Chapter 12: Silver, Steel, Surrender Arc: Baring Ivory Fangs 1/2

Summary:

She thought she'd shaken off Oshiro's influence, but Nariko's suspicion of her commanding officer disagrees. How can she commit herself to fighting off looming opponents when she's busy battling herself?

Notes:

Theme song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMii9q4qz0E ("Finest Hour" by Extreme Music)

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(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"Don't like that face. That face means ya got ta thinkin'."

Ah, Minoru, ever-observant even when his accent made it blatantly obvious he had other worries.

"I'm always thinking," I retorted, stepping around a patch of ice. "That's how I know I'm alive."

He pressed his lips together. I guessed whatever he wanted to say wasn't quite so polite as what came out. "Seems a little dull, if'n ya ask me. Sure it ain't breathin' or eatin' or stuff like that?"

We were walking along behind some Shinigami, who I was half-convinced thought we were all weak and idiots. That was what came of having been slung over a man's shoulders and flash-stepped a good part of the way. There were just enough breaks that I could blush and mumble things to him and get dismissive replies. Dude didn't seem like the best candidate for this program ever.

At the moment, we were close enough that it was better to 'build character' and walk our own selves to the barracks. Ever had someone's shoulder bury itself into your stomach for around an hour, with just enough time to recover to do it all over again? I welcomed the chance to use my muscles at that point. Minoru and Hiyori'd gotten the worst position, being small enough to be cradled much like a baby, only more scrunched up. Aizen seemed motion sick, having shaken the whole way and thrown up multiple times, while Shinju's tall frame was really unsuited to this ordeal. The two were keeping each other company several paces behind Minoru and me. Shinji and I had gotten the best deal, except that Shinji was bitching about it under his breath. Hiyori had given up bitching right back at him and had fallen back with Shinju and Aizen.

Really, it wasn't that bad. The world was thawing. Grey tree bark was deepening to brown again and a few pathetic flowers had dared to bloom early. The soft breeze was perfumed with dried blood and carried distant shouts.

Revolution had emerged with the usual greenery.

That was why we were here. The Shinigami needed all hands on deck and couldn't be bothered to run the usual patrols when riots might be brewing. We might as well get some experience out of the whole deal.

"I'm sure," I answered, tuning out Shinji's attempts to joke with the accompanying Shinigami. Heavens above, he actually seemed to be succeeding with one of the women. "That's just routine. Thinking turns up new stuff."

Minoru nodded, though I caught a roll of his eyes out of the corner of mine. "So what're ya thinkin' about? G-gonna put some hoodlums in their place?"

Ooh, that didn't sound good. Didn't look good, either. His face was tight and guarded. Just when I'd begun to pry him out of that. Was it because we were near his home district? "I don't know what we'll have to do, Minoru-kun," I said evasively. "But no, I was thinking about Oshiro-sensei."

The sharp-eyed mask dropped all at once, Minoru's lips parting as his eyes went wide, like they'd be able to see something to clue him in. "Oh. Why? What about him? Someone botherin' ya about it again?"

I shook my head. The whole complete strangers coming up to me and asking me what it'd been like to kill him had stopped pretty quickly. Whether it was my flustered reaction, teachers' intervention, or fear I didn't know, but it'd mercifully ended. "No, unless you count myself. I went and looked him up. 'Cause I wanted to know why- why he did what he did," I explained after another moment of baffled Minoru.

A new expression fell into place, though this one didn't look like an act. Straight black brows drew together, creasing copper skin. "An' did ya find anythin' new out?" He asked, worrying his lower lip.

I shrugged. "He was- he was bullied, I think. A lot. And right when the troubles with that started to end, he started having trouble with Kidou. Which he used to be pretty good at, apparently. From what his Zanpakutou said- I don't know. It's all guessing."

Dark eyes were locked on mine. "So tell me what you've guessed. I ain't the best at readin' an' writin' just yet, but I've got- experience, y'might say, in knowin' which way people jump. Try me."

I ignored the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. Minoru didn't act like this, right? But I'd never had occasion to see him like this, confident in something he apparently was good at. "I think- I think that awful spirit developed in response to who Oshiro-sensei was then. He was hurting and it's easy, really easy, to just snap when people are grinding you down and no one can or will help you. He needed a monster to defend himself and when he got out of that period, he didn't want it anymore." I paused, gathering my thoughts as leaves somehow remaining from fall crunched under our feet. "There's a reason they recommend people practicing hajimezen at a variety of times, so the sword gets a balanced impression of the wielder. And most people don't do it as deeply as Oshiro-sensei did, so he gave his asauchi a huge dose of really intense hate and anger and despair. And kept doing it. And when the spirit formed according to that, he was in such a bad place he said that was what he wanted and it stuck."

"But when Oshiro-sensei, when it started getting better, he realized he'd created a monster. And monsters don't help you live, they just help you survive at the price of everyone and everything else. So he tried to get rid of it and" -I dropped my eyes to the dirt- "I guess we know how that turned out. Probably why his Kidou grades dropped. Zanpakutou spirits aren't identical to their wielders in terms of reiryoku and reiatsu, so it probably didn't work Kidou correctly. If spirits can even do that. If all that's right, Oshiro-sensei was... he was pretty messed-up."

Minoru tilted his head one way, then the other, a crow picking apart a particularly good scrap of leftovers. "Definitely the first part's right. I've seen people who make it out alive from shitty situations, but they ain't really alive. It's what y'get fer goin' in without anybody ta get ya through it. Everyone ends up a little bit a monster, but it's better than a guy who comes back a whole montster." He half-mumbled the second half of that, like I wasn't his audience. I was getting really sick of people talking to themselves.

The rustling of the aforementioned persistent leaves and scratch of sandals in gravel filled the air for a few long moments. Minoru's tight-eyed mask had locked itself firmly in place.

"And the rest? In your professional opinion?" I went for a teasing tone. Humor wasn't a universal thing, but I knew a good joke at least helped pull me back from dark places. A little smile here, a tilt of the head towards him. Calculated but genuine affection.

The mask faltered but didn't fade. "Maybe sensei did try to destroy what he'd made. Whether it ate him or he gave himself ta it, I dunno. Some people, when they ain't in a good place, they'll try an' make sure they ain't in any place at all. Can't get hurt there. And the Oshiro-sensei we knew just did what it was told an' tried ta keep its wielder alive an' kickin', even in that form. But like ya said, it's just guessin'. Can't ever ask him."

"Kinda like Hollows," I said, unable to help the way my voice went hushed on the last word. Out here, on a back road in the deep Rukongai, far from the shining Seireitei, who knew what could happen? "They're out of their minds, can't or won't tell you what's going on in their heads. Staying alive any way they can, even if that's by eating people."

The mask slipped beneath Minoru's features again. Now that I looked for it, I could see where it lay even during everyday life, ready to emerge and protect him. Barely visible, save for the perpetual watchfulness of his eyes and the tension written in lips pressed together. "Yeah. Except Hollows can't fake it. Imagine the trouble we'd be in if they could, huh? Just walk among us, find the best targets, kill 'em all."

My stomach flip-flopped in a way that had nothing to do with the town coming into sight. "Yeah. Imagine."

"Ma! Are those Shinigami? They've got swords but why aren't they dressed the same?"

Ah, the exuberance or stupidity of the young. Had to love 'em, even if the brat's family didn't feel the same way. The grubby face vanished behind the muffling veil of cotton hakama and pomp was restored. Well, pomp was a strong word for it. Procession was better, though fuck if I knew why anyone wanted to see our ragtag bunch.

Static on the back of my head. You're smarter than that, daoshi, Arashi chided. Unrest in the air and Shinigami in the move, what do you think the normal people would do?

I pressed my lips together, stepping around a hole in the dirt road. Run for cover.

With nowhere to go? People are remarkably stubborn about their territory, Arashi said. They won't leave unless they must. And if they won't leave, the best option is...?

To know where the bombs are gonna drop, I replied, letting my eyes flick over the people lining the mud-streaked street. Two washerwomen, broad, mannish hands a stark contrast to the delicate white flowers tucked behind their ears, clumsily folded sopping clothes over the alleged bridge to the town proper. Scrawny children gaped at us, clutching at the skirts of the hawklike women who stood in for mothers here. A hunter, face smeared with mud, strung his bow and kept his hands very pointedly where we could see them.

Common sense was all that kept my hand from Arashi's hilt. Raw power was all well and good, and we had loads of that in Shinji, but there was a reason Soul Society wasn't perfect even with captains. Power didn't always get shit done. Power silenced tongues and inflamed hearts as much as it coaxed from them brave speeches and courage. Here I knew which one our powers would bring. These people were wary around Shinigami and ready to tip into either fury or admiration as it suited them. No room for error.

"Ma! They're only kids! Why'd the stupid Shinigami bring them here?" The kid again, behind a mother figure now white in the face.

Ah, hell. The tiniest flicker of readiness from ahead, taut reiatsu pulling tight to end the impudence-

"Ain't ya a kid, too?" Minoru, dropping onto his haunches in front of the urchin, reiatsu keen and bright and spreading. "Don't ya have yer own place here?"

Whatever apologies Grubby-Face's mother had been about to offer died as she heard Minoru speak. I could've kissed him right then. Both for the adorableness of already-short Minoru down on a kid's level and defusing the tension in a way I was pretty sure no one could get mad at him for. Knowing which way people would jump indeed.

"I'm Tobio! Potter Shuusuke took me in, so I belong here! Why are you here?" The kid blurted, tilting his head birdlike at my classmate. Heads were starting to turn, but none of the faces I saw looked like they were ready to throw down. A few looked more curious than tense now.

"I'm Minoru. Hopefully my friends an' I are gonna help you," Minoru said mildly. "That's one there." He nodded in my direction. "She's-"

"Fugai! Get your ass up here! That's an order!" A man barked up ahead.

A slight smile and a mouthed goodbye and Minoru was popping back up and darting up to the man in question. I offered the kid an awkward smile and moved on.

The barracks weren't too far away from the main road—made sense, since it made it easier to get messages around the district. Three long buildings presented themselves immediately, squatting around a courtyard with a central well. One, the smallest and dingiest, screamed 'barracks' to me. Across from it lay a slightly more presentable, larger building with a sign out front that read 'Office.' The largest building was without a doubt a prison, which I could say because a pair of Shinigami were dragging a woman in what was technically a kimono but amounted to body paint towards it as she screeched at the top of her lungs about there being 'no damn law about advertising with a white scarf.' Guess we had that to look forward to.

Approaching the courtyard, it was easier to pick out why the buildings looked so weird compared to the rest of the town. Instead of being made with the usual stone or wood, the builders had used some sort of plaster-sekkiseki combo. The 'dingy' barracks weren't dirty so much as they contained the most sekkiseki, off-white stone contrasting with the weathered white plaster. Looked like they didn't want someone getting a nightmare and waking up half the town. I spotted the smallest and shoddiest construction of all just behind the barracks—latrines, I imagined. Those'd be fun in the middle of the night.

"Attention!" Hoo boy. I jerked to a halt as the Shinigami did an about-face. The apparent leader was the man who'd yelled for Minoru to join him. "Who among you is a native of the Rukongai?"

Silence broken by the din of village life in the distance and shuffling feet. Nobody wanted to call Minoru out.

"I-I am, sir," Minoru said finally, half-raising his hand.

The man snorted, brushing a strand of fine black hair fallen from its topknot away from a surprisingly delicate face. He didn't look 100% Japanese, more European, especially since he'd only trimmed his pate instead of shaved it. Somebody was a little vain about their hair, hmm? "I do not need the obvious stated for me, Fugai. Your name couldn't be more clear as to your origins."

Minoru flushed nearly purple. "R-r-right. Sorry, s-sir."

The man harrumphed, blue eyes glinting. I could practically hear him writing Minoru off. "Now, my original question. Who else is a native?"

My eyes fell on Aizen, gone completely still behind Shinji and trying fairly successfully to conceal his scrawny frame behind Shinji. Which really wasn't hard to do, given the loud-mouthed, bratty ray of sunshine that was my brother, bouncing on the balls of his feet already. Impatient little brat. Should I...? It wasn't fair to hide information from our teachers, I supposed.

"S-sorry, but aren't you from the Rukongai, Aizen-san?" I stammered, clasping one wrist with the opposite hand.

Topknot's eyes flicked around. "Who-" he began.

Aizen shuffled out from behind Shinji, who'd twisted around to give him the trademark Hirako deadpan look and ruined the whole thing anyway. "I-I was, ah, born in the Rukongai, sir," he mumbled. I waited for him to offer more information—as in literally any information, like his ward or even the region, but naturally the resident man of mystery lapsed into silence.

Topknot nodded briskly. "It's truly impossible to tell with the initiates who take names whether they're minor nobles or common." His lips twisted in a halfway smirk, as though he had his own stories to tell about that. "I digress. Fugai, your district is close enough to this one, so you'll take charge of patrols. Perhaps you'll not stumble your way into a knife-fight. Fujikage, you can probably teach your classmates a thing or two about propriety. Your duty will be demonstrating proper paperwork if you all manage to accomplish anything. The elder Hirako will be responsible for compiling reports and any information, if any arises, which you may gather. The junior Hirako may assign the menial duties which you cadets may be responsible for. Any failure in those will be upon your head," he warned. "Sarugaki, Aizen, you can" -his brow furrowed- "take whatever else there is. I'm sure tasks will crop up."

We all stood there awkwardly for a second. What else was there really to do? We had our assignments, but nothing with which to carry them out.

Topknot apparently realized that. "Tokugawa, take them to the barracks and find them bunks," he ordered. "Afterwards, take them back here and- hmm." His nose wrinkled with distaste as he glanced at another Shinigami. "Ishida, you can run them through some drills and see if they're up to par, to the best of your limited ability. All the zankensoki."

Two women, one a busty girl with a hairline scar running into her blue hairline, the other a plainer brunette with a crooked jaw and most of her baby fat still in place, nodded and snapped out salutes. The former rolled her eyes. "Alright, c'mon. Let's find you bunks." She turned on her heel and started for the barracks without a backward glance. The brunette—Ishida—smiled at us and followed, tossing a glance over her shoulder.

Hmph. Tokugawa might be prettier, but Ishida was definitely more attractive.

The barracks weren't anything special. Didn't reek as much as I'd expected from a sleeping space shared by a bunch of people who almost certainly didn't have great places to clean off and definitely didn't get to wash those uniforms as much as they should've. Kinda musty, but it was in remarkably good shape. Only a few clothing items on the floor and all the lamps where they couldn't be knocked over for a burning oil surprise. Not that there was much floor to put them on, the barracks being a couple corridors with bunks lining them, but still.

"So, Tokugawa-senpai, is that old man usually so pleasant, or is this one of his good days?" Shinji asked once we were safely in the barracks.

"Watch your mouth," Tokugawa snapped. She stopped by an empty bunk, pointed. "Fujikage, take that one. It's a little longer than the others, might give you some more legroom." As Shinju smiled and set what little she'd brought with her on the bed, Tokugawa turned back to Shinji. "That old man's your commanding officer. Show some respect."

"Torisei-sama really stresses discipline," Ishida offered from the back of the line. "I know you all haven't interacted too much in all-Shinigami settings, but it's not an uncommon attitude, especially in the Sixth, which he's from."

Annoyance radiated from my younger brother as we moved down the corridor. "Then what'd you do, knock over all the paperwork your first day here? 'Cause I can't think of any other reason he woulda gave ya the stink-eye back there."

Mild, watery reiatsu rippled around Ishida. "Not that I know of. He seemed to like me right up until I introduced myself. Maybe he had a bad run-in with one of my brothers; they're rather boisterous and they joined the Sixth briefly."

Boisterous? I snickered at her back. That wasn't exactly how I'd describe this Ishida. But then, I doubted she was noble, so her brothers could easily have wildly different temperaments without that being odd.

Wonder what her Zanpakutou spirit looks like? I murmured to Arashi, spotting the orange-wrapped tantou at her side. Anthropomorphic rice?

Static popped in my ears. You could try to find out, you know. As long as you're discreet, it shouldn't be a problem.

Hmm. Arashi was right in that, though I would've preferred to do it in a space where my reiatsu wasn't so obvious. Still... I drew out a spark of reiryoku and carefully guided it up to my face. Close, closer, closest-

"Did a branch catch you in the face, Hirako-chan?" Shinju asked from behind me.

Crap. I let it disperse harmlessly. Gotta be more discreet, idiot. "Headache," I mumbled. It was completely true, if you took it in the slang sense. This whole trip was a headache. "Thought I'd try to get rid of it."

Satisfied with that explanation, she fell silent again and left the rest of us to finding our bunks.

Basics were a chore to go through. You'd think reviewing techniques that were the foundation for powers that had earned the Shinigami their names would be interesting, but the novelty had worn off fast.

We'd already covered some basic Hakuda techniques—and some more advanced ones, once Ishida had learned Shinji and I took Hakuda II—and Kidou hadn't lasted that long. I sent mental thanks to whoever'd designed the curriculum such that we didn't learn too many spells. Four were more than enough for me to mess up on. Minoru had proved the best at Hadou and Shinju best at Bakudou, though. Flash-step was right out since that was an advanced topic as well. I'd thought about pointing out that Aizen knew a bastardized version of it, but he probably wouldn't have liked it if I sabotaged his attempts to go unnoticed twice in one day. Hiyori was exempt from Kidou, but she apparently had some training in Hakuda and Zanjutsu, so no such luck there.

And so we'd moved on to Zanjutsu. Fun. I was just waiting for Ishida to notice Arashi and make the usual assumptions. Because really, I had a hard enough time being halfway-decent at physical activities without that pressure.

"Draw!" Ishida called and like automatons we answered. Blades flashed half-out, hands pulled back the sheath, hips twisted, and in one fluid motion the greatest weapons of the Shinigami shone in the spring air.

The fact that we were a bunch of kids who looked it only detracted slightly from the image, as did vivid memories of the many, many times I'd dropped my practice sword on my toes. People just didn't give Shinigami enough credit for being able to do that in a combat situation. Hell, no one gave regular samurai enough credit for that. It took enough practice that I'd had dreams of drawing my sword over and over again. Pretty boring dreams, those. And how had Hiyori even gotten a Zanpakutou that fast?

"Fujikage-san, you're leaving yourself open when you draw. Remember that swordfighting has to be fluid, not rigid. Twist your hips. Here." Out of the corner of my eye I saw Shinju freeze as Ishida stepped in to manually adjust my classmate's stance. After a second she yielded to the touch, but it was, well, kinda revealing. Maybe the reason you're doing crap at Hakuda and Zanjutsu is because you haven't gotten used to teachers of physical disciplines helping you physically, I thought in her direction. Step off your high noble ground for a sec, would you?

On the bright side, Aizen was right next to me and not being able to hide behind anyone had apparently improved his Zanjutsu skills tenfold. Sure, his sword shook like a leaf, but his stance was strong and he wasn't holding the hilt like it was a dead rat. Improvement from the last time I'd seen him with his asauchi for sure.

Minoru and Shinji were the best of us, so it was no surprise that they received the fewest corrections. Stupid actually-decent-swordsmen.

"Nariko-san? You're holding the sword- huh." Ishida had stopped in front of me, blinking like a startled puppy. "Shift your grip back a bit for me?"

I complied, even if it meant losing my secure grip on Arashi. If Ishida wanted to prove a point and disarm me, she had an easy opening.

Ishida blinked a few more times before understanding smoothed her forehead. "Oh, you're the one with Shikai. Chiisagatana, is it?"

Heavy relief nearly dragged me out of my stance. No fuss. No expectations. Just- 'oh, that's you.' Whoever the kami of mercy was deserved some of my attention. "Yes. A little more towards wakizashi length, I think."

She nodded briskly. "Well, loosen your stance and tighten your grip. You won't last a second out there if you're rigid and especially not if you can't hold the blade!"

One forcible adjustment of my stance later, I was forced to conclude as Ishida moved on that Shinju's reaction had been pretty accurate. Sharp, lacquered nails did not a gentle grip make.

"She's the first one not to fuss over Arashi," I complained as we stood in a clump resting. New orders would no doubt be coming soon, but for now we took the opportunity without question. "I just want to get through lessons, not make a big deal out of her."

Shinji raised an ever-lightening brow. Damn his stupidly pretty hair. And damn his habit of not putting up with my drama. "Oh, cut the crap, Nari-nee. Ya threw any chance of that away when ya got it."

Aizen adjusted his glasses. Damn his stupidly pretty hair too. Or at least it could've been, if he actually combed it out of his face. "I'm afraid I must concur with Shinji-san. A monumental occasion must be treated as its rarity deserves."

"Meanin'?" Minoru asked, scuffing a toe in the dirt. His hair wasn't quite as nice, but he kept it neat, which was more than the rest of them could say.

"Meanin' people make a big deal outta big deals," Shinji translated, sticking his tongue out at me. "Nari-nee, doesn't that make ya some kinda prodigy?"

I slid my gaze away, trying not to look at Shinju's almost pointed stare. "I guess. I-"

"Prodigy? You?" Hiyori scoffed. She probably had the nicest hair of all of us, what with its color and all. I hadn't known what flaxen hair was really like until I'd met her. "Gimme a break. Does it even do anything special?"

"Yes," I answered without thinking. Stupid attention-seeking mouth. A few yards away, Ishida perked up. I caught the way Torisei's scornful expression passed through puzzled and stopped at vaguely interested. Which for him didn't look that different from scornful. Well, damn. Now I had to do something.

Shinju perked up. Didn't like the look in her eyes, combination jealous and... hungry. "Oh, would you please? I'm sure we'd all love to take notes."

I shuffled my feet. I was supposed to be giving Shinji some pointers. "I don't know if I should. If Torisei-sama thinks I'm showing off, he'll probably make me clean out the latrines or something."

"If you plan to do something, get on with it, Hirako," Torisei himself called over. "I won't tolerate an indecisive cadet."

Why did I even bother to have conversations with a few people when everyone was apparently listening? "Y-yessir. You better not laugh," I added to my classmates.

They took a few steps back, enough that I could draw. And so I did, trying to distract myself from the possibility of screwing up Arashi's release by focusing on my stance.

"Extinguish the infernal flames. Cleanse the unjust, roar through heaven, and strike down the moon. Turn the tide, Tennyou no Rai'arashi!" I called, hearing the answering song of storms in my soul. I pulled my hands to their respective sides and twisted my wrists on instinct, and sure enough Arashi followed suit, glowing gold and separating into her tessen.