiriko hadn't done it on purpose. It wasn't her fault. Kasumi shook her head from side to side, feeling some strands of her hair fly back and forth.

“It's not you fault. It wasn't you fault to start with.”

Hearing herself saying those worlds sent a wave of calmness through her body. Like morphine they ran through her veins, giving her the pleasant feeling of relief. She had already put all of her trust in Kiriko, using the captain as her pillar. But this was the moment that the concrete foundation had dried, securing everything in place. The moment Kiriko's hands wrapped around her own she immediately stopped shaking her head. With widened eyes she studied the captain's face, unsure how to react at first. Was Kiriko just like her? Looking for comfort? It only took her a second to wrap her fingers around the hand that held her and bring her other hand to take a gentle hold of Kiriko's before giving them a soft squeeze. Her blue orbs searched Kiriko's eyes noticing that they were different from before, again, however, this time they weren't the cold and distant pieces of black onyx. No. This time Kasumi thought to have seen a shred of vulnerability in them and it shocked the child. But why? Kiriko was like everyone else, someone that needed warmth and love. From time to time Kasumi forgot it because she had difficulties imagining that someone so strong needed anything at all from others. Holding the hands she stayed silent for a moment. Kasumi had never meant to upset the captain by mentioning the things that she had seen. With a trace of panic the kid squeezed Kiriko's hands a bit harder, wanting to reassure her just the way she always reassured Kasumi.

“Don't be sad, Shinigami is just a title, titles aren't important..”

Kasumi couldn't help but to shake her head again, wanting to stress what she was saying.

“You as a person are! And I'm not afraid.. I guess that I was scared of your sword.”

This time the kid nodded enthusiastically. A smile broke through the worried look that had been glued to her face ever since this conversation had started. Her blue eyes laughed with her, showing devotion. In an attempt to convince Kiriko that she wasn't paranoid any longer Kasumi tugged at the woman's hand before leading it towards her heart. It had been beating erratically before, but now it was back to its old pace. You could feel its lazy pace through Kasumi's chest and after a moment she let go.

“Besides, if you can't be a Shinigami anymore, you could retire and come live with me and Alexandra! We have a big mansion, with gardeners and cooks, you would have your own place!”

Excited about the idea Kasumi didn't notice when her stomach had growled at the word 'cooks'. About to tell Kiriko that there were multiple training areas and a large library, she stopped when her stomach growled again. Its rumbling became louder and Kasumi blushed, turning her gaze towards the table. However, nothing about the wooden desk helped her to hide the sound. Her face paled before the blush returned and Kasumi used her sleeve to rub her face, hoping to hide her embarrassment. She hadn't eaten much this morning. The nerves had prevented her from feeling hungry, let alone to enjoy the bits of food that she had managed to swallow.

“Do you like pancakes? I could make us pancakes!”

During her stay she had been craving for more sugar. Most of the food around here seemed to be made to ensure that nobody would lack any energy or health; nobody had paid attention to sweets. Ever since Ezekiel had sent her the DAG, Kasumi had discovered that the bot could get her things from other places without her having to try and sneak around the barracks. It was a blissful feeling to know that you could order cookies or fruit and the robot would find them.

“DAG brought whipped cream and figs! I love figs! You can't imagine how long I've been googling for 'weird Greek fruit' before I found out what they were! And then, it appeared that they're native to Middle East and western Asia! They've just brought it with them and had them grow in Greece as well.”

She scratched the side of her head when realizing that she had been ranting about some random piece of information which she had learned during her little research about the fruit that had tasted so incredible during one of her unusual 'trips'.

“If I go home the day after tomorrow, we'll still have tomorrow to make pizza!”

If the captain had a bit of time, they could try out pancakes in the kitchen of the Annex, if not, Kasumi would probably drag a plate full of them to Kiriko's office later on. Tilting her head to the side, Kasumi waited for the woman's reaction, hopefully she would do more than just mumble this time.

|Words: 1200– GP 24 – Tgp 85|

Pain had always been her friend. A constant companion, the only thing she could rely on to always be there. At first it had been the pain of her hunger, of needs that were never quite met. The pain of being alone, of being different and angry and bitter. She had learned at a young age to embrace this pain, to take it inside and make it one with herself. It was what made her strong. It was what taught her to overcome, to persevere. To succeed. Even when Chichiue hurt her it had been a lesson about power, about strength and endurance. She had always been a quick study, and her childhood had taught her a great many lessons. Lessons that Kiriko carried with her when she joined the Academy, lessons that she took to heart when she reconstructed herself into the image of what she had always wanted.
 
Chinda Kiriko as a Shinigami had been the opposite of Chinda Kiriko as a nobody from Rukongai. The opposite of weak and powerless. And yet she could not rewrite the pain. She could not make herself immune to the agony of life and loss. And even in what was supposed to be her better state Chinda Kiriko found herself surrounded by suffering. She had learned a precious lesson then, that pain was a constant and if you wanted to survive you had to turn it into a strength. So she had. Kiriko chose to embrace the discomfort, the pangs and convulsions. She held them in close, pressing them to her soul until they became one and the same. Until it was all that existed in this world. Her loadstone when everyone else always left her behind. She had followed it down this path, ripping and tearing her soul asunder just to ensure that it would never leave her, and even as she felt regret for the harm she had caused to her own being she couldn't help but feel relief as well. There was safety in the familiar, in knowing that for now and for ever she would always be cocooned in this companion called pain.
 
Pain was her birthright, and she had long ago accepted it. She needed it as much as she needed anything else. And so, when Kasumi reached out to her, wrapping those tiny little fingers around her own, Kiriko closed her eyes and held on tight. As if the contact would keep her still and stable, as if it would allow her to stay in once place instead of being swept away. For one precious moment, Kiriko allowed herself to believe, to cherish, and to dream. And then she let go, pulling her hands back and exhaling as the truth rushed in.
 
Shinoda was a momentary oasis in a desert. And that was alright. That was good. But Shinoda needed more than Kiriko could give, and Kiriko could not allow her convictions to be dulled by what the child was offering. By hope or love or happiness. Those were things she had willfully cast away when she cut her soul to pieces, when she carved out her heart and set it aside. Those were things for people, for Shinigami, for humanity, and Chinda Kiriko had once again recreated herself – but this time she was no longer part of that group, of any group, this time she had taken on a mantle of something else entirely. Penance.
 
So she let the offer seep through her skin, let it sooth the burn of her raging and ease the depths of her despair. But when Kasumi spoke, offering benediction and forgiveness, Kiriko merely smiled. It was true that children really knew nothing about this world. She would not tell Shinoda, would not shatter that ability to see purity in others even when it was sorely lacking. That was the gift of youth, of being able to dream such dreams, and it was something to protect instead of disabuse. Unlike Kiriko, Shinoda was still human, was still a child, and was still innocent.
 
She had had enough. She had received enough.
 
“Thank you,” and the words carried caverns of meaning, echoing like the susurration of wind at midnight. She had never spoken more truer words or felt such honest gratitude. And like a passing wind it was over and Kiriko wrapped up the memory and stored it carefully within her, locking it away into the vault of important events and precious moments. Later she would take it out, relive it, remember, and appreciate it. Later she would allow it to soften the jagged edges inside her when she was alone at night. Later she would thrum with the knowledge that there was someone in this world who truly trusted her.
 
Now it was time for work.
 
“I will arrange for your return home in two days time, please let your friends know that you will be leaving as I am sure they would like to say goodbye. I will assign a guard to follow you into the human world, to help you locate yourself as you have been gone for some time and things might have changed. They will assist you in getting you home safely and ensuring that everything is still set up for you while you continue to look for your Mother.” She was already thinking through the list of subordinates not on active missions and who would be best to send to protect Kasumi on her return trip. It would have to be someone with extensive knowledge of the human realm, in order to ease the girl's return and ensure that there was nothing wrong with her physical body after such a long stay in Seireitei.
 
Calculations seemed to jog her memory as the mystery from earlier popped to the foreground and Kiriko frowned lightly while flicking through several pieces of paper atop her desk. The human world. A girl who could sense souls. Yes, she was certain that she remembered who it was, and her information on the strange ability. Pulling out the drawer on the left side of her desk, she rifled through several color coded files and pried free a thick one from the overstuffed filing cabinet. Flipping it open to the middle, she trailed a finger down the columns of numbers and letters until stopping at a particular string of numerals, 0743SH-K. To the right hand margin there was another string of letters, these written in kanji.
 
Kiriko snapped the folder shut, and looked back up, her eyes crinkling as she smiled in success, “I'm afraid that I cannot go with you now, there is much to plan for your return to the human world. But I have some information that might be useful for you. There is a human woman who has an ability that might allow her to locate your Mother if she is still in the Human World and perhaps also rule out that she is not here in Soul Society or within Hueco Mundo. Her name is Yamane Kohaku. I will do some research and see if I cannot find a current location for her before you leave.”
 
It shouldn't be hard. The woman had had an abnormally strong reiatsu signature for a human, perhaps something to do with the power Tova had unleashed over Karakura. And Kiriko had maintained surveillance on the powered humans of Karakura Town ever since that event, trying to parse out what was going on and when the next big event would occur. Someone within her network would know where this Yamane girl was, and so long as Shinoda had a next step Kiriko would be able to keep tabs on the child as well, to ensure that her search did not take her into dangerous territory. The girl had been lucky showing up in Soul Society with Kiriko's name on her lips, but doing the same in Hueco Mundo would be a different story entirely.
 
“Tomorrow I will carve out some time in my schedule around lunch for you, Shinoda-chan. Come back then and we can discuss your return and any other information I can get to assist you between now and then,” she knew that the smart thing would be to keep her distance from now on, to push the girl away until she left. But she also knew Shinoda, and the child would never have let her stay away these last two days. She would have gotten into trouble trying to sneak into Kiriko's office or some other such shenanigan, and it was best to control what she could and manage the rest.

Besides, she would like to say goodbye.
 
Flicking her fingers in a lazy shooing motion, Kiriko slid the folder aside and began piling up the papers on her desk as she returned to work. “Go on now, you can use the kitchen in the Command Annex if you have ingredients with you, no one should bother you there.” It was an empty room, the ghost of Tsukimiya-taichou had been banished only to be replaced by the frowning stare of Fujikagi. Kasumi would find all the tools she might need there to cook whatever pancakes were, and she would be close for now, safe, for these last few hours before she was finally outside of Kiriko's sphere of influence. 
 
WC: 1551 | GP: 31 | Total GP: 125