Post by Hazuki Tsukimiya on Jul 20, 2015 13:57:21 GMT -5
To tell the truth, she didn’t even know which district of Rukongai this was—all she knew was that it was remote, quiet, and no prying eyes. Not that she had anything to hide, but as long as nobody asked, there was no reason to lie.
The hut was where—and perhaps more importantly, how—she had left it: dilapidated, deserted, and looking so thoroughly uninviting that there was very little risk of anyone ever entering it. The roof was missing large chunks, the walls were cracked and crumbling, and all in all it wasn’t much for shelter, so not even the most desperate of souls would come here looking for anything.
Which is precisely why she had hid something here. It was the kind of obvious hiding place that only had one drawback: getting there was conspicuous. And that, really, was why she had returned to move her precious cargo to somewhere perhaps less secure but infinitely less conspicuous. After some thought, it wasn’t fear of its discovery that worried her, merely fear of its disappearance.
And this place, Hazuki thought as she entered the ramshackle hut, taking care to avoid the long since spoiled medical supplies that had spilled out of the glass-doored cupboard that listed, like some forgotten vessel, helplessly to one side, is very conducive to things disappearing.
She was in luck, however: the long, thin bundle she had hidden in one of the corners behind a small desk that clearly hadn’t seen use in decades was still there, and she picked it up, hefting its weight in her hands before turning to leave. A little worse for wear as far as cleanliness went, but the burlap cloth she had wrapped her possession in was there for a reason. That, plus nobody ever gave a dirty bit of fabric a second look, especially not in a place like this.
It was still midday, and although she didn’t—technically—have the day off, she had made a window in her schedule for her little excursion. That window was rapidly closing, so she decided to hurry back and return to her duties as soon as possible. The fields passed in a blur as she left the hut behind her, and some minutes later, she touched down on the white stone pavement that separated Seireitei from Rukongai. She stopped long enough to give herself a short breather, then set off again in the direction of the First Division barracks.
News of her promotion had spread sufficiently by now that she received her fair share of salutes from the Shinigami she outranked—Fourth Seat was quite an elevated position, after all—as she made for her quarters. She returned them with due respect, of course, but she had no intention of stopping. Luckily, she didn’t run in to anyone who outranked her, so there was no reason for her footsteps to cease at any point. Before long, she found herself safely behind the door of her modest living space.
She locked it.
Most people would have found the room small, maybe even cramped, but unlike most, Hazuki had no need for a futon. To her, this was simply a smaller, less lavish but more private office. A room that nobody but her had any business entering.
She had made the necessary preparations earlier: careful prying of the floorboards under the tatami mats and the traditional Japanese desk above to expose the hollow space underneath, making room to comfortably conceal the object she aimed to keep there, and making sure that the entire ordeal was invisible to more than just the casual observer—a little trick her parents had taught her when she was very young.
Maybe she wasn’t hiding it. Maybe she was protecting it.
She moved the desk out of the way, lifted the tatami mat and floorboards, and finally removed the ragged cloth she had wrapped around her prize. The polished black saya gleamed in the light, flawless despite the conditions it had been kept in, and she quickly checked the blade before tucking it into the hole in her floor. It fit perfectly, and she reached out to run her fingers along it one last time before she furrowed her brow and replaced boards, mat, and desk, leaving no trace of them ever being disturbed.
The only thing she had brought with her from her childhood home, and she was hiding it under her floor. Sentimentality wasn’t Hazuki’s strong suit.
A soft knock at her door made her jump, and she rose immediately to answer it, finding one of her direct subordinates standing there with a thick, wax-sealed manila envelope in his hands.
‘Tried your office, ma’am,’ he said, handing it to her. She knew what it meant: wax-sealed was for the recipient’s eyes only, and the name meticulously penned on the front of the envelope made Hazuki raise an eyebrow.
Jasper Aizawa
Captain, Fifth Division
She had to admit, it felt a little odd reading those words.
‘Thank you,’ she said, raising her eyes from the thick brown paper, inadvertently catching the man staring at the dark circles underneath them. He had the good sense to avert his gaze—she couldn’t tell if it was out of shame or politeness—and she gave him a curt dismissal. As his footsteps retreated down the hallway, she cast one final look around her quarters as she reached for her own sword, making a mental note of where she had left everything, right down to her as of yet unread copy of Heart of Darkness, then stepped outside, closed the door, and locked it.
The envelope securely in her grip and her sword securely in her obi, she left the First and headed straight for the Fifth, taking a shortcut over the rooftops. She arrived in minutes flat—Flash Goddess she wasn’t, but her Shunpō was still way above average—and touched down in the central courtyard amidst the Fifth doing what the Fifth did best: practicing. Nobody paid her much mind, and she discreetly inquired as to the location of their captain’s office, hoping to find him there. The directions she received were vague at best, but she made the best of the situation and headed off.
The Fifth Division was unfamiliar territory to Hazuki, despite almost joining it after graduating from the Academy. In the end, of course, she had decided to pursue a different career in the Gotei, but she held the Fifth in high regard all the same: they had a deep respect for the blade in common, after all. The relationship with her Zanpakutō notwithstanding, her prowess with the long blade belted at her hip was impressive, and while at times she found her sword’s silence frustrating, the weight of it in her hand was always soothing.
Something I no doubt have in common with the man I’m about to see, she mused, finally arriving at her destination.
There were no guards flanking this door, something Commander Ine no doubt missed. She smiled despite herself, but shook it off her face and knocked.
°1,182
The hut was where—and perhaps more importantly, how—she had left it: dilapidated, deserted, and looking so thoroughly uninviting that there was very little risk of anyone ever entering it. The roof was missing large chunks, the walls were cracked and crumbling, and all in all it wasn’t much for shelter, so not even the most desperate of souls would come here looking for anything.
Which is precisely why she had hid something here. It was the kind of obvious hiding place that only had one drawback: getting there was conspicuous. And that, really, was why she had returned to move her precious cargo to somewhere perhaps less secure but infinitely less conspicuous. After some thought, it wasn’t fear of its discovery that worried her, merely fear of its disappearance.
And this place, Hazuki thought as she entered the ramshackle hut, taking care to avoid the long since spoiled medical supplies that had spilled out of the glass-doored cupboard that listed, like some forgotten vessel, helplessly to one side, is very conducive to things disappearing.
She was in luck, however: the long, thin bundle she had hidden in one of the corners behind a small desk that clearly hadn’t seen use in decades was still there, and she picked it up, hefting its weight in her hands before turning to leave. A little worse for wear as far as cleanliness went, but the burlap cloth she had wrapped her possession in was there for a reason. That, plus nobody ever gave a dirty bit of fabric a second look, especially not in a place like this.
It was still midday, and although she didn’t—technically—have the day off, she had made a window in her schedule for her little excursion. That window was rapidly closing, so she decided to hurry back and return to her duties as soon as possible. The fields passed in a blur as she left the hut behind her, and some minutes later, she touched down on the white stone pavement that separated Seireitei from Rukongai. She stopped long enough to give herself a short breather, then set off again in the direction of the First Division barracks.
News of her promotion had spread sufficiently by now that she received her fair share of salutes from the Shinigami she outranked—Fourth Seat was quite an elevated position, after all—as she made for her quarters. She returned them with due respect, of course, but she had no intention of stopping. Luckily, she didn’t run in to anyone who outranked her, so there was no reason for her footsteps to cease at any point. Before long, she found herself safely behind the door of her modest living space.
She locked it.
Most people would have found the room small, maybe even cramped, but unlike most, Hazuki had no need for a futon. To her, this was simply a smaller, less lavish but more private office. A room that nobody but her had any business entering.
She had made the necessary preparations earlier: careful prying of the floorboards under the tatami mats and the traditional Japanese desk above to expose the hollow space underneath, making room to comfortably conceal the object she aimed to keep there, and making sure that the entire ordeal was invisible to more than just the casual observer—a little trick her parents had taught her when she was very young.
Maybe she wasn’t hiding it. Maybe she was protecting it.
She moved the desk out of the way, lifted the tatami mat and floorboards, and finally removed the ragged cloth she had wrapped around her prize. The polished black saya gleamed in the light, flawless despite the conditions it had been kept in, and she quickly checked the blade before tucking it into the hole in her floor. It fit perfectly, and she reached out to run her fingers along it one last time before she furrowed her brow and replaced boards, mat, and desk, leaving no trace of them ever being disturbed.
The only thing she had brought with her from her childhood home, and she was hiding it under her floor. Sentimentality wasn’t Hazuki’s strong suit.
A soft knock at her door made her jump, and she rose immediately to answer it, finding one of her direct subordinates standing there with a thick, wax-sealed manila envelope in his hands.
‘Tried your office, ma’am,’ he said, handing it to her. She knew what it meant: wax-sealed was for the recipient’s eyes only, and the name meticulously penned on the front of the envelope made Hazuki raise an eyebrow.
Jasper Aizawa
Captain, Fifth Division
She had to admit, it felt a little odd reading those words.
‘Thank you,’ she said, raising her eyes from the thick brown paper, inadvertently catching the man staring at the dark circles underneath them. He had the good sense to avert his gaze—she couldn’t tell if it was out of shame or politeness—and she gave him a curt dismissal. As his footsteps retreated down the hallway, she cast one final look around her quarters as she reached for her own sword, making a mental note of where she had left everything, right down to her as of yet unread copy of Heart of Darkness, then stepped outside, closed the door, and locked it.
The envelope securely in her grip and her sword securely in her obi, she left the First and headed straight for the Fifth, taking a shortcut over the rooftops. She arrived in minutes flat—Flash Goddess she wasn’t, but her Shunpō was still way above average—and touched down in the central courtyard amidst the Fifth doing what the Fifth did best: practicing. Nobody paid her much mind, and she discreetly inquired as to the location of their captain’s office, hoping to find him there. The directions she received were vague at best, but she made the best of the situation and headed off.
The Fifth Division was unfamiliar territory to Hazuki, despite almost joining it after graduating from the Academy. In the end, of course, she had decided to pursue a different career in the Gotei, but she held the Fifth in high regard all the same: they had a deep respect for the blade in common, after all. The relationship with her Zanpakutō notwithstanding, her prowess with the long blade belted at her hip was impressive, and while at times she found her sword’s silence frustrating, the weight of it in her hand was always soothing.
Something I no doubt have in common with the man I’m about to see, she mused, finally arriving at her destination.
There were no guards flanking this door, something Commander Ine no doubt missed. She smiled despite herself, but shook it off her face and knocked.
°1,182
