Post by Knowledge on Dec 18, 2012 21:21:41 GMT -5
Participants
+ Kyousuke Tsukimiya
+ Mitsutaka Karahashi
+ Cho Ah Amai
There were three, three that he knew about. He had thought there had only been two, and then he had been unpleasantly surprised by the presence of an additional piece in play. Kyousuke himself, he was the first. Then there was Mitsutaka Karahashi, the one he had known was here. Lessa Kachekiwa... He hadn't been prepared for Lessa. She wasn't supposed to be in Seireitei. Gilgamesh's long arm had managed to grasp onto her, too, it seemed, and now she had been added to the melting pot. How much did the Golden King know? Would Mitsutaka have told him, or had he kept it a secret, like Kyousuke would have?
These were things he had to find out. He was taking a massive risk, but the odds were already stacked against him: Mitsutaka would know of him, just as Lessa had known. The memory bleed they had suffered at the hands of the Espada would have told them all they needed to hear, and that had left Kyousuke at a massive disadvantage. First he may have been, but that only served to make him a target. Four in total, one of them dead. And another one brewing on top of that, he thought, faint memories of Kasumi buffeting his mind as he tried to think of who the fifth would be. There was no way of knowing, none whatsoever.
Five, he corrected himself. There was the one Aizawa mentioned. But that one hadn't come about in the same way, had he? There was something different there. Isolation had taken its toll on Kyousuke—while he seemed to be in better physical shape now than he had been in when they had taken him, he no longer boasted the same knowledge of those around him as he had done when he had first defected. So many new faces had risen to prominence, so many new names were being thrown around as if they were common knowledge. There was only so much he could learn from the extensive records the Second kept, and even then, those records focused on matters that only the Second would concern themselves with. To find out what someone truly was, however... That was something only the Fourth would keep track of. Even then, not—strictly speaking—officially.
Why so concerned, Kyousuke? There isn't a mob with torches and pitchforks threatening to bust down your door, is there? Hazuki, of course, making light of a dangerous situation. Why take the risk? Why not let good enough be?
Mitsutaka was always clever, but if what his file says is accurate, he's not the same person he used to be. I need to know if his erratic behavior is going to pose a risk to our continued existence. I'm not going back into the Nest, Hazuki.
What do you plan on doing, Kyousuke? Kannaduki's voice this time, tinged with concern. Are you just going to walk in there and ask him?
Kyousuke didn't even break stride. Yeah. Kyousuke knew that Mitsutaka had always been smarter than him, of that there was no doubt. Kyousuke's greatest strengths lay elsewhere. In an intellectual showdown, the now-captain of the Fourth would win, and besides—people weren't promoted to Captain-Commander for no reason. There was no doubt more to him than Kyousuke remembered.
His conversation with Lessa had left him somewhat overwhelmed, but if anything, it had served as excellent incentive to press on. He had left the hidden garden and set out for the Fourth immediately, deciding that the stop at his office was no longer necessary, and he hoped there would be no more interruptions. His feet carried him there swiftly, almost on muscle memory alone. Kyousuke doubted he'd ever forget the way to the Research and Development Institute, no matter how long he was chained to a wall in a deep, dark pit.
Kyousuke reached his destination without incident as the late afternoon sun threatened to hide behind the tall, starkly white spires of Seireitei, and he strode through the front gates without hesitation. His anonymity was still intact after a mere week of holding the captaincy of his division, and it seemed very few people even stopped to give you a second glance if you weren't wearing the telltale haori denoting your rank. Naturally, Kyousuke had left it in his office, as usual. He preferred to blend in, and he still hadn't come to terms with the idea of wearing the same garment that Kasumi and Satine before her had worn with such pride. For now, at least, he would remain an entity without identity, and that suited him just fine.
The lobby sent a wave of nostalgia washing over him, but it wasn't warm, nor was it particularly pleasant. It was cold, and bitter, like the ocean in February. People were milling about, some in lab coats and some without, and although Kyousuke felt some bizarre sensation of having come home, it was foreign, out of place. This was no longer somewhere he belonged. He had burned that bridge, along with so many others, when he had cut loose and left, and now there were few remains of his ties to this place. He caught himself wondering if Kotegawa was still alive, if she still worked here. Had she mourned his passing? Had they told her the truth? Suddenly, Kyousuke desperately wanted to hide behind a pair of glasses like he had once done, but all that remained of that life was his faux-Hollow mask, and that didn't quite feel the same.
Look like you belong here, and nobody will bother you, he thought to himself, as he straightened up and swept past the front desk into the facility. At this level, nobody would pay him any heed—the surface had always been treated almost like an exhibit, the gritty parts were hidden deep underground. The further down you went, the more strict security got. Luckily, what Kyousuke was after today was conveniently right at the top.
There were more people here than there had been in the lobby, and Kyousuke thought he saw a lieutenant's insignia on someone's arm. He set off after them at a brisk pace, wondering who had been picked to fill Kyousuke's shoes.
It was a woman, that much became clear very quickly, and her long black hair swayed in time with her body as she moved down the corridors toward the compound's interior. Kyousuke broke into a bit of a jog. "Ma'am," he called breathlessly, acting every bit the part of a stressed subordinate officer. "Lieutenant! A word with you?"
With a lieutenant at his side, nobody would ask questions.
°1,110
+ Kyousuke Tsukimiya
+ Mitsutaka Karahashi
+ Cho Ah Amai
There were three, three that he knew about. He had thought there had only been two, and then he had been unpleasantly surprised by the presence of an additional piece in play. Kyousuke himself, he was the first. Then there was Mitsutaka Karahashi, the one he had known was here. Lessa Kachekiwa... He hadn't been prepared for Lessa. She wasn't supposed to be in Seireitei. Gilgamesh's long arm had managed to grasp onto her, too, it seemed, and now she had been added to the melting pot. How much did the Golden King know? Would Mitsutaka have told him, or had he kept it a secret, like Kyousuke would have?
These were things he had to find out. He was taking a massive risk, but the odds were already stacked against him: Mitsutaka would know of him, just as Lessa had known. The memory bleed they had suffered at the hands of the Espada would have told them all they needed to hear, and that had left Kyousuke at a massive disadvantage. First he may have been, but that only served to make him a target. Four in total, one of them dead. And another one brewing on top of that, he thought, faint memories of Kasumi buffeting his mind as he tried to think of who the fifth would be. There was no way of knowing, none whatsoever.
Five, he corrected himself. There was the one Aizawa mentioned. But that one hadn't come about in the same way, had he? There was something different there. Isolation had taken its toll on Kyousuke—while he seemed to be in better physical shape now than he had been in when they had taken him, he no longer boasted the same knowledge of those around him as he had done when he had first defected. So many new faces had risen to prominence, so many new names were being thrown around as if they were common knowledge. There was only so much he could learn from the extensive records the Second kept, and even then, those records focused on matters that only the Second would concern themselves with. To find out what someone truly was, however... That was something only the Fourth would keep track of. Even then, not—strictly speaking—officially.
Why so concerned, Kyousuke? There isn't a mob with torches and pitchforks threatening to bust down your door, is there? Hazuki, of course, making light of a dangerous situation. Why take the risk? Why not let good enough be?
Mitsutaka was always clever, but if what his file says is accurate, he's not the same person he used to be. I need to know if his erratic behavior is going to pose a risk to our continued existence. I'm not going back into the Nest, Hazuki.
What do you plan on doing, Kyousuke? Kannaduki's voice this time, tinged with concern. Are you just going to walk in there and ask him?
Kyousuke didn't even break stride. Yeah. Kyousuke knew that Mitsutaka had always been smarter than him, of that there was no doubt. Kyousuke's greatest strengths lay elsewhere. In an intellectual showdown, the now-captain of the Fourth would win, and besides—people weren't promoted to Captain-Commander for no reason. There was no doubt more to him than Kyousuke remembered.
His conversation with Lessa had left him somewhat overwhelmed, but if anything, it had served as excellent incentive to press on. He had left the hidden garden and set out for the Fourth immediately, deciding that the stop at his office was no longer necessary, and he hoped there would be no more interruptions. His feet carried him there swiftly, almost on muscle memory alone. Kyousuke doubted he'd ever forget the way to the Research and Development Institute, no matter how long he was chained to a wall in a deep, dark pit.
Kyousuke reached his destination without incident as the late afternoon sun threatened to hide behind the tall, starkly white spires of Seireitei, and he strode through the front gates without hesitation. His anonymity was still intact after a mere week of holding the captaincy of his division, and it seemed very few people even stopped to give you a second glance if you weren't wearing the telltale haori denoting your rank. Naturally, Kyousuke had left it in his office, as usual. He preferred to blend in, and he still hadn't come to terms with the idea of wearing the same garment that Kasumi and Satine before her had worn with such pride. For now, at least, he would remain an entity without identity, and that suited him just fine.
The lobby sent a wave of nostalgia washing over him, but it wasn't warm, nor was it particularly pleasant. It was cold, and bitter, like the ocean in February. People were milling about, some in lab coats and some without, and although Kyousuke felt some bizarre sensation of having come home, it was foreign, out of place. This was no longer somewhere he belonged. He had burned that bridge, along with so many others, when he had cut loose and left, and now there were few remains of his ties to this place. He caught himself wondering if Kotegawa was still alive, if she still worked here. Had she mourned his passing? Had they told her the truth? Suddenly, Kyousuke desperately wanted to hide behind a pair of glasses like he had once done, but all that remained of that life was his faux-Hollow mask, and that didn't quite feel the same.
Look like you belong here, and nobody will bother you, he thought to himself, as he straightened up and swept past the front desk into the facility. At this level, nobody would pay him any heed—the surface had always been treated almost like an exhibit, the gritty parts were hidden deep underground. The further down you went, the more strict security got. Luckily, what Kyousuke was after today was conveniently right at the top.
There were more people here than there had been in the lobby, and Kyousuke thought he saw a lieutenant's insignia on someone's arm. He set off after them at a brisk pace, wondering who had been picked to fill Kyousuke's shoes.
It was a woman, that much became clear very quickly, and her long black hair swayed in time with her body as she moved down the corridors toward the compound's interior. Kyousuke broke into a bit of a jog. "Ma'am," he called breathlessly, acting every bit the part of a stressed subordinate officer. "Lieutenant! A word with you?"
With a lieutenant at his side, nobody would ask questions.
°1,110