#I wanted to play with the idea of the districts of Rukongai having their own cultures and practices apart from what we know of the Seireitei

[rays-of-fire-and-ice]

Horizons

Hitsuhina Gift Exchange 2022

Prompt: a song inspired creation

Rating: K+/General with some mature themes and mentions of violence/blood

Setting: A few days after the end of the TYBW arc, but there are flashbacks, two set before the main story, one between the end of the Fake Karakura Town and the beginning of the Lost Agent arcs. Basically, any scenes in italics are set in the past.

Synopsis: During the first days of reconstruction, Hitsugaya and Hinamori decide to visit the Junrinan. Along the way, Hitsugaya comes to realisation.

AN: @rainfestive, thank you for this prompt! I must admit, I had the basic idea for this fic before the gift exchange, but this prompt got me listening to music, and several songs helped inspire the completed story. The main songs that provided inspiration were I Was Born for This by Austin Wintory, Catharsis by Vishal Naidu & Dan Caine, and My Universe by Coldplay x BTS. The other songs included: She Lit a Fire by Lord Huron, compassion from the BLEACH ost, Snowfield from the Clannad ost, and going home from the BLEACH ost.

I wanted create a fic that conveyed the same softness that your fanart does, and I’ve hopefully succeeded in doing that (well, this fic actually has a pretty angsty start, but it does get fluffy I promise!). In a way, this is a spiritual prequel to It’s Been a While, but honestly, this was meant to be it’s own thing, so feel free to consider the two stories linked or not. Also:

I know it’s stated that the Seireitei needed reconstruction after the Quincy War, but there’s nothing concrete about whether the Rukongai was also badly damaged or not. However, for the sake of this story, sections of it were and need to be reconstructed.

A kokeshi doll is a traditional Japanese toy. The Rukongai seems to have traditional Japanese toys (like spinning tops, which Toshiro used to play with), so I figured they likely have this kind of toy there too.

Hasukappu is the Japanese name given to blue honeysuckle.

Also, I may or may not have been inspired by @canariie's fic trepidation at one point (for those who have read it, you’ll know it when you see it).

I hope you, Rain, and everyone else enjoy this!

__________________________________

Toshiro doesn’t flinch at the blast of freezing wind. The bare branches above and below him rattle, and the first snow falls from the dark grey clouds over the Junrinan in erratic spirals.

Only a few souls wonder the streets and alleyways of the first district, keeping their heads low and wearing multiple layers against the wind. Most souls can’t withstand the cold at this time of the day, with most choosing to stay indoors around a fire. The orange glow emitting from within most houses is bright against the still dark morning.

He again wonders what the lives of those inside is like. Are they still asleep or waking up? Do they all sit around the fire as they eat breakfast? Did they have anything they worked towards? Did any of them feel alone or different from the rest?

He shakes his head; the train of thought is useless to follow.

As the dawn mist gradually thins, he gets a better view of the whole Junrinan and the second district. A slice of the sunrise manages to peak through the clouds and he raises his hand to shade his eyes. Some of the houses in its way are bathed in a yellow-pink glow and the snow on their roofs glimmers.

Below, a soul treads into the light's path cast over one of the Junrinan's main streets. A girl, from what Toshiro can tell, wrapped up in a blanket that almost touches the ground. She avoids the growing piles of snow gathering on the sides of the road and her breaths fog in the air. Her strides are purposeful, enough to go against the harsh wind and cold. Why would she be out at this time? Was she going to go into the forests and find some firewood? Or food? She wouldn't need the main road for either of those things. She could be a new soul, left to her own devices to find a place to stay.

Toshiro shakes his head again; another useless train of thought.

At the growing tension in his chest, he begins to climb down the tree. He tells himself it’s because he needs to get back to Granny, she’d be awake soon. If he were honest with himself, it was because if the girl were to look to her right, there’s a good chance she’d spot him, and possibility of that makes him uncomfortable.

___________________________________

The kokeshi doll rolls away from Toshiro’s foot. He watches it tumble over chips of debris until it bounces off the ruins of the house it likely belonged to. Unlike many of the buildings surrounding it, this one still had most of its roof intact. One of its walls was obliterated, lying in chunks splayed out across the ground, with various broken and torn housewares scattered amongst remains.

Toshiro steps over the wreckage and stays bent over after he picks up the toy, shading it from the late afternoon sun. Paint had scratched off in various places and there’s a small chunk gone from the top of the head, but it’s otherwise remarkably in good condition compared to the other objects scattered about.

He hears Rangiku’s footsteps coming towards him before she calls out. “Captain, we have an update on assessment for the thirteenth district!”

Toshiro rises as his lieutenant nears. “Go on.”

It’s like almost every other report he’s received: buildings completely leveled or caved in, some souls have injuries being tended to by the squadron sent by Fourth Division, but thankfully no casualties for this one. He can’t say the same for this district.

As Rangiku continues to give the details, his gaze involuntarily wonders to the souls a short distance over her shoulder. There’s about twenty of them all underneath a temporary shelter, all in various states of disarray. They’d been given fresh clothes, and behind them, some of his unseated officers are preparing food rations. They watch as the Shinigami comb through the remains of their homes, and the only thing stopping them from joining in are the seated officers keeping them from interfering in the assessment. A few officers remain silent, the rest are trying to offer comfort or reassurances, but they’re falling on deaf ears.

Toshiro’s brow furrows deeper when he spots a young boy, his dark hair in whipped in all directions and wearing a clean yukata. The boy had been staring at him with widened eyes. At being caught, his shoulders rise and he’s quick to shift his gaze to the ruined house the doll belonged to. At his crumbling expression, Toshiro knows this was once his home, and the toy is his.

It's not the first time he has seen that kind of expression in the last week, nor will it be the last. All the lives of the souls here are forever changed, and he doesn’t blame the resentment he sees in some of them. He’d been up at the Palace, had tried to stop as much debris as he could from falling on to the Soul Society, but he couldn't stop all of it.

“Sir?”

Toshiro blinks and is quick to bring his attention back to Rangiku. “Thank you for the update, Matsumoto. Send…No, ask the assessment team to return to here and help with distributing resources. When you’ve done that, bring back whatever written reports you’ve completed to here. We'll finish for the day after the food rations have been given out.” When Rangiku doesn’t leave, he fully turns to her. “Was there anything else?”

Perhaps she’s caught off guard by the way he speaks; in other circumstances he’d be more relaxed with his tone and his choice of words, but it didn’t feel right to be anything other than direct and authoritative right now.

“Captain…” Rangiku purses her lips. It’s only then he notices how frazzled her hair is, it’s so out of character for her. But then, it was hard to be one’s self in the aftermath of something this destructive. Toshiro waits, and it’s a moment later when whatever hesitation she has disappears.

“Everything’s been set up here," she says. "After the assessment team comes back, we’ll have enough to keep things under control.”

“What are you getting at?”

“You should take a break. You’ve been up since dawn and haven’t stopped once all day, or even all of yesterday for that matter.”

He half expected her concern - the bags under his eyes become more apparent each day – and she hadn’t been the only one. Some of his seated officer, though they tried to hide it, showed their concern yesterday and this morning. It came out in the small smiles they give him and the over enthusiasm they have to some tasks he assigns, as if to assure him they are more than capable and that he can rest easy. But he sees the way their shoulders weigh down, the hardness or sorrow in their eyes when they think he isn’t looking. “I’ll rest once all the assessments are completed.”

She glances at the doll in his hand. Something about it makes her sigh. “You always tell others to know their limits, but never yourself.”

“I know my limits,” he responds curtly. “You don’t have to --”

“Yo, Captain Hitsugaya!”

Both swerve in the direction of Shinji’s call. Several officers from the Fifth Division approach, and in the middle of them are their captain and Momo. The latter doesn’t notice either of them, too preoccupied with giving instructions to her surrounding subordinates, but the former waves at them.

Toshiro tucks the doll away into his sleeve. “What’s he doing here?” he wonders under his breath.

With their impending argument interrupted, Rangiku smiles. “They have jurisdiction for the district next door. They might just be passing by.”

Whatever Momo instructed her subordinates to do, half march off down a nearby alleyway while the others remain. It’s then she spots them and gestures for her officers to wait.

“Afternoon you two,” Shinji greets.

Momo comes over to them, but unlike Shinji, her grin doesn’t reach her eyes. “Hello Rangiku-san, Hitsug – I mean, Captain Hitsugaya.”

Toshiro would voice his surprise that she actually called him by his title, but this isn’t the time or place. “Doing assessment for the west ninth district I assume?” he asks Shinji.

“Just finished it actually.”

“Then are you here to discuss the proposal for repairs in north districts twenty through to twenty-five?”

Shinji’s grin wobbles and he raises a brow. “Geez, ain’t that a bit early? Pretty sure Head Captain said we didn’t need to get to work on that until two months in at the latest. Are you ahead of schedule already?”

“No, just planning.”

“Well, regardless, we ain’t here for that. We’re actually on our way back to the Seireitei to write up assessment reports for districts nine and ten. However, I think Hinamori and I are feeling a little generous and have some time to spare. Did you guys need any help here?”

“We were going to offer help regardless,” Momo quickly adds.

Toshiro folds his arms. “Thank you for the offer, but we don’t need-”

“I think we’ll take you up on that!”

For the first time since returning from the Palace, Toshiro breaks the authoritative air he’d been putting on, blinking up at his lieutenant in bewilderment. “Matsumoto?”

Rangiku keeps going as if she hadn’t noticed the change in his demeanor. “See, I need to go get the assessment team from the thirteenth district and also pick up some reports, and the Captain needs to take a break.”

“Wha? I don’t-”

“Everything here is mostly set up, and we’d ask our third seat to watch over things, but he’s with the assessment team. So, we just need someone to watch over our officers while we’re both away.”

“We need no such thing!” Toshiro looks to his fellow captain. “I don’t need a break, Matsumoto is speaking out of turn.”

Rangiku gives an indignant huff while Shinji lists his head to the side. “Well, when was the last time you took a break?” he asks.

“It’s not necessary, I can still oversee things here. As is, I assume you’ll need to write up those reports as soon as you get back, so don’t let us keep you.”

Shinji’s eyes narrow, but before he can speak up, Momo steps forward. “A-Actually, Captain, weren’t you saying we should take a break before we start on those reports? I was going to ask if I could walk to the Junrinan. I know it’s not one of the damaged districts, but there’s some friends I need to visit.”

Shinji blinks at his lieutenant’s interruption, but with the rising tension diffused, he nods. “Fine by me, just make sure you’re back in an hour for the reports.”

“Of course.” Then to Toshiro, with a renewed, softer smile. “Perhaps you’d like to join me, Captain Hitsugaya? I know you feel responsible for what’s happening here, but there’s someone you’ve wanted to see, right?”

Likely unintentionally, her words make guilt flare up in him. He’d wanted to go see Granny as soon as he’d arrived back in the Seireitei. What had become of the Junrinan? Was she all right? He’d sprint to there if he could, but duty bound him to the Seireitei. He barely contained his relief when he heard in the report the next day it was one of fifteen higher level districts that hadn’t been damaged during the war. He couldn’t visit her until the assessment is completed, but it didn’t stop the urge to drop everything and visit her.

“Can imagine you’d have friends you wanna see, yeah?” Shinji remarks. “I’ve told my subordinates to take their breaks to go visit anyone they need to in the Rukongai, and I’m sure you’ve told others to do the same in your division.” He shrugs. “I reckon us captains can grant ourselves the same if things are under control in our jurisdictions, and you’ve clearly got that going on here.”

“Hirako…”

“Besides, I owe you for saving Hinamori and I back up at the Palace. She told me about what happened after I got knocked out.”

He glances at his childhood friend, who gives a rueful roll of her eyes and a shrug.

“I didn’t just enter that battle to save you two,” he clarifies.

“I know, but regardless, you saved us from being crushed by that giant. So, least I can do is help you out a little while we’ve still got the time to.”

“That’s actually a good point,” Rangiku adds. “This’ll be the best opportunity you have. You know that once we get into the repairs, we’ll have even less free time.”

Toshiro isn’t sure what he hates more: that he’s made others worry or that his resolve is waning. He wants to argue back, but then Momo fixes him with that gaze – the one that’s half pleading and half concerned – and he’s useless to dismiss it.

He unfolds his arms with a huff. “Fine, I’ll only be gone for an hour.” Rangiku gasps with a grin, but he stops her from saying anything with a sharp gaze. “If anything happens, you send a Hell Butterfly right away. Understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

Shinji’s own grin returns. “Well, it’s settled. I’ll stick around here until Matsumoto returns, then head back to Fifth. Take good care of my lieutenant, yeah? She's been working a lot lately."

Momo shakes her head, exasperated. "Honestly, sir."

Toshiro rolls his eyes. "She's capable of doing that herself."

With a chuckle, Shinji jerks his chin at Rangiku as he half turns away. “Mind giving me an overview of what’s going on here before you run off?”

Rangiku nods and joins him as he returns to his waiting officers.

Toshiro watches them go, but his attention is drawn away when Momo comes to his side. It’s just the two of them now, and the thought makes him nervous for some reason.

“Shall we go, Hitsugaya-kun?” she asks.

“Already dropping the title, are we?” he half grumbles.

“Sorry, force of habit.”

“You don’t look one bit sorry.” With a sigh, he goes to lead the way. “I guess the quickest route would be…”

A jostle in his sleeve stops him. Without thinking, he sticks his hand into his uniform. How had he forgotten about it?

Momo tilts her head when he faces the group of souls under the shelter. “What’s wrong?”

The child stares at them, had probably watched the entire exchange from before. He bites his lip at being caught a second time.

No, they can’t leave just yet. He hates to ask her to do anything for him, but this is better suited for someone like her.

Toshiro digs his hand into his sleeve. “I was going to ask Matsumoto to do this before she left, but I may need you to do it instead.”

Momo raises both brows; it’s a rare occurrence for him to ask her for anything. “What is it?”

Toshiro holds out the doll. “Can you give this to him?” he requests, tipping his head at the boy. “I think it’s his.”

She glances at the child, then at the remains of his house over her shoulder. “Why don’t you do it?”

“It’d be better coming from you.”

Her hand hovers over his for several beats, but she surprises him when she rolls his fingers over the doll. “You’re the one who found it, you should give it back to him.”

Why? The question must show on his face, because she lets out a weak chuckle. “It’ll be okay.”

She doesn’t elaborate further, but they need to get a move on, and he won’t push her to do this. Taking a deep inhale in, he approaches the crowd, and slows his steps once he’s within a few meters of the boy. The child is trying to decide whether to cower away or stand his ground as he approaches.

To calm him, Toshiro holds the doll out before he comes to a stop. “I’m guessing this is yours.”

As if expecting this to be a trick, the boy hesitates. A woman comes up behind the child and rests a protective hand on his shoulder while bowing.

“I’m sorry about my son, Captain,” she says, her voice on the brink of quivering. “He didn’t mean to stare.”

Toshiro shakes his head and gestures for her to rise. “It’s fine.”

Reassured by his mother’s presence, the boy takes the toy back. The moment he touches it, his anxiety starts to ease. He examines the faults in it, seemingly forgetting a high-ranking Shinigami stands before him. He fingers the dent in the top, and fights a disappointed frown from forming. Something about it tugs at Toshiro, and squats down to the child’s height, capturing his gaze once more.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t stop this,” he says. “It will be a long time before you have a house again, but we're working to make sure it'll be sooner rather than later." He points to the toy. "Hang on to that in the meantime, don’t let it go. There will come a day when you can get others to join it.”

Heat rises up the back of his neck as he senses the eyes of all the residents on him. Most are surprised, others are skeptical. To have a Shinigami admit fault and apologise is a rare thing; they’re viewed as too prideful or out of touch or secretive to do such a thing by most district residents. If only they knew what they’d been like when the Quincy invaded, the fear and determination his officers showed. For a moment, Toshiro allows the thought to roam in his mind before he banishes it.

He stands and gives a bow with his head. “If any of you need basic supplies, my officers will assist.”

He tries to turn and stride as naturally as he can back to Momo, resisting the urge to spin on his heel and rush down the forest path they’re going to take to the Junrinan. A new wave of heat rushes up to his cheeks, but this time it’s because of the tender smile Momo gives him when he approaches.

___________________________________

Toshiro scowls at the cracked rooftiles next to his foot. A few pieces had dislodged, revealing the wooden rafters beneath. “Going to have to replace those,” he mutters. “How long have they been like that?”

He stares at them for several heartbeats before going a few feet further up the roof. Once he reaches the top, he sits on ridge, takes in a long breath, and leans back with closed eyes. It’s the first moment of quiet he’s had in a whole month.

However, as if to remind him of where he should really be, the wind lifts up the ends of his haori behind him. Opening his eyes, he rests his elbows on his knees and picks at the new addition to his uniform. Despite being a relatively light garment, it still feels heavy to wear. He never considered himself to be the type to indulge in metaphors or analogies, but there might be something to say for the weight of the job weighing down on ones shoulders. With a sigh, he lifts his gaze.

He’s not sure where his inclination to go to high places came from, nor does he understand why he continues to make it a habit. Somehow, it felt right to climb tree and sit in their branches as a child, and then to perch himself on his old home’s rooftop. The latter he can chalk up to feeling protective of Granny, believing that having a vantage point to see everyone and everything ensured he could warn her of anything; but the former, he still can't figure out why he did it. A part of him always wanted to watch over everything, and being above everything somehow felt right. The tallest height he'd gotten to was in a tree in the Jurinan forests, and it allowed him to see all the way to the tenth district.

Now, he’s on the tallest building in the Tenth Division, and it gives him a view of the Seireitei all the way to the Eastern Gate. There was a time where he was on the other side of that gate, and the Seiretei was just a part of the horizon he looked out towards. It strange to think he has ended up on the other side, and to feel less lonely than he was when he was outside of it.

He distracts himself from the thought by watching the Shinigami out and about. Most are on the ground, weaving their way between buildings, not in any rush to get where they need to. Some have stopped in courtyards and gardens, gathering in groups for training or lunch. Not too far away, the instructions of his third seat reach his ears, his voice coming from one of the dojos.

Others are on the balconies and verandas, coming and going, but he doubles back when he spots Momo and Aizen. They’re two small figures in the distance, but he can make out that they're walking on the second floor balcony of Ninth Division’s main barracks, talking about something that makes Momo smile.

Toshiro rolls his eyes. Even from all the way up here, her feelings towards her captain are obvious, and Aizen is probably too polite to bring it up. He finds himself lingering on that thought, but he doesn’t understand why he’d care.

She’s his oldest friend, and he cares about her wellbeing. That’s as far as it went.

He shakes his head, shoving the thought aside. As is, in this new role, he’ll see her even less, and he tries to ignore the tiny pang at the thought. He’s never known how to keep friends, and when Momo found a goal all those decades ago, they’d drifted apart. Now that they each have a goal, it won’t surprise him if they drift even further.

_________________________________________

“Hasukappu grows here?”

Toshiro says nothing as Momo fawns over the vegetation. They’d been walking on the path through the undergrowth for a few minutes when she spotted the hasukappu plants. It’s the happiest he’s seen her since they got back to the Seireitei, and he fears speaking up will break it.

“For some reason, I always thought it was just in the south and north districts. I could make a jam out of these!” Momo goes to pick one of the dark blue fruits but stops. “Ah, maybe not, actually. The locals probably come to harvest these, right? Like we used to in the Junrinan.”

He gestures to the several shrubs chock full of the fruit. “Likely, but it won’t hurt if you pick some, there will be plenty left. Besides, these look they’ve just been growing in the wild, and the animals probably eat them too.”

Momo looks up and down the uneven line of shrubbery. Eventually, she plucks one off a stem. “Maybe just fifteen of them. It probably won’t be enough to make jam, but maybe some candies.”

He watches her pick the fruit off the shrubs and piles them into cloth bag she kept in her uniform, and it occurs to him that with the exception of the rustling of the branches and leaves from the occasional gust wind, it’s quiet. Life is vibrant here, from the lush green grass lined on either side of the dirt path to the small animals that scurry or fly away when they hear them coming. The greenery around them hadn’t been touched by the war, as if frozen in time.

However, it’s in quiet moments like this – mostly before he’s about to go to sleep - that his mind buzzes with everything he hasn’t yet done. Did he truly have the right to be here in the peaceful quiet while the souls in the Rukongai were waiting for their homes to be rebuilt?

“There, that should do it.” Momo tucks the cloth bag back into her uniform. She starts walking again without looking back at him. “The Junrinan is twenty minutes from here, right?”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Toshiro follows her. “Yes.”

He stays behind her as they head up an incline. Her gait is not what it used to be; in the months after her recovery at Fourth Division, she’s had a more subdued walk, the weight of everything weighing her down. In the few months before the Quincy invasion, she walked as if lighter than air, like how she used to before Aizen’s betrayal. Now, there’s a heaviness in each step, but her shoulders are high, determined.

It begs him to ask, “How have you been?”

Momo looks over at him. “As well as I can be. It’s been busy, of course. We’ve completed assessment for half of the districts under our jurisdiction. We’ve been lucky most have more injured than dead, but even so…” She sighs. “The truth is I haven’t had moments rest myself until now.”

 “Dummy!”

“I could say the same for you, couldn’t I?” It’s not an accusation, but an almost resigned fact she knew all too well about him. At his rueful silence, she gives him an uneasy smile. “We have to do so much right now, but we haven’t had the time to do it all. Captain Hirako makes sure everyone has something to do, that we all carry the load of everything. I’m sure you’re the same, but you…you also tend to take on too much, Hitsugaya-kun.”

“It’s because I can.”

The corners of her lips fall. “I think everyone’s struggling to rest right now. We need to put these repairs first, of course, but we also need to take time to rest.” She turns to look ahead “Hopefully things will quiet down soon.”

They both know that is a pipedream. It’s already been estimated the reconstruction of the Rukongai will take over three years to complete, and the Seireitei’s even longer.

This was a bad idea. She did this to him, made him lower whatever walls he builds and rethink what his priorities should be. What should he focus on first? The living or the dead? The survivors or the officers who gave their lives? He’d almost lost count of how many had been cremated or buried, but he has that number clear in his mind every time he gets ready for the day.

There’s a low swaying branch in their way. She holds it aside for Toshiro as she asks, “What about you, Hitsugaya-kun? Have you not been sleeping well?”

He almost touches the bags under his eyes. “I’ve been sleeping enough. Something just woke me up last night.”

“What was it?”

“A dream.”

“Do remember what it was about?”

“…Not really.”

It only comes to him in bits and pieces, but his dreams of when he wasn’t in control of his body shake him to the core every time. Glimpses of Yumichika and Ikkaku come, and the voice of the Quincy who had forced her blood into him echoes in each. He needn’t burden Momo or anyone else with those dreams, everyone has enough on their minds as is.

Realising he isn’t going to elaborate; Momo drops the subject. “What about progress with damage assessment?”

“We have five districts left to assess, then reconstruction will begin next week.”

“So you are ahead of schedule!”

 “Only by a day.”

“It’s still amazing progress.”

They trek down a short incline, which flattens out to the banks for a creek. The path continues on the other side.

“Is there a way across?” Momo asks, taking a wary step towards the stream.

“It’s normally okay to jump over it, the water is running quicker than I remember.”

“It might be because of the rain from yesterday. There was a lot, more than Twelfth predicted.” She says something under her breath, but Toshiro can make out, “You could’ve probably gauged it better.”

Rather than shown he heard her, Toshiro assesses, looking from one end of the creek to the other. “There.” He points to a section several feet away, the two sides closer than any other party near them.

“When was the last time you were here?” she asks as they make their way.

It takes him a moment to recall. “When I’d been promoted to seventh seat.”

“For a mission, I’m guessing?”

“Investigating Hollow activity in the region.”

Those seem like simpler times now, quaint even. He’d known Hollows attacks, had seen a few fellow Shinigami die to them. For some reason, he didn’t think he’d go on to see much more death or destruction in his life.

“That would’ve been about thirty years ago,” Momo muses. “It doesn’t feel like it’s been that long. Time really flew by, huh?”

When they reach the edge of the creek, Toshiro holds up a hand before Momo can make a move. “I’ll go first.”

She gives a bemused chuckle. At his deepening frown, she explains, “This reminds me of what you used to do when we were children. Whenever we’d have to cross a gap, you always insisted on going first.”

He lets out a wordless grumble as he recalls those moments. “I was always the better jumper, and you always got nervous about making big jumps. In case you fell, someone had to be on the other side.”

She gives him a mock offended 'humph'. “And you think that’ll be the case here too?”

Toshiro goes to argue back, but an idea comes to him. Without warning, he whips away from her and runs for the creek before leaping over the water. When he lands in a crouch on the other side, he smirks at her while he rises. “Prove otherwise.”

Momo’s surprise gives way to a haughty smirk. Playfully, she sets up to run, stretching one leg behind her and raising her arms to her sides. His smirk widens, and an amused chuckle almost makes it to his lips. More than that though, he can’t help his protective instincts. He’s ready to dash forward and catch her in case she slips. Without thinking, he moves closer to his side’s edge and even raises his hand for her to grab on to.

She shakes her head. “No need.”

And with that, she runs to the creek. With a small cry of exertion, she leaps over the water. Her arms cartwheel through the air, and her hair flies behind her. She goes higher than he did, her feet well and truly avoiding the water, even the small droplets that splash up from hitting any rocks in the water’s way.

He stumbles back, almost losing his footing as he tries to give her space. She lands on her feet with a loud ‘thump’, half crouched and hands raised in front of her. She doesn’t move from her exaggerated pose, looking as if she were about to sit back into a chair.

They snort at the same time. They look at each other, surprised that the other reacted. Then, as if a flood gate opened, they laugh. Momo almost doubles over, straightening enough to rest her hands on her knees, while Toshiro smacks a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to cover up his laughter.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I don’t know!” she chortles. “I think I got competitive and tried to jump higher than you!”

“That wasn’t the point!”

“But I did it! Both landing and getting higher than you!”

By the time their laughter dies down, his stomach aches. When was the last time he’d laughed so hard, and why over something so silly and small? Maybe he was losing his mind, but if that were the case, at least he isn’t the only one.

They smile at each other while they try to catch their breath. Aside from the one she gave him before they started their trek, it’s the most genuine smiles he’s seen from her in a while, and for a moment he allows himself to be deluded with the idea that just as she can lower his internal walls, he can do the same for her too. In this moment she isn’t the dutiful, hard-working lieutenant, but the girl who always dragged him out on adventures and got easily riled up.

But that silence creeps back in, making his smile fall. What was he doing? He couldn’t be like this, not when he had houses and the Seireitei to rebuild, the dead to bury and mourn for. At her faltering smile, he knows she thinks the same, and he wishes it wasn’t the case. After everything she went through, guilt should be the last thing she suffers from.

He takes a few tentative strides back towards where the path resumes. “Let’s keep going, it’ll be dark soon.”

When he doesn’t hear her follow, he looks over his shoulder. Her head bowed, it’s clear she’s lost in thought. With a bit more authority in his voice, he says, “Come on, Hinamori.”

She flinches and raises her head. “Sorry, it’s just…” His heart aches at her sad smile. “I think this and before with the hasukappu, they’re both the first time in a while that I haven’t discussed or thought about the reconstruction efforts. I know it was my idea to go visit Obaa-san and the others, but I just wanted to check on them. I didn’t think I’d get distracted from everything that’s happening.”

She’s on the edge of an unnecessary apology, and he chooses to nip it in the bud. “I know. We’re only fifteen minutes away, so let’s keep going.”

She gives a shallow nod and joins him.

This really had been a bad idea.

_________________________________________

“I figured you’d be somewhere like here.”

Toshiro almost drops his denreishikai and whips his head over his shoulder.

Isshin stands only a few meters away, his hands in his pockets. Mercifully, if he noticed Toshiro’s near fumble, he doesn’t show it. At the same time however, he half wishes he could punch the smirk off his former captain’s face. However, he’s rendered speechless, and none of the many questions he had always wanted to ask him come to mind now. He suddenly understands what humans meant when they see ‘a ghost from the past’.

“Matsumoto said you were in the area,” Isshin explains. “I bumped into her this morning.”

It might explain why she and Orihime hadn’t returned before Toshiro decided to take a walk an hour ago. He calms with a low exhale. “What the heck are you doing here?”

Isshin’s smirk drops a fraction, and he walks over to him. Toshiro can imagine the question could be taken in more than one way, but Isshin chooses to go for the most obvious one. “I wasn’t out looking for you, just decided to go for a walk.” He steps over the road guard, but keeps a meter distance between them. “I forgot to ask Matsumoto how long you’ve been here.”

Toshiro glares at his denreishinkai. “Is that really any of your concern anymore?”

What’s left of Isshin’s smirk vanishes. “I may not be a captain anymore, but can I can still sense Hollows. There’s been a bit more than usual since Aizen’s defeat from what I can tell. Kuchiki Rukia’s replacement can only do so much, I guess.”

It was strange to hear Isshin discuss Shinigami business when he no longer is one. It’s even stranger to see him up close after all these decades. Toshiro closes his phone. “We’re only here for today, and leaving tonight.”

In the silence, Isshin does nothing except shift his gaze ahead, while Toshiro can’t lift his own from the ground. It’s not the first time he and Rangiku have seen their old captain; during their first time in Karakura Town, they’d spotted him from afar as he walked out of his clinic, but neither of them chose to interact. He and Rangiku reasoned this new life of his had been his choice, but it didn't stop the question he wanted to ask itching to get answered. Perhaps, though, it had also been in part because neither wanted to confront him in a situation like this. What’s he supposed to do?

A part of him wants to run away, to pretend this encounter never happened. But he stays, paralyzed by…obligation. A fragment of his days as a third seat while serving under the man next to him.

Isshin leans against the road guard. “It’s a nice view, huh?”

The view in question was of the west of Karakura Town, bathed in the orange light of the sunset. On the street below, cars and people are still out and about, and the streetlights are starting to flicker on. In a small way, it reminds Toshiro of his days watching the Junrinan from up in the trees.

“You always had a knack for finding good views from high places,” Isshin continues. “I remember you used to climb on the barracks’ roofs. Never understood why, until I got up there and saw what you were looking at.”

Toshiro clenches his jaw as memories of those times flash in his mind. Isshin lecturing him from the ground, then usually ending up on the roof with him, continuing to lecture him until he saw the view. Somehow, it’d end up with Toshiro eventually chastising his captain for skipping out on his duties and trying to get him to climb down.

What resolve he had to stop things from bubbling over erodes. “You’ve always been reckless. You left without warning. You left the division to me.” Then, more icily. “Why?”

Isshin is silent as he turns his gaze back to him. He’s solemn but there’s a resolve there, one Toshiro knew all too well. When Isshin committed to something, he did so with all of his heart, with every ounce of determination within him; Toshiro couldn’t help but be reminded of it when he saw the same in Ichigo sometimes. It’s that determination that made them both reckless, fearless even.

“I had every intention of returning to the Soul Society, but it wasn’t that simple,” Isshin explains. “Masaki, my wife, needed my help. She risked her life to save mine when I was attacked in Naruki City. I owed her my life and I wouldn’t turn my back on her. To save her from death, I had to give up my Shinigami abilities.”

Of all the explanations and theories Toshiro had come up with in the past decade, a scenario like that had never come to mind. Now, it seems like the most obvious reason, because at his core, his captain was always committed saving lives, especially those he owed a debt to. Regardless,to think someone could sway his former captain in such a way, to make him give up everything he ever knew. He’d abandoned his Shinigami status and old life to be with her, to start a family with her. Anger and sympathy war within Toshiro, but he, frustratingly, can’t decide which emotion should win out.

Isshin smiles and the fire in his eyes softens. “It seems foolish, I know, but it wasn’t long after I started living as a human that I realized Masaki was my center. Even if I hadn’t lost my powers, it’d be hard to pull out of orbit of someone I'd come to care about as much as her and try to return to who I was before I met her.”

Toshiro barely manages to hold back a snide snort. “Since when did you become poetic?”

Isshin chuckles. “You’ll get it when you find someone you feel the same way about. They’ll become your sun, the center of your universe.” He sighs through his nose. “Although, I think you can understand it already, on some level.”

Toshiro watches the sun touch the horizon and says nothing, afraid of indulging whatever musing Isshin has.

His mind wonders to Momo, to their days in the Junrinan. It always did when he came to this spot at this time. How many sunsets had he watched with her? When had they stopped doing that? Not long after she left for the Academy, he remembers. The last time was on her break during her third year. It wasn't something he missed until she had been in denial about Aizen's true self.

How is she right now? Was her new captain treating her well? He'd had reservations about coming on a day trip because of the latter, but they'd agreed to speak once he returned. It'll be the first time he's seen her since his failure at the fake Karakura Town. He still can't let go of the guilt from that event, has wondered if he's worthy enough yet to face her again. Another part of him, the one that pushed him to finally see her again, knew he couldn't keep going without seeing her.

He imagines the Isshin he knew, risking his life for a human who risked her life to save his, and he knew that foolhardy determination, that feeling of owing one he had a debt to, would’ve guided him to who he is today. He can’t say he doesn’t relate on some level. Hadn’t he almost done the same for Momo? More than once over the last two years, he’d abandoned his principles when she was in danger, and knew without a second thought he would risk his life for hers.

With some agitation, he inwardly admits his old captain still knows him too well.

“It sounds like the division is doing well.”

“…What did Matsumoto tell you?”

“That you two are handling everything, that there’s no need for me to come back even if I wanted to. I’m not surprised, though. I knew regardless of whether you became captain or not, or if Matsumoto would stay on as lieutenant, the division was in good hands with you two being a part of it.”

Toshiro wants to shove away the sentimental ache in his chest. There was a time where he was ready to round on his former captain and interrogate him, believing no matter his reasons he would never forgive him. Now…he’s just tired. He has no energy left to hate the man for abandoning them, and his reasoning he can, frustratingly or thankfully, relate to.

So instead, he remarks, “I’m surprised Matsumoto didn’t knock you over.”

Isshin grins. “She almost did, but Inoue-san stopped her.”

_______________________________________

The sky is dyed various shades of yellow and orange, and the shadows of trees fall away as they reach highest point of the path. Below, beyond the foliage and five minutes away is the Junrinan, alive with lights and souls, just small dots, wondering the streets. Momo now trails a few feet behind him; neither have spoken a word in the last ten minutes.

A wind blows through, and without thinking, Toshiro follows its direction and looks to his left. The sun is gradually descending to the horizon, but below it…

He stops mid step. Something in him falls, making him go slack in the shoulders and the air freeze in his lungs.

In his peripheral, Momo makes a confused sound before she too follows his gaze. “Oh…” She raises a hand to her chest.

Districts one through to twenty-five for the north and west are sprawled out beneath them. The ones affected by the war are obvious: buildings completely leveled or almost gone, nature upturned and ground scarred, ruins of the palace standing out like a sore thumb. Unlike the districts around them, their lights are fewer and far between, small fires meant to keep groups of souls warm in their temporary shelters. Smoke trails twirls up into the sky, toward where the Palace wreckage had come from and ruined their homes.

Seeing it all together, it makes him grit his teeth against the growing tightness around his heart. Is he failing them? The souls in the Rukongai and the officer who gave their lives. He knows how the former think of him, but the latter, he dreads to wonder how they would view him right now.

He’s startled by a sob. Peering over to Momo, she smacks a hand over mouth, eyes wide in alarm and rimmed with tears.

“Hi--Hinamori?” he says, unknowingly taking a step towards her.

She’s quick to wipe away the tears that escape. “I-I…I’m sorry. Now’s not the time for any of this. It’s one thing to hear about how many districts were affected, but seeing it all t-together, just seeing it all, it’s…” She bites her lip, but it doesn’t stop another tear from falling. “I know we can make it through this and help everyone in the Rukongai, but it’s still…it’s hard to go through all of it to get there. But I have no right to cry now, not when they’re suffering more than us. I’ll cry when I can finally bury those who gave their lives, but until then, I have to focus on restoring everything, right?”

For a brief moment, the world blurs around him, and she is the only thing in focus. With almost stumbling steps, he goes to her, as if being drawn to her by an invisible force; even if he wanted break away, he couldn’t.

There’s hardly any gap between them, their faces close enough that he came make out the faint, small scar on the side of her forehead; from an injury she got while up at the Palace. He’s almost lost her more than once, and he recalls the worry in the back of his mind during the war that she could perish to the Quincy. A small part of him still chastises himself for not being able to prevent her from being injured, but that was the reality of war and combat, and he thanks whatever forces drive this world that it hadn’t been worse.

He surprises both of them when he cups her cheeks and wipes away a tear with his thumb. In the stunned silence his thoughts race, but not with work or guilt.

Perhaps because of all she had gone through in the last two years, he can’t stand to see her cry anymore. Her heart had been wounded; she had put her trust like everyone else in an illusion once. She’d been in denial, had asked him to he unthinkable in sparing a traitor’s life, but she had come to accept everything, now has clearer eyes. Gone is some of her naivety, and in it’s place is a girl who knows better, who even after all her grief and heartache, still reaches out a hand to help and guide.

As the shock wears off, he’s quick to pull away. “S-Sorry.”

“I-It’s okay” she says, still stunned.

Her tears have vanished and a faint pink colors the tops of her cheeks. Perhaps she waits for an explanation, but he has none. She had done the same for him when they were younger, wiping away his tears and leaving him shocked by the gentle gesture, but this feels different. It was to comfort her, but also for something else…

However, the image of the boy from eighth district comes to mind, and it reminds him that he doesn’t know how to comfort others. He spots the boy’s district, off to the far left. That child is a little older than he was before he went to the Academy. Toshiro wonders if he got to live the life he’d always imagined himself having, away from war and violence and grief. Now the latter had come, in the destruction of his home and his district. And what had Toshiro done? Given him a toy back and told him the same thing his officers would’ve already said. It's pathetic.

“It would have been better if you had spoken to that child.” When she says nothing, he folds his arms into his sleeves and elaborates. “Residents need hope in times like this. It is not something I inspire in others.”

“That’s not true,” she responds immediately, and with such a tenderness he’s forced to meet her gaze. She closes the gap between them again with two strides, her eyes wide and emphatic, and it takes him aback.

“I’ve learned that hope doesn’t always come in kind words,” she continues. “Sometimes it comes in an apology, or in a promise to do better, whether it’s to yourself or to someone else.” Her eyes mist again, and her smile returns. “Sometimes it’s just knowing you have a friend there. I have you, Captain Hirako, Abarai-kun, Kira-kun, Rangiku-san, Hisagi-kun, and Nanao-san. I’m incredibly lucky to have you all.”

She points to the Rukongai. “Not everyone down there has someone, I know, but I believe they can find friends and family, just like we all did. In times like this, it’s amazing the connections one can make. I’ve seen it in my districts, how they help each other and give each other hope. We can contribute to that, you contribute to that by vowing to rebuild their homes, by them shelter and food, by giving them back possessions that mean something to them.”

She rests a hand on his forearm, and he brings his hands out of his sleeves. For the first time since they reconciled, she takes his hand in hers. “You’ve been there for me for decades, and I didn’t truly realise it until Captain Ai—I mean, Aizen Sosuke – betrayed us. I’m truly grateful that you still consider me a friend, that we can still talk and share things together. You…You give me hope, Hitsugaya-kun, and I’m certain I’m not the only one.”

The sunlight has turned her eyes to amber, bright like the embers of the element she wields. Her hair shines, almost golden, as if it were made of wisps of the sun. Her skin glows, and there isn’t a single shadow in her soft smile.

It’s the first time he’s considered her beautiful.

Her appearance has never been a major concern of his, unless she was sick or injured. At times he thought she was cute when she smiled or got excited, or could admire something she had done with her hair. Why did he view her differently now? Had the sunlight been just right? Had this moment of vulnerability made him see a different side to her?

But she’s the same. She’s one of the only people he knows who even while sobbing in despair can still have hope for the future, and one of the few who can still think of others while struggling with her own demons. Others would mistake her for being weak, but he only saw strength. He wants to protect her from threats beyond her control, but she’s more than capable of taking on most things, whether it was with tears in her eyes or an angry furrow in her brow or a smile on her lips. She held out a hand to anyone, sometimes to a fault, sometimes to a benefit.

In this world of violence and war and grief, they only have each other, and he has her still. She held on, for him and for other Shinigami, because she’s strong and kind and his friend.

His heart swells, and it dawns on him.

Oh…

He lets out a shuddered breath and bows his head. The revelation crashes over him like a wave, rendering him mute and tightening his chest painfully.

He loves her.

Momo says his name, uncertain. When he doesn’t respond,she tries to search his eyes. Had he always adored her earnestness? When did her will and wish to understand him become so endearing? It’s almost too much. He prays that somehow his thoughts aren't conveyed in his gaze.

She releases his hand, and he almost reaches out to take it back. “Did I say something wrong?” she asks.

“No,” he manages to murmur, “no, you didn’t.”

He knew his feelings towards her had shifted over the decades, and when she had been on the brink of death the first time, he knew they were something deeper than he’d thought. But love? This is how it felt; it’s as light as air, freeing and special, but somehow keeping him grounded and with the power to make his heart ache or race.

Is this what Isshin spoke of when he said someone could become your center?

Why did a realisation like this have to come at this time? He had enough on his mind, and now this. It should he the most important thing to him, but the repair and the dead are foremost on his mind. But somehow, it doesn't feel like a burden or another weight on his shoulder like he expects. If anything, it's inexplicably lifted some of that weight off. He can't stay focused on this, he'll need to unpack this later.

“I’m tired.” He can sense it’s not enough of an answer for her, so with some push back from the side of him that always keeps his innermost thoughts from being voiced, he adds, “I never knew you thought of me that way.”

She gives a weak chuckle. “I must admit, I didn’t think I would say that, it’s a little embarrassing, b-but it’s true.”

“…Thank you.”

“And you too, Shiro-chan. I didn’t know you thought about me that way either.”

Ah, he had more or less admitted she inspired hope, hadn’t he? A fresh blush starts to rise up to his cheeks, but he’s quick to tread away from her and continue down the path. “We’re not going to make it back in time to Hirako or Matsumoto, but we might as well continue to the Junrinan.”

She comes up to his side, smile rueful. “I suppose so, yes.”

“…It’s as you said, though, we need to put these repairs first, but we also need to take time to rest.” Again he fights that reserved part of himself to continue. “Sometimes that can include visiting someone or laughing a little or...being a little late to something." He almost cringes, it goes against his principal of always being punctual. "Regardless, it shouldn’t feel like you don’t have the right to rest.”

Her smile widens to a grin, and she takes his hands again. Unlike last time, a pulse runs up his arm like a lighting bolt and straight to his chest. Being in love is going to take some getting used to.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d admit that rest can include laughing,” she says. “It’s hard in time like this to feel like you deserve rest, but it’s true. It’s like Captain Hirako told me once: ‘If you don’t rest, you can’t help anyone’.”

“I don’t know about that, but it is important.”

She giggles, and it’s one of the most soothing sounds he’s heard since the war ended. “It can look like friends helping each other too.”

_______________________

The girl stands beneath a bare tree, clad in her multiple layers, her back to him, and staring at the silhouette of the Seiretei through the mist. Just in front of her is the only alleyway that leads back to his house. Toshiro curses himself for not having turned off the main path sooner, but he hadn’t noticed the girl until he got this close.

Biting the inside of his cheek, he treads soundlessly to the other side of the path, into the cover of shadows. However, in his way all along the path’s side is snow, and the crunch of his footsteps will surely alert the girl of his presence. Perhaps she will be too caught up in her mind though, she hadn’t even noticed the ring of a chime from the house behind her or the budged when the wind grew stronger.

Needing to get home, he risks it, walking on the snow to the alleyway and keeping his head low. Something makes him tilt his head a fraction back to her as he moves along. Now closer, he can tell she’s around his age. Only a few souls were ever out in this cold, and all of them had been adults. She’s an oddity in that regard, and in coming out at this time. It’s the third time he’s seen her, and not once had he spotted her in the Junrinan at any other hour – then again, the district is packed with souls, he’d be lucky sometimes if he sees the same shopkeeper three behind the counter more than three times in the same month.

The wind catches on his scarf, causing the end to fly out of the shadows. He looks away from her and hurries his footsteps while trying to catch his scarf.

“Oh!”

Toshiro cringes at being caught. Despite his mind telling him to make a run for it, he’s stuck, as if the cold had frozen him on the spot. Without thinking, he looks back to the girl. Her wide eyes are brown, almost the same colour as her hair.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,” she asks, her words muffled slightly by the scarf covering her mouth. "What’re you doing out?"

“I could ask you the same thing,” he retorts without thinking.

She blinks, taken aback by his answer. After a moment, she shrugs. “I get up early.”

“And go outside?”

“Yeah, there isn’t much to do inside when everyone’s asleep.” She turns on her heel back to the silhouette of the Seireitei. "It's also the only time I get to see this clearly too, even with all the mist and snow."

With her attention diverted, he can make a getaway. He goes to, but she speaks up again.

"Have you ever been in there?" she asks.

The question is so preposterous he can't help but snark back, "As if they'd ever let any of us wonder in there."

"Oh, so it's just Shinigami then?"

He raises a brow. "You're new around here or something?"

She nods. "I arrived two weeks ago. I'm still learning everything." She tugs the scarf over her mouth down, showing her bright red cheeks and a wide smile. He's bewildered by the latter; aside from Granny, no one had ever smiled at him before.

"I'm Hinamori Momo by the way," she says.

She waits for him to reciprocate, but he wonders further into the shadows. Perhaps she was only being friendly to him because didn't know who he was or because, more likely, she can't make out his from over there.

Her smile dims at his reaction. "Ah, sorry. I guess I just came out and spoke to you without warning. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

The light of the sunrise faintly pierces through the clouds, shining through the alleyways and making the snow dully glimmer. She'll surely see him more clearly now

"Your hair is so white!"

He scowls and rubs a hand through his spikes without realising. "What about it?"

"Ah, sorry! It's just that I've never seen hair like your before. It's like the snow."

It's about the nicest thing anyone has ever said about his appearance and he isn't sure how to take it. Furthermore, it seems no one hadn't told her about him. It would only be a matter of time before she finds out, but maybe, for even a day, for even just this hour, he could talk with another who didn't judge him for his appearance or the apparent coldness he gave off.

He steps out from the shadows and on to the main street. In half a grumble, he introduces himself. "Hitsugaya Toshiro."

She tilts her head, but then it hits her. "Oh, that's your name." Her smile returns anew. "It's nice to meet you."

With introductions out of the way, he isn't sure where to take this.

He looks to the Seireitei, feeling nothing towards it, but right now, the world only has the two of them looking at the horizon, and it makes him feel something that's as light and boundless as snow.

_______________________

Toshiro comes to a stop before he ascends the stairs to Granny’s house. He takes in the structure of it, from the roof to the ground, thankful it remains standing. He knocks on the front door, and when she doesn’t answer, he wonders to the back.

She sits on the veranda, cup of tea in hand and a bowl at her side. It’s a peaceful image, one he almost doesn’t want to disturb. She doesn’t notice him at first, too lost in thought, but she perks up as he nears.

She abandons her tea, nearly stumbles trying to meet him halfway. He rushes forward, fearing she’ll fall. “Wait, Baa-chan!”

Her voice is weak when she finally speaks. “Toshiro…you’re…” She raises her hands, cupping his face between them. Tears form in the corners of her eyes, and her lips keep twitching between a frown and a relieved smile.

“I’m okay,” he reassures, voice raspy. “Hinamori is here too, she’s just visiting Ayumi and Tatsukichi.”

She brings him into a hug. “Welcome home.”

And that does it. Biting back a sob, he hugs her back. Relief floods through him, and the weight of his duties momentarily lifts away. He will go back and do everything he can for ever soul affected, to ensure they can have a home like this again.He will remember the dead, will ensure their families are looked after and to visit every shrine to pay his respects and his gratefulness to them.

It's a minute later when she ushers him into her house and brews a fresh pot of tea. He answers all of her worried questions, and she reassure him he is doing his best everything he had to do.

Momo joins them later, grinning as she hugs Granny and then as Granny prepares her a tea.

He can't look away from her, his heart beating faster whenever she looks to him and swelling when she laughs or smiles. To know he loves her, to finally have a name for the feelings he's had towards her, has changed him.

And maybe it had come to him now because in it’s own way, whether he ever confessed to her or not, knowing how he feels about her was hope. He can feel for her anew, could continue to live by her side with a new view of who she is.

[irlkisukeurahara]

omg byahisa t4t....pls tell me more (if you want)

oh no, now you've done it..

You've activated Miles' inability to shut the fuck up...

BYAHISA T4T 🙌🙌🙌🙌🙌

*cough*

Okay--

I don't normally give characters deadnames. I only have one for Byakuya here because I've made transphobia relevant in this, plus it's for ease of reference. I also kinda threw in stuff about the ByaHisa OC at the end because it goes in tandem with the headcanons, so cw for a brief mention of seahorse dad Byakuya I guess (google it)

Here we are, back in the 18th century, to the birth of a one Kuroishi Kuchiki. Initially planned to just be the first born child of Sojun, upon realizing how poor his and his wife's health are, they settled for just one.

The little girl never behaved in a way they deemed standard. Rambunctious and wild, playing in the mud, eating things she shouldn't, cussing at Ginrei etc etc...

And here's something else they realized, this child never taking any interest in men. Ever. While Sojun was more or less happy to have a surviving child at all, Ginrei wasn't so complacent. How is the Kuchiki line going to continue if the granddaughter doesn't like boys?

Homophobia and transphobia aren't exactly as standard in the Soul Society as you'd expect, they're mostly tolerant of it due to Shunsui and Jushiro being as openly queer as they are. But let's just say that the Kuchiki family was a bit more, let's say old fashioned. Didn't quite move on with the times as much as others did.

Thoughts maybe spread of just getting little Kuro a husband and telling her to fake it until she makes it. But Kuro herself told her father something they didn't expect, something that threw a wrench in their ideas even more.

That "she" hated being called Kuroishi, or just Kuro, or the Kuchiki Clan Daughter, that being a boy fit better. That Byakuya fit better. Sojun accepted his boy with open arms, again not nearly as concerned with grandkids. Considering how much struggle it took to have Byakuya, and how he'd never have any other kids, Byakuya's happiness was top priority to him. But the pride of the Kuchiki family seemed to matter more to Ginrei.

At first, their decision was to completely ignore Byakuya's gender expression. To disregard it, make him pretend to be Kuro his entire life, marry a man, and continue the line. The child was finally happy with who he was, after 150 or so years! Who were they to try and take that away from him?!

So he ran, ran off into a certain Rukongai district you might remember. A little district called Inuzuri.

He'd have to face them again eventually, and he'd be in deep shit when he did, but maybe he thought to himself that he was prolonging the inevitable. He'd started considering rash measures, and even almost took a plummet.

But then, a local girl saved him. Kept him away talking things through with him. They sat down together, trying to understand what was going on.

"They're considering pretending I'm a girl. I mean, I was born one. But I'm not a girl. But they're going to make me be a girl so that I could be a good Kuchiki like I'm supposed to. Auntie couldn't have kids and I'm my father's only son, so I'm really their only hope." The girl managed to make Byakuya admit, after talking him off a ledge. It's the first time he verbalized his thoughts, it was kind of cathartic. Listening, she gave him a pat on the back.

"I know what it feels like. Kind of. I mean, I was never a noble or anything, but... I get the feeling of parents trying to make you pretend to be your born gender to look good, when that's never how you've felt."

A friend, a friend who could understand him. That's what Byakuya needed. He was far detached from people, how could anyone understand the life of Byakuya Kuchiki? There was no one. Everyone in the other three clans were a bunch of shabby grownups he assumed were cis who were fine with their position, but Byakuya was a child. A child who was confused, told by his father to live his life by his own rules and for himself, yet told by his grandfather to live life for the clan. As a kid, he just couldn't choose! He couldn't understand himself, how could anyone understand him?

But this girl, she got him. They understood each other, even if they lived in different worlds!

Byakuya started sneaking off to see this girl, the girl by the name of Hisana. If he wasn't training, at a meeting, or talking to his dad, he was sneaking out to meet Hisana. So many times, in fact, that it made Ginrei angry. He was beginning to demand that Byakuya be wed by someone who will keep him down. And Byakuya ran away again, but this time, with slightly different intentions.

"Hisana, I know we're not dating, but will you please marry me?"

Huh? Hisana was taken aback by his asking. Where did this come from? He went on, saying that she deserved better and he could provide her with luxury. That she didn't deserve to suffer, cold and alone.

One condition, she said.

He asked, what condition? Oh, I'll do anything!

She said that she'll marry him if the Kuchiki family swears to find and adopt her baby sibling (brother or sister depends on whether it coexists with t4t RenRuki or not lol) Of course, Byakuya agreed.

How to convince the Kuchiki family? She was but a scruffy 17-20 year old that'd been dead for a few years at this point. Byakuya was Byakuya. For years, Ginrei was not budging, up until Hisana revealed to them that she was trans. Then, his attitude began to change.

Their marriage would be allowed! There was one condition. They'd have to have a kid. Then Byakuya's gender identity would be respected, and history would be rewritten. Rewritten to believe that Byakuya was always a male, and that Kuro never existed. Telling the world that Hisana was pregnant with the child of the Kuchiki family after the fact, hiding all truth from the Soul Society. Byakuya was scared at first, but this was better. The best case scenario, even if it was already terrifying.

Once they were both considered "adults," they were married.

A year into the marriage, off in his study Byakuya spent his days, writing and doing calligraphy. Out in the Rukongai Hisana continued to spend her days, looking and searching for the missing child, joining the search parties made up by Kuchiki servants. A year they spent majorly apart, as Byakuya wasn't permitted to go anywhere for some time. One day, she's frantically ordered back to the manor. She left the search party, being escorted home. There she was, entering the manor, assuming the worst. But instead, there Byakuya was, sat there with their baby son.

Instantly, Hisana loved him. While she was concerned at first that he'd just feel like a tool to make them learn to respect Byakuya, she instantly was drawn to the bubbly little baby. Ginrei stayed true to his word. History was rewritten, and they even faked a maternity picture with Hisana. The Kuchiki family was satisfied, and Byakuya and Hisana were happy! The only thing that would make it all better would be if the child that Hisana left behind was with them too.

While Byakuya took on a primary caring role for their son, Hisana helped of course. She still joined searches all the time, but started to do so every other day instead. She had two priorities in life, and she tried her best to balance them.

But then, Hisana fell ill. She couldn't go anywhere, helping search or helping raise her son. A few years following, she'd be bedridden. Byakuya would visit her at every opportunity, talking to her about anything to make her feel better. Though usually, it was about their son's development. He showed her when their son could walk, made him repeat things when he started to talk. That, and anything to make her smile. She slowly lost her ability to sit up, and he'd still visit her every day with their son. But one day, her energy was gone. She could hardly even look at them, but he still came by. He held her hand, with their son in his other arm. As he swore once more on his promise to find her baby sibling, she passed away. And from then on forward, Byakuya took after his grandfather more and more, without the influence of his father or his wife, his humanity couldn't cling on. It became repressed into the deepest recesses of his mind. His smile died with his wife.

[bleachbleachbleach]

Fic: Away, Away

This was written for Day 13 of @hitsuhina-week! If you prefer, you can also read this on AO3. Which is my preference, because Tumblr keeps eating my spacing whether I use Rich Text or HTML so it looks absurd on here. >.>

Aftermath / Going on a Trip Together Hinamori Momo + Hitsugaya Toushirou Pre-Series

--

This will be the last time. 

(Whisper it, so he won't hear.)

--

Every spring, Junrinan finds its way to the western mountains. (The souls of Rukongai wander.) There is no grand procession: They disperse across the vast range, often alone and sometimes in twos. They are always careful not to cause disruption, because while one soul in a forest full of spirits generally isn't worth the effort, seven is a meal.

They are three. 

Soon, they will be two. Hinamori can't stop whispering her new name, hi na mo ri. It's early to be out here, but the snows were mild this year and new growth is already peeking from beneath the thick, rich leaf rot. She feels an affinity with this year's tender saplings, a feeling that grows hotter with every whispered repetition of her name. Her grandmother had given it to her, showed her how to write it. She'd studied her name harder than she had the exam.

Hinamori has an acceptance letter. In April, she is leaving. 

Hinamori nearly walks straight into a nettle spirit--the hair-eating kind--draped across the game path plain as day.

"Do you wanna be bald?" Toushirou grouses as he yanks her back just in time. "I guess it fits. You're acting like a blind old man." 

Hinamori blinks, brushes imagined hair from her face. It's the fifth time she's tried to walk straight through a spirit in as many days. 

"Studying is bad for your eyes," says Toushirou. He doesn't care for moony Hinamori. Momo had paid a lot more attention to what was in front of her. But she's Hinamori now. At least, that's the only name she'll write, dragging her thin stick through the dirt outside the house. So that's what he calls her.

Toushirou squeezes through a bumble of pot-bellied mushroom spirits and Hinamori follows him, stepping carefully into his tracks.

"You'll need to keep reading even when I'm not around. It'll go if you don't practice," she says.

Toushirou makes a noncommittal sound.

"I'll send you letters full of kanji and quiz you on them when I visit." I'll learn how to write them pretty, she promises, just like Baachan does.

"Will you write me back?" she asks.

"Probably not."

This hurts her. But Toushirou plans to go the rest of his life without writing a single thing. It's not personal.

"Why would I need to tell you what happens in Junrinan?" he says. "You already know."

--

And if I forget?

--

Life in Junrinan doesn't change. That's what Toushirou was promised. The winters are quiet and slow, and in spring they go to the mountains. Summers are for farming, and autumns for harvest. Then winters are quiet and slow again.

Spring passes with bracken and angelica in hand. It is counted in the spirals of ferns as their number grows in the baskets. Some are dried; some are steeped. Mostly, they are sold. Many of the men in Junrinan spend springtime waking before dawn to sprint to the mountain, forage the lowlands, and return to the village for evening revelries, but Toushirou and Hinamori and their grandmother have always spent the whole of the season between the trees. The mountains prefer it when you stay. 

This will be true no matter how long Hinamori is gone.

April 12th through July 20th, then our first break, she says, scratching numbers in the dirt. But Junrinan doesn't have dates the way the Academy does. She draws the way the trees will change. The change happens in a long straight line, and beyond July 20th there is an emptiness rather than a repetition. How do you draw an unwritten future?

Hinamori writes her name again.

--

In the spring, everything is full: Toushirou enjoys the wet green of it, the late snows and vernal flooding. The water flows down from the mountains ice cold and the forests are loud and thick with spirits.

The spirits have no names that are written and no faces that have ever stayed the same, unremembered but immemorial. They are loud. Most of them respect the borders of his body. They brush against his legs with thick wet fur or scrape his cheek with leathery wings. They coil around his throat, treating him like a tree or rock. Some of them are trees and rocks. They are the mountains and forest, just like the wandering souls of Junrinan. They all belong here, more or less.

Toushirou can see most of them. When the blurry ones pass through you, it's feverishly unpleasant for the split-second it happens and then is nothing at all. The blurry ones, Toushirou figures, aren't actually in this forest. They are like shadows at sunset, cast long and far from their bodies. Their true bodies roam a different world entirely.

That's what Hinamori wants to do. 

Hinamori used to clamor for shinigami stories any time one of them passed through town. She'd been told one time that all travelers carried stories and now expected it.

The shinigami never expected her. Unless commerce was involved they didn't tend to acknowledge souls, or even look at them. So they always seemed surprised by Hinamori, like it hadn't occurred to them that they'd meet a real, full person out here. Which is fair enough, Toushirou grudgingly allows--there are plenty of souls in Junrinan so old and staid they cannot move, nor speak. (Don't touch them. It's unlucky.)

We don't talk about those.

The shinigami talk story: The story of black dye. The story of a tall bathhouse. The story of grilled meat on sticks. The story of the time they saw a noble. The story of a big fish. The story of a bigger fish. The story of the bullet train. The story of my sister, who isn't very interesting but is the only thing that comes to mind right now sorry. The story of 19th seats should be paid more. The story of the soul who wanted a story. 

Almost none of the stories are about death.

"Little girls shouldn't go into those mountains," one shinigami once said, which is as close as a story ever came to it. "Nasty stuff in there. They're called Hollows, you know. Real bad guys."

The shinigami patted the sword at his hip. He'd just told Hinamori a story about the third son of a lesser noble whom everyone loved and thought deserved better than the shadows of his elder brothers. And how preposterous is it, really, that he should have to prove himself when his brothers never did? Pushed out here into the boonies, seeking honor and fame. He really feels for the guy. Don't you? Don't you?

"You seem to know a lot about 'this guy,'" Toushirou offered.

"I'm a master storyteller," said the shinigami.

I've killed a Hollow before, you know, boasted the master storyteller. He'd led a unit of twelve men into those mountains out there, which were so quiet you could hear your own heart beating. When you can hear your terror--that's when you're on the cusp of valor. His eyes lit up. I was the one who cut the mask, he said.

Twelve is obviously far too many (seven is a meal), and those mountains have never been quiet. Toushirou didn't think he'd really been.

In the spring, though, there's a dark scar where once there'd been a copse of trees. Shattered branches and burned ground. His grandmother says it smells like Hollow. 

"They see things differently," his grandmother half-explains, of the shinigami and their Hollows and the silence of their mountains. Of course this would seem a different place to them.

"They're idiots," says Toushirou, though suddenly he's not sure. The scar is hair-raising, and his stomach roils. Maybe they really shouldn't be out in the woods.

"The shinigami know more than you," says Hinamori, taking his hand in hers. She grips it tightly, reassuring, or maybe annoyed. Both. She has a lot of school spirit for someone who hasn't even been yet.

But she doesn't let go of his hand, even after they've returned to the cover of the live trees, kitsune fire nestled in the brambles at their feet.

Toushirou makes the mistake of noticing a spirit that tends to linger just out of sight. It feeds on your instinct to look, and it grows higher and higher the more you crane your neck, so sure you'll be able to sneak a glimpse of it. By the time you realize the trick, you've always been had. It's very annoying.

--

This will be the last time.

(Scream it.)

--

"It's so dark out here," says Hinamori, in spite of the kitsune and all the rest. Lots of spirits glow. She is still holding his hand.

Toushirou thinks of the small lamp Hinamori had bought to study by, the wild shadows it cast on the interior walls and the way it had made all hours bright. He thinks of all the hours she hadn't slept. All because some shinigami had told her a story about a school. 

Anything would seem dark by comparison. He can't remember the last time she hadn't had her lamp on when he went to bed.

Hinamori is going to snap the bones in his hand. He yelps. Tears prick in his eyes. "What's wrong with you?"

She doesn't let go, and then she doesn't let go.

"It's so quiet," she says faintly. Her free hand wavers over her heart protectively.

It's so dark. It's so quiet. Quiet enough to hear your terror.

Except it's not. It's not dark.

It's not quiet.

The forest is full, air thick with chirrups and buzzing, screeching, hooting, chittering. Bodies clack and bones shudder. Reeds whistle and something large makes a whomping, resonating tone. Foxfire hisses as it makes sparks, throws phosphorous motes that dance high above. A heartbeat glow marches up the ridged spine of a lizard spirit. The forest is as it has always been.

Toushirou's eyes widen. 

"You can't hear them anymore."

To Hinamori, it is all darkness and silence. 

She sinks to the ground, burying her head in her knees as though to hide from the quiet. From the black. She drops his hand.

"Momo--"

She shakes her head. She opens her hands to the sky like she's waiting for a bird to land. For a split second, a small warm flame billows from her palms. 

Then the entire forest catches.

The thought had been innocent enough--to be her own light in the darkness, conquer her fear. But the forest only hears the conquering. It's the kitsune who don't take kindly to Hinamori's light. Their fire screeches up and outward and then all the spirits are in frenzy. A meal! scream some; and others, a threat! A danger to be expunged. A strange thing not of this forest, these mountains.

Outsider! the world around them hisses. Away.

away, away

Hinamori screams as the flames leap forward--the claws, the vines, the terrors and all in between. She throws herself in front of Toushirou. 

Toushirou can't find his voice at all. The wide whites of his eyes feel the propulsive gust of the forest coming down on them. On Hinamori. No! he can't shout, cold fear coiling over his frozen legs and pricking at his shoulder blades. Something serpentine rushes past him and he's on the ground. His head smacks hard against a writhing tree root and he tastes bile, feels nothing. 

Hears everything.

away

When he wakes, snow is falling, wet and sloppy. Kitsune are nibbling at the singed edges of a hanafuda. Hinamori is in her grandmother's arms. She's crying.

--

Before Hinamori started studying, with her bright lamp and her long nights and her feverish poetry scratched into the ground, before the hunger came, she'd woken one morning to a futon streaked with her blood. Her grandmother said that this was womanhood.

"The tea will stop the bleeding," she assured a tearful Hinamori as they scrubbed at her futon, pinking the waters. Toushirou beat at the stain with his feet, splashing everywhere.

"You don't have to touch it," Hinamori had said quietly, her eyes fixed on the water. "It's my mess."

"Baachan said I have to help," Toushirou objected. "Besides, am I supposed to just sit here and watch you bleed?"

--

Just one last time.

--

Hinamori isn't hurt, but she is in pain. The forest doesn't want her anymore. (She is leaving.)

"The forest sees them differently," his grandmother says, the other half of her earlier explanation. "Them," meaning shinigami. "Them," meaning Hinamori, now.

Shinigami see and are seen differently. They belong differently. Toushirou had only ever distinguished them by their black clothes, and sometimes their attitude. But his grandmother talks about reiryoku, about reiatsu, about the realms the shinigami travel through and the spirits they are blind to. The spirits that belong to different worlds than theirs, even when they're side by side. Some worlds are bound to one another, tied by fate and duty; others are repelled.

As Hinamori's reiatsu blossomed with her womanhood, slowly folding outward past her skin, beyond her body, her worlds were chosen for her. Like the bleeding, there's a tea to help this, too, but it's not the same. 

There is no going back.

"What're you looking at," Toushirou scowls at her. He's not sure what to do with her pain. There's nothing he can do for her pain. But she's looking at him differently, a little less like Hinamori and a little more like the rest of Junrinan does, and that scares him.

She asks him if he'd felt anything. Something cold.

She's asked him before. Every day since the incident, she's asked him.

His answer is always the same. No. Just fear.

He should be helping his grandmother. They're here in the forest for a reason, and that hasn't changed; they have foraging to do. But he doesn't want to leave Hinamori alone. 

"Don't be afraid of it, Shiro-chan," says Hinamori. Hinamori, who's now afraid of the dark.

Hinamori, who is leaving.

--

She doesn't have a choice. When her power comes into her she knows there is only one place she can go. It's a place she has always wanted to go. (She has always wanted to go places.) But now she has to.

She smiles. 

If she is going to go, she's going to fly. She will love, and yearn, and cry. She will give all of herself to the future before her, even when it means that precious things can be only memory. If there is something Hinamori leaves in him when she goes, it's flight. 

Someday, Toushirou will remember to remember that.

--

"Will you write me?" she asks.

--

--

(You will be written.)

--

She returns for the summer, then is gone again. Winter, then gone again. But she doesn't come home for the spring. They'll be going to the realm of the living. They will fight Hollows, just like the Gotei 13. She explains the meaning and stroke order of the characters, go tei,  though she doesn't explain what the Gotei 13 actually is. That part must already seem obvious to her. Shinigami stuff. That's all Toushirou will ever need to know. Seems pretentious.

When Junrinan returns to the mountains this year, Toushirou and his grandmother stay behind. "It's dangerous," she says. She squeezes his shoulders.

It's dangerous now. 

There is no going back.

Junrinan may not change, but life does, and by the second summer, Hinamori has mostly forgotten the shapes of the forest spirits. Toushirou is forgetting them, too. 

The difference is, Hinamori has found replacements. She talks about incantations and sword stances, friendships and histories. She has been to the realm of the living. It's only been a year, and already they have nothing in common but their memories, ever-receding. 

Sometimes she wakes up screaming. She doesn't say why.

--

Toushirou dreams of a chill ripping through him. He dreams of a place where there are no mountains as far as the eye can see.

--

He wakes to Hinamori.

[midnightactual]

Yoruichi and Loneliness

I’ve discussed Yoruichi’s official theme (雲路の果て, Kumoji no Hate, “The End of the Cloudy Road”) before. Today I got to thinking that you could very easily cut a video of her set to it that was like what we see of Spike Spiegel in Cowboy Bebop’s ending with “The Real Folk Blues”. Seeing her mostly alone, in the rain, in the dark, looking away from the point of view, just these candid moments of isolation and possibly vulnerability.

I think that that really is a core part of her character. For as much as I talk here about her strength and abilities (as I do think she’s heavily underestimated due to the subtlety with which her power is communicated), I think it’s also clear how lonely and apart she is in a world which is persistently portrayed as isolating and cold. Even by the standards of other lonely characters in the series, she’s lonely.

And I think that’s not only reflected in her appearances or her demeanor (if one pays attention), not only in her song choice, but also in how other people talk about her. There aren’t many instances of that in canon of any real value, but there are some quotes in CFYOW which paint a certain picture of how others perceive her. Note that there will be spoilers for that book from here forward. (Thanks to @mysteriousshopkeeper for providing me with the official translations I needed!)

CFYOW volume I, chapter 2:

“What? So it’s just the aristocracy being pigheaded as usual?” Muguruma said, peeved.

Muguruma was fully aware that he didn’t get along with the nobles, Yoruichi Shihōin excepted, and because they were talking about the Seiretei Bulletin, he quickly lost interest in the conversation.

Hisagi, on he other hand, acted as if he hadn’t noticed anything.

We get Kensei’s thoughts here during a discussion with Shūhei, in which she’s a named exception to his dislike for nobles, evidently not fitting his image of them as self-absorbed. While she admittedly saved his life, that doesn’t necessarily mandate getting along with her because of it—this suggests she’s different from the rest.

CFYOW volume I, chapter 4:

“And the Tsunayashiro nobles?”

“I don’t care about the world of the nobles specifically because of what they are. Kyoraku, Kuchiki, and Yoruichi are fine, but don’t want to get mixed up with the average aristocrat.”

Hisagi also knew about the unreasonable, hubristic Soul Reaper nobility. If they had been charmingly prideful like Omaeda, it would have been another story. But he had seen the nobles’ terrible actions earlier in the Central 46.

He’d heard that even the Central 46 had changed their views due to the war, but many people in the aristocratic district still obviously looked down on those in the general populace or in the Rukongai.

“It would be nice if they were all like Ms. Yoruichi.”

“I think it that would be dangerous in its own way.” Muguruma imagined a group of Yoruichis jumping around the aristocratic district and scowled. He continued, recollecting. “You know, Byakuya got all worked up as a kid when Yoruichi teased him. There was something cute about it, but he ended up maturing into the spitting image of an aristocrat.”

“He can’t help it. He’s one of the Four Great Noble Clans after all.”

“Yoruichi used to be too though.” As he spoke, Muguruma picked up the Seireitei Bulletin from his desk. He flipped through it and continued. “But I’m impressed you took the job. Sure, it was a unique situation, but I think you could have turned it down and spoken to the other companies about it.”

Here we have Shūhei contrasting Yoruichi with the arrogance and irrationality of the average noble, which Kensei seems to agree with, although he regards her as too happy-go-lucky for that to not be its own problem. This confirms the above point about Kensei’s perspective of her being different from the rest—notice that he initially marks out Shunsui, Byakuya, and Yoruichi as acceptable, only to then draw a major distinction between Byakuya and Yoruichi. While she isn’t contrasted with Shunsui, that itself is a major clue.

CFYOW volume II, chapter 9:

Though Hirako had spent some time slipping away to the living world, he was a veteran in the current Thirteen Court Guard Companies. Because of that, he was one of the people who fully understood the Four Great Noble Clans’ absolute power; he knew they weren’t all openhearted like Yoruichi Shihōin or unfailingly loyal like Byakuya Kuchiki.

And here we have Shinji, who rather plainly thinks of Yoruichi as jovial and endearing. Openhearted usually means something to the effect of, “expressing or displaying one's warm and kindly feelings without concealment”. We admittedly see nothing of Yoruichi in civilian settings (as she’s always in or around battles or military preparations), and she often wears her heart on her sleeve when it comes to feelings, but this is still an interesting way of characterizing her.

Setting aside the Urahara Shōten, Kūkaku, and Shihōin Manor itself, you’d expect the Vizard would probably know Yoruichi the next best, and their familiarity with and fondness for her (compare Kensei and Shinji’s thoughts on their fellow Taichō, Byakuya) seems to indicate exactly that. But their perspectives don’t really stack up with the real woman herself.

Yoruichi rather plainly detests Tokinada (as she reveals in chapter 15) far more than Aizen, seriously intends to kill him, and then does have him killed by sending an assassin to finish him off in the name of revenge while maintaining plausible deniability for herself. She then suggests Kisuke wipe Shūhei’s memory because he’s a loose end, which Kisuke may or may not be surprised by and find unusual. The darkness of these actions (hints of which can be found in canon as well; she quite evidently aimed to kill Askin after a certain point) doesn’t really square with how others think of her. She is not wholly good-natured.

I noted the lack of comparison with Shunsui earlier and said it was telling, and I think that because I feel Yoruichi is actually quite similar to Shunsui in being fundamentally a lonely and sort of tragic character; we simply never see it in the same way as we do with him. The narrative doesn’t dwell upon it as it does in his case. And just like with Shunsui, Yoruichi is self-evidently possessed of a certain kind of darkness to her. (Just look at some of her faces while fighting Askin.)

That nobody really sees her darkness or sadness is evidence of how alone she is. Almost no one knows her well at all. They only know their own ideas of her.

(P.S., my stance on CFYOW has softened somewhat as I no longer find this behavior wholly out of character for Yoruichi; I just find her operating around the margins unlikely after how TYBW played out with Askin. In my opinion she’d have just done what Shunsui only seemed to fantasize about and killed Tokinada in broad daylight at the first opportunity when he didn’t have Enrakyōten and before he became Tsunayashiro Clan Head. But then there wouldn’t have been a book. I also think it’s obvious she’s useless during the fights with him, much like Kisuke is rendered useless by Aura, because the book is there to show off certain characters and to establish how awesome [overpowered] Narita’s OCs are as compared to Kubo’s, as Narita did in SAFWY too. Its zeal for reintegrating certain anime elements, like how Yoruichi and Soifon interact, also still comes off as more like character assassination to me.)

[recurring-polynya]

You might have noticed that I am more than a little obsessed with @kaickos‘s Squad 6 Guard Dog and All-Round Good Boy Milo. She was kind enough to let me write a fluffy little story about him. It is not 100% consistent with the beautiful comic she is drawing about him, because we were working in parallel and great minds work alike, but maybe not perfectly alike. Anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this over my Thanksgiving weekend. (Seriously, BEHOLD HIM )

Shinigami’s Best Friend (AO3 | ff.net)

Squad 6 acquires a guard dog.

Rated T because apparently I can’t even write some fluff about a dog without cussing. It’s Rukia’s fault, I swear!

Captain Kuchiki Byakuya stepped over the large lump lying across the entrance to the Squad Six Captains’ Office. He smoothed his haori as he sat down at his desk. He read three memos from his inbox before he very calmly said, “Lieutenant, what is that pile of damp fur doing in the doorway?”

His adjutant, Lieutenant Abarai Renji looked up from the mission report he was writing up. “Ah, he appears to be sleepin’, sir.”

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. Eleven years of working with this lummox, and trying to get information out of Abarai was still an enormous trial. “But why, Abarai?”

“Well, he had a very exciting day, sir. ‘Spect he’s worn out.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut. “Let us back up. What… what kind of animal is it? It is an animal, yes?”

“He’s a dog, sir.”

“Really ? Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure, sir. I thought you knew about dogs, sir. Pretty sure you mentioned havin’ a couple once or twice.”

“I do. I own three dogs, actually.” They were champion hunting dogs, of the finest bloodlines. They were creatures of pure muscle encased in velvet coats, noble, handsome, and perfectly obedient. They looked absolutely nothing like this sentient dust mop, who was currently snoring softly and kicking one hind leg frantically. “My dogs are kept in a kennel, where a dedicated servant looks after their needs. Why is this one in my office?”

“Oh, well, sir, I’m trying to find him a home. Returning the favor, as it were.”

“The favor.”

“He saved my life, sir.”

This is the point where Byakuya should have known he had lost, because Abarai delivered this phrase exactly as he did when he told the story of how he had met Rukia. Byakuya did not ask for further detail, but he received it anyway, in typical Abarai fashion.

Abarai had been leading a sweep of one of the higher numbered districts of Rukongai -- his own home district, as it happened-- for an elusive Hollow that had been terrorizing the area. He had noticed the dog investigating a rubbish heap as he himself investigated a blind alley. Finding it to be empty, he turned to leave, when the dog let out a frantic bark of singular intensity, a bark that imported the urgency of the situation so clearly that Abarai drew his sword immediately, just in time to block the razor-sharp claws of the Hollow that was materializing from the shadows behind him.

“The thing was apparently able to travel from shadow to shadow, sir, completely untraceable,” Abarai noted. “But the old fellow sniffed him right out and let me know! Once I spotted it, the Hollow wasn’t that tough. Got his mask in one blow, but if I hadn’t seen him in time… Well, sir, you might be holding lieutenant auditions this afternoon, is what I’m saying.”

The alleged canine rolled onto its back, its legs hanging in the air.

Everything about this story sounded like, as Rukia would say, “some bullshit.” But Byakuya had put up with Abarai for long enough that he knew it was a trap to dwell on how they had ended up in this situation. It was more important to focus on how they were getting out of it.

“You said you were going to find it a new home,” Byakuya pointed out. “When is that slated to commence?”

“Well, I needed to file my report, first,” Abarai explained. “And it’s gettin’ kinda late in the day. Figured I’d probably just take him home with me, send a few texts around. See if anyone’s looking for a dog.”

Something about this struck Byakuya as a bad idea, but he did not want to get drawn any further into this nonsense. “Very good, Lieutenant. While, obviously I am grateful for his… services… to the Sixth Division… I do not wish to see him tomorrow, do you understand?”

“Oh, you won’t, sir!”

- - -

It was the next morning.

Byakuya was here.

Abarai was here.

“The dog is here, Abarai,” Byakuya observed.

“His name is Milo,” Abarai announced.

“Why is the dog-- Milo? What kind of name is Milo? Dogs are supposed to have names like Sakura Bloom Cascade. Mountainside Granite Crest.”

“Are they? I dunno. Ichika picked it. I think it’s after a character in one of her books.”

The dog was much cleaner than it had been the day before. It had clearly been bathed, the tangles teased from its coat.

Byakuya narrowed his eyes. “So it is your dog now.”

“No, sir, course not! Rukia’d be pretty pissed, I think, if I did something like that without consulting her.”

“She is still in the Living World?”

“Yeah, for a few days, yet.”

“Ichika will grow attached to it, if she has not already.”

Abarai regarded him seriously. “Me and her had a talk about how he’s just a visitor and he can only stay for a few days. She understood.”

“She is very pragmatic,” Byakuya agreed. Amazingly so, all things considered. “So tell me again why the dog is back my office?”

“Oh, well, Iba said to bring him by, see if he gets along with Gorou.”

Byakuya wracked his brain. “Is Gorou the Seventh’s adjutant?”

Abarai gave out one of his barking laughs. “That’s a good one, sir, I’ll have to tell Iba that.” He abruptly realized that Byakuya wasn’t joking. “Uh, Gorou is Iba’s dog. He used to be Captain Komamura’s. He lives at the Seventh, the whole squad is real fond of him.”

“Perfect,” Byakuya replied. “I hope it goes wonderfully.”

  - - -

When Byakuya returned from his afternoon theoretical tactics exercises (which is what he wrote on his agenda when he wanted to go play shogi with Captain Hitsugaya), there was a distinct absence of canine in the office.

“The meeting with Lieutenant Iba went well?” Byakuya asked.

“Oh, yeah, those two old boys got on like a house on fire,” Abarai announced.

“Excellent,” Byakuya replied. He had just gotten settled at his desk again, when there was a rap on the office door.

“Third Seat Ohno and one good dog!”

“Come in!” Abarai called cheerfully.

The door slid open, and Milo trotted into the office, followed by an uncharacteristically smiling Third Seat Ohno. The dog sat down neatly in front of Abarai’s desk, and barked exactly once.

“Captain’s in the office, Milo, you gotta go greet him first,” Abarai informed the dog, as though he was talking to a human.

Bizarrely enough, the dog stood up, ambled over to Byakuya’s desk and repeated the procedure. “Er, at ease,” Byakuya informed the creature.

The dog looked back, questioningly, at Renji.

“Good boy,” Renji informed him.

The dog then went over to the corner, took an extremely loud and messy drink from a water bowl that had not been present yesterday, and then flopped down on a pillow that had also not been there yesterday.

“How was he?” Renji addressed the Third Seat.

“Oh, he was great! He loved chasing the ball. Fourth Seat Kuchiki wanted to throw that frisbee thing he has, but I told him, I won fair and square.”

“He just has to work harder tomorrow,” Abarai suggested.

“He can try,” Ohno replied, a competitive sneer creeping onto his face. “Anything you need, sir?”

“Get those mission reports from the unseated guys organized and filed, would you?”

“No problem, sir!”

Ohno saluted smartly and left.

Byakuya stared at this spectacle.

Their Third Seat was a prissy, waspish stickler for rules. He despised messes. He despised deviations from the usual order. Primarily, he despised Abarai.

Byakuya could feel an elongated “whaaaaaaat?” forming in his mouth, but he somehow couldn’t manage to get it out.

However, after their many years of working together, Abarai was quite adept at reading his captain’s unspoken thoughts. “The seated officers just love Milo,” he provided. “I told Ohno and Kuchiki whoever won their spar could give him his afternoon runabout. Both of ‘em went in-all in for it, I was surprised. Wouldn’t’ve pegged Ohno for a dog guy. Learn something new every day, eh?”

“I thought the dog was going to live at the Seventh!” Byakuya finally managed.

“Oh, no, sir, they’ve already got a dog.”

Byakuya squeezed his eyes shut.

- - -

Over the next few days, Milo made a grand tour of the Gotei 13.

He had pleasant visits at both the Third and the Fifth, but neither extended a permanent invitation.

Milo did not care for the Eleventh. “Too excitement much for an ol’ boy like him,” Abarai explained.

A thank you card arrived from the Coordinated Relief Station in appreciation for “cheering up the patients.”

He was promptly banned from the Ninth, something about a fundamental incompatibility between dogs and newspapers.

Captain Yadoumaru claimed to be “a cat person.”

Milo actually did find a new home at the Tenth for all of an hour, before Captain Hitsugaya, who had been in a meeting, promptly delivered the dog back to the Sixth, glaring harshly at Byakuya, as though he had anything to do with it.

Surely, something would pan out sooner or later.

Surely.

- - -

Friday brought Milo again, along with a very shamefaced Lieutenant Abarai.

“What is the excuse today, Lieutenant?” Byakuya intoned.

“Well, Rukia got home last night, sir,” Abarai explained.

“Ah. So you will now actually be seeking a home for Milo.”

“Not… exactly. Um, do you remember when I said I had a good talk with Ichika about settin’ expectations?”

“Relying on the practicality of a seven-year-old did not turn out as you hoped?”

“Ah, Ichika’s not the problem, actually… it’s just that same talk didn’t work so well on Rukia.”

Byakuya glared at his brother-in-law.

“Well, you know how she is about cute stuff! I mean, look at him, sir, he’s such a charming guy! ”

Milo, as was his usual habit, was asleep on his back, limbs splayed in all directions. Most of him had fallen off his pillow. His tongue had also fallen out of his mouth.

“Perhaps he could spend his days over at the Thirteenth, then,” Byakuya suggested dryly.

“Oh, no, sir, Lieutenant Sentarou’s allergic, you see.’

“I see. You do have a house, Lieutenant. I have been there.”

“Well, sure, sir, but now that Ichika’s in school, no one’s there during the day. He’s so social, I don’t think he’d be happy all by his lonesome.”

Social. Of course. A dog who appeared to sleep for upwards of 22 hours per day.

Byakuya folded his hands. “I have been very tolerant, Lieutenant, but the Sixth Division is a place of calm and deportment and…”

In a flail of legs, Milo suddenly rolled over and sprang to his feet. A noise was emanating from deep in his little doggie ribcage.

“What is happening?” Byakuya asked, alarmed. “What is that sound?”

“He’s growlin’,” Abarai replied curiously, brows creased. “You have a bad dream, guy?”

Milo crept over to the office door, lip curled, hackles raised.

“HEY, BYAKUYA-BOU!”

Every muscle in Byakuya’s body seized. He scrabbled for Senbonzakura.

The door was thrown open and that frightful woman, Shihouin Yoruichi, pranced in.

Or at least she started to.

“Guess who’s back in tow-- aiieee!” The Demon Cat danced backward when she noticed the ball of grey and white fur growling at her feet.

“Milo, heel!” Renji commanded, standing up.

“Milo, belay that!” Byakuya ordered, also standing.

“What the--?!” Yoruichi exclaimed. “When’d you get a dog, Renji? I know that thing doesn’t belong to Byakuya.”

“He is a member of the Sixth Division!” Byakuya roared.

Yoruichi tried to take a step forward, and Milo slunk around her, his growl rising in pitch. “I was just stopping by, can’t stay. Too busy, y’know.” She pointed an index finger at Byakuya. “I will find you later. I know where you live.”

“Ah, too bad, I am dining with the Abarais tonight!” Byakuya snapped. “At their house, where Officer Milo spends his evenings!”

“You are?” Renji asked, puzzled.

“Yes, it is the night you make that thing I like, is it not?”

“You don’t like anything I cook,” Renji pointed out.

“I have changed my mind!”

Yoruichi was growing more and more uncomfortable with the dog snarling at her heels. Finally, she leaned down, made an angry hissing noise and dashed out, slamming the door behind her. A moment passed, then the door slid back open and stuffed her head back in. “I’ll get you, Kuchiki! And your little dog, too!”

Milo barked a single bark at her.

Yoruichi shuddered and slammed the door shut again.

Milo very triumphantly trotted back to his pillow, circled once, and settled back down.

“Good boy,” announced Byakuya.

Milo was back again the next day.

When Byakuya entered the office, he and Abarai stood up in unison to greet their captain.

Byakuya strode up to the dog. “You have proven yourself useful,” he announced. “As long as you continue to do so, you may stay.” He knelt down, and affixed a handsome leather collar around Milo’s neck. From it hung a badge. On one side was etched the character for six, on the other, a camellia. “But members of the Sixth Division must be in uniform.”

[cheshiresense]

What if: the Gotei 13 offers Ichigo the creation and captaincy of the Fourteenth Division?

[Part 1] [Part 2]

Pinglist: @queen-sands

“Here?” Kisuke looks from their surroundings to Ichigo and back again. “We’re going to build our headquarters here?”

“Yup,” Ichigo looks around as well, scuffing a foot over some debris as they make their way down the silent street. The place looks even more run-down than the last time he was here. The section they’re walking through looks like a fire’s swept through it recently. All the buildings around them are charred and crumbling, and even the homeless have stayed away. The rats haven’t though, or maybe cockroaches, who knows. Ichigo can hear faint scuttling sounds, and he wonders if Shinigami have extermination services he can hire or if he’s going to have to find a way to clear out any unwanted pests himself.

Man, this whole venture is going to be a chore and a half. But it was always an idea that nagged at him at the back of his mind, ever since it came to his attention, a someday, maybe, somehow that stayed with him even after all this time, and when Kyouraku practically gift-wrapped the perfect opportunity for him, that idea became a lot less abstract and impossible than he’d first thought.

He glances over his shoulder at where Kisuke is trailing a step behind him, blinking when he finds the man watching him with an unusually somber look on his face.

“What?” Ichigo slows to a stop, and Kisuke follows suit. There’s a stench of rot in the air, underneath the burnt wood and smoke. “You think I shouldn’t? Or can’t?”

“I know better than to put my money on can’t when it comes to you,” Kisuke tells him, just a touch wryly. “But shouldn’t… well.” He looks around again. “Technically, you shouldn’t. Is Kyouraku-soutaichou even going to give permission for this?”

“Yeah,” Ichigo answers immediately.

Kisuke has the gall to give him an accusatory look. As if the man doesn’t regularly breeze past any rules that get in his way as easily as breathing.

“It’s one of the conditions he agreed to,” Ichigo clarifies with a huff. “I asked to choose where the Fourteenth Division headquarters will be myself. He agreed.”

Kisuke arches an eyebrow but there’s a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I am fairly certain he did not mean all the way out here.”

“Well that’s not my problem, is it?”

In response, Kisuke’s fan snaps open in front of his face, and he even turns away a little, but Ichigo catches the grin anyway.

He rolls his eyes. At this point in their lives, they’re probably as bad as each other. “But seriously, was there another reason you think this is a bad idea?”

Because if Urahara Kisuke, arguably the reigning king of bad ideas, thinks this is a bad idea…

“Not a bad idea, per se,” Kisuke murmurs, lowering his fan again as his mirth fades. “I can see why you would want to set up base out here. Actually, I probably should’ve predicted it. And no one with any sense can deny that having Shinigami presence here can only help.”

“...But?”

“But,” Kisuke echoes, and the look in his eyes is sharp enough to make Ichigo straighten instinctively. “Seireitei is the seat of Central 46’s power. Officially, Central 46 serves as the judiciary body of Soul Society but their influence goes far beyond that. With the Soul King residing in a different dimension entirely, they are considered the highest royalty here, made up of men and women from noble lines. Their decisions are rarely overturned. They all but own the military. Their authority is absolute and has gone unchallenged for millenia. Aizen was the first to strike against them, and their numbers were large enough that they reassembled soon after anyway. The richest resources and the most successful businesses surround the capital, and Central 46 gets first pick of the best produce and merchandise, followed by nobility, followed by the rest of Seireitei. Rukongai is last, if they get anything at all. The outer districts certainly don’t. So can you see, Ichigo, why the government might have a problem with you setting up your own base of operations so far away from their influence?”

Ichigo takes a minute to digest this. Honestly, he isn’t that surprised. He knows the people who make up Central 46 have never been his biggest fans. He knows - even though the man’s never said anything to him - that Kyouraku’s had to argue for Ichigo’s… unique privileges that allow him to come and go from Soul Society as he pleases, among other things (things like not having his memories tampered with or not having his powers bound). He knows they give Kyouraku a good deal of trouble solely because their new Soutaichou doesn’t run things half as by-the-book as Yamamoto did, and worse, he doesn’t cater to Central 46’s whims either. Gotei business remains Gotei business, as much as Kyouraku can keep it that way, so it would probably be more accurate to say that Central 46 used to all but own the military. But, possibly since Ichigo’s arrival, they haven’t had nearly as much freedom to do as they please as they once did.

Even the old man changed a bit in those last few years.

“They won’t like it,” Ichigo says at last. “Cuz they think I’ll run things my way out here, and there’d be no one around to stop me. And they’d want to stop me because I’d… what, take some of the power from them?”

“That’s the gist of it,” Kisuke agrees. “Seireitei functions as the greatest seat of power because it is the only seat of power. The Gotei and Central 46 are strong because the districts depend on them for aid against invading Hollows. It takes time for Shinigami to get all the way out here, and we can use Shunpo. Imagine how difficult it would be to set up food trains, to send the necessary supplies to sustain businesses, to establish farmland. People here are as self-sufficient as they aren’t. They take care of themselves to the best of their abilities, but they can’t make a proper living when they can’t even overcome starvation. Shinigami don’t help with that. And any soul with a high enough amount of reiryoku will naturally attempt the journey to the only place they can be trained, if only to get away from the rampant poverty, so the outer districts are left with the weak and untrained, and therefore they have no real way to defend themselves long-term. Hollow attacks are inevitable, and Shinigami rarely come on time to save everyone. It doesn’t help that the upper- and even middle-class citizens in and around Seireitei look down on those from deep Rukongai. They consider them lesser. And why not? Shinigami are taught to treat Rukongai residents as second-class citizens at best. If the balance of souls is endangered, Shinigami are given blanket permission to get rid of as many souls in the outer districts as it takes to fix it. To some, they’re merely fodder, not even people. Central 46 certainly doesn’t care about those who live out here. And even Rukongai citizens know that if they want anything like a steady income and an easier life, they should go to the capital. So long as the strongest and the most useful among them travel to Seireitei and place themselves under Central 46’s jurisdiction, it hardly matters what happens to the rest. Souls will always reincarnate into the Human world when they pass on. Humans will always die. More souls will always come. And those with enough potential will eventually make their way into Central 46’s sphere of influence, and they might be under the command of the Soutaichou, but more often than not, if Central 46 so wishes, any orders they give would supersede even the Soutaichou’s authority. Thus, Central 46 remains the greatest power in all of Soul Society. It is a… vicious cycle. But it is one that suits the government.

“What you are proposing though,” Kisuke holds his gaze with something heavy and intent in his own. “If the outer districts, at least in the South, could come here for help, for jobs, for protection - it might take a decade, it might take a century, it might take more, but sooner or later, Ichigo, the people here won’t be so desperate for Shinigami aid from the capital anymore. One day, perhaps there will even be a second Seireitei here. And Central 46 will never be okay with that.”

Ichigo stares at him after he finishes, silent in the face of it all laid bare, and then he looks at their surroundings.

District 78, South Rukongai: Inuzuri.

Where Ichigo literally walked past beggars on the streets and bodies in the alleys earlier.

Where even the best housing in the area consist of little more than shabby-looking structures made of wood and brick with leaky rooftops.

Where older siblings abandon their younger and children have to fight for their food.

And Central 46 is worried about power.

He’s always understood, ever since the idea occurred to him, that what he wants to do would… not be a small venture. Not be something that would only affect a small group of people.

But he thinks it’s right, and not only right but long overdue-- and it’s not like anybody else is going to do it. It might be dangerous, to step on so many toes like he’ll be doing, but he’s been taking on gods and monsters since he was fifteen. Why quit now?

He turns back to Kisuke. “I don’t care,” He says flatly. He thinks about that for a moment before amending, “I mean I do care. I care enough to Bankai any of those assholes stupid enough to try and stop me because they can’t handle not being the most important.”

His hands have unconsciously curled into fists, and he forces himself to relax them even as he levels a fierce look on Kisuke. “I know it’s gonna be hard. I know there’ll be problems to deal with that I haven’t even thought of yet. I know some people won’t approve, or they’ll think I won’t be able to do it, or they’ll try to get me to stop. And I know I didn’t give you any warning. But I’m gonna do it anyway. Are you still going to help me?”

There’s a long beat of tense, breathless silence in the wake of his question. Then Kisuke arches an eyebrow, and his expression is part admonishing, part fond, and all steel underneath. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that, Ichigo. Else I might be tempted to ask you when I’ve ever done otherwise, and that would be horribly embarrassing for you since you would then remember that the answer is never, and you should know better by now.”

Ichigo does indeed flush a little, at how plainly Kisuke puts it but also at the simple truth of it. He’s still quick to retort, “Hey, half the time when you help me with something, you got me into trouble in the first place!”

“This is true,” Kisuke agrees with a shamelessly inappropriate amount of good cheer, the bastard. “And yet you’ve always handled my messes just fine, so it seems it would be to both our benefits if we refrained from asking such pointless questions ever again.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Ichigo grumbles, and he does. Reprimanded for asking if Kisuke wants to back out-- well, he probably deserves it. Kisuke’s a lot of things but no one who’s remotely familiar with the man can accuse him of not being there when Ichigo needs him.

“Right then,” Ichigo looks around again. “I guess first things first, we’re gonna have to clear the area.”

Can’t build without ground to build on. There’s no way these buildings are salvageable anyway, and even if they were, they shouldn’t be. The place is a pit of death and disease. But it’s large enough to accomodate an entire compound and then some, and there’s no such thing as taxes or leased land in the outermost districts-- he’s checked.

“I’m sure you’ll think of a way to at least make it habitable,” Kisuke assures in a way that explicitly implies without me.

Ichigo immediately slants a narrowed gaze at him, but he waits for an explanation because that wasn’t Kisuke’s trying-to-get-out-of-boring-menial-labour voice.

Kisuke absently taps Benihime against the ground before gesturing around them. “If we really are doing this, then before we can build anything, we have to make sure what we build will stay standing after we finish.” He pauses and gives Ichigo a contemplative look before slowly revealing, “Officially speaking, the Onmitsukidou is attached to the Second Division and under the command of the Soutaichou. It is part of the Gotei, so even when Central 46 wants to issue orders for them, those orders must first go through the Soutaichou. Even if he can’t prevent those orders from being passed down, he should have the right to know. But, unofficially,” Here, his mouth twists into an odd little smile that holds very little humour. “Seventy-three percent of the missions carried out by Onmitsukidou members come directly from Central 46, and they bypass the Soutaichou entirely. Reasons are not given, and orders are to be carried out swiftly and without question. So, if the government wishes to stop us from this little venture, there is every chance that certain agents will be mobilized to… take care of us, and Kyouraku-soutaichou will not know early enough to warn us.”

...Right. Assassins. Why not. He’s pretty sure he’s seen that in a couple dozen movie plots. Sometimes, Ichigo despairs of this world.

“But you can stop them.” It isn’t a question.

Kisuke’s smile widens, sharp as the curve of a scythe and gilded with a sly lethality that Ichigo would hate to be at the end of. “Leave it to me, Ichigo.”

The man glances around one more time, nods at Ichigo, and then Shunpos off, presumably to lay down enough traps of madness and mayhem to deter even a determined Sui-Feng with a grudge.

Leaving Ichigo to stare up at the dilapidated buildings with more than a little dismay.

“I really hope cockroaches don’t bite,” He mutters.

But he’s decided to do this, so bite or no bite, time to get to work.

He snaps open a Garganta. Extra hands - more than just Kisuke’s - wouldn’t hurt, but it’s going to take time to pick people he wants and approach them and convince them, so for now, he’ll focus on at least readying a place for his future squad to live in.

Thank God humans have developed waste management.

[Part 4]

[gunnerpalace]

What are good ways to make villain motivation?

One of the things I liked (in theory) about Mass Effect was getting rid of a “good” and “evil” morality system in favor of “Paragon” and “Renegade.”

Now, in actual practice, Paragon and Renegade were still pretty much shit, because whoever was in charge of that didn’t understand what they’d made. Paragon was pretty much always the goody two shoes option and never came back to bite you in the ass, whereas Renegade was usually pointlessly cruel, destructive, or mean, and often did. But the theory was good.

In theory, Paragon is about means, and Renegade is about ends. There could have been a really interesting dichotomy where Paragon options were nobler, more just, etc., but produced poorer net outcomes. (Consider the Star Trek: Deep Space 9 episode “In the Pale Moonlight“, where the assassination of a Romulan Senator produces a superior outcome for the Federation’s war effort for an example.)

This is how actual people think. Almost nobody thinks of themselves as “evil,” and most people aren’t particularly inclined to think of themselves as more than generically “good” either. These are value judgments imposed by others. Most people are also goal-driven, and what other people perceive of as “good” or “evil” is an interpretation of the means and ends of their actions in achieving their goals.

The most important thing for a villain is a clearly defined goal. (Guess what Aizen, Ginjou, and Yhwach were lacking?) It’s certainly possible for a villain to be aimless and wantonly engaging in purposeless villainy, or to be ideological and to not care about any particular action so much as an overarching idea, but these are rather unique and unusual cases.

“I want [power], so I will [become Emperor] using [the Galactic Senate].”

There can be hidden motivations behind these clearly defined goals, of whatever nature (e.g., some postulate that in Star Wars’ Legends continuity, Palpatine was trying to prepare the galaxy for Yuuzhan Vong). But there should be a clearly understood motive in play. Even a “chaotic” character like say, the Joker, can be easily understood: Joker wants to fuck with Batman. On the other hand, you can ask: do you think that Lenin, Stalin, and Mao still conceived of themselves as Communists on their deathbeds? And they probably did, and would justify what they had done on that basis.

(Aizen, and to a lesser extent Ginjou, are unique cases because they were also “mystery villains,” so it makes sense their motives would initially be inscrutable as it wasn’t clear what was going on. Still, a villain’s motivations should be rather clear once they’re introduced as such.)

Ideally, a villain’s goal is also relatable, understandable, and morally gray. Nobody can really relate to drowning all puppies because puppies, am I right? So a villain’s goal should probably be relatively intuitive. Now it does sometimes occur that you will get Saturday Morning Cartoon Villains™ who want to, say, take healthcare away from tens of millions of people and crash the global economy because “fuck Obama” and “fuck poors” (see: the Republican Party of the United States of America) but generally speaking these are rare and essentially impossible to empathize with.

Sometimes you want to have a villain people love to hate, but that usually requires some additional traits for them to not just be a miserable slog of a character. (The easiest way is making them a magnificent bastard.)

So, for example, Bleach: Mayuri liquidates 28,000 souls in Rukongai during TYBW. Morally gray! Clearly explained: if he didn’t, reality would’ve ceased to exist and presumably everyone would have died. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. But why those 28,000? Was there a selection process? What district of Rukongai was it in? Did they just grab whoever was closest? Did they go by area to keep people from talking? We don’t know. And we don’t really dwell on it because it’s over and done with in a few chapters, and we’re still thinking about that time Mayuri gleefully vivisected 2,000+ Quincy mostly for shits and giggles instead, so it doesn’t really register on the morality meter. People either hated Mayuri for that (and how he treated Nemu, and other things) or they liked him for his crazy mad scientist antics, with nothing really in between, and that’s where everyone still is on him. There’s no nuance.

A degree of nuance is preferable, even in shounen, because it keeps the villain interesting, engaging, and dynamic. Ideally, in most cases, your villain should be such that if you just changed the perspective of the work, the audience could understand them as a hero of their own story, albeit perhaps a flawed one. Every villain is different, but most villains are just people doing what they think they need to do.

[amethystviolin]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader - Chapter 13 - Research

           “Mayuri, who’s that?” you asked

           Momo spoke up, “Captain Kurotsuchi is the head of 12th Company!  They are responsible for Research and Development.”

           “Research and Development?  Why do the Soul Reapers need a Research and Development Division?”

           A quiet chuckle came from behind you, Aizen spoke, “Just because the Soul Reapers have existed since the beginning of time does not mean that we do not need to understanding the changing world around us. The Human World continues to change and improve, and so do we.”  He smiled broadly.

           You felt slight unease at the words, but were unsure why.  You looked at Momo, “If you think it’s best I’ll go see him”.  

Momo smiled, a warm smile that reached all the way to her eyes.  “It’s the best way the Soul Society, and you, can find out about your powers.”

You shook your head, “When should we go?”

Aizen spoke next, “Momo come with me, I’ll write a letter to Captain Kurotsuchi and we can see when he would be willing to see you, he can be a very busy man.”  Aizen turned and began walking away, Momo stood hastily following.  After a few steps, she turned and waved,

“Y/f/n, just wait right there, I’ll be back soon!”

Despite the fear pricking the back of your mind, you smiled and waved back. Things here move so fast…… but somehow, amidst all the change the atmosphere was peaceful, calm.  You sat back against the tree and closed your eyes, breathing deeply through your nose. The sounds of the practicing Soul Reapers filtered through your mind and calmed you.  You opened your eyes in time to see Momo hop past holding what appeared to be a letter to her chest.  She waved again, and was gone – bounded over the wall.  You looked around you and noticed that no one seemed to be paying any attention to you, you cautiously stood and walked back to your room, carrying your new sword with you.  You found the book on Kidō you had left earlier and picked up right where you left off, becoming engrossed on the complexity of spells the Soul Reapers used to defend, attack, and protect.

The sun hung low in the sky when Momo returned to the barracks.  She got you from your room and took to you to dinner with Captain Aizen again, telling you to leave your sword behind. As you sat, waiting to be served, you found yourself anxious at the response from Captain Kurotsuchi.  When the dinner was finally served, Captain Aizen spoke while you and Momo began eating,

“Y/f/n, as I’m sure you’re already figured out, Momo has returned from Mayuri’s and has informed me that the Captain’s division will be ready to receive you in two days times.  In the meantime, Momo has informed me that you have shown interest in learning how to use your sword.”

You quickly swallowed the food in your mouth, “Yes, sir, if that’s okay with you.  I wouldn’t want to do anything that would get anyone in trouble”.

“Of course, it’s okay.  I agree with Momo that it will hone your mental skills as well as your help you adjust to your spiritual body.  Momo can start instructing you in the morning”

You heart leapt, you couldn’t explain why, but you felt lighter, somehow. “That’s wonderful, thank you Captain, and thank you Momo!”

Momo smiled, as she was chewing her own food.  The rest of the meal was spent in silence, just the clatter of plates and the shuffling of bodies while the meal was consumed.  The fatigue from the day was finally setting in. You excused yourself and went back to your room.  Your sword sat on your bed, you picked it up and held it.  The same feelings as before came over you - the familiarity of the sword. You hadn’t realized you even fell asleep until the morning’s rays hit your face.  Your eyes fluttered opened and you saw you still had the sword in your hands.  A smile crept on your face.  Your thoughts were disrupted by the knocking at your door.  The door slide open and Momo appeared.  

“What are you still doing in bed, sleepyhead?”  She cheerily said while stepping into your room.  She stood next to your bed while you sat up and placed the sword next to you on your bed.  

“Come on!  Let’s get to the practice yard! You won’t learn anything by sleeping the day away!”  She pulled on your hand and you stood.  She walked in front of you, well, more a mix between a walk and a skip.  You couldn’t help giggling at her, she stopped and turned towards you.  

“Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all Momo, it’s just … you remind me of someone I used to know.”

She stood closer to you, “Did you have to leave them to come here?” Her face was full of concern.

“No…. not really.  Her name was Aki and she was a spirit.  She became a Hollow before I left, Jushiro helped me….. oh now what did he call it?”

“Hollow Purification?”

“Yeah, that’s it!  He helped me send her here, somewhere, and hopefully happier she’s a peace now”

Momo smiled broadly, “If she came here she is somewhere in the Rukongai District, that’s where all the souls go when they come here.”

“Really, can we go and look for her! Where is the Rukongai! Can you show me!”

“Whoa, slow down Y/f/n, the Rukongai is on the outer edge of the Soul Society.  I can take you at some point but right now, you’re not even allowed outside the Squad 5 barracks, remember?”

Your excitement was cut off, you had almost forgotten why you were really here. “Right, I guess I did get carried away.  Should we get to training then?”

“Sure!”

Momo lead you back to the familiar training yard.  She handed you a wooden practice sword, a Bokken she had called it.  She began with basics, hold, stance, and movements.  When you began having these down, she threw in forms.  The rest of the day, and the next were spent with Momo, learning the way of the sword.  You had numerous bruises and sore muscles from the training.  You had had no idea how much your mind and body played into the art.  Momo was an excellent teacher – patient, creative, and enthusiastic.  You felt that you were really progressing, even if it was only two days’ time.  The second evening, Momo invited you to the bathhouse in the barracks for some well-earned relaxation.  You happily accepted and were grateful when you were able to soak in the hot waters of the bathhouse.  The heat of the water worked wonders on your muscles and sore skin.  Now thoroughly relaxed, and refreshed, Momo walked you back to your room and bid you goodnight. Sleep came easily to you that night, but your dreams were black.

You were sitting on the floor in the dark, alone. There was a solitary light above you, but no apparent source.   Voices were whispering from just beyond the light, just loud enough to be heard but quiet enough you couldn’t hear what was being said.  They steadily grew louder and louder until you covered you ears, trying to block out the sound.  This was fruitless, the voices only grew louder and louder, calling your name, “Y/f/n, Y/f/n, Y/f/n, Y/F/N!”

Momo was shaking you awake, “Y/F/N, are you okay!?”

“Just a nightmare,” you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, “what’s up Momo?

“It’s time to get ready to go to Captain Mayuri’s.”  

You couldn’t believe that you had almost forgotten!  You sprung out of bed and quickly dressed.  Leaving your sword behind, at Momo’s insistence, you readied for the day. You set out with Momo and were finding yourself in walking outside the barracks.  The streets were wide, filled with people, Soul Reapers, going about their daily business. Many stopped and looked at you and Momo as you were passing by, whispering to each other, reminding you of your nightmare.  Momo chattered to you as you walked, seemingly oblivious to the Soul Reapers around her.  Shortly, you found yourself in front of what appeared to be another barracks.  The gate were very similar to the Squad 5 ones, but, somehow, you felt that familiar prick of fear behind your eyes. The door swung open and the girl from the World of the Living was standing in front of you.

“You!  You were in the World of the Living before!”

“Yes, my name is Nemu Kurotsuchi, Lieutenant of Squad 12.”  Her voice was soft and curt.  She stood to the side and gestured for you to come in the gate, “if you would come in”

You and Momo cross the threshold, Nemu stopped Momo with a hand on Momo’s arm.  “We do not require you to wait, we will return the Saisei, when we are completed with our testing.”

Momo’s face changed from its usually happy to concern, “It’s okay and I don’t mind waiting”.  

Nemu remained firm, “I assure you it is not necessary to wait, my Captain is uncertain of how long the process will take, you are not needed”

“I am not going to lea-”, before Momo could finish her sentence the gates swung shut with a resounding boom.

You were alone, Nemu gestured for you to follow her, “If you would please come in.”

You felt like it was not really a request.  Your feet obeyed and you fell into quiet step behind Nemu.  She led you through quiet halls, the building felt off.  The walls were too smooth, the lights – too bright, the rooms – too quiet.  Squad 12’s barracks were quite the change from the clamoring of Squad 5’s.  After what felt like an eternity, Nemu led you to a door at the end of the long hall.  She gestured to the door,

“Go through the door and wait for your instructions”.

You hesitated, and she repeated her instructions, more tersely.  “Go through the door and wait for your instructions”.  

You looked at her and the door.  Again, she was not giving you any real options right now.  She remained still, like a doll, with her arm extended to the door.  You steeled yourself, determined to no longer be afraid.  You threw the door open.  Inside was a single metal chair, a light hanging above it.  

Click, “Please sit down on the chair.” Click, a voice cut through the darkness.  Once you had done what you were asked, another click was heard, click, “Please focus your spiritual energy, so we may obtain baseline readings.” click

You let out a breath, not realizing you had been holding it in at all. You focus you breath and envisioned y/f/c ball inside of you, like Captain Aizen had shown you.  Click, “Interesting, very interesting, these readings are good.  Now you will externalize that energy.” click

           “Externalize?”

           Click, “Yes, as you did when you made your sword” click.  The voice sounded board and annoyed with your questions.

           You brought your hands together and formed the y/f/c ball within it. After this you lifted your hands towards the voice, showing the steady gleaming ball.  Silence followed for what felt like forever.  You almost felt you heard whispering voices, like in your nightmare, but you pushed these thoughts aside quickly, before you frightened yourself.

           Finally, click “Can you project the ball?” click.

           You tried to get the ball to leave your hands, it fluttered out, disappearing into thin air.

           Click “Again.” Click

           You tried again, but with little change from your last outcome.

           Click “Again.” Click

           You pushed the ball out, again, and watched it die out, again.

           Click “Again.” Click

           This went on for hours. You tried to project the ball and watched it die out.  The only instruction you were given was “Again”.  You felt sweat pouring down your body, blurring your vision and stinging your eyes.  You felt ready to collapse.  Once again you tried to throw your ball from your body.  

           Click “Again.” Click

           That. Was. The. Last. Straw.  You drew in your breath and pulled all your remaining energy to your hands.  You formed the ball and threw it, smashing into the opposite wall, crumbling the wall in smoke and dust.  After the dust, cleared several confused heads poke through the now-gaping hole in the wall.  Their faces tell you that they were not expecting what had just happened.  

Very suddenly, Nemu appeared again.  She gestured for you to follow.  As she led you back to the Squad 5 Barracks, you noticed the sky was dim, showing purple skies.  You chalked it up to your own fatigue and carried on.  Nemu walked you directly to Captain Aizen’s office.

           “Sensei y/l/n’s powers are beyond what we initially expected.  Captain Kurotsuchi will require additional time with her to map the full extent of her powers.  I will come and get her in the morning for further testing”.  Without waiting for any response, Nemu turned and left the room, leaving you alone with Captain Aizen.

           “Is she always like that?” you heard yourself asking aloud, looking at the door where Nemu just left.

           A chuckle came from Aizen, “Nemu can be very….programed at times.  She is a very efficient Lieutenant.”  You turned towards Aizen, “Y/f/n, you look exhausted, why don’t you go to the bath house and I’ll have dinner sent to your room”.

           “Dinner?  It’s only been a couple of hours.”

           “Y/f/n, you were at Squad 12 for ten hours. Go now and relax.”

           You understood you were dismissed and left.  As you walked back and gathered your things from your room, you couldn’t help but think. Ten Hours, surely it hadn’t been more than four.  Your eyes were stronger when you walked to the bath house.  You looked for the sun and noticed, it was indeed well below the horizon now.  

           The waters of the bath felt more inviting now than ever.  You scrubbed the sweat and dust from your body, before exiting and changing clothing. Dinner was waiting outside your room and you felt your stomach grumble upon the sight of it.  You picked up the tray and sat inside your room.  You don’t think that your mouth had time to taste the food before it was already in your stomach.  The meal was filling and only made you more tired.  You placed the tray outside the door and decided to turn in for the night. The moon was creeping up as you pulled the cover up and over you.  Darkness overtook you soon leading you into dreamless sleep.