Bushido 101 [Academy]

Out of all the classes Ginjiro attended at the shinigami academy, Tsukiyo Kionchi’s philosophy class was his favorite by far. Of course, he was a bit biased given that it was taught by the man who had instantly rocketed his career to a place most would take years of hard work to achieve, but it was still mostly the material. And Kionchi was a good teacher as well. He was passionate, articulate, and simply smart. Though again, that may have been his bias talking.

He clearly cared about his class, but when Bushido was brought up it took him to a whole other level. The intensity Kionchi showed when talking about the way of the samurai was… frightening, almost. He seemed to obsess over the idea. Perhaps it was special to him, or could it simply be that important to the shinigami?

”Compassion”

That got Ginjiro’s attention. Compassion was something he thought a lot about, and something that many of his peers, and seemingly even more graduated shinigami, were lacking in. Sure they cared about each other, but they completely ignored, or sometimes even abused, plus souls and the inhabitants of the rukongai. Compassion definitely needed to be taught more in the academy.

Ginjiro raised his hand. A few of his classmates snickered, others sighed, and still others whispered. Ginjiro didn’t care about any of them. He knew good and well that he had a reputation for being a “teacher’s pet” “bookworm” and “nerd” and he didn’t care one bit. He liked learning, he liked philosophy, and he thought he had the answer to the question. That was all there was to it, and if his classmates had a problem with it… well, he kind of hoped they never graduated with that kind of attitude, and they probably wouldn’t.

“Compassion is defined as sympathetic pity and concern for the sufferings or misfortunes of others. Seeing as Bushido is a warrior’s code, I would imagine that compassion is there to temper the rest. A warrior without compassion after all, is little more than a monster, or at the very least, useless to those who need them most. Those who are, as you put it, unable, or unwilling, to defend themselves. As for your second question, it seems to me that the most basic jobs of the shinigami, performing konso and purifying hollows, are both acts of compassion. One saves starving tortured souls from their fate, and the other prevents them from ever suffering it in the first place.“ 

WC: 417

GP: 8[claimed]

Fidgeting quietly from her vantage point in the corner of the room, Hanabi once more ducked her head as if that would keep the teacher's eyes off her. She really had tried her best not to get sent to this class, relying on a range of tactics that would have even made Kiriko proud. But nonetheless after passing the last history placement exam with what had been termed “above average aptitude” the teachers had once more shuttled her off to another subject as if that would somehow change the fact that her mysterious bursts of knowledge were not in keeping with the curriculum she was being taught. Normally it was an uncomfortable hassle, slinking into a class already half way through its term, trying to integrate quietly into a whole new social dynamic. But this was different. This time he was there, and so she had set aside her pride and finally just begged her teachers to send her somewhere else. Anywhere else.

They seemed to think though that philosophy would do some good for her, maybe smooth out the taunt edges of her stiff protocol. That or this was finally revenge for her playing around with their course system, because while Hanabi was not one to complain she was nearly certain that Miyakawa-sensei had sent her off with a particularly nasty gleam to his eyes that morning.

So, confronted once more with her inability to control anything about the world around her, Hanabi put her head down and made sure to arrive in class with a crowd of other students. Her quiet effacement ensuring that no one really spoke up or questioned her presence, especially as she silently drifted to an empty seat and offered nothing of interest to her peers around her. Some of them she'd met before, and the casually dismissive glances should have made her feel better about her chameleon act. Still, she knew no matter how well she avoided the student's attention Tsukiyo-dono was not going to miss her presence. He didn't miss much, normally, and he seemed particularly attuned to her reiatsu after that whole mishap with the tower and her unfortunate not-death.

And that was perhaps the whole problem. Because unlike what she had initially expected Tsukiyo didn't turn around and stab her in the back like a little minion should. He'd been somewhat supportive even, and it confused her. The idea that this was some elaborate scheme by Kiriko to remind Hanabi of just how the world worked was her current excuse, but even that didn't explain the light in her “protector's” eyes when he caught her that night.

Listening to the lecture, the confusion grew, a tiny seed sprouting and sending roots down into the earthy loam. Hidden from sight, but tangled ever tighter in their secrecy. Tsukiyo was one of Kiriko's pawns, Hanabi knew this. Just as she knew that he was there to make sure she followed orders and didn't do anything totally embarrassing for the Captain of the Second. Just as she knew that he served the Second and that he probably was some sort of plant in the Fourth for all she could tell. And yet, he didn't act like those cold-blooded soldiers that Kiriko bossed around. Sure, he could be stiff and frozen when he wanted to be, but the passion in his face when he expressed such foreign concepts as bushido was an honest espousal and no lie.

Hanabi couldn't help but wonder what Kiriko would do if she heard about this. Bushido, to that woman, would be like a chocolate tea kettle. Totally useless. The mere idea of Kiriko agreeing that compassion was in any way useful instead of a cardinal sin was somewhat frightening, because it likely heralded some delicate trap that the listener was just about to stumble into unawares.

Tapping her pen against her notebook, Hanabi wound her free hand into the loose cloth of her hakama, tugging lightly as she thought. Compassion, as she had been taught, invalidated strength. So why would a warrior code prize it above all else? Samurai were disciplined fighters, capable, strong... So what use could an emotion that made you weak have for them on the battlefield?

She closed her eyes momentarily, blocking out the sunlight streaming in from the window at her side as her teeth worried away at her bottom lip. One of the students began to answer, his textbook response soothing some literal need in her soul. It was something she sort of agreed with, too, from an emotional perspective. The sincerity in her heart wanting to hope it was the right answer all while the trained cynic cut the argument to shreds. It was exactly why she wasn't going to speak up on this issue, anything she said would probably be reported and she didn't want Kiriko thinking that Hanabi had fallen back on her “soft” ways.

There was a sudden rustle to her right and Hanabi opened her eyes just in time to see a girl shoot to her feet with that peculiar sort of narrowed gaze that heralded deeply held passion. So used to covert expressions in those around her it was somewhat of a shock to see such open honesty, especially on a tricky topic like this, and Hanabi leaned forward to hear her better. The words that flowed from that hot tongue were not very polished, after all this was somewhat dangerous territory, disparaging the Gotei in an establishment meant to create mindless little puppets, but the words prompted an ugly undertone of muttering in the entire class as they set about arguing over the two disparate points.

Something in her, the girl who had memorized her textbooks from front to back, the girl who had lapped up that rhetoric even knowing it was a lie, wished to stand and present a defense of the Shinigami. Something along the lines of, “Yes, Shinigami kill all enemies who would harm the balance of souls, but that does not mean it is without compassion.” The pressure to conform, to present the image of a model student, it was something she struggled with soon after becoming Enyo Hanabi.

Hanabi would say those very words, eyes shining with faith in the world around her. But she knew better, the her that wasn't really Hanabi, the her that had seen the way the Shinigami killed, the way they threatened, the way they bullied the world into suiting their needs. And in reality, she wondered not why this girl was brave enough to say something so forward, but where she had seen that very same proof and how she was still alive to mention it openly like this.

Eyes skittering over the tops of her classmates, Hanabi glanced at Kionchi, half expecting an explosion of reaction from the effusive man. He, in her mind, was so tightly linked to the Monster that they often became one and the same, and she hadn't the space or the exposure to expect anything different out of him. Kiriko, as Hanabi knew well, wouldn't have let such a statement stand unpunished. But this was the Academy, right? They were safe in class, in the open like this. Still, what unfortunate thing would befall that girl at other more vulnerable times? And what did it say about herself that she had such little trust in the safety of the children training to become Shinigami? This whole place was rigged, eyes constantly watching. Nothing went by in secrecy. And maybe it was lost innocence, or maybe it was just street smarts, but Hanabi couldn't help but think of all the dangers that lurked in a class like this. In expressing your opinion and your doubts about the monolith that was the Gotei.

If she was smart, she'd never have said a word. Too bad there was some truth to the softness of her heart because Hanabi found her lips moving in a near silent murmur meant only for the ears of the girl beside her, damning herself in the process as unacceptable words tumbled forth, “Technically he is not wrong, because Shinigami are not Samurai. They're soldiers, and in a soldier these seven virtues are just self-made lies that maybe help you sleep at night.” Sending a wide-eyed glance at the girl, a slight tilt to her chin an unconscious indication that the student should sit before she got into trouble, Hanabi only hoped no one else had been able to hear that admission.  

WC: 1415 | GP: 28 | Total GP: 28

Ginjiro was feeling pretty good about himself and his answer, until she spoke.

compassion is the last thing I’ve seen in the Seireitei

He would later admit that he overreacted a bit, spinning around to stare at his classmate with wide, simply shocked eyes. What did she mean? Was the Seireitei, the shinigami themselves, really without compassion? Ginjiro stood by what he said. A warrior without compassion was either dangerous or useless, or somewhere in between. So what did that say about those around him? Those he was learning with? Those he was learning from? Himself?

 Ginjiro looked at Kionchi. Was he without compassion? It seemed laughable. The man who had found him as an arrancar, purified him, and then insured that his soul would become something great, was without compassion? It was ridiculous. It couldn’t be true. It was insane. So why was his mind itching with doubt?

“What the heck?” “She’s crazy.” That chick a hollow lover or something?” the voices came from all around. Ginjiro, it seemed, had not been the only one shocked by the girl’s statement. He was, however, the only one that didn’t seem to be passing quick judgement. The faces around him showed hatred, anger, defensiveness, not one seemed to want to understand as he did. Why did she believe that about shinigami? What had she seen? Most of all, was she right? One thing was certainly in her favor. The faces around the class were utterly devoid of compassion. Except one.

A quiet girl sat to the rebel’s left, struggling with understanding, or perhaps even agreement, with her classmate’s blasphemy, and fear of the hatred around her. It took her a moment to gather her courage and speak at all, and when she did it was so quiet that Ginjiro was barely able to hear her at all. But what was she talking about?

What was the difference between samurai and soldiers?

One was a warrior and one was a puppet.

Why would they need lies to help them sleep at night?

Because they committed evil atrocities.

What she said was nonsense.

It was true.

He couldn’t understand what she was even trying to say.

He couldn’t admit that he knew.

Ginjiro found himself strangely more focused than ever when Kionchi-sensei started linking the ideals to other religions.

“Daya.” The word seemed to personify Ginjiro himself. It was the need to understand others before judging them. The goal to bring happiness to as many as possible. And the understanding that sometimes this required violence to accomplish, especially in the case of hollows. Help them sleep at night.

“Karuna.” This one made him fidgety. The idea that understanding others led to understanding oneself. He had spent his entire life, at least that he could remember, trying to understand others. Was this why? Was he, somewhere in his subconscious, trying to figure out who he was? Trying to remember who he was?

“Anukampa.” Kionchi-sensei seemed to lock eyes with Ginjiro for just a moment, but he couldn’t be sure. Was he trying to say something? Was this one meant for Ginjiro more than the others? The idea that true understanding could only come from feeling the pain of others.

 What did that mean?

You know.

Could he somehow reach that state of mind?

You can.

Who was he supposed to understand?

Aren’t you getting tired of lying to yourself?

What was locked away in his memories? Could he understand the arrancar? The hollows? Did he even need to? Would it even be a good thing for him to understand them? Weren’t they all pure evil, needing purification? He though back to Caden, that monster that had so callously destroyed a soul out of sheer spite. Did beings like him even deserve compassion?

Self-made lies that maybe help you sleep at night.

Click

What if there was more to them than that? What if he had been more than that when he was an arrancar? Was that what Kionchi had been trying to tell him? That there was more locked away in his memories than he thought? Was it time for Ginjiro to take Kionchi up on his offer? Was it really still true that he didn’t care? Had it ever been at all? 

WC: 709

GP: 14