Dear Sister - A Chinda Family Reunion [closed for Kiriko]

The first time she heard of Chinda Nagisa, she had scoffed. Chinda wasn't exactly a very common surname, not even in the Rukongai, and the idea that a child would show up at the Academy claiming to be Kiriko's kin was laughable. If only this strange interloper knew just what Kiriko longed to do to her kin, no one would be claiming that implausible tie ever again. Kiriko had ignored the new report, tucking the information away as unimportant at the time but potentially useful later.

The second time she heard of Chinda Nagisa, it was when the girl managed to graduate from the Academy. It was the first time she heard too, of the girl's strange continuation of her ploy, a ruse that had clearly failed in Kiriko's mind and yet the girl refused to give up her game. It was irritating, but this was the irritation of a tiny little gnat, and she had better things to worry about than squishing creatures so far beneath her notice. So Kiriko let the girl continue with her story, and when people asked, about her “sister,” she merely stared hard enough to make them swallow and graciously allowed them to change the subject.

After that, the rumors circulated, and Kiriko decided that as much as she wanted to just ignore this foundling it was better to be prepared for the unforeseen future. That was when she put a watch on the girl. The weekly reports were an ongoing project, but at the very least this imposter wasn't shaming the Chinda name by being inept, and so Kiriko was content with letting it all play out. The longer she ignored the controversy though, the more ingrained Chinda Nagisa seemed to become, until finally Kiriko realized that the girl had gotten into a division all on her own and was starting to be noticed by others in the power structure.

It was when the child had come back from her last mission, high on success, that Kiriko realized ignoring the creature wasn't going to make her disappear. In fact, it actually seemed to be doing the opposite, as Chinda Nagisa felt clearer and cleaner than ever before in this reality, her presence more pronounced than any fresh recruit had the right to be.

It still wasn't enough to push her interest into anything more than a holding pattern though, that is, until Shinoda brought it up. How that child had learned so many secrets in her short time in Soul Society, Kiriko didn't really want to know, though she figured it was impressive nonetheless made a note to see if Kasumi became a Shinigami when she died. That type of skill was natural and couldn't be replicated. But, in asking about the other Chinda, her own little pet project had seemed almost... happy? The glimmer in those innocent eyes had been carefully concealed with casual glances, but Kiriko had seen it, and she knew what it meant even as her own mind tried to reject the notion.

Shinoda had a different notion of family. A lot of people did it seemed. But Kiriko didn't much care what children thought about her personal life. What she did care about was rumors circulating even so far that her own shielded guest caught wind of them, that was something that Kiriko couldn't just ignore. No matter how much she wished the tactic was actually working in erasing this imposter from her world. No, if Chinda Nagisa was not going to disappear on her own, if she was so intent on interfering with Kiriko's life, then Kiriko would have to handle this with her own two hands.

It was almost too bad that Aizawa had snatched her up for the Fifth. So many new recruits in the Nibantai didn't make it past their initial training let alone their first mission, that would have been the smartest route to excising this little pest. But now that the girl had become a full fledged Shinigami she was under the protection of the Fifth, and Kiriko couldn't simply make her disappear without too many questions arising. She still needed the relationship she had so carefully cultivated with Aizawa, it was foolish to throw that away now for a threat that could be managed in so many other ways.

So, with her mind made up, and her anger rising like a cloud of heat to shroud her in its invisible armor, Kiriko set out towards that festering reiatsu signature she had become aware of sometime before. The trip was uneventful, as most were nowadays, with her fierce gaze staring straight through anyone in her path, the few who actually waited around for her to catch sight of them that is. Finding herself drawn through the back streets of a residential district, Kiriko glanced up, her line of sight obscured by the brush of wind and the flap of paper.

Kites. It was a childish pastime, and she had not known of anyone so immature as to engage in that. Especially not in this district, for while it housed people it was mostly on-duty Shinigami when there was a surplus in the barracks. There were few if any accommodations for families if she remembered the blueprints correctly, and there should be no errant children here to so flippantly disturb the peace.

Standing still, she watched the kites as they swooped and soared on puffs of wind, their strings so carefully managed that they never became entangled. At least the perpetrators were skilled, no tiny shrieks of joy or undiluted laughter breaking the contemplative silence. Children were something that Kiriko would never understand, even after her recent experience with Shinoda. It was easier to just dislike them than to make the effort to learn, so she told herself Kasumi was special and that was that.

Still, there was something about the kites, as they tilted ever upward in graceful flight, something that reminded her of an older time and a trio of scraggly kites. More forgotten and used scraps of paper than any one hue or sheet with frayed string and an old stick for a reel. She caught herself a few moments later, perched between stillness and the past, and roughly rubbed at her eyes before stalking forward into the walled garden. Tearing her eyes away from the sky, Kiriko clenched her teeth, hard enough to feel the pressure, as she resumed working.

It was a large garden, resplendent with lush grass and tall slender trees. There was enough shrubbery that one could not see the whole area but with her tuned senses she was aware of each and every soul there. And in particular, the one soul that she had come here for. Lips curling at the distasteful reiatsu, Kiriko paused a moment to tug at her sleeves so that her kimono was perfectly in place. The long arc of her arms bowed as she brushed her hair back off her shoulders, collecting neatly at the small of her back.

Striding towards her target, she moved on silent feet, ghosting by with such singlemindedness that no one seemed to notice her presence at all. Stepping beyond a line of thick lilacs, the Captain of the Nibantai made visual contact with her target for the first time. She allowed her body to slow, taking in all the signs that were on display, placing reality beside the static pictures from the reports.

The imposter was seated idly in the grass, apparently heedless of the freshly cut greenery and what it would do to her fine clothing. She lounged with enough boneless grace that there was an almost automatic assumption of power in that insouciant slouch, the girl's hands twisting at the finger-stops of a white instrument. Something stirred in her chest at the tune, a false beat or two of a heart that Kiriko had long ago ripped out, before she ruthlessly suppressed it, not even trying to take the emotion apart or to understand where it had come from. She had already learned where her heart would take her, and that was a road that Kiriko had done her best to uproot and destroy.

Stepping free from the tree line she glided towards her target, eyes boring into smooth flesh as if she could see the skeleton beneath it, as if she could pierce the skin and find blood that would out this girl as the imposter she was.

Finding herself at the girl's back, a mere lunge between them, Kiriko hardened her expression into stone. “Chinda Nagisa,” she spoke the name without intonation, so cold and hard that it sounded more like an epitaph than a name belonging to a person.  

WC: 1450 | GP: 29 | Total GP: 29

The first tones of the melody made their way into the world softly, almost timidly, as if they were hesitant to explore the beyond, to go out and mingle. Once they did however, the tones seemed to grow in strength until they were carried away by a breeze, flowed over rolling hills and rang faintly in the hearts of men and women. Nagisa though did not hear any of this. She was caught up in her own world. A world where her beloved Onee-san shared wild berries with her, where the two of them let rugged kites soar together, and cuddled to keep away the chill of the night. As she played Nagi was left to wonder whether she ought to be thankful for the grimness of her childhood, for without it she would have never gotten to enjoy her sister as much as she had. Nodding her head softly as she played the young woman wondered how Kiriko’s life was. Not only a member of the Gotei, but a Captain. A person that was met with awe and reverence, whose names was spoken only in a hushed voice and a low bow. A soft smile stole its way onto Nagisa’s face.

Who would have known that the kind sister would go on to become a person of such magnificence? Well, Nagisa had, for in a sense Kiriko had always been like that to her. People often called you cold and distance, but I know that it is your way of showing love, of giving space and room to grow. After all, not even the strongest flower can bloom when smothered in the shadows of the tall trees. Though comparing the elder Chinda with a flower was perhaps futile. Nobody could hope to compare to her, that’s what the people said – and that’s what Nagisa had always known.

Itsuka – one day I will be a person whom you will call to your side again, whom you will watch over, look out for when it’s dark and warm when it’s cold. Images of Captain Jasper flashed before her. He too said I have talent to be like you, so please watch me, Onee-san, as I make my way to your side. Driven by longing and yearning her fingers moved faster and faster, and as the melody went on Nagi could not help but feel as if her beloved sister was close. Nonsense, the younger Chinda reflected sadly: Why would she? There are hundreds of thousands of Shinigami. At this point I doubt that she knows I exist. The movements slowed down, weighed down by her hearts sadness – yet the feeling lingered. Perhaps it was the song that helped her imagine Kiriko close?

It was then that Nagisa felt the Farseer stir within her. Like a blanket the woman tried to spread her own presence and thus douse the cold flames of loneliness that burned within her chest. She is nice and sweet, the young girl reflected to herself: But she will never replace the woman I love most.

The last note echoed into the world, and as it left Nagi, the sensation of closeness intensified. Someone is here, the Shinigami thought and began to focus, but at the same time Taldeer seemed to be calling her name. Her voice was luring, but the woman thought to feel a strange tint of desperation in it, as if she did her best to distract Nagisa from the real world. How odd and unlike her, the Chinda rose and –

”Chinda Nagisa.”

Her heart skipped a beat, before furiously pumping so strongly that it brought a faint flush to her cheek. The voice had been withdrawn and unemotional, but even after decades of going without it, Nagi would always remember its sound. It’s her. It’s her. It’s her. It’s her. It’s her. It’s her.

IT. IS. HER.

Blue eyes opened wide in awe, tears of joy welling up, the woman whirled around. The smile on her thin lips was as warm as the sun itself, and would have served to melt even the most frozen of hearts – but some things simply didn’t have one. Nagisa didn’t care either way, for there she stood.

“Onee-san.”

The words where barely a whisper, but driven by a pounding heart Nagisa took a step forwards.

“Onee-san!”

A sudden gust of wind pulled on the kites, caused the older one of the two to break free and fly away whilst the younger one struggled desperately with its chain but ultimately was kept in place.

“I have longed to see you.”

Tears were streaming down Nagisa’s face and she dared not to move, lest a sudden motion scared away her beloved sister, as it might have done during that fateful night.

“…Onee-san?”

803/50=16; 30