The Summons [Closed|Kyousuke]

The Second was a mess.

It had been two days since his release, and after a much-needed shave and a haircut, Kyousuke Tsukimiya had spent the first twenty-eight hours in solitude, reading, greedily devouring everything he could find in his new office, be it file, record or report. Gilgamesh had seen fit to hand him the command of his old division alongside his other... Duties, and so far one thing had become abundantly clear: his predecessors had been neglecting their responsibilities.

Kyousuke had returned to a division in disarray, lacking not only proper leadership, but also a clear and defined purpose. The Second had lost its edge during Kyousuke's absence, and he was not altogether too surprised when he managed to trace the root of the problem back to a date he well remembered: the very same day he had run into Kasumi Suzumei in the warehouse district, the slow and steady decline of the Second Division had begun. It had suffered the command of two captains since then, neither of which very suited for their position, and Kyousuke couldn't help but notice his most recent predecessor had been of noble blood—a fact that only served to intensify Kyousuke's already considerable disdain for the nobility.

Four noble houses, each one more useless than the next, he had thought to himself as he had leafed through the report outlining the debacle surrounding the previous captain's bumbling efforts to assign something as simple as a lieutenant. Someone had appointed and then very quickly removed, as if the man had realized he had made a mistake and then tried hurriedly to fix it.

Naturally, the only thing he had managed to do was weaken the chain of command. Orders were supposed to be absolute. Second-guessing yourself down the line was a sign of insecurity, and if there was one thing Kyousuke had learned back when he had served as what essentially boiled down to the acting captain of the Fourth Division all those years ago, it was this:

Act with confidence, and people will do as they are commanded.

And so it fell to Kyousuke to pick this battered division up from the dust and breathe life into it, so it could return to its former glory as the most efficient branch of the Gotei. Every commander needed an executive officer, and that's where he would start. He needed a lieutenant, and after digging through the personnel records, he had found himself a suitable candidate.

Kiriko Chinda, a relatively new arrival in the Second, but reports from both her academy instructors and those she had served under since then all seemed to agree on one thing in particular: Kiriko was dependable. She got things done. In some ways, she reminded Kyousuke of himself, and although Kyousuke's motives for being efficient had largely been selfish, you couldn't argue with results. Kiriko's motives for being the way she was were unimportant at this stage, the only thing that mattered was the result. As always, the end justified the means.

So Kyousuke had sent word out and summoned her to his office first thing in the morning, intent on getting to know her a little better before handing her the coveted lieutenant's badge.

All in all, it wasn't a bad morning for it. It was bright and cheery, and the command annex was empty save for Kyousuke, so he had seen fit so slide open most of the partitions, leaving the house airy and pleasantly cool in what was looking to be a quite warm day. The walls facing out toward the pond were open, too, and Kyousuke found himself sitting on the veranda with his bare feet dangling off the edge as he read up on his new colleagues, the other five captains. Gilgamesh had taken control of the First, of course, and placed Kyousuke in charge of the Second. Apparently, the captain of the Third was fairly new—another noble, he noted with distaste—and Kyousuke was mildly startled to see that Artix von Creg was still alive, and perhaps more surprisingly had been reappointed as the captain of the Fifth. The captain of the Sixth was apparently the older brother of Kyousuke's most recent predecessor, and if the state of the Second was anything to go by, he could only imagine what the Sixth was looking like right about now.

What had really caught his attention, however, was the fact that the position of captain-commander was currently being filled by the captain of the Fourth, a man that Kyousuke recognized instantly. Gifted he had been, but to see Mitsutaka Karahashi rise so far in such a short time piqued Kyousuke's interest more than somewhat. Kyousuke's time in the Fourth had seen them get along as well as could be expected of a lieutenant and his subordinate, and now it seemed that Kyousuke was the subordinate. An unexpected turn of events, that much was certain. Delving deeper into it, it seemed his behavior had become increasingly erratic recently, though Kyousuke couldn't quite discern why. He had yet to meet the man, and his was the only file of the entire lot that hadn't been able to escape the censor's pen. Long, black lines riddled the document, and Kyousuke sipped his chilled barley tea thoughtfully as he pondered what they hid. Perhaps a visit to the Fourth would be in order?

Later, perhaps, he thought, his mind drawn back to the obstacles at hand. He had an entire division to get in order. Social calls were not high on the agenda, even if they did serve a higher purpose.

He was rudely interrupted by his stomach rumbling, and Kyousuke realized that for the first time since his release, he was hungry. Without regularly scheduled meals, he had forgotten about food, and it suddenly dawned on him that he would have to prepare his own meal. The thought filled him with bliss.

To be able cook again! To freely navigate the kitchen and decide for himself what to eat! He relished the prospect, and quickly got up, putting the captain-commander's file away and then headed toward the kitchen, passing his unworn haori as it hung from the wall as he went, barely giving it a second glance.

He almost got there before he heard three raps at the front door. That would no doubt be her. Good timing, he thought to himself, and went to answer it.

The face that greeted him when he slid open the door was stern and matter-of-fact, though not without a faint tinge of apprehension. Not surprising, given that it wasn't every day an unseated Shinigami was summoned by her captain. He smiled warmly at the girl, comparing her to the description he had read in her file. Black hair, black eyes, a member of the Second from head to toe.

"Ah, Chinda. I'm just about to make some breakfast, want something to eat? Come on in, take your shoes off." He beckoned at his guest to enter and headed off in the direction of the kitchen again, leaving his guest to fumble with her sandals at the door.

"Do you cook?" he asked, as he put on an apron and started busying himself with the ingredients.


°1,214

fml now you've got me trying to design the command annex

i just can't let it go

this is why i hate architectureeeeeee

What a shame, he thought to himself with a slight shrug as he busied himself with his omelette, beating the eggs in a small bowl as he added vinegar and a few drops of soy and sake. The pan was rapidly heating up, and after pouring the mixture into it gently, he straightened up and turned around.

"I love cooking. Making food is the only thing I can do that isn't related to—all this," he said, gesturing vaguely toward his surroundings. "Food is life, and for someone surrounded by death as I so often am, it provides a nice contrast. Moreover, I strongly believe in taking care of one's possessions." He glanced at the omelette, which was puttering away nicely. "Our bodies are the most important possessions of all, and we stay healthy by eating well. Following the same train of thought, my uniform is my possession, so I wear this—" Kyousuke tugged at the deep red material covering his chest, "—to keep it clean and presentable."

He turned back to the omelette, and after peering at it intently for a moment, he seemed satisfied. He rolled it up, making sure it was nice and tight, then deftly moved it over to the chopping board where he sliced it into fat little rolls that looked like yellow tires. Pleased with his work so far, he turned his attentions to the fish he had prepared earlier, dropping it into the cast iron grill pan on the back burner. Kyousuke chopped up some mushrooms and tossed them in as well for good measure, then turned back to Kiriko, who seemed to be watching his every move like a hawk.

"The Fifth Division," he said with a smile, "have a tradition where they cook for one another on a rotating schedule. It's partly an exercise to promote the camaraderie of the division, and partly a simple matter of logistics—it's difficult to feed that many fighters, so they all pitch in and help. Whoever started the tradition was a smart man."

Kyousuke looked thoughtful for a moment, and leaned back on the counter. "By now, you'll have noticed that we have no such traditions in the Second. We keep to ourselves, we do our jobs, and we don't really talk about our assignments. It's our own little way of making sure that sensitive information isn't spread around needlessly. We're all about secrets here, and secrecy breeds suspicion. How can we know who's listening, and when? It all leads to some very complex relationships between the people here, and in order to foster the division's waning desire to remain united, one of my predecessors, a long time before I first joined this division, had this place built." Again, he motioned vaguely at his surroundings. "The command annex, the home of the captain and lieutenant of the Second Division. The only one of its kind, in fact—all the other divisions house their command off-site."

He turned back to his fish and mushrooms, turning it over and seasoning it ever so slightly. "Given the nature of our work, however, the benefits of this place are threefold: we remain close to our duties, we serve as a constant reminder of dedication to our cause, and we reinforce the idea that though we lack any pervasive sense of camaraderie in the Second, we are still one big, asocial family. Keeping secrets from your family members is natural. And done." Kyousuke turned off the stove, then deposited the contents of the pan onto a plate, added the omelette rolls, and reached up for a pair of bowls that he filled with rice and miso soup. He put all of it onto a tray, took off his apron, then headed out of the kitchen toward his office. "Come with me," he said, as he passed Kiriko with the tray laden with food.

The office was as he had left it, with the sliding walls still open, the sunlight outside bright and cheerful, and the faint sound of birds chirping floating in. He paused for half a second as he pondered where he should sit, then decided that the veranda would do just as well as it had done earlier. "Sit," he commanded, his tone of voice indicating that unlike his request for Kiriko to join him in eating, the choice was not up to her this time. Kyousuke himself sat down in the same position he had been in earlier, with his feet dangling off the edge. The sunlight kissed his feet—the only part of him outside the shade cast by the overhanging roof—gently, the tingling heat a pleasant sensation after being underground for so long.

He glanced at the tray next to him, picked up a pair of chopsticks and the plate with the omelette, mushrooms and fish, mumbled something under his voice, and took a bite.

It was far, far better than the slop they had served him in the Nest.

"So," he began, swallowing. "You're probably wondering why you're here today. I told you earlier how it's important that one takes care of one's possessions. The Second Division has become my possession, and as such, it falls to me to make sure that it is properly taken care of. You've no doubt noticed that we are sorely lacking a lieutenant." He reached into the folds of his uniform with one hand and pulled out the lieutenant's insignia, placing it very deliberately on the veranda between the two of them. "Your file caught my eye, so I have asked you to come here today in order to assess your suitability for the job."

He took another bite, relishing the flavor. "But first, I need to know whether or not you're interested. A long time ago, I was given the lieutenancy of a division, despite never having asked for it. I was made to serve under a captain I simply could not stand. I know how that story ended. In order to avoid a repeat incident, I need to know that this is something you are prepared and willing to do."

He turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers as they sat there, their dark hair and uniforms looking out of place in such idyllic scenery. "So, miss Chinda. Are you willing to become the lieutenant of the Second Division?"


°1,058

Kyousuke picked up one of the last mushrooms on his plate and popped it into his mouth, the juices bursting out when he bit down, the flavor intense after having spent so long eating flavorless gruel. He chewed in silence, contemplating the words of the girl next to him. There was ambition there, a thirst to prove herself. That much was clear. She had stated herself in no uncertain terms that she wanted the job.

But she's uncertain of herself. She doesn't want to disappoint. She doesn't think she has what it takes.

But that wasn't her call to make. That was the other reason he had called her here today. To evaluate her suitability for the post. When it all came down to it, Kyousuke couldn't care less if Kiriko didn't think she was able. The only two things that mattered were Kiriko's willingness, and Kyousuke's evaluation of her ability.

"Strength, power, experience. These are things that you will earn in time. That's a universal fact. Anyone can gain the strength to defeat their foes, the power to succeed in their goals, and the experience to handle any given situation." He set his plate down gently, thinking back to his time in the Fourth. He had made the best out of a bad situation back then. Being a lieutenant wasn't easy work, but somehow he had managed quite well, despite his captain's disinterest. How had he done it?

"The capacity to lead is something we're born with, Chinda. To deliver results is something that comes naturally. Not everyone possess the ability to put make sure orders are carried out. That's what I need. I need a lieutenant who has the best interests of the Second in mind, a lieutenant prepared to support my decisions and provide additional perspective. At this point, all you need to do is assure me of your willingness and to answer my questions. Let me be the judge of your ability."

Kyousuke took a sip from the bowl of miso and gazed out over the pond, over his domain. "You come highly recommended by both your academy instructors and your former superiors. The Second is bursting at the seams with men and women perfectly capable of killing for unknown reasons, but very few of them are lucky enough to possess that element of command. Many of them are here for the simple reason that killing is what they do best."

He thought back to his days in the Second all those years ago, how he had once been one of those faceless killers. His talents had been put to good use back then, but he had remained anonymous in the Second. Those same talents had elevated him to the upper echelons of the Fourth. You either rose through the ranks elsewhere, or you stayed in the same place for the rest of your life in the Second. Kyousuke had managed to escape, to rise above his peers. Kiriko had that same chance now, because she possessed something her peers lacked.

There was something he was curious about, though. "Why are you in the Second, Chinda? What drew you here? With your talents, you could go far in any of the divisions. Out of all them, it almost feels like the Onmitsukidō would hold you back the most." The fact that she fought to control her emotion at the prospect of being promoted was evidence enough of that fact; Kiriko was certainly not a good example of the average member of the Second Division, and the nail that stuck out got hammered down. An exemplary soldier, perhaps, but she didn't fit the same description that most of the men and women under Kyousuke's command did.

It intrigued him. Typically, Kyousuke was the personification of the spirit of his division: he cared little for those around him unless they served some greater purpose, but this woman was an enigma. She had been part of almost every other division, and now she found herself in the most secretive of them all—perhaps barring the Fourth—eager, it seemed, to stay for good. What were her motives? What drove her forward? He had to know—if not as her commanding officer, then just out of his own boundless curiosity. Puzzles wanted—no, needed—solving. To Kyousuke, Kiriko was a puzzle that he desperately wanted to solve, so that he could frame her and hang her on his wall.

Why? She's not exactly a looker, Kyousuke. Hazuki, providing unsolicited input, as always.

I want to make her my lieutenant, Hazuki. Not my wife. Her appearance has nothing to do with it. She's capable enough, if the documentation can be believed.

Here we go again, with you already having made up your mind. You did it with Gilgamesh's offer, and now you're doing it with this girl. You're acting out of character. You're making snap decisions that remind me more of myself than anything else. This girl, there's something about her that doesn't sit right with me. When was the last time you saw a member of the Second try to fight back tears? What's she hiding?

Kyousuke caught himself giving Kiriko a sidelong glance, and he was quick to mask the hint of suspicion with casual interest to keep up the easygoing facade. Kannaduki would know. Kannaduki always knew. But she remained silent, and Kyousuke could do little but continue sipping at his bowl of miso, as he continued the conversation with his crueler half.

Maybe she's not as jaded as the rest of them. Maybe she's genuinely happy about this.

You said it yourself, Kyousuke. She's ambitious. What does she want with the power she so desperately craves?

Everyone wants power, Hazuki.

The answer to that one was blunt. You don't.

She was right, but then Kyousuke wasn't exactly what people called "normal". Kyousuke's ambitions stopped at control, the idea of power was never anything he strove for. To simply be in control of his surroundings was enough. For him, knowledge itself in all the forms it took was the ultimate goal.

Right now, that goal took the shape of the woman sitting next to him, and the thoughts that lurked within. Kyousuke needed to know what her file couldn't tell him. Who was the person behind the long list accomplishments? Hopefully, by the end of this meeting, he would have his answers.

And gods willing, his lieutenant.


°1,069

this is trash, and I apologize profusely for that

Kyousuke could certainly relate to her situation, though he would never openly state it truthfully. Few people would understand what it felt like to have strength through unity on the one hand and growth through adversity on the other. To have a zanpakutō that tried her best to support you, and an inner Hollow that would like nothing better than to destroy you and claim your place, that was a concept that was completely and totally alien to most Shinigami. Not everyone was as lucky as Kyousuke had been when his soul had split into what would become Kannaduki, it seemed.

But even if Kiriko's zanpakutō liked to kill, what was the problem? Few people realized that their own wishes counted for little when selecting a division. The soul needed to be in harmony in order to achieve knowledge of self, and if a sword spirit wasn't happy with your path in the afterlife, it would do something about it. Kiriko said she was unwelcome in the other divisions, but there was more to it than that. If part of her very soul objected to her being there, then that could only mean that she wasn't meant to stay.

He thought about it for a moment from his own perspective. Would Kannaduki be happy in the Fifth? In the Third? No, of course not. She wasn't boisterous, but she wasn't suited for anything but killing, either. His time in the Fourth had been tolerated more than anything else, and only because he had been able to use her in a way she liked. As far as Hazuki went, she just wanted him dead. Or back in Hueco Mundo, where she thought—knew—he belonged.

He was in the Second, just like Kiriko was, because this is where they were meant to be, and their souls knew it better than they did. As if in confirmation of Kyousuke's unspoken thoughts, Kiriko made it clear that she was happy to be here after all, that she felt she belonged. More than that, though, she had a point. The Second wasn't what it used to be, and that needed to change. In its current state, Satine and Kasumi would sneer in disgust at what it had become, a far cry from the cutting-edge machine it had once been.

Underdogs wasn't perhaps the same choice of words Kyousuke himself would have used, but the fact that people didn't expect much out of the Second anymore, the fact that they had things to make up for, that was all true. They were an elaborate machine whose gears had locked for lack of proper care. A clock that had stopped because nobody had bothered cleaning the works.

And you think this girl is the answer, Kyousuke? Is she magically going to make your division great again?

No, Hazuki. I am. But she's going to help.

"Most people wouldn't go so far as to say that the things we stand for are necessary, Chinda," he said, as he put down the emptied bowl of soup. "I personally believe they are, but it's an unpopular belief around here. Nobody trusts the people who use what some would call 'cheap tactics' or 'dishonorable tricks'. We are the only ones who do this, and those same tactics and tricks have done more for Seireitei than most would care to admit." He leaned back, stretching his feet out, the feeling of the sun still pleasant on his toes.

"We're different, Chinda. We maintain a prison, yet we do not enforce the law. We teach our members to kill, yet we are not fighters. We gather information, yet we do no research. What are we, then?" He paused, and looked at his guest. "We're War itself. Peacetime has made us weak from disuse, but war is rearing its beautiful head once again, and we will rise to the occasion as the true soldiers of the Gotei 6." Kyousuke had never known pride—it was a concept firmly rooted in Kannaduki's domain—but something in him soared as he spoke, the knowledge that what little remained of his old Second could be salvaged. Like a phoenix, they would rise again from the ashes, greater and brighter than before. He could hear it slipping into the way he spoke of what was to come, and it was an entirely new sensation for him, one that he couldn't quite identify. Would Satine or Kasumi approve? Somewhere, deep down, he hoped they would. Somewhere, even deeper, he knew it.

But one of them was missing, the other dead. It didn't matter what they would think, and reality came rushing back at Kyousuke like the tide. To lose himself in memories of those he had lost was something he could do another time. There was more to learn about the woman sitting next to him. He had broached the subject already, now it was time to ask the question. He remembered answering the same question himself long ago, when he was fresh out of the Academy and his lieutenant had introduced him to his new division.

"Do you fear war, Chinda?" He asked. "Do you fear death?"

How had he answered all those years ago? It had been something trite, he knew. War is my profession, and death is inevitable. Something along those lines. The lieutenant had tossed her long, beautiful hair and laughed at his grim expression as he uttered the words, then she had told him that death wasn't always inevitable. She had told him she wouldn't let something as commonplace as death take her subordinates from her. That day, the sun rose in Kyousuke's life, and it didn't set for another thirty years. The night that had followed, he suddenly realized, still hadn't quite come to an end, though there had been a brief period of light four years ago—but it, too, had resulted in more darkness, perhaps even more absolute than before.

Now, though, he wasn't so sure how he'd answer. War, he supposed, was still his profession, but death? Death at this point would be an inconvenience. He didn't fear death, but he knew that it would bring with it an absolute finality. An anticlimactic conclusion to Kyousuke's eternal quest for knowledge. When it came for him, he would not be ready. Prepared, perhaps, but far, far from ready.

And most assuredly not willing.


°1,064

>implying

The question had visibly disturbed Kyousuke's guest, and for a split second he found himself second-guessing his choice. It wasn't that he couldn't abide cowards—they had their uses just like anyone else, and in all fairness tended to live longer—but right now, he couldn't afford to keep a craven lieutenant at his side. He needed someone willing to do anything it took. He needed a leader. Disappointment started to seep into his expression as Kiriko almost stammered out her fear of the ultimate unknown. Fear brought with it inaction, and inaction was something he couldn't abide. Inaction got you killed. Inaction got others killed.

He wondered how best to let the girl down, but when she broke the silence that had followed her confession, a satisfied smile spread on Kyousuke's lips. A shaky start there, Chinda, he thought to himself, but it looks like you've come through stronger than I expected.

This is what he had wanted to hear. Refusal to throw her life away, refusal to die in vain, that was everything he could have hoped for and more. She was fully prepared to die for her cause, she just didn't know it yet. She had never experienced something great enough to die for, that was all. Kyousuke had innumerable scars riddling his torso, each one the result of a stupid risk that he had deemed worth taking for the good of his cause, and he regretted none of them, because it had paid off every time. He was still alive. Kiriko would learn that, too, when she got her scars. She would learn the difference between something worth risking your life for and something that was just stupid.

Had Kyousuke been a different type of person, he might have applauded Kiriko then and there, but instead he remained quiet, contemplative—but with the smile still plastered across his face like a fool. This was it, he had found his lieutenant. She had what it took, that was abundantly clear to him now. The rest, like he had said before, would come in time. He would turn her body into a formidable weapon, but he could rest easy knowing that her mind, at least, was ready. He stood up and stretched, leaving both Kiriko and the lieutenant's insignia on the veranda as he stepped back into his office without a word.

If he was going to do this, he may as well do it right. He reached for the haori on the wall, hesitating only for a split second before slipping it on. It was surprisingly light, and Kyousuke was glad that it was of the sleeveless variant. He wondered if it suited him, then he headed back out to the veranda. He stooped to pick up the insignia, then told Kiriko to stand up.

"This is just about as official as it'll get, Chinda. Arm, please." He tied the badge to her upper arm, just beneath her shoulder, then cleared his throat. "I, Kyousuke Tsukimiya, captain of the Second Division of the Gotei 6, hereby promote Kiriko Chinda to the rank of lieutenant. May you support your captain in times of need, and serve your division with pride and excellency." He tapped the face of the badge lightly and gave Kiriko an enigmatic smile. "Don't lose that, lieutenant," he said, as he thought back to the badge he had so casually tossed into the rubble of a demolished highrise years ago.

He pointed toward the other end of the annex, "Seeing as you're part of command now, you'll need to move your possessions into your new quarters. Your bedroom is over there, and your office is the room next to it. You already know where the kitchen is, the bath's next to that, and the toilet's in the corner. I want you moved in by this evening, and after we have dinner, I'd like to get a feel for how you fight."

He shrugged off the haori and tossed it carelessly back into his office, then bent down to pick up the tray of empty dishes at his feet. "My favorite part," he said with a grimace. "Time to do the dishes. Any questions before I go?"


°702