Come Alive In The Fall [Hazuki]

Her desk was bare save for the notebook and the glossy black fountain pen, and Hazuki flipped through the thick, cream-colored pages—past pages of meticulous construction plans and timetables, past hastily scribbled AI directives—until at last she reached a page with nothing on it but a list of names. There was no title, no explanation; only a simple list of twelve names, each a little more imposing than the next. Some Hazuki had known, others she had found out herself. Some had come as a complete surprise, but then nothing was as it seemed in a Seireitei that was so similar to and yet so different from the Seireitei she had grown up in.

It was as they said, whoever they were: the only constant was change.

She unscrewed the cap on the fountain pen. Some of these names belonged to dead people, and she marked them as such, pausing for a moment at Aizawa’s name before deciding not to mark him as deceased quite yet. No matter how she felt about what had happened, he was—technically—still out there somewhere, like a rabid dog broken free of his leash. Sooner or later he would have to be put down. In the end, Hazuki marked him the same way she marked von Creg: fallen. Luckily, only two names had succumbed to that ominous fate worse than death, but it did little to redeem the survivors, most of which were missing and hadn’t been seen or heard from in years.

What Hazuki was most focused on, however, was that the list was incomplete. Shun had rid the world of at least one of them, but it had really only proved that more were out there, that the list hadn’t been exhaustive. Something told her Chinda knew more than she was letting on, and that meant it wouldn’t be long before the two of them crossed paths once again—one way or another. It wasn’t answers she wanted out of Chinda, not really—what Hazuki was after was a more complete framing of her questions. The answers would reveal themselves in time; it was far more important she start asking the right questions.

She was roused from her thoughts by a knock at the door, and to her surprise it was none other than Shinoda who entered. They hadn’t spoken since the so-called invasion, and Hazuki closed the notebook as Shinoda greeted her, a terse—almost reluctant—formality that piqued Hazuki’s curiosity.

‘And good evening to you, lieutenant,’ she responded, her flat grey eyes hiding their suspicion as Shinoda approached through the dying light filtering in through the windows. Hazuki could sense restraint radiating off the younger Shinigami, an active attempt at keeping her emotions in check. She didn’t let go of her pen just yet, but leaned back in her chair and fixed her gaze on her visitor.

‘Someone my own si—’ she began, but she caught sight of the haori hanging on the wall near the door and it dawned on her why Kasumi Shinoda had come here.

‘Ah, you’re here about my predecessor, are you? I take it you weren’t there in person. What exactly have you heard?’


°532

The captain's calm reaction caught Kasumi off guard. While their last meeting hadn't included any type of violence she had been convinced that this time some sort of aggression – even if a verbal one – would certainly appear. That way Hazuki's true nature would rear its ugly head and everything would fall into its place. Instead, the woman sitting on the other side of the desk simply wanted to know what Kasumi had heard about the whole scenario?

Slightly baffled the young lieutenant tried to gather the rumours about the second clash between Miyuki and the current captain of the Third. There had been quite a few which she had heard floating around the Fifth. A small frown appeared on Kasumi's forehead as her eyebrows slid towards each other when the word 'coward' came to mind.

“Instead of having taken her haori the first time you've won, you came back after letting her believe you had been simply mocking her, and then you've humiliated her again by forcing her into giving you her haori.” Kasumi concluded visibly upset about the bullying behaviour Hazuki had been displaying. Why else hadn't she taken the captain's spot after their first fight if it wasn't in hope of replaying the scene and have a valid reason to beat Miyuki into the hospital, again.

The idea of taking something by force simply because you wanted to have it still left her somewhat uncomfortable. Having been stronger than a lot of her peers wherever she went for quite some time, Kasumi had grown accustomed to the idea of using that power to help others out instead of forcing her will upon them.

“The Captain Commander stepped in, but it was obvious that he simply wanted to prevent possible bloodshed. Now people are calling Miyuki a coward behind her back.”

The mere idea caused Kasumi to boil, and it cost her quite some effort not to growl angrily at the captain. Somehow she had managed to stay fairly calm so far, even though her heart was beating violently against her chest.

“Are you pleased now? Do you enjoy humiliating people like that?”

Wide-eyed, she stared at Hazuki with crystal clear eyes. Unsure whether or not she had to expect violence – the idea of the dark haired woman being a brute was etched into the girl's mind and she couldn't help but to feel surprised every time that Hazuki spoke instead of shouting – she steadied her breathing and stood preternaturally still with her chin held high.


Words: 417/1022

‘Coward,’ said Hazuki, tasting the word. She paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, and then—

‘Coward is not a fair assessment. I gave her a chance to walk away, to spare herself the humiliation. A coward would have taken it. No, Wakahisa is stupid. Weak. Ineffectual. A coward, however, she is not.’

Some would no doubt have considered a refusal to give up in the face of insurmountable odds nothing short of bravery, though Hazuki knew that such glory was in reality reserved only for those who gambled and won. Those unfortunate enough to lose were seldom remembered for their bravery—only their foolishness. Hazuki had posed those insurmountable odds to Wakahisa twice, but what most people had failed to realize that the two encounters could not have been more dissimilar. The first time had merely been an effort to break the young captain down in order to give her the opportunity to build herself up again, stronger and harder. The second time had been punishment for failing to act on that very opportunity. There was a time and a place for gentle learning; captaincy in the Gotei was not it.

‘Do you remember what I told you about leadership, lieutenant? Inspiration and integrity. Hard work. Leading by example. Shinigami place their faith in their officers, and they deserve to have it rewarded. You say it was obvious Commander Fujikagi wanted to prevent bloodshed, yet he made no move to prevent Wakahisa from unleashing her Zanpakutō and attempting to strike me.’ Normally, Hazuki would have smirked at that, but the accusations Shinoda was leveling at her were far from humorous. As if Miyuki Wakahisa’s blatant incompetence was somehow Hazuki’s fault.

‘You’re a bright young girl, I’m sure you can see why: not even he, the man who appointed her captain in the first place, had any faith in her. His intervention was the final nail in her coffin, the most telling indictment of her ability to lead. Her reputation died that day, and with it her dreams—and I never so much as touched her.’

Finally, Hazuki put the pen down in front of her and sighed. She could hardly fault this young girl for her naïveté; Hazuki was young as it was and Shinoda was younger still. As a newly promoted lieutenant, it was clear she was moving up in the world. It was also clear she needed guidance.

‘Violence is an integral part of our lives, lieutenant,’ she continued, her tone now a fraction less... Strict. ‘You yourself are second in command of a division whose only purpose is violence. Our leadership is the result of violence, our work is to conduct violence, and as long as our duty remains the same, we will always revel in it. Captain Chinda understood this when she claimed the Second for her own. She understood it when she defended her claim. And the fact that she left you in charge of the Fifth Division indicates to me that she believes you understand it too. One thing is certain,’ she said, eyes not leaving Shinoda’s.

‘She obviously believes your subordinates have faith in you. Is their faith misplaced?’


°527

Everything that the captain said about Miyuki should have angered the young lieutenant beyond simply punching Hazuki in that delicate face of hers, but the implication made by the mentioning of Tokiyo's choice of action kept her numb and silent. If things had really went down the way Hazuki was describing them, then all of these rumours about Miyuki being 'a coward', 'too weak' and 'unfit to lead' had come into existence with the Captain Commander's help instead of Hazuki's. This complicated the matters because now she couldn't completely blame the older Shinigami for the events which led up to this meeting. While she had been to one to challenge Miyuki, it had simply been a matter of time for someone to do it. If it hadn't been her it would have been another candidate, perhaps a week later, perhaps a month. Still, the clash for the haori of the Third would have been inevitable.

This brought Kasumi to why Tokiyo had lost his faith in the captain he himself had appointed not too long ago. It felt like she was missing something crucial, something she had no clue of that prevented her from forming the full picture and understand the steps the Commander had taken. Of course, it bothered her. Had someone come up to her and tried to bully her out of the lieutenant's badge, Kasumi would have done her best to smack them around and keep her rank, but there appeared to be more than just strength to holding onto your spot. Feeling the various assumptions collide in the back of her mind she rubbed her temple as if to prevent the upcoming headache.

“I'm..” she bit the inside of her cheek, then shoved aside her pride and the remnants of her personal feelings. “confused.”

As the woman signed in response, Kasumi's body tensed because the sound quickly managed to ruffle some of her feathers again. She didn't need for Hazuki to act as if she was some stupid kid – the mere idea irked her. The girl glared briefly at the blank expression across the table, her lips curled in preparation to defend herself and she was about to spit something rude towards the captain when the latter's voice changed. It was a subtle change, but one that left Kasumi more embarrassed about her own overreaction than about anything else.

Looking up at Hazuki again, she stubbornly held onto that steely gaze while keeping her back straight. She didn't want to show any signs weakness or doubt. 'No' was the ready answer on the tip of her tongue, because the last thing she needed now was for Hazuki to spread rumours about her discomfort regarding her position and the indecisiveness that came with it. Unfortunately, she didn't feel like she could lie now. All of a sudden the whole situation felt like a trap, and Kasumi decided to take her opponent head on.

“I don't know. While I would do whatever is required to keep them safe, to try to keep them on the right track, I have no idea why anyone of them would have any faith in me. They don't know me.” She paused. Unsure if this was a good idea, she knew that it was too late now.

“From all the people I've ever met I had the most faith in Kiriko.” The wave of warmth she felt was followed by something dull and empty, throbbing almost.

“And where did that leave me?”

The question seemed to echo across the room, Kasumi felt it press heavily on her chest. Never before had she voiced it to anyone. She had barely realized until now how much it actually bothered her even after all of this time. Turning away to face the window she took a deep breath before snapping out of the suffocating feelings and potential regret.

“My apologies, I shouldn't have said that.”

She coldly stated while staring at the window. Putting faith into someone wasn't something she thought to be able to do any time soon. If anything she wanted to have faith in her own abilities to keep the Fifth safe and functioning, but the division was so different from what she was used to.

“I want to be there for them, to be able to inspire them to do better, but some are,” she tried to find the right words but it was hard to describe the situation her division was in. “some are used to doing things their way, and I won't want to have to force them to change their ways, but the way things are now they seem rather inefficient.”

Crossing her arms she faced Hazuki once more. It was odd, having come here to argue about what had happened to Miyuki she somehow ended up looking for advice. This wasn't supposed to be happening, she should be hating the brute whose sword had cut more than one of her friends, and yet she couldn't. It was frustrating to say the least.


Words: 834/ 1856

Confused, she had said. It was easy to see why: Hazuki herself had never really fully understood why Commander Fujikagi had made the misguided decision of allowing Wakahisa to assume command of a division. In a moment of weakness, she had let slip at least one of her theories to her new lieutenant—that the girl had simply slept her way to the top somehow—but Hazuki wasn’t entirely convinced it was true. It had been a spur of the moment insult that she had been unable to contain.

For some onlookers it may have seemed as though the former captain was the one defending her title, but in reality the only one of them who was truly defending anything was Hazuki: she was championing the good reputation of the captains, fighting against a girl who had done nothing but smear the haori and the office that bore it. Her cause had been vindicated the moment she had won; she had protected the good name of the Third and the captaincy both, and the dire necessity of her actions had retroactively been motivated by the complete lack of effort she had needed to expend.

Friendship, Shinoda would one day learn, was a very poor indicator of suitability for captaincy. Given her potential, Hazuki hoped that day would be upon them soon. She didn’t like having to manage other divisions as she had managed the Third from her then-home in the Fourth. She wouldn’t like having to manage the Fifth from her home in the Third. Fujikagi had been very far off the mark when he had assumed Hazuki’s crusade against her incompetent predecessor was in any way personal—rather the opposite. It could have been anyone, and that included whoever stepped up to fill Captain Chinda’s old haori. Far better be it to help mold Shinoda into someone worthy of that station.

Letting the brief comment about Kiriko go unaddressed for the time being, Hazuki rose from her seat, the two scabbards at her hip clacking together softly as she moved. Manipulation was not her forte and never had been; she was far too blunt for that. She lacked the silver tongue necessary to con someone into doing her bidding unknowingly, much in the same way her mentor had. She tackled problems head-on, openly.

She turned to the same window Shinoda had been gazing out of, the setting sun painting the scene that lay before them a vivid blend of orange and pink.

‘If your subordinates not knowing you is the problem, either embrace that fact or let them in. My subordinates don’t know me. Very few people do. All they need to know is what I expect from them. They needn’t know why, and seldom how; what matters is results. I trust my subordinates enough to let them decide how to best tackle a problem. I like to think they trust the rank of captain enough to realize that only I need to worry about why they’re tackling it. That is my relationship with my division.’

She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear and gave Shinoda a look out of the corner of her eye, something pensive hinted at in Hazuki’s expression.

‘But if that’s not the kind of leader you want to be, then you have to be ready to teach them who you are. Show them, through decisive action, what kind of person you are. Show them a better way.’

That, really, was all Hazuki had been doing thus far in the Third. A return to simpler times, because at the end of the day, people liked simplicity. They liked the tried and true, they liked going back to their old, established identity. Change wasn’t always good, and Hazuki was simply sticking to what she knew.

‘You know,’ she said, a faint smile touching her lips, ‘I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing here. In this office, that is. I have no grand plans for the Third, no great vision. All I can do, really, is take the lessons my betters have given me to heart. To go back to what this division once was—a division that commanded respect and admiration rather than being mocked and ridiculed. I certainly wouldn’t be the first to try it; the Kiriko I grew up knowing did the exact same, as did countless captains before her.’

She sighed again, a wistful sort of sound that probably couldn’t convey the complex feelings she had of wishing everyone simply learned their place in life. ‘Every part of life is stratified, Shinoda. Learn from those above, and teach those below.’


°771

Attentively listening to the way the Third functioned now, under Hazuki, the picture painted by its new captain made it seem as if running a division was easy. In this very moment, a – rather large – part of her wanted to be like the taller woman standing next to her. If only Kasumi could care less about everyone's feelings, then she wouldn't have been afraid to give out orders to those who seemed to doubt her ability to decide and would have fought Nanami for real. Of course she had felt the longing to throw herself into the battle with every fiber in her body, but her mind had refused to accept the savage actions which would have certainly flown from that indulgence.

Silently staring through the glass, she turned into herself a little bit more. Hazuki had spoken of leading by example not too long ago, and that's exactly what the white-haired teenager had tried to do when she had pulled back from her fight with Nanami. As their dispute had came into existence because of the different perspectives they had on teaching through violence, Kasumi had been unable to use force to prove her point because it would have been contradictory. That's why instead of shooting herself in the foot, she had played along for the first couple of rounds before trying to set the right example by letting go of the fight. This action should have proven to Nanami and all the bystanders that violence among Shinigami was optional – that it was an individual choice and nobody was obliged to pick it.

The sideways peering she used to see whether or not Hazuki's face would betray any of her thoughts gave Kasumi the right incentive when a gentle smile came into her field of vision. If the captain was being honest, and there really was no reason for her to be lying now, then even she wasn't completely certain about everything she did. In some odd way it was comforting to know that, it also allowed for the younger Shinigami to tell more of the things she had been stacking in some back corner of her mind.

“I've tried, you know, the leading by example part.. and the showing who I am, but it didn't really work out the way I had planned it to.” She spoke up gently and then awkwardly turned away because she felt too embarrassed about her failure. A couple of seconds ticked by before she slowly started to realize that having come this far, backing out now wouldn't be of any benefit to her future. The least she could do was explain everything and take in what her fellow Shinigami had to say.

“Perhaps I should have fought her with everything I had, but I was trying to prove them that violence among us, the Shinigami, was optional. That's why I just.. I couldn't hurt her, so I never gave it my all.”

'You know that it felt good to be in control, to be able to lash out and let go.'

That's exactly what's worrying me, she fired back at Vör while simultaneously throwing out her worst fear with a horrified voice. “I was enjoying the fight.. it made me feel alive. What does that make me?”

With disbelief towards her own feelings dripping form her face Kasumi sought Hazuki's eyes. Would the woman judge her to be a monster? A freak who lacked control? A sadist, perhaps?


Words: 576/ 2432

By now, the sun had finally dipped beneath the horizon completely, leaving Seireitei in twilight. The whitewashed walls of the fortress-city looked almost blue in the not-quite-darkness: a reflection, in a sense, of the darkening cloudless sky above. Across the city, lanterns were coming alight, dotting the view with ruddy orange glows, and in the distance she saw the dark outline of the tower she had constructed. Its apex was still bathed in sunlight, but it was only a matter of time before it, too, was consumed by darkness. It made her think of Jasper, and of Kiriko, and how much she missed them.

‘It makes you a Shinigami,’ she snapped, maybe a little more forcefully than she had intended, and she almost winced at herself before her tone softened. ‘Just like the rest of us. That’s the great paradox of our existence: strictly speaking none of us are living, and yet we feel most alive when we put ourselves at the risk of a death we cannot truly experience.’

The good book says that he that lives by the sword shall perish by the sword, she had read once.

Hazuki smiled, just as the Judge had done in response, as she turned her back on the window to face Kasumi fully once more. What man would have it any other way?

‘Ask yourself, Lieutenant Shinoda, what example you were really setting for your division when you threw your fight against your subordinate.’ Hazuki had heard, of course—how could she not have? A challenge for captaincy was big news, and word spread quickly through Seireitei.

‘Were you showing them that violence between Shinigami was optional’—it was no secret where Hazuki stood on that particular matter—‘or that not giving your all was an acceptable course of action? Were you acting as the captain of the Fifth Division, someone worthy of being followed and obeyed, or were you...’ She paused, considering how to best phrase her thoughts.

‘...Or were you simply putting on an elaborate show so you could dodge the responsibility? Captaincy isn’t for everyone, Shinoda. There’s no shame in that. But if you feel it’s not for you, if you feel as though all you can do is second-guess yourself and wallow in self-doubt, then perhaps it’s time to resign yourself to the idea that a lieutenant is all you’ll ever be, and to set aside these aspirations of yours on which you seem to have given up. Captaincy isn’t for people like that.’

Nor is it supposed to be a means to an end, she thought to herself with a twinge of guilt, but she quickly submerged the sensation in the icy pools of convenient rationalization: at least she was working to improve the division under her command as best she could, just like—

‘Kiriko didn’t give up.’ Now was as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room. ‘She felt abandoned and betrayed once, I’m sure. She had faith in someone, and she felt let down. But she didn’t let that stop her. She rose to the occasion. Are you going to keep blaming her for putting herself first for once, or are you going to learn from her example and follow suit?’


°542

Obviously scared by the idea of going down the wrong path and ending up being some vicious murderer, or worse, getting an inner hollow she wouldn't be able to control, Kasumi kept her mouth shut as she waited for Hazuki to show her some sort of disgust. The snapping that came from the older Shinigami was of a different kind than the one which had been expected, and Kasumi eagerly welcomed her somewhat rough but soothing words.

The phrase about being unable to experience death caught her attention, but she was still firmly anchored in her self-created mess and she didn't address the curious matter. Looking past the woman's side her gaze settled to the darkening Seireitei street once again. Days came and went, but Kasumi's indecisiveness remained a thorn in her side that seemed to disturb every step she took. It was time to either to remove the obstacle, or give Hazuki right about being incapable of taking any more responsibility than the ones a lieutenant had.

Swallowing hard she tried to dodge the woman's gaze before abruptly looking up when Kiriko was mentioned. Wide-eyed she continued to listen while a part of her wanted to protest against the things being said. She wasn't blam- she was.. she was. She hadn't meant to blame her for- wait, no. She hadn't thought that she would end up accusing Kiriko for picking happiness above everything and everyone else.

Calmly exhaling the breath she's been holding during this ugly realization, she grimaced towards Hazuki before letting out a small laugh of disbelief. Perhaps it was the perfect time to accept the imperfection of the world around her and everyone that lived in it. Everyone had their needs, forgiveness wasn't easy, moving forward was hard but required. So far Kasumi had always thought that she could be the perfect example of how kindness and love worked. That way she could spread it across the division, the Seireitei, the Soul Society and perhaps, one day, it would seep through into the other realms as well. Unfortunately, she could see now that she was far from the ideal version of a living being. No matter how much she cared about Kiriko, she had been unable to simply let her go without any hard feelings when it had been required of her to do just that. Even while leaving had been the best option for the older Chinda, Kasumi had been incapable of hiding the selfish part of her which had wanted for the woman to stay.

Now, the illusion could no longer be maintained and its existence couldn't be ignored. If she wanted to achieve happiness she would have to choose for herself, would have the accept that her desires have flaws, too. Forcing love on people while it didn't belong to them was still using a certain type of violence to get what she wanted – another selfish act she hadn't thought through when putting it into motion.

“I think- I think that you're right.” She spoke with a quiet voice that indicated her being slightly shocked at the fact that it was Hazuki who was forcing her to see the reality, and at herself for having been blind for so long.

“Thank you, Captain.” the shock wore off a bit, she actually meant the words. Her troubled gaze had become much clearer during the last minute. Something had shifted inside of her. It was alright to have desires and to be flawed – that was exactly what made you human. Above that, with violence being a part of their world, enjoying a fight only proved that Kasumi belonged here – among the Shinigami. Deliberately trying to change the souls around her in hopes to mask her own fear for being anyone else but what she wanted to be wasn't fair for them. Instead, she had to utopian dreams be dreams and accept she was.

“I can see quite clearly now that I've been mistaken.” Admitting being wrong had never come natural to Kasumi, but she managed to keep her voice strong.

“It was foolish to expect them to change just because I was afraid of who I am.”

I am a Shinigami, and a warrior

“If you'll excuse me now, Captain. There are a couple of things that I've realized I need to do.”

Turning around she stopped at the door, glancing back at Hazuki before adding.

“Oh, and congratulations with the haori.”


Words: 737/ 3169