Chapter 15: Silver, Steel, Surrender Arc: Fire Razes All 1/2

Summary:

No one ever said that being a Shinigami was about life--heck, death is right there in the name. But when the risk of a lot of people dying comes up, someone has to do something. And being in Torisei's bad books, guess who it falls to to investigate?

Notes:

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

Chapter Text

If I'd had my private scroll with me, I would've put down a note to invent liquid soap. No matter what anyone else said, bar soap was freaking hard to scrub with. There was probably some ink still on my neck from when I'd forgotten I was holding my brush and thrown my hands up. In my defense, paperwork made almost less sense than the weird looks Shinju'd been shooting me lately. Seal here, five seconds after stamping something else! Write the date three lines in a row just in case someone missed it the first time! Write your full name and title, space be damned! I was starting to be very glad that the modern custom was to go by your abbreviated name. There was even a form, one as long as my arm from shoulder to fingertips, for releasing your Zanpakutou. In the interest of avoiding carpal tunnel syndrome, I'd decided on watching when I pulled Shikai.

On top of that, I'd gotten much less sleep than I deserved. The barracks, built before anyone here was born and patched up maybe once in that whole time, might not have fallen down in last night's thunderstorm, but they'd sure sounded like it. I'd contemplated going into my inner world and sleeping, but Arashi had broken her brooding silence in the storm. Or rather, she'd practically become the storm. Lightning and rain had danced in and above my head all night long.

So that was how the day found me as I waited for today's assignment: ink-stained and cranky. The fatigue hadn't set in quite yet, but noises were just a little too loud, my patience just a little too low to deal with Kurotsuchi nattering on about... something. He'd started out complaining about how he wished someone had preserved Ishiura's body so he could study it. To my eternal mortification, he'd switched topics at his leisure, not when people had started glaring at him for detailed descriptions of the things you could learn about Shinigami biology and Quincy powers from a proper autopsy. I really didn't care to decipher the science-ese he was spouting now.

"Well?" Kurotsuchi's nasal whine jolted me out of my haze of boredom. "Take the assignment, girl!"

Darn. We actually had to do something today. I snatched the scroll from Torisei's hands- wait, that wasn't Torisei. I looked up into the red-framed face of Wu, the expression of which was exactly as confused about why he was doing this job as I was.

"Where's Torisei-sama?" I asked, shuffling to the side so the next person could receive their assignment. "Is he doing field work today too?"

Wu handed over the latest of his pile of scrolls. "You don't know either? I thought you were the last one to see him, except the sentries." Pale brows furrowed over darting eyes. The lingering static from the storm had everyone on edge. "I went in to tell him security'd been messed with again, maybe by a Quincy, and no one was there."

I shook my head, trying to work up the courage to tug Kurotsuchi out of the path of traffic. "When I saw him, he looked like he was going out for a bit. He had on a raincloak and this old damaged glove. Should've been back by now."

He dispensed two more scrolls, then turned to me as there was a brief lull. "The commander hates it enough here that I can't believe he'd stay out there by choice. Guess he could've gone to a station and relieved someone there of night duty, but I don't think we had anyone come back that late. Nowhere here's gonna take a Shinigami, especially not him."

Kurotsuchi was starting to nag at me again. Time to wrap it up. "What, they think he has any more choice than the rest of us where he is? That he stays here for giggles?"

Wu scoffed. "Nah, that's not it. People aren't too happy that a guy from as far out as Fugai—I think that's where he's from, might be more like here—turned traitor for a better life. Sucks to not have reiryoku, I guess."

Satisfied, I followed Kurotsuchi out into the sodden world. The whims of spring had picked a brisk breeze and leaden clouds to accompany today's chill. I would've cursed, but winter uniforms were designed to keep heat in and cold out. Only my hands, neck, and face had to suffer.

"For a girl who asks so many questions, they clearly don't help," Kurotsuchi said. "Otherwise you'd know that Torisei's refused any other position since he was appointed here, right out of the Academy."

I made a noncommittal noise, resigned to everyone hating the pair of us from his rudeness. Torisei'd picked a bad time to visit his home, wherever that was. I unrolled the scroll for today's job.

"'Find and execute gang leaders,'" I read. Wait, what the fuck? I read over the words, making sure my bleary eyes hadn't seen the wrong characters. They glared darkly at me from the page, the same as what I'd said. At Kurotsuchi's irritated look, I continued, "'Accompany Shiraishi Hayato and Fujikage Shinju through the four eastern wards." I glanced up at him. "This can't be today's assignment. It'll take ages."

"Oh, c'mon, cadet," an amicable tenor said. I jumped, looking down into wide-set brown eyes. Whoa. Shiraishi was tiny. Probably could've grabbed a handful of his curly hair and dragged him around, he looked that light. "You should know better. In Shinigami-speak, 'find' doesn't mean 'investigate.' It's just a signal, let us know we've got our pick." His round cheeks dimpled as he smiled. "That's okay. Fujikage-chan and I will bring you up to speed."

Shinju's matching smile was thin. She was too beautiful to have her features settle so easily into such grim lines, I reflected. "It's a pleasure to be working with you, Kurotsuchi-senpai, Hirako-chan. We'll be more than happy to inform you of proper operating procedure."

"Nice to meet you, Shiraishi-senpai," I said automatically. Inside, I was coming to the horrible realization that I hadn't asked about Shinju's assignments. Hadn't asked why her paperwork took even longer than mine. "So which ward is first?"

Kurotsuchi sneered. "Whoever wrote up assignments put us with you, Shiraishi? That imbecile you call the commander paired me with an onmitsu shill already; I don't need another one."

"Why does everyone say that?" I asked, too quiet for anyone to care.

Shiraishi's smile didn't so much as twitch. "Oh, don't be so dour, Kurotsuchi-san. Besides, you know I'm a retainer to the Kuchiki. I do hope you weren't meaning to imply that that noble clan would stoop to such an unsubtle dabbling in the Shihouin art. I don't think they'd appreciate their investment being returned with such hostility."

Kurotsuchi's lips skinned back over his teeth like a wolf's. "I never imply. That's the stuff of a Kuchiki onmitsu."

Shinju's smooth, soft words were flowing before I could so much as open my mouth. "It'll only hinder our work if we allow conflict to intrude so easily. Our enemies lie in eastern Kinsawa, not in these barracks. I suggest that we direct our attentions to them, if that isn't too much trouble." Long, uncallused fingers splayed in the air as though she was pushing down Kurotsuchi's rising temper.

"I agree," I joined in, pasting on a smile. Two could play at the helpful-protege game. And I was going to have something good for Torisei when he got back. "If there are any criminals to find, it'd probably be a good idea to find them, huh?"

Kurotsuchi sniffed, turning his back on Shiraishi. "Finally. If I must direct my attentions to the likes of gangs, I'll far surpass a mere informant in the task."

Shiraishi's eyes crinkled. "Of course. Hirako-chan, I hope I'm not mistaken in saying that you've patrolled the market ward, Ginsawa? Why don't we begin there, then. A little familiarity might speed up investigation."

'Investigation,' he says. I guess now we find out if Arashi can save lives as well as she takes them.

"Ginsawa, Kinsawa. What, did someone spill ink one one of their real names and cover it up by changing the sound?" I didn't come up with the joke, but it came out of my mouth anyway. With my hands so deadly still, I couldn't stop my tongue moving. As long as my brain was telling my mouth to move, it didn't have to think about what it was about to do.

Shiraishi laughed like it was funny. Shinju echoed him a second later, a flat sound in dead air. "Well, I hope someone wouldn't be so careless as to do that. 'Ink is the blood of Shinigami' and all. I'd like to think we know how to use it better than that. No, Hirako-chan, the name is what it says. A swampy area where silver used to change hands from sunup to sundown, until they found more lucrative minerals here. A piece of advice, from an old hand: always listen to a name to know its bearer's history."

My eyes had been scanning for the brat whose life I'd saved last time I was here as he spoke. It was only chance that my peripherals caught Shinju's meaningful glare. Maybe what we had to do would soften her up enough to tell me what the hell those looks meant. "'White stone.' Isn't that right, Shiraishi-senpai? Puts me in mind of Seireitei. Man, I've never figured out how they keep it all so clean. Not sure I'm familiar enough with Kuchiki history to say where that's from."

"I'd be more than happy to give you a history lesson," he said, dropping back next to me. Kurotsuchi, walking next to him, huffed and lengthened his stride. "My ancestors discovered how to alloy sekkiseki and even how to make it pass beneath the unrefined eye. We've passed the more public duties now to another clan, but the working of sekkiseki into the kenseikan was once the province of the Shiraishi. Mostly from the northern districts, I believe it's mined from. Elsewhere it tends to be less neutral, as with here. Kinsawa sekkiseki has its uses, but it crumbles at the slightest touch. Scarce, too. Even gold was more common."

Shadows shifted in an alley to my right. I squinted into the crack between rotting planks, but there was nothing. Just light and dark playing tricks on my eyes. I almost forgot to reply and started thinking again. "There was sekkiseki here? What'd it do, give you the golden touch?" I tapped Arashi's hilt, feeling smoother gold beneath the indigo hilt-wrapping. That'd be an interesting power for a sword to have, but I was happy with hers.

Shiraishi laughed, echoed again by Shinju. I was starting to hate it when people laughed. It was flattery and I didn't want to poke into why they wanted to flatter the likes of me. "Sadly, no. Might've kept trade coming here a little longer. No, it lets you make your Zanpakutou an asauchi, so to speak. A solution of Kinsawa sekkiseki makes even the most bizarre reiatsu generic and unremarkable. Gotei members never had any use for it, but those in another trade often sample- sampled it for more discreet endeavors. Toxic in large quantities or over a period of time, but, say, a Feng assassin might eliminate any trace of her ancestry to seem a whore for a night."

"Really? I could think of-" My seamlessly smiling mouth had barely opened when Shinju interjected, quiet in the way that makes you pay attention. What court intrigue had taught her that?

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt your fascinating discussion, Shiraishi-senpai, Hirako-chan, but Kurotsuchi-senpai seems to have vanished," she said, gesturing down the puddle-ridden street. I didn't have to crane my neck over passerbys' heads for once. The second she raised her hand, they parted like a torn cobweb. I suspected our work might be marginally, blessedly more difficult today. The broad-handed washerwomen from before were out, laundry hung dripping like a skinned animal, as were hunters, cushion merchants, potters, all the tradespeople you'd expect, but they'd all been watching when Shinju'd gestured. Today's business was necessary to them, imbued with a fierce urgency. We couldn't kill as many as Torisei might've hoped.

There. I'd said it. "We'd best find him, then," I said, shrinking my smile appropriately. It was time to kill. To send someone on. To murder someone and watch their life drain with their blood. I had to say it to myself or it wasn't real. And if it wasn't real, I couldn't make peace with it, couldn't take responsibility.

Closure, daoshi. That's what you're giving them, Arashi soothed, low tides and fading thunder. They can know for sure how their fellows died. And perhaps you can guide the blade to as few veins as possible.

I nodded to myself, matching Shinju and Shiraishi's quick steps. Muddy rainwater leaped up around my ankles as I went. Whatever. I'd feel it later. Like I'd feel the guilt, turn it over in my mind, and let it go. Private and neat. I had to do that, or Shinigami life would be over soon. No one wanted a death god who couldn't kill, even if it was just temporary, just until I could make things better.

And yet, as we entered the square, Kurotsuchi's hand was wrapped around the wrist of a familiar girl, not Ashisogi Jizou's hilt. Just as quick as I'd summoned it, the coldness suffusing me left. My smile collapsed. I put it back on a second later, feeling a little genuine warmness there. Finally, someone not out to backstab me.

"Mira-san!" I called, trotting over to them. A bundle of washerwomen stepped apart to let me into the ring that'd formed. Dammit, there was a spectacle. "What's the problem?"

"I didn't do nothin'!" she hollered, heels dug deep in the mud. "Make 'im leggo!"

"She's a Spider!" Kurotsuchi snapped, yellow eyes glowering at me petulantly. "If that imbecile is so insistent we do this job, I won't stand out in the mud a second longer for it!"

Why was it always me arbitrating between people who should've known better? Actually, scratch that. Mira was a child; Kurotsuchi just acted like one. "Won't you let her go, Kurotsuchi-senpai?" I said, steeling myself to grab his free hand. It was cool and dry, I noted distantly as I began to twist. "She's only a child. Nowhere near old enough for the White Spiders to recruit." I cast my eyes around the circle, watching people fade away when my gaze landed on them. It might've been true. The age part, that is. My instincts said she wasn't and they had no incentive to lie.

"I'll prove it!" Mira began to tear at her clothes, undoing knots and folds. I started yanking at the folds of my own kosode frantically. Even if Mira felt no compunctions about stripping and no one much cared, no one was getting a look at barely-grown breasts on my watch. Or rather my really-didn't-want-to-watch. But no, she was only lifting the back. She turned around, brushing her mane aside to display a bare back only interrupted by a sarashi nowhere near wide enough to cover Spider tattoos. Impressive for doing it with one hand.

I raised an eyebrow at Kurotsuchi, whose face was starting to wrinkle in pain. Heavy makeup and pride probably helped with stoicism, but no way he wasn't feeling it. "A few more degrees and some of the smaller bones might break, Kurotsuchi-senpai," I said, smiling my widest 'I dare you to push me an inch further' smile. I twisted his hand a hair more, watching the skin around his eyes tighten. "So what'll it be? Would you like to let her go and save your hand?"

Pure poison shone in those yellow eyes. "Fine," he snarled. "Have your street rat." Mira jerked free at last. With her escape went the last of the stragglers, wiping nervous sweat away with white handkerchiefs. I let my hand fall against the goading of the voice in my head to give it a final squeeze. I wasn't vindictive, not really. None of my family's roundabout machinations, just a little deal. I hoped he saw that.

"Thank you very much, Kurotsuchi-senpai," I said. "I'd hoped she might be able to help us today."

Three things happened in the second that followed. First, Mira bolted in the opposite direction, hair and silver and fabric flying. Second, my brain finally caught up to what was happening and kicked my mouth into gear. Third, Shiraishi and Shinju appeared in Mira's path in a flicker of opal and flower reiatsu.

In the second that followed that one, my mouth made a few noises and closed. Evidently some mentors were actually teaching their pupils something useful. And I was still useless.

And in the third second, Shiraishi and Shinju frog-marched Mira back over to us, hands around her wrists. Not like that was hard; despite her callused fingers Mira had wrists like a bird's legs.

"Wow," I said when brain and body had finally decided to work together. "You've been learning some flash-step, Junko-chan?"

"You can't tell, Hirako-chan?" she replied, nudging the back of Mira's leg with her knee to force a step forward. "Shiraishi-senpai's been teaching me a few things that you wouldn't have come across yet."

Was it right to sound the bitch alert? Because I was so tempted. It wasn't anything obvious, just a general air of snideness. And the fact that her usually dim, sweet reiatsu had gone a bit brighter and a bit more sour. I touched the shining beads at my neck, looked her dead in the eye. She held it for a second before her gaze dropped to Mira.

"So what's this?" Shinju asked. "Did you want to start our assignment here?"

"Wouldn't ya like t'know, Shinigami," Mira snapped, smile flitting across her face.

I molded my face into the picture of confusion. Just because I knew damn well what my roommate was talking about didn't mean I had to let Mira know I did. "Our assignment? Not really. This is Mira-san. We met the other day. I saved her from some unlicensed brothel workers in this very district. You'd know all that if you read my report, of course." My grip on the thought beads tightened with my smile.

Shiraishi jumped in. "Why, how nice to meet you, Mira-chan," he said, stooping pointlessly to look her in the eye. "You wouldn't happen to know who calls the shots around here, would you?"

She scowled. "I don't steal an' I don't spill ta Shinigami! Yers ain't the color that matters around here."

"How about the color red, brat?" Kurotsuchi snapped, stabbing at her with his finger. "Who will it matter to if I take off your head?"

Mira wrenched out of their grip, darting over behind me. Her arms wrapped around my middle. "This one, here! An' lots of others. You'll see." Craning my head around, I caught her challenging jerk of the chin. Ah, to be however young she was and think I was immortal. "My brother, he'll care!"

Shinju's laugh could've been mistaken for a ringing bell. "Your brother? Please don't delude yourself. Whatever man you've taken up with won't come for your effects. It's the law of the Rukongai. Even the most loyal man will cast aside anyone whose blood he doesn't share." She shrugged, like it was a simple fact, expression mild as milk.

"Junko-chan," I said softly, each syllable a glass shard. Names had power. If she knew her nickname, she'd better listen. This was diplomacy, not political maneuvering. The point was to entice the other party

Mira's hold on my torso constricted. "He don't have ta like it," she said stubbornly, "but differen' parents or no, we got the same blood. He'll come an' he'll raise hell." She loosened her grip to rub narrow, hungry sides.

Shiraishi, still at her height, smiled suddenly and brightly. "Where are you getting food, Mira-chan?" he asked. "If I'm not mistaken, you're in possession of a not insubstantial amount of reiryoku. You need food, a steady source of it. If you'll guide us to a few unsavory characters, we'd be happy to send you to the Shinigami Academy with the next missive out." He extended a hand to her, palm up. His honey-sweet smile shifted. "And I'm sure you'd like it just as much as we would if you weren't sent on."

Mira's stepped forward, laser-eyes flicking up to me, as sharp and evaluating as I'd ever seen them. "Ya promise? I'm not yours to command and cast aside as you see fit." She minced closer to Shiraishi, plucking at the manji at her wrist.

"On my oath as a member of the Gotei 13, I promise that you won't be harmed and you'll be sent to the Academy," Shiraishi said, beaming. "I hope that you'll work with us so I can keep that promise."

Silence, broken by the dripping of rain-soaked trees and Kurotsuchi's tapping foot. Then by the squelch of bare feet in mud. i let out a deep breath as Mira closed the distance between herself and Shiraishi, placing her delicate, callused hand in his.

"I'll do it," she said, and the blade of preemptive guilt eased away from my throat. "First, let's get off the street."

The washerwomen, wringing their clothing out with broad, callused hands, were the last to clear away.

It wasn't a grand place that Mira led us to, by my estimation, but it was away from the crowds, which was all we needed. As we approached, I could see why.

"You live here?" Kurotsuchi said, stepping up onto spirit platforms. Much as I was trying not to judge the home of a poor urchin, I sympathized with him. The swamps that dominated Kinsawa hosted few residents for a reason. "What a hovel."

Mira shrugged, hopping lightly onto a rock slick with moss and algae. "It's mine. 'Sides, when people tossed me outta the main settlements, it was the driest spot I had."

'Driest' seemed to be relative. Mud-darkened boards, gaps covered by colorless cloth, formed a house on what could theoretically be called an island. In practice, it was a patch of land held a scant foot or so above the sluggish water by a bulwark of smooth stones and tree roots. From here I could see the bright green of moss, not the olive winter-grass that struggled across most of Soul Society this time of year.

"Fujikage-chan, Hirako-chan, stay back a bit, would you?" Shiraishi said over his shoulder. "I wouldn't want to crowd Mira-chan's home with our combined bulk."

Shinju and I traded glances as Kurotsuchi and Shiraishi closed ranks behind Mira to pick their way across the muck. Slight Shiraishi and rail-thin, if relatively tall Kurotsuchi couldn't possibly take up that much space to begin with. Even when you threw in Shinju and I, we didn't have too much meat on our bones either. But we were good cadets, so we waited.

"Funny," I said, voice harsh amid the sounds of trickling water and squelching mud. It had as much place here as we did. "That is, what Shiraishi-senpai calls her. She made me call her Mira-san."

Shinju raised an eyebrow, staring straight out across the swamp. "She made you? A Rukongai girl off the street made you? Well, it's no wonder she wouldn't listen to Kurotsuchi-senpai, you know? She already learned how she could talk to Shinigami."

I didn't try to hide my stare, even if she didn't meet it. "She wanted to be called Mira-san and I obliged, yes. Thought I'd be a little polite to someone who'd nearly gotten kidnapped."

Her forehead, improbably smooth for an adolescent, creased. "Well, you don't have to be so uncouth about it. I just thought I should point out that you don't have to afford them the same respect. It looks bad."

I folded my arms, half-turning to her. C'mon, Shinju, stop faking the ice queen stuff and just look at me. "I have to disagree. Where someone's from doesn't mean I can talk to them however I want."

Finally she turned to me in a flutter of starkly black cloth. "Please don't put words in my mouth, Hirako. I know it's something your clan likes-"

"My clan?" I broke in, nails felt through cloth as my grip on my upper arms tightened. "What's your problem? I know it's hard to get us to shut up, but that's just- that's just stupid, what you're doing!"

Perfect lips thinned. "And now I'm stupid? At least you aren't trying to act as though you don't think it. Or act like you are." She jammed a hand on her hip, right by her asauchi's hilt. "Do you think that I can't see what you're doing with Shiraishi-senpai? He's my mentor."

I worked my jaw. If it got clenched, I'd have a second's disadvantage on getting a word in. "I'll call you stupid when you do stupid stuff. And making out like me and my clan are one and the same, that's stupid."

Her jaw dropped. "You've got the nerve to-! I should've known." She shoved a lock of hair behind her ear, giving me full view of a face dominated by the red of anger and the grey of eyes whose pupils were small with anger. "The second you stormed into our room, I should've known. No one who fights with their family is ever any good. No wonder no one likes you."

I jerked back. It was a slap in the face, if her hand had then torn out my heart and left a cold vacuum there. Dimly, I registered wide eyes, a tight throat, heat pouring out around the ice water of my heart. But in my brain, in the part that mattered, there was too much of me shoved there to care. Fury and despair and spite built in throbbing pressure. "Oh yeah, you know so much about my family. It's not like they opened their home and lives to you." My hands strangled each other, trying to keep from knocking her lights out. "But wait, all you care about is what friggin' Seireitei thinks of them. Drunkards, gossips, whoremongers. Piss off. You don't know crap about 'em."

Her manicured fingers hooked into claws. "I know you're a crude, selfish girl who acts like she's so smart and humble when really she's the most arrogant, most ignorant person I know. It's amazing Shinji-kun turned out as well as he did! And maybe, maybe the reason you've got Shikai and he doesn't and I don't is because you're so high-and-mighty the sword didn't even need time to get to know you!"

"You leave my brother alone!" I shouted. Shit. Who knew who might come running if they heard Shinigami fighting? I dropped my voice to a grating rasp. "Shut up, you moron. Yeah, I am selfish. And I sure as heck haven't grown up around backroom deals and- and fancy little plots like you. But don't you dare call me arrogant or stupid." Heat pricked at my eyes. I blinked it back. She didn't get to see me cry. She hadn't earned it. "Hey, maybe you're right. Maybe I do have Shikai because I'm not too busy pretending to be perfect to work at it!"

She reared back, pale purple light bleeding into the air around her. It was too predictable, what she did, but anger rooted me to the ground. I felt it like another person's body had taken the slap. The head snapped around. Heat and pain bloomed in the left cheek. I was pure emotion and will, tethered to this body. What she did to it meant nothing. I had to think that, or all the emotion would come pouring out.

I turned my face back towards her, slow and dramatic. Let her see the welt there. Let her see the hurt in deliberately wide eyes, in a face gone slack with shock. Let it be another layer to protect the girl curled up crying inside.

Her hand fluttered in the air, as if unsure whether to strike again. My eyes flicked away just as it dropped to her side. Just as her head fell. Just as her face, her perfect catlike face, collapsed.

"H-How can you say that?" Puffy eyes gleamed wetly up at me through a curtain of silver. A damp breeze blew my own hair across my face. "Do you even understand what you look like to everyone else? And how I look in comparison?" Her mouth twisted.

"Fuji-" I began, fury leaving as soon as it had come. How could I? How could I stay mad at someone in pain?

"No! You listen to me, Hirako Nariko," she snapped, head coming up fully. "For once in all the time I've known you, please just listen. It doesn't make sense! You aren't even supposed to have been a Shinigami and then all of a sudden you're some kind of prodigy! I-I worked all my life to be a Shinigami. Then I got to Shin'ou and my roommate turned out to be this crazy genius who got her power by murdering a teacher! A teacher! And a captain came there for you-" She broke off into a noise between a strangled sob and scoffing. Her throat worked, now stained with tears. "You didn't even want to be there. The thing we all wanted, it fell into your lap. How?"

My gaze dropped to my socks. I had no words. Not even the truth explained it. "I don't know. I-I don't think I'm that great." I forced a tiny, closed-mouth smile. "If I could help you, I would. But I don't make the rules." I shifted my death grip on Arashi's hilt to a tight rubbing. There was no way to help, save give her Arashi. And I wouldn't do that. Never. "Can I... can I speak freely?"

A glance sneaked at her face saw her look away, dabbing at her nose. "You mean, more freely? I doubt I can stop you."

I snickered with my characteristic timing. "Yeah, I guess not. Look, I-" I swallowed hard, forcing my eyes to look at her face. If I hurt her, I was going to make myself take responsibility for it. Hakama scrunched in my hands. "Even if I don't look like it, I always wanted to be a Shinigami too. My parents didn't." I shrugged, pulse pounding in my ears at the memory of Makoto's furious face. I couldn't complain. Wouldn't do to be so selfish. "Do you remember taking the entrance exam?"

The question hung in the rain-freed air for a moment before she realized I wanted an answer. "Yes, of course. It was awful."

I ducked my head in concession. "Yeah, it was. But we both took it. We both sat down and took the darn thing. And we passed. Not because we showed up, because- because we got enough answers right. That's it, right? It's like that with my sword. She didn't show herself because I showed up. I worked and meditated and bled for her. And once she knew I knew where I stood, I got Shikai. No one just handed it to me because that isn't how it works."

She flinched, as did something inside me. "B-But I'm a Fujikage. We've been raising Shinigami for generations. We're quicker to mature than Rukon-"

Oh no. You did not just fucking say that. "Stop that. I'm noble too, but Captain Unohana isn't. Minoru-kun isn't, nor AIzen-san. The Kenpachi never is. Who knows how many more? It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all," I repeated. I sounded like a friggin' teacher. But if I didn't take a club to her head, she'd probably twist it into a flower. "Shikai isn't even about that. It's about knowing what you're about."

She shook her head. "That's not important. My family wants- they know who I have the potential to be. I won't disappoint them. Last time I saw them, they told me I could be just as good as you if I just tried. It's true."

I cast a glance over the swamp, sunlight starting to poke through the trees and disappear in the water. Couldn't Kurotsuchi and Shiraishi be done yet? "Then do that, I guess. Do whatever works for you. But make sure it works for you." I rubbed the nape of my neck, fingers coming back wet and salty. "That's all I can really say. I just- it clicked."

Shinju, who'd been examining her nails with dawning horror, closed the distance in a few swift strides. One hand gripped my shoulder, the other cupping my stinging cheek.

Despite myself, I blushed. Heat tingled in me. I swatted at it with the cooling embers of my anger at her. Shinju wasn't interested. And I really didn't need a love life right now. "Eh? Fujikage-chan?"

Her breath was warm on my skin. "You don't feel sleepy, do you? Cold? I don't believe I broke the skin, but you never know."

Ah, that made more sense. "No, I feel fine," I said, forcing my shoulders down from where they'd hunched around my ears. "It doesn't hurt that much."

She bit her lip, stepping back. "Would you accept an apology? After all I've said?"