Sweet Air, Sweet Freedom

All these sounds--and these smells--everywhere, intermingling, but teasing her. She was still dressed in her dingy yukata, the white material stained with smudges of black and brown equally and all she could think of was changing into something more vibrant--something that was not white; she knew she would probably never wear something so blindingly white ever again. All around her was colour--the green of plants, the brown of the ground, the brilliant blue of the sky painted daintily in a pretty orange with the first rays of sunlight. Her eyes roamed around her surroundings, gleaming bright with both residual tears and delight. The morning breeze patted her cheeks gently, soothingly. The sound of cicadas chirping reached her ears--oh, she had missed that--and she smiled.

It was so relieving, to finally be able to breathe air that was not heavy with the stench of exhaustion or stale with the odour of sickness. It was so relieving to finally, finally, see something other than monotonous blend of prisoner's uniform contrasting with the dirty walls of the prison. The brunette recalled that when she had been taken to the Nest, a thick blindfold had been placed over her eyes and she was glad it was absent now. She could remember with clarity the day she had been taken to the Nest, fear blossoming in her chest as she had been roughly led by the hand further and further away from humanity and normalcy; her whole world had been engulfed in darkness, yet she had not felt visually deprived in the least. She had been able to almost see every judgemental stare the guards had given her, almost see the expressions of contempt on their faces as they sneered at her.

But it was all behind her now; there was nothing but joy and a future to look forward to now! In days that optimism would wear off and pave way for her earlier cynicism to reign, but for now pure joy occupied her heart. Best of all, her zanpakutou had been returned to her and despite her inability to deal with her spirit's generally rather flighty nature, Ayumi was forced to admit that she had indeed missed the silky tones of the tall spirit. The very weight of her zanpakutou, placed carefully in its sheath felt so unnatural, but so appealing in her hands. She could not help but run her fingers over the intricate spiral of golds and violets that decorated the handle.

Isn't there something you wish to tell me? Ayumi was startled momentarily, surprised at the familiar voice interrupting her thoughts but managed to compose herself quickly. She had grown accustomed to silence over the years as she slowly began to accept the possibility that she would never hear Higekihime's cryptic comments--never in a million years would she have dreamt that she would be given the chance to leave, to lead a normal life once again. Normal? Was that still possible for her?

She abandoned the question in favour of answering her spirit, whom she realised she had ignored for a considerable amount of time now.

I suppose I could say I've missed you.

You suppose? Admit it, you have, haven't you?

Most would respond to that with an 'I missed you too.'

Before the spirit could deliver her response--presumably another one of her witticisms that Ayumi would sigh at and ignore--Tsukimiya-taichou's question reached her and she glanced upwards. Hungry did not quite come close to describing the painful emptiness that was assaulting her stomach, yet at the present moment she had no desire for food--for sweets, perhaps, though Ayumi adored anything sweet, but not quite for other food. By no means had she liked the runny broth the guards at the Nest had served, and she had most certainly not become accustomed to that aspect of her life at the Nest, but she had always been somewhat of a picky eater. Now ... now she was considerably less picky, willing to eat anything as long as it had taste and texture, but she was not quite desperate for food. There were other things she wanted to experience and to see, other facets of this glorious world that she wanted to re-acquaint herself with. In order to remain polite she nodded in response as they walked. "Yes, very," she answered easily. In what seemed like mere moments to her, they had reached the compound of the Second division.

She was led up a set of stairs, her curiosity to know what awaited her mounting with each step. Much to her surprise, she actually managed to climb up the stairs successfully, without so much as the faintest trace of a stumble making itself known; she was aware she was malnourished and her haggard face should have given away to people how unhealthy she was, but it was nice to know that she had not fallen to the point where she required assistance with every trivial action. It all boiled down to still being functional despite the horrors she had endured--in comparison to a vast majority of the inmates at the Nest, she was far, far better (though that could be because she had also endured less horrors than they had). That and she would rather not be a burden to others--she was grateful to this man for everything he had done for her so far and the last thing she wanted to do was to add to that list of things he had done for her.

The Annex was welcoming, cheerful and warm though the qualities were hardly ones Ayumi would associate with the Second division's duties--that did not necessarily mean the people were cold at heart or mere killing machines. She took off her sandals as the man beside her motioned for her to do so before stepping into the room, her eyes instantly searching for the Kiriko person Tsukimiya-taichou had called out to.

She was not sure what to expect of the lieutenant of the Second Division--someone capable certainly, it was impossible for such a high position to be given to an irresponsible person. Dark hair and eyes as dark as her hair. Probably slightly taller than Ayumi and built in a more sturdy, healthy manner, though that was not hard to achieve as Ayumi was not much taller and heavier than a child. Plain, yet beautiful at the same time. Once again--like she had in the Nest with Tsukimiya-taichou--she felt awkward and dirty, dressed in a ragged yukata that displayed several years' worth of accumulated stains. Her hair was long and tangled, in desperate need of a wash and the unquestionable authority of a comb. Black circles hung under Ayumi's tired, brown eyes and her slender hands were caked in grime and dirt--in the presence of this clean woman, Ayumi's scraggly appearance made her seem out of place.

"H-Hello," Ayumi bowed deep in formal greeting, rusty in the art of having to use manners.

---

1173/23 GP/23 GP Total

Kiriko smoothed back her hair, hands moving in neat and precise gestures as she effortlessly tucked the shorten strands back in a tight bun to keep the wet tendrils free from her face. Having just soaked several hours worth of aches and bruises out of her body in the bath Kiriko was just returning to her office to complete the paperwork that was required for today when she heard the telltale signs of her Captain. A brief smile flickered across her face, lips curling upward in an expression that softened her normally stoic features. Captain... The word alone gave way to so many emotions. There had been some difficult and bloody times of late, but everything was well and good. Her Captain was strong, stronger than anyone she knew, and he had a good hand at the helm of this division. She was very proud to be his lieutenant, prouder than he knew to serve under such a capable man.

As Kiriko's tabi enclosed feet padded across the floor with quiet thumps, she remembered what he had gone out to do today. Or at least, as much of her Captain's plan as she had been privy to. Kiriko had been the one to dig up the file on Takasugi, and she had only scanned it briefly to ensure it was the correct one before handing it off to her superior. What he'd wanted with an old file like that, some lost soul in the Nest, she wasn't sure of and didn't need to know. But now that he was back, maybe Kiriko would let curiosity rise up and peek out from inside her head, her Captain would answer if she asked – probably.

Making a last brushing movement with her hand, the shushing sweep of her palm against her black hakama was aborted half way through as Kiriko realized the anxiety in such a gesture, she strode into the entrance of the Annex, the call of her Captain both irresistible and intriguing. We? Unable to dwell on what that tiny little word could mean, she was already turning the corner and in visual contact with the two people standing there near the door. Never pausing in her stride nor blinking myopically at the surprising sight in her hallway, Kiriko adroitly presented herself before her Captain, eyes lingering on his face as she bowed in firm expression of a hierarchy that perhaps she was the only one to really care about in these kinds of instances.

Rising with a stiffness that only belied her own pressed and solid presence, Kiriko allowed her eyes to finally slip towards the tiny and fragile looking girl whose picture she had seen clipped inside that folder from earlier. Takasugi Ayumi had seen better days. The dull pallor of her skin and the flat hang of her hair was testament to a level of unkemptness that made Kiriko wonder about the professionalism of her comrades running the Nest – then again, security and detainment had never been a subject she had studied, and Kiriko wasn't about to gainsay the decisions of those more knowledgeable than herself in such matters.

Never letting this interesting turn of events or her own surprise at who had turned up on her doorstep show, Kiriko bowed perfunctorily to Takasugi as well, her face serious but not forbidding. “Good afternoon, Takasugi-san. Please come in,” Kiriko glanced sideways at her Captain as she stepped to the left, providing adequate maneuvering room for both people to gain entry to the rest of the building. Nodding to the man who seemed like a towering giant next to Takasugi, Kiriko waited attentively for some sort of indication of what was needed from her. “I trust that everything went well Captain?” Implicit in that remark was a subtle warning for people who weren't even in the room. Kiriko had been working hard to get the cogs of this great machine that was the second division in order, and through lots of elbow grease and sometimes threatening looks she had had good results in increasing the efficiency of those below her. But sometimes there was a mishap here or there, a misspoken word or an inept aide, and she took those kinds of things personally as an affront to her efforts to create the kind of atmosphere where every Nibantai member was seen as the epitome of professional. If some such thing had happened with whatever her Captain had been doing, Kiriko want to know so she could smooth out the unruly wrinkles that sometimes cropped up.

WC: 761 | GP: 15 | Total: 15

Prolly should have proof-read this, but I'm too excited not to just post it. XP

There came times when Ayumi felt intensely and often inexplicably unsettled and this was one such moment; she did not need to dig deep to know that it was more than just how out of place she seemed in this situation, though that factor did contribute to her uneasiness.

The brunette could only muster a shaky nod in the taller lieutenant’s general direction in response to the curt greeting; it struck her with only then that she was unaware of the stoic woman’s name, though there was no time for her to ask as before she could voice her query, Tsukimiya-taichou stepped forward and with much curiosity, Ayumi watched the exchange between captain and lieutenant; though she was the outsider—the unrelated third party, almost, considering she was an official member of the Second division only as far as three people were concerned—the brunette neither felt awkward nor intrusive. Maybe it was that despite their cool, professional tones, there was still something rather soothing and homelike about the atmosphere, something about it that set her at ease.  Yet there was a nagging feeling within her, a sense of paranoia that poked through the afterglow of her relief and euphoria—why don’t I know her name? As soon as the brief exchange was paused momentarily, Ayumi’s brown gaze swivelled sharply and settled on the dark-haired woman’s face.

Her impression of the lieutenant was complete on first glance—professional, Ayumi deduced from the very way she bowed stiffly and answered with as much precision and detachment as a machine, though neither unkindly nor icily. Even her plain appearance radiated said quality, what with the way her hair was pulled away from her face and her every motion was stiff and careful, dexterous and nimble. Her observation was quietly interrupted by the captain’s voice. “Ah, uhm, I’m sure it will fit,” she reassured with a nod, her gratitude evident in her voice for having at the very least a set of clothes to change into mixed with mild surprise at Tsukimiya-taichou’s choice of honorific. It was … slightly more formal than what she’d expected but Ayumi accepted it before slowly walking towards ‘Kiriko’ as the woman had been referred to and waiting for her affirmation of the request.

Though Ayumi did not know exactly what cleaning up entailed, she was glad for it. Years had skidded by faster than she could count and it felt like she had not bathed in years. She fingered a strand of her straight, through filthily tangled hair and grimaced at the condition it was in—needless to say, this was an opportunity she cherished. Slowly, as Tsukimiya-taichou offered to set up the garden furniture (she didn’t know if eating outside pleased her or not; the sunlight felt glorious against her face, but it was still rather foreign to her and she could keep up with only so many new phenomenon), she looked up and met Kiriko-san’s darker gaze, trying once more to assess the woman. A part of her was slightly … unsure of her, as if trying to test the metaphorical waters before trusting her explicitly, but Ayumi was unwilling to believe that the holder of one of the highest ranks of this division was anything short of trustworthy. Or rather perhaps that debate was best saved to be resolved at a later time when Ayumi was better acquainted with the taller woman.

But didn’t you explicitly trust the man? Or was that only because he freed you from there? Or because he knows what you’ve been through and perhaps even more?  

Stop.

Ayumi’s eyes snapped upwards at the sudden halt before her surprised expression softened at his words; in slow fragments she pieced together a weak smile. She’d waited so long for a liberating moment and it was in her hands—finally, one of the chains that bound her would wither from a terrifying white to no more than grey ashes in an incinerator.

Finally.

The two women were left alone moments later and Ayumi, still smiling distantly, turned to face Kiriko-san. “It’s a pleasure to meet you … “An abrupt pause filtered her soft speech. “Kiriko-fukutaichou,” she finished after much thought. “I—I’m sorry, I don’t know your family name and I didn’t know how else to refer to you—” The smile dropped as soon as Ayumi realised the professional exterior she had greeted the taller woman with when she’d arrived only moments ago was broken now; the brunette covered her mouth with one hand and a few second later when she had gathered herself sufficiently, she restarted in an attempt to seem slightly more coherent this time. Internally she assured herself that as long as she distanced herself sufficiently, nothing could possibly go awry.

“Can we begin, fukutaichou?”

---

797 words // 15 GP // 38 GP total

Kiriko was pleased to hear that everything had gone well and she relaxed from her near permanent state of intense focus as the warm presence of her Captain filtered into her brain, softening the sharp edges of her fears. Kiriko had a lot of expectations to uphold, and that was scary in and of itself, for she was afraid of showing herself out to be truly incompetent – but there was also something very calming about her Captain. She'd been aware of it from their first meeting, that unusual quality that had assured her that he was the rightful and correct Captain for the Nibantai. Just who they needed to fix things, to restructure and mend the breaks in order.

Control. He was never out of control, never even lapsing in indecision or plagued by any worry that she could see. And Kiriko took her confidence from her Captain, but she also took more than just that. With him back in the Annex she trusted in herself more. Was there a logical reason for this, probably not. But somehow just the mere sight of her Captain cutting through the social atmosphere like a blade through air put her at ease. She knew precisely what to do now, and his words had no ambiguity in them. That was the kind of direction that she required, and that was why her Captain was the best out of them all. He never lacked in purpose and above all made his control look as if it was so very easy – fluidity that could not be separated from his being even in the worst of situations.

Kiriko didn't have to worry about the steadiness of her Captain anymore and she felt relieved even in the same moment as she pondered over the sudden appearance of Takasugi. There was no explanation on this new intrusion, but enough subtle clues to figure out that for whatever reason the Captain was bringing Takasugi into the fold of the Nibantai. If that was his intention she wasn't going to guess the reasons for it, knowing that whatever they were it was what he believed to be best. The other girl was curious however, and Kiriko studied her from the corner of her eye.

A prisoner of the Nest. For quite some time if Kiriko could recall the details correctly. Why the girl had been locked up, she hadn't felt it was her right to read that far into the file, but it had clearly been a trauma for the frail woman no matter her crime. Perhaps there was no crime? The expression on Takasugi's face, the bewilderment and sensual overload, they seemed to speak of a sort of naivety or innocence in nature. If such a person had been locked away for no reason, well, it would certainly explain a lot of things. There was something good about this one, an innate purity. Kiriko hadn't felt something like that in a long time, lost as she was amongst the masses of the Nibantai who despite their sophistication were still murderers at their cores.

It was such a subtle thing, taking in through observation of body language and tonal inflection. But it caught her eye, like a puff of fresh air in all the mire. What was someone like this doing here? Then again, it wasn't her job to question the Captain's decisions. And so Kiriko nodded to her Captain and addressed him as he was leaving the room, “I understand sir.”

Shifting her body weight to the left, she turned back to face Takasugi, and nodded perfunctorily. “You as well, Takasugi-san. Please forgive my rudeness for not introducing myself earlier, I am Chinda Kiriko,” her words were clipped and business-like, but at the girl's final comment Kiriko allowed her face to lighten as her lips twitched in what might have been the beginnings of a smile before it was ruthlessly suppressed, “Yes, of course. I imagine you are quite tired. The bath here is very nice, you will feel rejuvenated in no time,” she spoke somewhat softly, feeling the strange need to comfort Takasugi. The girl's need for immediacy was a plight that she could not quite empathize with, but nonetheless it was something she felt her heartstrings stir over.

To be unable to control your appearance, to lack the power to show people what you wanted them to see... Perhaps she could empathize after all, for those were great fears of Kiriko's and she doubted that Takasugi liked her current situation. Without wasting another minute, Kiriko beckoned for the girl to follow her as she turned and led her down the hall and towards the bath. The Annex was as traditional as most buildings around here, perhaps more so, so it was lucky that they even had a furnace to heat the bath, but she wasted little time in setting it up pushing open the door and letting herself and Takasugi into the room.

After glancing about for a moment or two Kiriko spotted the clean clothing that had been set aside by her Captain. Noting their position, she walked over to the tub and removed the wooden lid that kept the water warm so that it didn't need to be reheated, she pulled some towels free from the shelving and set them within easy reach. There was an empty bucket sitting next to the faucet and small stool against the wall that comprised the washing station in the room, still warm and moist from her own recent bath. Assured that everything was in order, Kiriko turned back to face her charge and nodded once again, “The water will be warm in a few more seconds so please feel free to start washing. The bath water is fresh from this morning so don't worry about that. Would you like some help? It would be understandable for your body to be weak after your... difficulties,” she paused at the end, unsure of which word to use and if they were supposed to be dancing around Takasugi's incarceration or not. In the end, it seemed kinder to do so. 

WC: 1024 | GP: 20 | Total: 35

The light request from Chinda-san’s—no, their—captain grasped the taller woman’s attention immediately; not that Chinda-san hadn’t already been paying attention, but rather it was directed more at things that weren’t a part of their current (rather wooden) conversation.  The command was gentle, more a friendly reminder than anything else, but Ayumi could see respect gleaming gloriously in Chinda-san’s dark eyes, not much different from Ayumi’s response to the tall man he sought her out in the labyrinthine Nest. Admittedly their reasons were different—from the instantaneous agreement Chinda-san had given Tsukimiya-taichou in a respectful monotone almost led Ayumi to believe that she was hero-worshipping him; from the instant they had arrived at the traditional-style Annex, the woman had dutifully welcomed him, asked earnest questions and in essence was the splitting image of a devoted subordinate, yet Ayumi could vaguely trace hints of more than just the mechanical front she seemed religiously uphold.

Maybe the brunette was mistaken. Undoubtedly their relationship was the epitome of professional, unlike the ties she had with Tsukimiya-taichou—in Ayumi’s case it was gratitude, overflowing and unrelenting for granting her liberation that made her remain so polite around the clearly more powerful male, or maybe it was because he shared so much of what she had witnessed—horror at its finest and goriest that Ayumi never wished to recount to another person; it could only be expressed through raw emotion and unspoken words.

With one glance at the two of them, Tsukmiya-taichou stepped through the shoji screen doors that were slid back.

The business-like tones of Chinda-san returned to her once more and Ayumi was intensely relieved to have learnt of her last name, if only to avoid making a fool out of herself in future situations. Though she was aware manners dictated that she introduce herself in response, Ayumi saw it as redundant considering not minutes earlier Chinda-san had demonstrated that she was well aware of Ayumi’s identity, most likely after having procured a liberally censored file stored in the Second Division’s vast archives that listed every detail about her. The brunette glanced up quickly once her embarrassment over not knowing how to refer to the vice-captain melted away, only to find the taller woman’s face decorated by vestiges of a smile that the afternoon light that streamed in through the open doors caught. In the blink of an eye—not more than a fraction of a moment—it was gone, presumably hidden once again and Ayumi could not help the confusion that danced across her features for a split second.

Was Chinda-san unhappy somehow? Or was Ayumi misinterpreting something? The words that followed were softer and more comforting in contrast and in response, small amounts of her earlier paranoia and bewilderment eroded away. It was not a situation a lot of people could empathise with—self-degradation was poisonous and after several years of incarceration, Ayumi had found herself bound to the sole voice in her head, which more often than not kindled her self-consciousness and instilled within her the idea that she was an outcast; an oddity. Abnormal in the world of functional people. Though her view had yet to be altered, the feelings of intense nervousness and self-consciousness that had plagued her earlier had decreased slightly in intensity.

“It sounds very appealing,” Ayumi nodded in agreement to Chinda-san’s description of the bath.

Chinda-san wasted no time in leading Ayumi to the bathroom and after leaving her sheathed sword behind, Ayumi followed the lieutenant. Quick glances at her surroundings told Ayumi that the Annex was clearly a traditional house—it was evident from the design of the house—and had possibly been built even before Ayumi had become a shinigami. Her footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor in perfect synchronisation with Chinda-san’s as she made her way down the hall and towards the bath; vaguely the brunette wondered if such an old house had a heating mechanism, though at this point she was desperate for a means to clean herself and a detail like the temperature of the water to be used was trivial to her. As expected, the bath was a traditional one, complete with a tub filled with fresh water, a small bucket placed underneath a faucet and a stool placed beside it. The air felt moist and slightly steamy, which led Ayumi to believe it had been in use rather recently. Chinda-san set about retrieving towels whilst Ayumi remained still in bewilderment, though she did wish to be of some help.

She had been that way for as long as she could remember—it was only natural to want to be seen as competent, wasn’t it? Ayumi tended to take strides with regular praise, as it proved to be incentive for her to improve … despite being aware that at the end of the day, she needed to take pride in her own work to be deemed a success, she thrived on the opinions of her peers and measured herself against them. She was scared, even now, that she could possibly not be good enough—that she could lose the freedom she had been given.

Her eyes darted quickly through the room in the few silent moments that following before she turned back to Chinda-san who had once more begun to speak to her. “Oh—that’s, that’s quite alright,” Ayumi nodded. “Thank you for everything you’ve done, Chinda-fukutaichou.” Her smile was small, but genuine—she was appreciative of everything the lieutenant had graciously provided her so far and the way she’d been treated as well. Her appreciation was short lived and in moments, the expression of earnest gratefulness she had been wearing melted into one of nervous surprise. Ayumi could only gulp at the question she’d been asked, in as sensitive a manner as possible; the woman had taken care to skirt around mentioning the Nest, but one would need a single-digit IQ to not understand what Chinda-san had meant by ‘difficulties’.

Did she need help?

Ayumi was unwilling to accept that she could be so needy that she required help with washing herself. She clasped her hands nervously as she considered the offer, more than aware that she was weak and not quite as dexterous as she used to be, though she was reluctant to accept help—how humiliating would it be? Wouldn’t it generate a negative impression of her? Her gaze averted to the side and pressed to the floor, the brunette gave her quiet answer.

“I’d appreciate that very much,” she murmured. “Though I fear I’d be imposing on you if I asked you to help.”

“I—I mean, if it’s alright, then,” Ayumi paused briefly, her humiliation doubling, and then tripling as she considered the situation. Do I really need help? I suppose holding something heavy—like a bucket filled with water—might be a challenge for me at present. “Then I’d really like some help,” she whispered, mortified.

---

1,154 words // 23 GP // 61 GP total

Studying Takasugi's features, Kiriko felt a momentary frisson of regret. Was that perhaps too forward? She tended to forget that not every soul was as used to the ancestral customs of Soul Society. Indeed, having never lived in the mortal realm Kiriko was often far more used to the Japanese themed life style of the afterlife than she even realized. Only in that awkward silence that stretched as Takasugi blushed crimson, not from something so kind as heat but instead from shame, did Kiriko realized she might have overstepped a personal boundary here. Whereas she found the idea of communal bathing to be simply something you did as a community, this was not necessarily the case for more modern Shinigami.

Hesitation made her pause because she was loath to commit another crime against this girl who felt bad enough already. Schooling her features to impassivity was something Kiriko did without much thought, however in this situation she began to realize that perhaps what she was lacking was delicacy. There was no way to apologize without losing face herself, and in the end any attempt to do so while maintaining her professional distance would be more harmful than good to their relationship. That left only one possibility, and she winced slightly in a dreadful sort of anticipation. Somewhere dark within the crevices of her mind, Aneue began to shift, bones rattling like the sabers of war. There was dark amusement, and also a yearning that Kiriko didn't want to face from her zanpakuto spirit. After all, it was most commonly sisters who performed this kind of social function, helping to bathe each other.

Locking down on those thoughts as swiftly as possible Kiriko pushed Aneue away and tried to ignore the mocking laughter that echoed so sinisterly in her ears. Even if she didn't say anything to her spirit the skeletal girl knew exactly what Kiriko had been thinking about, and in association of. Sisters. Feeling a frown plucking at her lips, Kiriko realized that she'd been completely derailed and that Takasugi had been forced to continue speaking in that painfully insecure way that reminded her of someone else lost to time.

Holding up her hands in a calming gesture, Kiriko made the conscious decision to do what she could for this soul – it wasn't just her Captain's orders, there was something about Takasugi that made her want to reach out in kind. Smiling softly she made a quiet shushing sound, “Don't worry Takasugi-san, it would be my pleasure to help you. It will remind me of the times I used to bathe with my Older Sister,” her smile turned wistful, and the laughter from Aneue ceased, “Besides, we are both women, yes? There is nothing to be ashamed about.” Her words grew hushed towards the end as Kiriko willfully tried to project a peaceable and calming nature. That word, ashamed, it has so many meanings in this context. Kiriko would not judge Takasugi, not because of her body, or because of any weakness from captivity, or even because of the shame that coated this girl like a second skin. That was something she hoped dearly that the hot water would wash away.

There was nothing shameful about the situation. Kiriko had dealt with members of the division who had suffered horrible wounds and been crippled or unable to return to active duty. She had seen the same sort of mortification in those veteran's eyes when they were unable to do even the most simplest of tasks, unable to return to what they had once been. She saw that very same look now in Takasugi's eyes. But there was strength as well, a mental fiber, and Kiriko was not so shallow as to miss those signs and make petty judgments on the surface of things. Takasugi would heal, maybe not quickly or even for a while, but there was enough glimmerings of hope that Kiriko refused to allow anything else to color her opinion on the new member.

It was true that Kiriko was not always approachable in the nicest sense of the word – she had to be harsh and decisive when dealing with her comrades; they could not respect her otherwise – many of whom had served with her as a recruit. That was not to say however that Kiriko was unable to set aside formalities when she saw a need in one of her subordinates. So she put extra effort in her smile, showing through expression as well as words that Kiriko was being honest and direct. There was no blame in her eyes, nor pity, for Kiriko trusted that Takasugi was both competent and skilled and would overcome these difficulties. She was not crippled.

“Here, I will start the water. Once you have taken your clothes off you can set them over there and I'll dispose of them shortly.”

Reaching inside the fold of her shikakusho to pull forth a small strip of cloth Kiriko tied back her long sleeves and knelt to fill the bucket up with water. Letting a small trickle escape at first, she tested the temperature and finding it neither too hot nor too cold she slid the small bucket beneath the spigot and twisted the knob to release a stream of water. It was customary to clean oneself before soaking in the bath, though Kiriko had a sinking suspicion that by the time they were done in here she would have to throw out the bath water anyway. Takasugi was rather dirty. It was a shame but it wasn't as if they overused their water supply anyway so the well would not be stressed. Pulling a sponge from beneath one of the shelves Kiriko plopped it into the bucket of water. Waiting for Takasugi to disrobe and find a comfortable position on the stool Kiriko handed her another wash cloth that had already been soaked in the warm water and began to gently scrub her back in a soothing circular motion.

Still worried about her misstep earlier, Kiriko made sure to offer up another personal statement to soften the mood in the room. “My sister and I used to do this all the time, but she'd always wash me first and then have only cold water for herself. Luckily we won't have that problem. It's really a wonder how this place was built,” speaking quietly Kiriko continued on in that vein, describing to Takasugi the layout of the Annex and other small details about the Second. Gaining agency was a large part of feeling in control, and knowledge was just one small part of that whole. Kiriko wasn't sure how long Takasugi had been locked away but it was probably long enough that many things had changed. She knew how she would feel without the basic information that set things in order so Kiriko continued to speak softly while helping Takasugi to clean the grime from her body. Bit by bit she could help to rebuild the chinks in Takasugi's armor, the first step was to make the girl feel accepted.

Soon they were done, having scrubbed until Takasugi was satisfied and poured the rest of the water over her head to wash away anything else. Helping Takasugi into the bath, Kiriko stood up and rubbed the ache from her back as she finally stopped the steady stream of information that she had been feeding to Takasugi. “Take your time and soak, it will be good for your body. The fresh clothes are over there,” she pointed to the stack of black fabric that was within easy reach and sitting beside the towels. Scooping up the prison yukata from the floor and dispensing with it, she paused, waiting to see if Takasugi needed anything else before Kiriko left her to her own thoughts. 

WC: 1307 | GP: 26 | Total: 61

Ayumi had no recollection of the time she had spent as a soul in the human world, though considering her age, she assumed she was born in a period of Japan when communal bathing was of the norm; of course, the only reason she assumed she had been born a mortal was because her parents claimed they had found her as an infant and that made it unlikely that she’d been born as a pure soul. Even though her parents had been rather conservative people (at least a more modern shinigami would label them as so), communal bathing had never been a part of her childhood. Ayumi had been raised as an only child and she supposed that might have played a role in her being so hesitant about this previously widely-accepted custom. In addition, Ayumi self-consciousness was almost congenital—even as a child she had been averse to being exposed, be it physically or emotionally. There was something about the way being naked and defenceless distressed her, though in no way was she an outwardly violent person. She quickly looked upwards from the floor in time to notice Chinda-san observing her face.

She seemed … regretful, sorry.

Before Ayumi could open her mouth to assure the taller woman that there was no need for concern—she was fine, really—Chinda-san began speaking, her tone crisp and firm, but gentle and compassionate at the same time; it wasn’t the same as the mechanical words she had received from Chinda-san moments prior; this time her words were genuine, hardly diluted by a desire to please her captain or follow his orders. It seemed beyond such superficiality and the quality brought a smile to Ayumi’s face once more. It reassured her, actually, because from anyone else Ayumi could only have expected hesitation as intense as (or even more than) hers, or worse, disgust for communal bathing was not as acceptable as it was in the past for shinigami who did not care much for old-fashioned customs (much like her). She was relieved that her vice-captain was so accepting and so … caring a person, but so decisive and uncompromising at the same time. A majority of the people Ayumi had come across leaned towards either extreme, often being harshly strict or too kind. It took skill to strike a balance between them, to know when force and sternness was needed, but to retract both in favour of compassion to complement the situation. Ayumi could even feel vestiges of fear peel away from her, the longer she remained in Chinda-san’s presence; surely someone offering to help her with this … task could be trusted? Surely someone so considerate could not be untrustworthy? To Ayumi it did not seem like an act or a front.

“I was an only child,” Ayumi answered, slightly wistful. “I suppose that may be why I am so unused to bathing in the presence of another person,” she admitted softly, the earlier stutter in her speech gradually vanishing as Chinda-san held up a hand in order to calm Ayumi down and continued to defuse the situation as much as possible. “Thank you, once again,” she added in a much quieter tone, her gaze flitting back to the floor once again—Chinda-san was right, there was nothing to be ashamed of as they were both women, but Ayumi could not shake off years of accrued humiliation. She was not too pleased about the position she had been placed in naturally, but it was more than just her pride being wounded—what about the scars on her body? Or the way her ribs poked against her skin painfully? Those were testaments to her torture and Ayumi doubted she was ready to allow another person to witness those markers; would Chinda-san wince at the sight of scarred body? Or grimace? When compounded with the fact that this form of assistance was entirely new to her, Ayumi’s humiliation and hesitation almost seemed normal.

Almost.

There was little she could do about the shame she felt; it bound her, it trapped her, it controlled her. She could not help sometimes that she felt silly and worthless, wrong and filthy. It was out of her control, but she strove now to not let it defeat her after having seen an example of how normalcy could be obtained despite hardship—Tsukimiya-taichou. If it had been possible for him, then it was not too much of a remote possibility for her too, then, wasn’t it? Or was she being too optimistic in hoping to recover fully someday?

“You’re right, Chinda-fukutaichou,” she conceded demurely as the taller woman began to fill a bucket with water. Turning away from her, Ayumi undid the knot at the front of her yukata and shivered as the dingy fabric slid off her petite shoulders and pooled on the floor. Out of reflex, despite it being unnecessary, she folded it neatly and set it aside, as far away as possible from the clean clothes that had been placed for her to change into. It was a silly desire on her part to distance her most solid connection to the Nest as much as possible from her clean clothes—essentially a representation of the chance she had just been given. As soon as she had placed her yukata away, she took small steps and seated herself on the stool, trying in vain to hide as much of her stick-thin body as possible. The moist air felt slightly uncomfortable against her exposed skin, though in comparison to the facilities the Nest had provided, it was indisputably better. She was jostled out of her thoughts when she heard the sound of water hitting wood; Chinda-san stood beside her, sleeves rolled up and a sponge clutched in one hand. Ayumi accepted the wash-cloth and began rubbing one of her knees idly as Chinda-san rubbed soothing circles on her back with the sponge.

The brunette couldn’t quite phrase it, but despite how foreign the feeling of being cared for and helped was, it was lovely as well—it was heart-warming and reminded Ayumi of the way a family cared for one another. Her parents had probably done this for her when she was very young.

The repeated offering of anecdotes helped relieve the tenseness in the atmosphere; Ayumi had little to offer in return, but she quite liked listening to Chinda-san speak instead. Though her earlier shame had yet to wear off—it had intensified slightly, but Ayumi had adjusted to it—she found herself enjoying the experience as well. It was simply a matter of being unable to wholly enjoy it because of private fears and inhibitions. “Your sister is rather selfless,” Ayumi murmured before water was poured over her head after she had scrubbed to her heart’s content; she was forced to admit that she did feel cleaner now, as tidy and pristine as a noblewoman and as proof of that was the pool of dark water that had gathered on the floor and was being drained away. She had washed off more than dirt; gone was her original paranoia of Chinda Kiriko—there was no question that the woman was of benevolent intentions and Ayumi found herself warming up to the taller woman.

The brunette thanked her once more before she was left alone in the silent bathroom; she stepped off the wet stool and then into the large tub, her body thanking her profusely as the warm water began to work wonders for her limbs and back; pain, sweat, tears collectively seemed to vanish into the water and after she had soaked sufficiently, Ayumi stood up and climbed out of the tub, her drenched feet slapping lightly against the tiles of the bathroom floor. She was relieved that her scars had not been noticed—or if they had, she was glad Chinda-san had not pointed them out or outwardly reacted to them, as Ayumi did not possess the strength to explain their origins or deal with surprise at them; if only they didn’t exist or serve as a constant reminder of her weaknesses.

She dried herself off hastily and slipped into the freshly-pressed uniform, inhaling the scent of fresh detergent that seemed to emanate from them, before stepping out of the bathroom and stepping through the hall and then out to the garden to join Tsukimiya-taichou and Chinda-san, now—as Chinda-san had mentioned—rejuvenated and energised.

---

1402 words // 28 GP // 89 GP total

Kiriko stepped out of the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her and allowing one single sigh to escape from inside her body. Those scars had been difficult to see, not just the physical ones but also the stigma and mental lines that Takasugi was struggling with. It was there in the way that she moved, ever so careful as if she was fully expecting her movements to be restrained again at any moment. There in the way she looked around as if color and heat and texture had been deprived from her eyes for far too long. There in the way her skin crawled with the touch of Kiriko or the wetness of water as it flowed over her body, there had not been a kind touch for Takasugi in quite some time. All of those signs and more had caused Kiriko to tighten inside, her small heart turning to iron though she strove to give no indication of such changes and had continued to talk softly to Takasugi.

This kind of damage was not meant for such a pure soul. And Takasugi deserved far more. It didn't matter what she supposedly did because Kiriko knew that many of the prisoners of the Nest were only accused and not actually guilty of their alleged crimes. Crime and punishment weren't so much a concern to Kiriko. She felt that people who broke laws deserved to be punished for the betterment of society and she also wasn't against imprisoning someone who needed to be removed from the picture when their death would be more messy than wanted. That was why the dichotomy of her belief left her hardened inside. Kiriko would throw anyone into the darkest pit of the Nest if her Captain told her too, but she was similarly quite glad that someone like Takasugi was no longer a “guest” there. It wasn't that she could second-guess her directives or purpose but there was still some traces of regret that filled her as she had observed Takasugi and known that it was partially her responsibility for the younger girl's imprisonment. Not in any direct correlation but there nonetheless. This was a burden that Kiriko might feel bad about, even wish was not so, but she would shoulder that burden even so as a consequence of the ruling might. Life was never fair but that didn't mean she was going to break out from the moral quicksand and escape. There was no such thing as escape anyway. This was what was needed to be done and Kiriko had no outward qualms about doing it.

Watching her Captain cook it slowly softened that hard cold rock that had formed her heart. Here was a man who was far deadlier than even she could imagine and yet he made these gestures, appreciated such beauty and delicacy. It was true that morality had no place here in the second but Kiriko realized that that didn't mean there was no beauty. Nodding her head solemnly at his words, Kiriko set off to help her Captain prepare the table for Takasugi. It was just what she had wanted to hear. In fact ever since she had helped Takasugi into the bathroom Kiriko had been waiting for that kind of “order” from her Captain. Given as a request rather than a directive she nonetheless was not one to disappoint her superiors let alone her Captain. This just meant more now than ever before, because Kiriko was not merely building up from the ruins of the Nibantai a more efficient and better program but was instead helping to build an actual person. Helping to fix and repair and return to her former glory what looked to be a rather impressive Shinigami beneath all the pain and suffering. A genuine and innocent Shinigami as well. Everyone had killed, even those pacifists over in the Fourth had done their share of purifying Hollow's when push came to shove but Takasugi somehow remained untainted. She was like a precious pearl hidden inside a dirty clam shell. The Second would cherish and protect her until that pearl had time to grow into its own.

Taking her seat at the table Kiriko neatened her hair and waited for their third member to join them.

WC: 711 | GP: 14 | Total: 75

Had she seen them? Ayumi sincerely hoped by some miracle the all-too prominent scars on her back had somehow been overlooked, though even to her the idea seemed incredulous. It was not just matter of vulnerability at the hands of these two individuals who knew more about her past than she could remember—it felt like a violation of privacy, even though the woman in question was trustworthy. Even if she couldn’t hide having been incarcerated, the markers of her incarceration—the horrors she had seen—were things she kept closely guarded and now they were on complete display to potentially be gazed at with horror. To Ayumi’s slight relief, Chinda-fukutaichou did not breathe a word about the scars stamped into her pasty skin and proceeded to talk to her softly, soothingly. Only when Ayumi was left alone to soak in the tub did she release the breath she had unconsciously been holding before splashing some water onto her face.

It felt glorious to feel pain ebbing away from her joints—in fact, it felt as if in nineteen years, Ayumi had never found herself feeling pleasure in any form; it had only ever been moments of severe pain and moments without pain during those dreadful days in the Nest.

The brunette stepped out of the tub and rubbed herself dry with the towels that had been placed within easy reach, a small gasp of amazement at how soft the fabric felt against her skin. How nice it felt to reacquaint herself with the luxuries of the ‘outside’ world—she had almost forgotten some of the beauties of this world; deep within Ayumi was slightly guilty for having taken these benefits for granted prior to her long imprisonment, though in retrospect, they were only precious now because she had seen and felt much worse now.

Vaguely Ayumi could smell detergent and something else emanating from the neat, though slightly loose uniform as she slipped it on—that scent all new garments seemed to carry? She couldn’t tell. Her fingers finally slowly pulled the white obi around her waist into a knot, no longer quite as dextrous as they had been before, but still capable. Finally, the brunette brushed away damp strands of her dark hair with her fingers and pulled open the bathroom door, the creak resonating through the stony room.

Outside she could hear muffled voices and garbled words (though she could pick out the word anchor, how odd …) that she recognised as the captain’s and the vice-captain’s—but she did not dare pry, despite her underlying curiosity; the fear of how the action would negatively impact on her image barred her from doing so.

 Her bare feet padded softly against the tatami floors of the corridor and she found herself standing in the empty living room of the Annex, with only the overwhelmingly sweet smell of a pastry for company. It was still so unbelievable—so faultless, so perfect—that it stunned her; in only hours she had been returned everything that had been taken away from her promptly; purpose, career, food, facilities—

A life.

Yes, perhaps that was the best way to explain it—she had been lifeless through the duration she had spent in the Maggots’ Nest; living is not defined by mechanical inhalation or exhalation, or other bodily processes. What was being alive then? Was it that desire to wake up every morning and work through the day then? She had experienced that once—a long time ago, before this miserable chapter of her life had commenced. Would it reappear now that she had seen the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel? Perhaps it was too idealistic of her to suddenly feel alive, but slowly, surely, perhaps it would return. She wanted it to return.

Registering only then how long she’d stood alone engrossed in her own thoughts, she rushed outside into the garden, remembering to put on her sandals as she joined her superiors at the western-style table that had been set up on the brilliantly green lawn. On it was a feast that—dare she say it—intimidated her and awed her at the same time. Never before had she seen so much food in one place and such a variety too. Everything on the table seemed so exotic to Ayumi, who even before her imprisonment, had never quite been exposed to non-Japanese food. Taking her seat beside Chinda-fukutaichou and Tsukimiya-taichou, she gave the two of them polite smiles.

“I’m sorry for making you wait.”

---

750 words // 15  GP // 104 GP total

The breeze was delicate and subtle, a slight stirring of her clothes and the soft caress of a faint gusting wind. It carried on its wings the scent of trees and flowers in bloom, the earthy smell of dirt and bark and even wet stone from the nearby pond. Wind was a powerful force, but on days like this when it was as fragile as the flaky pastries her Captain baked, it was rather hard to keep in mind that dangerous opportunity. The fact that the weather could shift in a moment to storm or gale, that even the strongest spirit could be bent down or tossed up due to hurricane winds. This was a part of life, the hidden peril behind even the most beautiful and gentle of outward appearances. It was something that Kiriko thought of often as she watched her Captain move, those graceful fingers gliding through the air as he placed food so daintily on his plate. The slide of his knife against the scone. Such a terrible artistry hiding something darker and deeper. Threatening menace, Tsukimiya's blade-edged capabilities, these seemed so far from thought on a day like this. With the sunlight streaming down upon them like angel wings and the very air dancing with pleasure and contentment. Did people look at her Captain and see only those outward signs? Did they watch his smiles and his gestures and forget what was really there?

She wondered this often, because Kiriko's Captain was a man of true skill. If there was anyone in the world that she wanted to emulate, any person in existence that she thought the truest of professionals, any Shinigami that held the title of the best, it was clearly this man sitting before her. That was why she paid such attention and that was also why his mask intrigued her. What reason had he found to cover his skill in that softer layer? What was eased by pretending to be so human? This was a question she could not answer. Kiriko had always assumed, and believed very strongly, that to be powerful was to give up the weaknesses of the soul. To forgo that which a normal person needed, companionship, society, history. It was to overcome, to move on. To be so strong that you no longer needed to play with the trappings of petty little people or internal politics. Kiriko had tried to follow that thought process when she had first been promoted. If she was strong enough to be a Lieutenant then others should see her strength and respect it. It was through skill and proficiency that one made their mark and she shouldn't have to rely on any sort of kind tone or friendly demeanor to get things done.

But that wasn't what her Captain did. He put on this act, this shrouding of his true capabilities, as if there was a benefit to it. A real upside to having to deal with little things like emotions and dealing so softly with someone like Takasugi. Kiriko was slowly starting to realize that her opposite behavior had downsides as well. There was no question that she was respected amongst the Nibantai. People came to her with problems because they feared what she would do if she found out about them through another avenue. They reported in and they worked had to better themselves because she instilled in them a burning need for perfection. They followed protocol and were orderly because she would accept nothing else. But was that the same thing? Was that desire spurred on by fear of Kiriko's cutting tongue or harsh disapproval? It was few and far between when Kiriko looked at someone and saw a weakness without fault. If there was a flaw one should cut it out. What excuse could mitigate that truth? That was something Kiriko had always believed in. For herself and for others.

With someone like Takasugi it was different, and she wasn't exactly sure why. What was it about the other girl that made Kiriko feel more lenient, more understanding? Looking at the injury of the girl's body, the wasted muscle and scars, she had felt no anger or disgust. Kiriko was never repulsed by such things anyway but she often felt an anger at people who had let these things happen to them. Who had been so weak as to allow such harm to befall them. Why was it any different with Takasugi? It shouldn't really matter that circumstances conspired against the other girl, that life wasn't fair, because Kiriko had judged others far harsher over things out of their control before. But somehow she was beginning to rethink that idea, that strict belief system.

If Takasugi's suffering was an unfortunate event that cast no mar over the girl herself why then did someone who didn't train hard enough for her satisfaction or someone who made a mistake in the field deserve such strong castigation? Was that what Tsukimiya was dealing with when he worked to disguise his sharp edges and appear so friendly and approachable? Kiriko knew that her expectations were outlandish at times but she felt that they only served to improve people, giving them a constant goal to work towards. Looking at the two in front of her, her Captain and Takasugi, Kiriko began to reassess that assumption of hers. It was a slow process because she was unwilling to make a pivot and admit that people did not need strong guidance, but nonetheless this experience was enough to have her rethinking her normal way of acting around the members of the Nibantai. Takasugi reminded Kiriko of her Older Sister, of that bond, and it was embarrassing to realize but she had forgotten in all this time the kindness of her loving sister. She would have frowned so deeply to see Kiriko lost in all of this formality and structure.

The question of what other options she had had after the death of the only kindness in her life was one Kiriko did not want to dwell on now. If harshness was a response to the suffering in her life it was surely nothing her sister would have approved of, but after dying and leaving Kiriko alone she had no right to still effect Kiriko's world. No right to make demands on how Kiriko saw fit to build herself up, to develop the armor needed to be strong and capable. Even so, with those defensive thoughts racing through her head, Kiriko bowed before the knowledge that it wasn't just her Older Sister who would be disappointed with her now. Kiriko herself wanted to be a strong leader – not just one who could beat any challenger but also one who was looked up to and one who took care of their subordinates. She didn't want to rule through fear, but through respect. Perhaps it was time she remembered that.

Sliding a piece of scone on to her place, Kiriko waited in contemplative silence as she set aside her own internal changes and put her attention on Takasugi. It wasn't much of a shock to hear that the other girl was here for such a reason. Poisons, huh? That was something she could get behind, they didn't have anyone in the Second who was good at manufacturing such things and Kiriko fully understood the benefit of that darker tool. The conversation itself was surprising, she had been unaware of the nearly relaxed relationship between her Captain and Takasugi... Maybe it stemmed from that shared history. Kiriko had never been deep within the Nest, it wasn't within her reach or domain most of the time, but she knew enough and had seen enough of the surface to make her own conjectures. It was somewhat public knowledge that their Captain had been one of the “guests” there such a short time ago, though Kiriko had never much bothered to dig into that subject. She was not one to pry, and furthermore her Captain's skill was undeniable. What did she care about his past? Even if he had committed some horrible crime she was in no place to call for an ethics trial. It was enough of a mention though that she stirred slightly in curiosity. Was this the tie between Takasugi and Tsukimiya? The thing that lent their interactions with that shared knowingness, that soft sense of familiarity? And if so, was she jealous or just sorry?

WC: 1407 | GP: 28 | Total GP: 103

The sight that greeted her was of the sort she had only seen behind eyelids—or maybe in a dream—but only in her mind’s eye; colours splashing and dancing across a canvas, streaked and splattered and smudged, but still providing a beautiful and brilliant contrast to the blue-black of the Nest she had grown used to. It was vast and sprawling, stretching for further than her eye could trace, diametrically green. The sky was bluer, the flowers brighter and more colourful than the grainy tones she had imagined in her mind. Despite the fact that both her superiors were seated, Ayumi could not help the awestruck stare she spared the scenery around her; the journey to the division’s compound had allowed her only to see the grey of stony buildings and roads, even if it had been the first dose of fresh air she had received in a long time. Her eyes still absorbing the sight of the garden around her, Ayumi seated herself and turned towards the meal spread out on the table only as Tsukimiya-taichou began to speak.

“Ah—oh, right. Thank you,” came her demure response as brown eyes swept across the length of the table, surveying once more with much amazement the variety of food in front of her. She was certain she couldn’t even name half of these foods and until the man seated across her had suggested that she sample the scones, Ayumi had not even known of the existence of pastry. If only to remain polite, she carefully placed a fried mushroom in her mouth—admittedly it was delicious, though there were matters of greater significance occupying her mind at present.  The brunette shifted uncomfortably in seat as silence permeated the air; Chinda-fukutaichou had not uttered a word since she had joined them, appearing to be engrossed in thought—Ayumi vaguely considered adopting a similar approach for the time being when she looked up, surprised to hear an incoherent murmur. Had it been addressed to her? Had she tuned out her surroundings once again? How embarrassing—

She was given no more time to dwell on her actions. Quickly, with that smooth, mechanical precision she had witnessed earlier that day in the Nest, Tsukimiya-taichou deftly changed the topic, but there was a cheer present in his tone now that hadn’t been there earlier—two sides of a coin? Or maybe a mask being taken off? Ayumi could distinctly trace courtesy in his tone, the very courtesy that had been replaced by a detached rationality when they had first met. It wasn’t sudden, she reminded herself but neither was it a gradual one. It was simply that neither extreme of his personality was particularly prominent to Ayumi nor in the end it was a simple observation; meaningless, meagre and only another tidbit to shelve away somewhere in her mind.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance as well …” Her response lacked both confidence and volume. Immediately, she nodded towards the dark-haired woman beside her to signify that it had been a pleasure to meet her as well, as if to compensate for somehow excluding her from the conversation thus far. It was respect that drove her to remain to studiously polite, but respect also kept her quiet and in fear as a result. Sometimes she wondered why she was this way—why her identity was constructed around a fear of those she respected, even though it was not necessarily something bad, at least in comparison to certain other things she was guilty of. Maybe it was that she looked up to people who obtained what she struggled to find—in front of her was an example of unconditional acceptance, the kind Ayumi herself had only ever found in one place. Chinda-fukutaichou’s respect for their captain was abundantly evident and in return from said captain was acceptance; it was an unspoken connection, but rang clearer than screams or loud declarations. The dark-haired woman had found a niche of sorts for herself, a place which she could unquestionably call home. A horizontal family, even.

Ayumi wanted that and hoped that someday she would find the same horizontal family here. Tears pricked her eyes as she thought of what she had never had—a companion who accepted her unconditionally—but she barricaded them with a series of rapid blinks. She had always been alone, no matter how hard she tried and had eventually adapted to it. It was no longer something worth actively working towards, considering her track record of negative results. In juxtaposing the major events of her life, Ayumi had come to realise that everything had come with a dear price, but never too costly for her to pay—yet the more she gave to others, the less she received in return. Perhaps that was the very nature of life; give and take though sometimes it proved to be extremely lopsided. Even now, her freedom had not been given to her without a price.

“Before being incarcerated,” Ayumi began as soon as she was addressed, bright red from both the compliments and the unending fear of not knowing what to say as well as still feeling out of place despite having changed into cleaner clothes and having taken a bath. “I used to work with shinten* and a few other tranquilisers,” she proceeded her hands moving outwards from their folded position in her lap to demonstrate her words in gestures. And suddenly her earlier inhibitions had been temporarily forgotten as she continued to speak—gone was that feeling of being out of place, of being reminded that she was weak and submissive and it was in her nature to suffer in silence and self-pity until she had been pushed to her boiling point. The more she submerged herself in this world, the less concerned she grew about the image of herself she presented.

“I don’t really know when I started to dabble in poisons, though it was only out of curiosity and that it wasn't encouraged. I really doubt there were uses for anything other than pain relievers or anaesthetics in the Third Division,” Ayumi reminisced.“Though I realise now that poisons have … benefits.” Though it had never formally been discussed with her, Ayumi was well aware of the duty of the Second Division and how her synthesis of various toxins would come into play; through her excitement, she hadn’t spared thought towards the idea of murdering people in order to cast aside their existence as if she were talking about the weather.

“As for ideas I have planned—” A pause filtered her rapid speech.  Slowly the flickering gleam of enthusiasm in her eyes dulled as she was hard pressed for words once more. “I intended to restart from where I had stopped.  Paralysis might be an effect worth testing out,” she finished, once again quiet and reserved. Slightly thirsty, she reached for the glass of orange juice in front of her with both hands and took a minute sip from it, remembering as she did so the recommendations about the scones. She waited for a response whilst setting her glass down and gingerly placing the cake on her plate before confusedly eyeing the array of jams in front of her.

---

*-- a shinten is an anaesthetic unique to Bleach

1,204 words // 24 GP // 128 GP total

Kiriko began to study Takasugi anew as the girl tentatively answered their Captain's questions. The byplay of emotions across her pretty face was like reading a book or a chart, Kiriko wondered if Takasugi even noticed her mobile expressions. Had she become so used to the darkness and emptiness of the Nest that she unconsciously was unaware of the story she told through her mannerisms? Was it so very lonely there that Takasugi had no need for disguise or subterfuge? It was an interesting thought, though perhaps something she would need to keep in mind. The Second dealt with important and usually secret information. Even Takasugi's new role, if Kiriko had understood her Captain's meaning well enough, was going to be something of a covert operation. There was a lot to be said in spreading the knowledge that the Second had their hands on a deadly poison, but not much to be said for the particulars of that toxic decoction. Takasugi might be in need of a subtle reminder of the benefits of a closed face.

Her mental calculations were hard to shut off. The promise of progress, of growth, of new tactics, they all spurred within Kiriko a desire to plan. To think and strategize and figure out how best to achieve the utmost efficiency with everyone's talents. How best to help each individual along to reach their own personal apex. It was like a brilliant game of chess, always shifting and fluid as she moved the pieces that represented the Second's members around in a myriad of patterns. Some worked best together, some like Knights ranged outward across the board, others kept back to protect the King. How to situate everyone so that their true potential came out, aware of the inner workings of each Shinigami, it was a complex game she had to play. But it was also exactly what she had been born to do, or perhaps more aptly, what she had built herself up to do. Kiriko was the person she had created herself as and in this incarnation she was perfect for her job.

That was part of the reason she was paying so much attention to Takasugi, to assess and delve and figure out. If Kiriko could find the weaknesses and the strengths then she would be able to place Takasugi on the board with optimal positioning. She would be able to slowly but surely help Takasugi strengthen her own skills and abilities until she morphed from a lowly pawn to something more useful. There was another reason though, a more personal one, and that was the fact that Takasugi was a curiosity to Kiriko. It had been a long time since she had dealt with such a figure. A Shinigami in their ranks who was still “clean” who still clung to illusionment and optimism. Too many of the spirits in her ranks were so very jaded, realism was required for their work, but that didn't always mean you had to forget the beauty in this world as well. Takasugi hadn't just kept that ability to see such things, she was reveling in the sights. This was a person who appreciated, who understood, who did not throw off the glamor of the world because she was afraid to do otherwise. Would Takasugi survive here? Would that brightness and purity become weathered but not worn down?

Kiriko dearly hoped so. It would be like a charm then... The Second's one good charm. Takasugi seemed strong enough for it, brave enough and smart enough. She could endure the darkness, hadn't she already proved that? Tinged with jealousy Kiriko finally realized where her feelings were originating from with this younger girl. Takasugi was the opposite of Kiriko. Where Kiriko had fled and turned to hide in the shadows when the world got too tough, when the truths got too dark and reality too hard to manage with any moderate measures, those were the same places that Takasugi stood tall at. She had seen the worst of this world and instead of sinking down to those depths to protect her cowardly self she had maintained. Persevered. Takasugi was strong. Stronger than Kiriko could be. But that innate fragility of the girl, that porcelain outside that called out to Kiriko as a predator, as a warrior, she saw that weak outside and knew how enticing it would appear to someone like herself. To an enemy. Takasugi looked so soft, and that softness almost cried out to be smashed, to be shattered so that Takasugi could be broken down to the base and built back up stronger. That was what Kiriko would have done with herself, eradicating any sign of weakness. That was what dark people like herself did, cutting away all that was good about themselves because they couldn't bare to lose, couldn't bare the uncertainty of trying to succeed while maintaining purity. And that was the difference, that was what made someone like Takasugi truly strong and someone like Kiriko a coward.

She wished it was different, wished this path she had walked down was easy to turn around on. But Kiriko had marked her choice the day she decided to work towards perfection, towards efficiency. There was no room in her soul for cherishing the lovely nature of the world. Perhaps if she could help Takasugi, perhaps if she could just be near Takasugi, that would be enough for her. To see that light shining in the other girl's eyes, to know that you were partially responsible for the other girl's success... Could she live through that? Could she watch Takasugi and just imagine her life if she had only been stronger?

Throughout her thoughts Kiriko had been slowly consuming her food, neatly cutting the pancake into small squares and dipping it lightly into the syrup. She knew very intimately how to maintain an appearance, and even deep in thought Kiriko was still paying attention to the conversation, still nodding at the appropriate times and even smiling once as Takasugi spoke directly to her. The shift in conversation towards levity was nonetheless surprising, Kiriko was so accustom to her own utilitarian thoughts that the change in subject came as a shock. The welling up of surprise was quickly doused as she thought about her Captain's reasons for doing this. Emotions were such tricky things, sometimes Kiriko felt as if she was more robot than human, but that did not mean that she lacked in empathy or the ability to understand. She just more often than not shoved off her own feelings to get things done. That was why it took her a second or so to realize the intent behind this new conversation, the desire to get each member here acclimated with each other so that they could work together as a smoother and better whole.

Falling into the role with an internal shrug, Kiriko smiled enigmatically towards the two. It wasn't very difficult to take on an act, to put aside formality for a moment and work to ease Takasugi's mental burden. If she took the first step, maybe it would be easier for the other girl to speak of personal matters. If Kiriko could make it look mundane, make it look low-risk, then perhaps it would be less scary to divulge such secrets. “I wonder,” she drawled with a bit of laughter, “Perhaps it's true that all I do is paperwork. You'll have to be careful and not let the others know Takasugi-san, they already place bets as to how long I'll stay in my office every day. If you tell them the truth then they'll really start making money and that would just be a mess. I'd have to do even more paperwork then just to clean it all up!”

She paused after the lighthearted joke, her own thoughts delving deeper as she began to think. What were her hobbies? It was humiliating to admit but her Captain had hit it right on the spot, Kiriko invested her time in the Nibantai as often as she could. Perhaps too often when one thought about her neglected pastimes. Still, there were familiar threads of activity to list when one thought about her daily life. She was not such a one-dimensional workaholic after all. “I enjoy calligraphy, there is something very peaceful about Shodo. It is the same feeling you get when you finally perfect a movement and can flow through the actions like water on the wind. That is the sensation I get with calligraphy. And of course this beautiful garden is a lovely place to paint. The koi are particularly photogenic.” Smiling wistefully now, Kiriko glanced over towards the pond and its denizens. They had spent many a while bathing in the sun together, those jewelry scaled fish and her.

WC: 1456 | GP: 29 | Total GP: 132

Privately Ayumi had always harboured doubts about her admissions into the ranks of the Third Division; of course it had provided her with everything she had ever wanted and then—only a naïve graduate from the Academy—she had decided it was what she wanted. It offered her an opening, it gave her the silence and solitude she needed for her and best of all, it shielded her from too much attention or glory. Yet it had been an unsatisfying venture on her part to join the Third Division—she had not been able to give back to it what it had given her. The compassionate, nurturing nature her colleagues had displayed had never been present within her; time and time again she proved to be a seemingly frigid recluse and when even to her allies, her peers she failed to connect easily, then how could she tend to someone in pain and in dire need of comfort? What was she meant to do when she was confronted with someone ridden with suffering or illness? In the end she had failed to fit in, though to her credit she had turned a blind eye to it rather well, even though it hadn’t been intentional. For the most part Ayumi had simply gone about her day without sparing too much thought to her inability to assimilate into her division and only after she had left it had she given it serious thought.

Could she really have called such a place home? It’s only a simple statement; there’s no need to dissect it she reminded herself before nodding in accordance with Tsukimiya-taichou’s words. “I’m sure I will,” she affirmed slowly as she lifted a forkful of scone to her mouth. She’d chosen to eat it without toppings from the assortment that had been set out in front of her. To begin with, the scone was sweeter than anything she had ever tasted before and the small mouthful she was chewing alone was enough to make her eyes widen in surprise. The pastry filled her mouth with a taste she had never come across before—intense, but pleasing sweetness. In the back of her mind she realised that perhaps she ought to keep her expressions less conspicuous, though it didn’t take precedence over her first experience with a scone. Ayumi had never been one to regulate her expressions or emotions strictly; it was rare that anything evoked emotion from her at all. For so long, Ayumi had spent her life bored and wistful—it was only natural that little startled her, little stunned her, little added colour or spice to her life. Perhaps she’d gotten careless about keeping a sangfroid mask perfectly in place over the years.

Swallowing another mouthful of food, Ayumi nodded in agreement to the suggestions she had been provided with courtesy of her captain. “I look forward to it …" The conversation was moving faster than the brunette could process and when that was coupled with the way she as being scrutinised by Chinda-fukutaichou (at least the way she was being closely examined by the other woman gave Ayumi that impression) catalysed Ayumi’s inability to do more than mumble a few words in agreement, though she likely would not have had much to say otherwise as well. In addition the euphoria of discussing a subject she was particularly fascinated in had dissolved as well. The brunette shifted once more to her right as Chinda-san’s gaze had returned to her; surely the dark-haired vice-captain meant no harm. Maybe it was simply in her nature to be as detailed and thorough as possible—those qualities fit rather well with what of the woman she had observed so far. Meticulous. Precise. Sharp. Yet careful and watching, vigilant and compassionate at the same time, the way an older sister might be or a mother might be. How lucky she was—or how skilled she was, rather, to have been able to strike a pleasing balance between mechanical efficiency and humane benevolence.  How Ayumi wished she had found that very balance herself, for if only she had maybe she would have found solace without needing to kill another person. Maybe she would not find herself slinking away into corners at the very thought of having to converse with other people, maybe she would not find herself shrinking and withering as she failed to meet expectations or please others. How she wished she had this quality of Chinda-san’s—the ability to command respect with a tight-fisted rule, but to also garner love and affection through care.

It was the use of her given name that brought her back to reality. “Oh—yes, yes, you can,” she permitted hastily before turning her attention to his question. If she were to be honest, she did not have very many interests the way others did, even before her incarceration. Her idea of leisure was daydreaming and despite the numerous activities her parents had tried to coax her into, she had yet to find something she truly enjoyed doing.  For a brief stint, she’d been intrigued by the working of cheap magic tricks that were apparently popular in the human world, but it had been about two decades since she’d even held a deck of cards, let alone performed a trick. Ayumi did not even have to try to know that she was probably nowhere near skilled enough to resume playing around with human magic tricks—they didn’t work the same way as kido or shunpo did, both of which were etched deep into her bones and into the furthest depths of her mind. Those skills hardly felt like learned skills to Ayumi—they were things she could recall in her sleep, if she wished to. Her heart sunk momentarily as she came to the realisation that there were things she would now have to forgo—things she might never be able to re-learn, things she would forever have to leave behind in a chapter she had crossed eons ago, how disheartening—but her attention was once again, diverted to something else; a joke about his vice-captain. Ayumi grinned as she heard it before turning to the person in question.    

The smile that spread across Chinda-fukutaichou’s face was uncharacteristic, yet it brought out a feminine beauty and vibrancy in the vice-captain’s face that had been ruthlessly supressed before. Ayumi wondered if her own face could ever look like that—that lively, that cheery; she would certainly like for it to, even if she could not imagine laugh lines or rosy cheeks on her pallid visage.

“I’ll be sure to guard it with my life, Chinda-fukutaichou,” Ayumi promised, the very faintest hints of humour colouring her tone to match Chinda-fukutaichou’s own—it was hard for her to connect with the other woman on an emotional level, despite the anecdotes that she had shared; respect she could give, as she could with trust, yet … yet it was such a challenge for Ayumi to treat the other woman the way she would treat any companion. It was still much too soon for her to adapt to socialising ordinarily and taking baby steps towards normalcy was her only option to combat it. “Shodo? Painting? I’d love to see your work sometime, Chinda-fukutaichou; I’ve always wanted to try out shodo as well, though I never really got a chance to.” It was truthful, though only vaguely.

Her shy admittance of the truth was her first step towards recovery—or at least to finding a friend, which she sorely lacked.
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1,255 words // 25 GP // 153 GP total