A Brooding Gloom in Sunshine

She had barely gotten the boxes of her stuff to the Captain’s room before that message was delivered. A message she knew would come, though had hoped it wouldn’t have been so soon. Given who she was and the nature of her promotion, surely there were countless young officers eager to challenge her and get an “easy” promotion. She was comparatively weak, inexperienced in any position of authority, and most people knew her as the girl who had been picked up from Earth under the former Captain Commander’s authority.

But to think a Lieutenant would pick a fight. Shun’s second hand gal, nonetheless. It was times like this that she questioned how well she even knew that man.

A challenge was a challenge, though.

The Captain’s meeting still in the front of everyone’s minds and all of the changes quickly approaching, one would think that someone as important as Hazuki would have better things to do -- like shaking off the disgrace of being nearly killed by a recently turned Vaizard -- but apparently that wasn’t the case.

Quietly, almost solemnly, Miyuki made her way to where the challenge would be held, the distant murmurs of the gathering crowd hint enough that Hazuki was already waiting. This would be her first, serious fight. The first time she would surely have to go all out on a target that wasn’t some practice dummy fit for Academy students. Even more importantly, it was a fight that could potentially seal her position as a Captain, or forever shatter her reputation.

“Welcome, Hazuki,” Miyuki spoke as she entered the field, a broadsword across her back and dagger snuggly hidden in her sash. “I’m glad to see you’re feeling well enough to make it out here.” A lopsided smile was all she could give at this time. “I can’t say I’m as glad to see your priorities aren’t quite as in check, though. Seems like this is more for pointless fighting considering we have bigger issues at hand right now.”

The haori felt heavy on her shoulders despite her words.

“We’re all fighting the same battles no matter our rank.”

She pulled the broadsword from its sheath on her back, the blade blade glimmering in the sunset. Whatever she said wouldn’t sway the determined Lieutenant before her, but she’d at least try. At least say what was on her mind before their conversation devolved into the primitive clash of swords and magic.

“But people like you don’t care about that, do they, Lieutenant?” Her body relaxed into a defensive position as her smile faded. “So come at me when you’re ready.”

[436. 8]

A susurrus passed through the crowd and Hazuki knew Wakahisa had arrived. The crowd parted and there she was, and Hazuki was struck by just how small she was. Hazuki was not a tall girl herself, but Wakahisa was shorter still, and the way she wore her hair made her look very young. She hadn’t really noticed it when she had burst into the Captains’ Hall the other day, but there had been other things on her mind. Pain, and triumph.

They were starting to become recurring themes in her life in the Fourth, and she wondered briefly if she would be able to tear them apart this time—would this challenge bring her pain without triumph or triumph without pain? Secretly, she hoped for neither; triumph was on the table either way and the pain served as an excellent reminder that nothing ever came for free.

A lesson, she hoped, she would be able to impart on Miyuki Wakahisa today.

The captain—if the girl before her could truly be called that—was the first to speak, and Hazuki’s frosty gaze bored into her, clearly unimpressed by what she was hearing. She did not, however, interrupt. Instead, she let Wakahisa say her piece, and when the girl was done, the lieutenant of the Fourth Division said nothing.

Her mother would have laughed out loud. She had been an honest woman, and brave. Her father would have offered an enigmatic smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. It was with those same unsmiling eyes Hazuki looked back at her opponent. Had her life taken a different turn maybe she would have laughed like her mother. Maybe she would have smiled like her father. It would have made her the prettiest girl in the world, but that wasn’t who she was anymore.

Instead, all she gave Wakahisa was a scowl, and at last she finally spoke.

‘People like me. People like me.’ She repeated the phrase, tasting it as if it were rotten fruit. Slowly, she released the hold on her spiritual pressure and it billowed outwards along the ground, never taking her eyes off Wakahisa.

‘Let me tell you something about people like me, Wakahisa. We don’t tolerate weakness. We have no patience for failure. And you, Wakahisa, you are an exemplary specimen of both. You have the audacity to call yourself captain, but you have no right to wear that haori. You haven’t earned it as your peers have done.’

Hazuki was more familiar than most with the trials and tribulations a captain faced on a daily basis, and the girl in front of her was nowhere near ready. Of that, she was entirely certain. It was an affront to the office, and she wondered what exactly had been going through Commander Fujikagi’s mind when he had promoted her. There was no doubt some method to this madness, but from where Hazuki stood she could not see it. And that is why she had come here today. If she couldn’t see it, then it wasn’t real.

‘So while you may be under the impression that this is simply pointless fighting, allow me to teach you a lesson or two about how the Gotei works.’ She took a menacing step toward her opponent, her spiritual pressure weighing down heavily on her surroundings. ‘Everyone has a place in this city, whether it is to teach the young or heal the sick. But there’s another divide, between the weak and the strong. The weak follow. The strong lead. If you cannot prove that you are strong, then you will not be permitted to lead.’

Another step, and her hand went to the pink silk of of her Zanpakutō’s hilt, slowing her heart rate, calming her down. Slowly she drew the blade, the metallic rasp barely audible over the throb of her reiatsu. Its razor edge caught the sunlight and it glinted gold, and then it was free. Hazuki took a deep breath, her heartbeat slowing further still, and then—

She closed the distance, her blade bearing down hard in a one-handed overhead strike on the girl that called herself captain. No quarter was given, nothing was held back; this was entirely unlike her fight with Shinpei. The objective there had always been to bring him back in one piece, but here Hazuki suffered no such handicap. If splitting her opponent open from head to toe was what it was going to take, then so be it.

If Miyuki Wakahisa died, it would her own fault.

And it would prove that she had never been ready for the captaincy.


°767

She wasn’t sure what she expected Hazuki’s response to be. Maybe something less condoning? Literally every syllable that passed her lips just dug her deeper into that pit that Miyuki threw mindless beasts like her into. All the Captain could do was sigh. She didn’t -- couldn’t say anything as Hazuki finished her mildly annoying ramble and took a step forward.

There was nothing that anyone could say that would sway her from this fight. As disappointing as the thought was, Miyuki accepted it as she slid her foot back just a bit, anticipating the lunge. To most of the bystanders, both the Captain and challenger moved at the same time, the Captain turning into a blur of motion entirely with the challenger only losing the definition in her hand as she swung.

But to Miyuki, she was just a fraction of a step behind.

The sword sliced through the edge of the haori that hung from her side, the missing bottom corner still fluttering in the air as Miyuki landed a considerable distance back from her attacker. Panicked on the inside, but even faced before Hazuki, Miyuki couldn’t help but exhale sharply. in that brief moment, she was sure that she had lost her leg -- lost her entire left side. Hazuki was definitely a brute, but a well trained one at the very least.

“Big talk from someone can’t even use her Bankai.” The command so seamlessly fit into her words that the only indication of it being a release was the sudden change in attire and weapons in her hands. Black robes replaced with white, tighter fitting ones, and two swords more fit for combat -- one like a shield, one a proper sword instead of a dagger. How appropriate was it that her first public showing of her Bankai was in the face of someone who claimed she was weak.

“So, please, go on. Tell me more about how you’ve apparently earned this more than I have,” she scoffed as she raised the crystalline sword, bringing forth flames that coated and wrapped around it. “Because, right now, all I see is a spoiled brat who’s pissy because she didn’t get a promotion.”

Big words, considering Miyuki made no move on her attacker. She just stayed her respectable distance, watching for Hazuki’s next lunge. After all, the Captain was pretty sure she felt the pull of that last swing nearly throw her off balance. She could only imagine what it would feel like to actually get hit.

No, this was a fight she’d have to stay very far away from. Ranged attacks when necessary, dodging everything. She’d have to wear her attacker out. Even better? It helped her stick to her morals -- she was just defending herself, after all.

That didn’t really change the fact that she was clearly a lot more focused on the sword that Hazuki held so casually.

[483. 9]
[17]

Reiatsu: 290
Strength: 120
Defense: 25
Speed: 120
Spirit: 25

Bankai power

The edge of the blade had stopped just short of hitting the ground, a shockwave of air spreading rapidly from its tip. It unsettled dirt, kicked up dust, and it caught the solitary scrap of white fabric in its turbulent embrace, lifting it up into the air until Hazuki’s hand shot out, snatching it. Wakahisa had dodged, but the lieutenant had made first contact.

She didn’t bother turning to her opponent even as the surge of Reiatsu overwhelmed the crowd. She simply straightened up, rubbing the the corner of the haori between her fingers, a faraway look in her eyes. Such a fine material. So soft, so elegant.

Now, she smiled. Her eyes hardened and a mirthless chuckle escaped her lips as she finally deigned to acknowledge her opponent’s words, and then Hazuki turned to Wakahisa, tossing the scrap aside.

‘Oh, but my dear foolish girl,’ she began, her tone low and dangerous. ‘I never said I did. That’s why I’m here. To prove that I’m better than you.’ Lazily, she twirled her blade in her fingers, taking another step—bursting with intent—toward the so-called captain. Her mentor would have slapped her for such needless flair, but Hazuki was who she was; if she couldn’t wield her blade with a modicum of elegance then she she may as well have been using her bare knuckles. Kasumi had broken innumerable bad habits of Hazuki’s, but this was the one that always stuck, no matter how hard she tried.

The blade rotated, rotated, rotated, its owner taking in the sight of her opponent’s Bankai. So small, so insignificant. Needless to say, she was... Unimpressed. The blade slowed, and came to a halt.

‘But you’re doing a good enough job of that on your own, aren’t you? A captain, using her Bankai against a lieutenant who hasn’t even achieved Shikai, much less released it. A captain, whose only option is to run like a coward.’ Hazuki tsked at her. ‘I’m sure you’re instilling your division with a great deal of faith in your abilities to lead them, Wakahisa,’ she said, her tone chiding. As if she were talking to a child. ‘Or perhaps they see what I see:’

She swung her blade softly from one side to another. Again, and again, always keeping it in movement. It swayed to and fro hypnotically, the soft rush of air accentuating the word she repeated with every stroke, her voice nothing more than a hiss.

‘Weak,

‘Weak,

‘Weak.’

Psychological warfare was something far too few Shinigami employed. Besides, the sound soothed Hazuki as she pondered her next move, never taking her eyes off the girl in front of her. A vertical cut was easy to dodge, but devastating. The alternative, though less powerful, was far less easy to deal with.

A deep breath. Her sword returned to her sheath for a brief moment, and in an almost perfect mimicry of Shinpei Minamoto’s movements, it came hurtling out at a blinding speed aimed at Wakahisa’s midsection. Hazuki’s movement forward was powerful; not quite a lunge but a surge, taking her straight at her opponent. Even if she dodged—and it was very likely she would, the girl was fast—the shockwave alone would be overpowering.

Miyuki Wakahisa couldn’t run forever, not unless she wanted to be laughed out of Seireitei. Her reputation had a best-before date, and sooner or later, her time would run out.

Hazuki, on the other hand, had all the time in the world.


°581

Hazuki was a bitch.

Everything Miyuki had to say was always one-upped, like a particularly cranky elder scolding a rambunctious hooligan. She wanted to just push it aside as the ramblings of someone who didn’t know what they were talking about -- wanted to just believe the facade of confidence.

But it was true. Running away was all Miyuki was even remotely good at. Fighting -- confrontation -- none of that was anything she had any experience. No matter how much wisdom she thought she could bring to the Third, the culture of the Seireitei would always laugh at her and her childish pursuits.

She was a joke among her peers.

Her annoyed stare fell down to Hazuki’s sword, watching as it spun around haphazardly. Just focus on the next attack. Hazuki’s just trying to play mind games -- ignore it and everything will be fine. The Captain shifted her weight behind the shield-like sword in front of her using it to protect pretty much all of her right side except her shoulder, though leaving her left side -- the side holding the sword -- exposed.

There was nothing to say -- she wouldn’t bait in more comments. She wouldn’t play that sort of game, no matter how badly she wanted to point out that it was Hazuki who wanted to test Miyuki’s strength. Doing anything but putting her best foot forward would be an insult. Besides, it wasn’t Miyuki’s fault someone without Shikai was challen--

Hazuki’s blade cracked against the edge of the shield at the same moment Miyuki twisted her body to the side in hopes of hiding behind her only means of defense. The sound that followed just a fraction of a second later was something more like a sloppy crack and the sound of metal hitting the floor beneath them.

Of course, Miyuki had dashed back a few paces the moment that weird sound hit her ears, anticipating it to be some sort of Hadou, but as she settled back on the ground an agonising pain ripped through her entire right side. At the same moment, her eyes fell down to the discarded shield, blood splattered across the backside of it.

Right as the sound of a chunk of flesh hitting the ground reached her ears, she dared a glance down to her shoulder, instantly feeling the contents of her stomach churn. What was once a shoulder was now a large, crying wound that shot straight down to the bone. Well, what remained of the bone. Bloodied fragments had sliced through the flesh, tearing up and otherwise professional cut. A few chunks of meat hung listlessly from her arm, just one sudden movement from falling off and to the ground like the previous bit.

The rest of the bone, albeit covered by mostly healthy flesh, had been shattered right down to the elbow, bits and pieces protruding enough to leave little bumps across her forearm -- some of which had managed to slice through the flesh and expose their white tips. The same could be said for the right side of her collarbone and shoulder blade, though the arm is where most of the gore could be found.

Tears stung at her eyes as she clenched her jaw. A scream was right behind her lips, but never made a sound as she eyed Hazuki. Pain wasn’t something any amount of training or books could prepare anyone for. The adrenaline, the fear, the need to just rip and tear at the source of the wound in vain hope of somehow ripping it off from the body to make it feel better.

Though… In a way… Miyuki could understand why some people enjoyed it.

Was it stupid to try and block not only seconds after she had decided to not stay near her opponent? Definitely.

Overdosing on adrenaline, the scream came out in the form of a roar, accompanied by a wide swing of her sword, the motion making the few stray bits of flesh fall to the ground sloppily. From her sword reached a whip of fire that extended across the field and straight for Hazuki, desperately trying to either burn her midsection, or force her back a few steps. Anything to counter attack. Anything to make sure this sort of pain didn’t happen again.

[718. 14]
[31]

It appeared even Wakahisa had figured out that running was no longer an option, and Hazuki truly hadn’t expected her opponent to attempt a block—but it wasn’t really a block, was it? The way she had tried to hide behind her shield, the way she had put yet more distance between the two of them...

It was nothing but a flinch.

As her blade cut into Wakahisa’s arm, Hazuki realized things were far worse than she had first imagined. She almost reconsidered her objective—she would be doing the Third a favor by removing this pitiable creature from their sight—but no, no, she had made up her mind already. This was only going to end one way.

The flesh offered very little resistance, and Hazuki could feel the bone underneath shatter. It was a gritty feeling, satisfying and visceral, and blood sprayed everywhere. Flinch or not, Wakahisa had managed to prevent herself being cleaved in two, but this was an excellent display of the so-called captain’s fragility. She may have been strong and fast, but cutting her was like cutting paper.

Hazuki’s expression soured as she whipped her blade away from herself, spattering Wakahisa’s blood on the ground. How had this girl become a captain? Surely there had been other candidates? Was the Captain Proficiency Test so broken as to let someone who was so far from ready assume the position? The girl in front of her was a bleeding, trembling wreck, and it was clearer now than it had ever been: she was not fit to lead a division. A lieutenancy would have suited her better, and would have given her a figure to look up to and learn from, but to thrust her into the haori like this...

Hazuki almost wondered if Commander Fujikagi had done it as a form of cruel punishment. They must both have known that a challenge would come, and Bankai was not a tool to rely on for something so mundane. What was it Wakahisa had said earlier? We’re all fighting the same battles? How wrong she had been. Hazuki had seen, first-hand, what one of the half-breeds was capable of, and the captains of the Gotei were supposed to be the very best Seireitei had. If the Lightbringer had been able to hospitalize Hazuki, it didn’t take much of an imagination to think of what he would be able to do to this girl. If Miyuki Wakahisa was supposed to be one of Seireitei’s greatest, then Seireitei was doomed, and the poor girl would be one of the first to die. After all, she was wearing the largest, brightest target any Hollow-breed could imagine: the haori.

As if to accentuate Hazuki’s point, Wakahisa had finally had enough, and the bottled up emotions—fear, rage, and desperation—came pouring out of her as she swung her burning blade at Hazuki, the flames extending, whiplike, to strike her at this distance.

Hazuki didn’t move. She didn’t so much as blink, her eyes wide open and glaring. The fire enveloped her as the blade brought them past, and parts of her uniform burst into flames, the material unable to withstand the heat.

But the lieutenant of the Fourth Division withstood the heat just fine. Her uniform burning in patches, she remained still for a heartbeat. The wooden lieutenant’s insignia at her waist was smoldering, the face of it charred. The parts of her skin that had been exposed were tinged a light red, as if she had been sunburned, and for a second or two everything seemed uncertain. Then Hazuki threw her head back and laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that filled the courtyard. Was this truly all Miyuki Wakahisa, captain of the Third Division, could do? It was too much to bear. It was too sad, too hopeless. Hazuki’s spiritual pressure surged rubine, smothering the flames on her uniform, and her laughter came to an end as wisps of smoke rose off the black fabric like an extinguished candle.

‘You fail,’ she said, her pupils ringed in a vivid pink, like a rose-colored solar eclipse. She hefted her blade, raising it to her side and gripping it with both hands. The tip was pointing straight at her opponent—no, Wakahisa was no longer an opponent. Wakahisa was prey.

She took careful aim. Middle of the chest, center mass would do nicely. A simple, brutish lunge forward, putting her entire weight into her thrust. Simple, but effective. A split second passed, and then Hazuki moved, her uniformed silhouette leaving a billowing trail of pink behind her as she rushed at Wakahisa like a shark on the hunt.

If the good captain of the Third was lucky, there’d be enough of her left afterward for her subordinates to try to piece together.

But her odds weren’t great.


°802

As she finished her swing, the tail end of the fire slowly lagging behind, she moved her hand over her burning shoulder. Relaxing her grip on the sword just enough to focus on the comforting glow of her Kaido, she took a few steps back to put as much distance between her and Hazuki as possible. After all, it’d be pretty embarrassing to just keel over due to blood loss before either of them could actually finish the fight.

You shouldn’t worry about healing right now, Miyuki. You’re splitting your attention.
You pick NOW to open your trap? Some advice sooner would have been helpful.
Please, just focus.

As the flesh on her shoulder patched together and the haze of the flames died off to reveal a smug princess, Miyuki took another small step back, clenching her jaw. Miyuki hadn’t expected much -- not really anything at all to come of that attack. But to be laughed at? She wanted to say something smart and witty -- wanted to put that bitch in her place with whatever arrogant comment came to mind, but everything was blurry and incoherent.

Well, this was her first time using Bankai in combat. No wonder she was already tired.

Both Hazuki and Miyuki readied themselves at almost nearly the same time, though Miyuki trailed just a fraction of a second behind. As she tore her hand away from the wound to better angle the sword, she jabbed her attention at the green mist, willing it to stay put for just a moment longer. Just long enough to fix the shoulder. To stop the pain. Anything to make it more bearable.

Again, Hazuki jumped forward, Miyuki stepped to the side, closely dodging the tip of the blade. This time, however, she didn’t dance away to the other side of the field. She moved only enough to not get impaled then pivoted her body to strike. Were it not for the fact that the strain of her Bankai and the weight of Hazuki’s spiritual pressure, there might have even been a respectable form to the motion. The cloud of her Kaido faded as she moved her once limp arm. grabbing her sword with both hands and slashed at Hazuki’s side.

Her arm screamed in agony, the still shattered parts of it dislocating even further and ripping into her muscles all from the vain, full out attack. It didn’t matter -- this was a last ditch attack. Everything was put into it. Either she’d successfully wound Hazuki for the first time this afternoon, or she’d end up dead where she stood.

Thick, disgusting blood splattered across the ground beneath the two fighters.

[444. 8]
[39]

Another flinch, but this one felt much more like a conscious decision than a reflexive act of self-preservation. It was still rife with fear, of course: fear of pain, fear of defeat, even fear of death, but this time it had been Wakahisa dodging. A step in the right direction, and enough to narrowly avoid an end to this ordeal—for now.

Wisely, the girl had used the time Hazuki had spent laughing at her to attempt to salvage what she could from the ragged, bloody mess that was her arm, but as always there was never quite enough time before Hazuki was upon her again. She wondered if Wakahisa was learning something from all this. No, she didn’t wonder. She hoped. It might very well have been what would save the would-be Captain some time in the future.

This time, however, it was doubtful. Her lunge had been unsuccessful, but there was no longer any need to cover any ground to get to her target. That was something that played wildly in Hazuki’s favor, even with Wakahisa’s Bankai factored in. Here, at this range, Hazuki dominated, and she knew it.

She saw it coming. It was obvious. Her body spun, hair fanning out behind her. Her Zanpakutō felt lighter, less bound by inertia, as she twirled to meet the oncoming blow, and the parry was anything but lazy: it was her swordsmanship that would trump Wakahisa this time, not the strength of her limbs. Her blade was a flash, like a glinting feather in the wind, and in the instant before it clashed with Wakahisa’s own burning sword it seemed to regain its lost weight. Momentum was regained, and the lieutenant of the Fourth Division forced her opponent’s blade back, their point of contact sparking violently in vivid pink and golden yellow edged in blue.

Their tabi were stained red, and now it was time for Hazuki to finish it. Her sword dipped and their eyes met, the world around them disappearing behind a reiatsu-induced haze stained pink. In that instant, they were alone, not even the Captain-Commander’s spiritual pressure reaching them from his vantage point at the forefront of the crowd. He would be the first witness of what came next.

Hazuki’s sword made no noise as it slipped between Wakahisa’s ribs, and the would-be Captain’s eyes widened in shock and pain, her face inches from Hazuki’s. Yes, it hurt, but with a sword through one lung it was difficult to voice it. The roaring of their spiritual pressures flickered once, twice, and then it faded. Finally, the crowd was audible to the combatants again, but they made no sound. All was deathly quiet.

‘Weak,’ she breathed, as if to hammer the point home once and for all.

Then she stepped back, pulling her sword free with a sickening squelch, and Wakahisa’s body keeled over forwards, a pool of blood rapidly expanding. Her tabi already ruined, Hazuki stepped into it unceremoniously and pulled the haori off her opponent’s back, holding it up for the world to see.

This was it. Tradition and law dictated that the moment she put it on, she was the new captain of the Third Division, and all eyes were upon her, waiting with bated breath for her to declare herself their commanding officer.

Slowly, she brought her hands together. Carefully, she nestled the blade of her Zanpakutō in the white fabric.

Deliberately, used it to wipe her blade clean of blood before tossing it in a crumpled, bloodstained heap on top of Miyuki Wakahisa’s body.

‘I want you to remember this, Wakahisa,’ she said, her voice low but audible to all. ‘I want you to remember that the only reason you’re a captain at all is because I let you be.’ The unspoken implication that the woman at her feet would never outrank Lieutenant Hazuki of the Fourth Division was clear enough.

She sheathed her blade, and then made a gesture for two of the onlookers to approach.

‘Your commanding officer needs medical attention. Make sure she gets it,’ she ordered. They sprung into action, and Hazuki knelt long enough to leave Wakahisa some parting words.

‘One day someone else will come for that haori,’ she whispered, hoping Wakahisa could hear her. ‘When they do, know that we’d love to have you in the Fourth Division.’

With that, Hazuki stood, leaving the medics to their work. She turned on her heel and walked away, the crowd parting long before she reached it. On the edge of it stood Tokiyo Fujikagi.

She drew up beside him, giving him a sidelong glance. This entire time he had been watching, wordlessly. For a moment they stood there in silence, as if in reflection.

Hazuki was the first to speak, her voice muted, tone respectful.

‘Do you disapprove of my methods, Commander?’


°805

‘Tough Love’ seemed like an inappropriate cliche for the bitter exchange between Hazuki and the now felled Captain Wakahisa. There wasn’t a lot of love in where the Lieutenant’s blade had gone into the the woman she had challenge, and there was even less in the parting gesture. The haori draped over Miyuki might as well have been a funerary veil. This courtyard might as well have been her tomb.

Hazuki wore her anger well and her challenge today had made a bold statement. It would be difficult, if not impossible, for Miyuki to truly save face from such an egregious loss. Yet then again, the last time this courtyard was used for a challenge, one person with a Bankai was left in a pool of their own blood by someone who did not appear to have one. The man who did the cutting? Shun Minamoto, the Captain of the Fourth and Hazuki’s superior officer. It was no small wonder where she had her bravado encouraged, although it was Tokiyo’s suspicion the two were merely a complimentary pair that happened to collide under auspicious circumstances rather than having colluded.

And the man who was left in the pool of their own blood? That was, of course, Tokiyo himself.

He liked to think he turned out okay.

However, seeing Captain Wakahisa face down with the robes of her station wadded up on her back did not draw out his empathy or any painful flashbacks, it only drew out his disappointment. The prospect of his nomination being vindicated would have been a welcomed winfall. Or the prospect of prying a very valuable tool of Shun’s away from Captain Minamoto’s close watch, and giving her the autonomy to spread Tokiyo’s new vision to with the sort of iron grip that Gotei needed…

All of those good scenarios, all of those easy wins, were walking out of this courtyard with Hazuki.

The Lieutenant came to a stop at his side and asked the simple question she needed to ask. The Commander couldn’t help but wonder just how much cheek she wanted taken by the only person who could hear her ask. And in her own way, by posing this to him, she sent her own message disapproving of his methods. He returned her almost somber tone in an equal capacity, “No, Hazuki. On the whole, I do not.”

He slipped his glance toward the gate she was headed her, where the crowd had already cleared a neat path for her to continue walking unimpeded, none of them willing to stand any close than one sword-arm nearer to the ice-cold victor.

Tokiyo’s eyes, and his attention, and his tired, skeptical face turned back towards the far younger Officer. “Just the one, really.”

Word count // 457 = 9 || 9

Walkren stepped out from the precipice of the crowd.

All eyes were focused on the imperious Lieutenant. Every ear listened as she made it utterly obvious that she was in control. That she alone chose to keep Miyuki in power. That is was just by her whim to keep the untested Captain in power. The audacity was astounding. Walkren loved it, but she was a biiiiitch. The Lieutenant's moves had also caught Walkren’s eye. Ruthless. Relentless. Rancorous. If only her opponent had been able to keep up. Maybe if she had a better adversary. Someone who actually knew how to fight.

Walkren chuckled under his breath.

He could probably have taken either of them on. It would be as simple as stating his desire for a challenge. The Captain of the Third was obviously not yet fit to hold the position. No one would question an ambitious soldier trying to rocket himself through the ranks, even as unseated as he was. He would no doubt have many, many challenges himself once he took over. The thought excited him. Plus, he would be a captain. A person of power. Someone to respect. Someone to fear.

Or just a fight with the Lieutenant. Not a challenge, not a declaration of dominance, just a simple one on one fight, would be enough. The way she had dealt with the Captain, it wasn’t as if she was an ally being challenged to a fight. No, Walkren had seen the desire to kill in those eyes. It was hot. Not enough people had that fire in their eyes in the Seireitei. Too many people forget that Shinigami are soldiers. Mercy is not an option.

The exact reason he was stepping forward.

He had a job to do.

Clashing with the vicious Lieutenant would have to wait.

In an instant, he was beside the dying Captain. An emerald glow softly danced off of his outstretched hand as he started working Kaido into her gushing wounds. Threads of his spiritual energy weaved through her wounds like stitches, pulling them shut tight and healing most of the life threatening damage before the Captain bled out. The other medic was someone he didn’t know, but Walkren let the man do his work. He could lose him after they got Miyuki to a more secure location.

Walkren started to speak, quietly so he could continue to listen to Hazuki’s little speech, “It’s alright, Captain. Look’s like you’re going to live. Just rest now, we’ve got you.”

The Captain’s eyes fluttered in and out of consciousness. Not sure if his words had reached the weak Shinigami, Walkren wove a feeling of calm from his Zanpakuto into Miyuki. At the very least, the girl could relax when literally her entire life was out of her control and she was practically a joke. She would have to work hard to regain any semblance of respect from the Third, or from most of the Seireitei for that matter. Walkren would change that.

He would change a lot.

In due time, he would change a lot.

[511] [10] [10]

She heaved a heavy breath, trying to decompress after her ordeal. Her own adrenaline high was coming to an end, and Hazuki realized she wanted nothing more than to curl up somewhere with a book.

She made no mention of her deep respect for the Third or their work.

She made no mention of her reluctance to wear a haori of her own.

She made no mention of the fact that this had been a tactical move to the benefit of the Gotei as a whole just as much as it had been an assertion of dominance.

She suspected the Captain-Commander knew all these things.

Instead, all she gave was a simple affirmation that the message, though perhaps not fully understood, had at the very least been received.

‘Yes, sir.’

She wondered if any of the other captains had seen what she had seen. For now, she could only hope they knew what they were up against.

Her back straightened to attention and she nodded her farewell to Commander Fujikagi, and she finally departed, leaving behind her an oppressive hush. Her burns stung a little as she walked, but she didn’t show it. Her lone procession through the parted crowd was made in silence, and when she got to the division gate, she paused long enough to take the lieutenant’s insignia off her obi. Aizawa had cleaved it nearly in two, Wakahisa had burned it, and while what remained of the wooden block certainly told a story, it was unsightly. Crude. She tossed it to one side. She needed a new one.

Shun had mentioned his father was a carpenter.

Perhaps it was worth visiting the Minamoto estate.


°278

EXIT HAZUKI