Chapter 4: Armoury Arc: Through Adversity

Summary:

You'd have to be crazy to enjoy a school where the survival rate is nowhere near 100%. Fortunately, Nariko is absolutely insane.

Notes:

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

Chapter Text

Arc Flower: Gladiolus

I woke early after a night of tossing and turning. Shinju, for all her virtues, snored. I got dressed in the mechanical way of one who wasn't awake enough to be sleepy.

Normally, I'd just go back to sleep. With Shinju—who from the sound of her breathing probably had hay fever, a comforting idea since she'd be quieter come fall—in the room, however, there was no chance of that. I might as well get something done, right? Or at least find a better place to sleep. I slipped out of the room and made for a training field I'd seen on the way here.

Movement tended to wake me up, if only because I had to be awake to not fall flat on my face. Or stumble through a screen, in one memorable instance. When I found the training field in question, I had to pause for a second to figure out where a good place to stand would be. It had rained overnight, so the formerly level grass was now pocked with puddles and mud. Something told me that it was bad form to show up wearing a dirty uniform.

I untied my waraji and tugged off my socks, laying both on the path. There really wasn't any way to avoid getting those wet, after all. I poked the edge of the training field with my toe, testing the ground. It didn't squish too much, so I minced out towards a vaguely dry patch.

There was really only one kind of training I could practice by myself on a muddy training field: forms. Shifting Moon had quite a few, taught depending on how much a practitioner knew of the style overall. I had four to practice, creatively titled Shrine Maiden's Crescent, Half Moon Mirror, Cloud Across the Moon, and Cleaving Crescent Sickle. It was way too early to go through anything complicated, so I set up for Shrine Maiden's Crescent. It was an easy form, the first I'd learned, with more emphasis on ceremony than chaining techniques. Of course, it was still part of a Hakuda style, so most of the techniques demonstrated in it were entirely applicable to combat.

As I ran through the 'hailing the ten moons' technique, I could appreciate—or fail to appreciate—Shin'ou in the morning. I couldn't call it morning quite yet, since the sun's livid pink had barely poked over the horizon. A soft breeze whisked through the trees planted around campus, bringing the mineral scents of stone and dirt with it. I got to the hailing of the new moon and paused—the new moon represented the void, so it was usually represented by touching one's forehead to the ground. Having mud on my forehead didn't appeal, so I bowed from the waist instead.

A flicker of movement caught my attention as I straightened for the next section. I squinted at it—a person or just tree leaves? A person, I decided as I caught sight of messy brown hair nearly hidden by a dull olive cloak. Aizen? I wondered. Maybe not Aizen, but if it was I had to know. I squelched back across the field and began to pad towards maybe-Aizen.

Sure enough, when I got close enough to pick out facial features his head snapped around. I went perfectly still, squinting ahead. Just because there was no way he could've heard me approach didn't mean I should be sloppy. Oval smoke-tinted glasses perched on the end of his nose instead of the familiar rectangular frames, and the roundness of childhood hadn't quite left Aizen's face, but it was unmistakably him. Already got the innocent act up, huh? I thought at him.

I waited for a few seconds, but Aizen didn't turn around. Instead, even weirder, I thought I saw his nostrils flare, head tilting back slightly like some kind of big cat scenting its prey. What the hell? Almost as soon as his head tilted back, however, it snapped back down. I knew I wasn't imagining it when Aizen's eyes flicked around, hand flying up to cover his nose and mouth. Double what the hell? If he took revenge on Shinji for bullying him, I can kinda see why.

"Wh-who's there?" He called out, voice thin and reedy instead of the rich baritone it would eventually become. I snickered, then clapped a hand over my own mouth. Well, there was no helping it now. I stepped out onto the path, approaching him with my hands up, palms out. Best to do what I could to avoid the wrath of a future mass murderer, even over something so minor.

"I'm Hirako Nariko," I called back, pitching my voice low to not wake anyone. "Sorry, I didn't think anybody else was up."

Aizen went white, stepping back as if scared of me. After a second, though, his frame relaxed. "S-sorry. Are you my roommate's sister?"

"That's me," I agreed. "I couldn't sleep, so I was doing a form. Did Shinji snore too much or something?"

He shook his head, scuffing his toes on the path. "N-no. I just- couldn't sleep." His gaze flicked away, body swaying as if he wanted to get away from me. Is this really the same guy who stabbed Hinamori? He was definitely lying, though. My instincts told me so, and my impressions of people had never been wrong.

"Me neither," I said, then smacked myself in the forehead reflexively. Stupid, you already said that! "Um, I know it's only been a day and all, but he hasn't been mean, has he?" I asked. "Shinji can be kinda prickly with people he's just met. I'm trying to train him out of it, but Hirako men are kinda stubborn." I forced my lips into a smile, rubbing the nape of my neck.

Aizen shook his head. Wow, he was weirdly quiet for a guy who'd loved to monologue. "No. I just- too many changes in one day." His eyes flickered away again. Yeah, there was something going on with him without question.

I bit my lip, feeling a little quiver inside at having to extend myself. "Well, um, you can tell me if he is, okay? I'll knock some sense into him. I guess you must've heard I don't like bullies, and I really don't like my brother getting away with murder, so I'll really have it out with him."

I was rewarded with the first smile I'd ever seen from him—the first non-evil smile, anyway. Wait, that wasn't right, since I'd seen Aizen-as-captain smile very nicely, but that was a lie like this one probably was. It fell away as his face twitched. Aizen went pale again, backing up. "S-sure Nari-Nariko-san. I need to go," Aizen stammered. Before I could so much as say goodbye, he turned and flash-stepped away with a faint buzzing sound. Flash-stepped? I stared after him. It didn't matter how strong you were, you needed training to flash-step. Training Aizen didn't have.

Well, I wouldn't solve that puzzle today. I turned and went back to finish my form. I didn't really believe in all the psuedo-Shinto rituals of Soul Society, but I still tried to respect them. Not finishing Shrine Maiden's Crescent was supposed to anger kami, so I decided it made sense to finish it. Leaving it uncompleted would bug me the whole day, which helped.

The half-dried mud on my feet made for decent protection from the cold grass and water. I shut out the bugs that no doubt wriggled through the dirt by focusing on what was up with Aizen. He was definitely twitchy and reclusive. I wouldn't go so far as to say paranoid, but he jumped at every shadow. Why he'd be scared of me was baffling. Why he'd skip the assembly and avoid the roommate he'd just met was even weirder. It was like Aizen was scared of people.

My eyes narrowed as I mimicked the fanning of incense with flicking crescent palms. Or maybe he's already plotting, I mused. Who blinks twice at a first-year getting lost around campus? It's a good chance to size up the competition, maybe get at some information that Seireitei libraries don't have.

No. I wasn't going to think that way. It hadn't done Shinji any good, after all. I was going to be friendly to Aizen with a healthy dose of wariness. Most beginning friendships were like that anyway.

I finished with a bow to my imaginary audience and went back to pick up my footwear. The sun was half over the horizon and I didn't want Shinju seeing my plans.

When I got back to the room, the mud had dried enough that I wouldn't make tracks all the way down the hall. I sat lotus-style on the floor, scraping at my dirty feet with my fingernails. One of the many strange things about Soul Society was their technology. They didn't have plumbing, but inventing things like the near-invincible nail lacquer that protected my nails wasn't beyond them. From the varieties that I'd seen in markets, the ones Makoto wouldn't let me get, I was guessing that that had come about as a method of delivering poison. One scratch and you'd be writhing on the floor. Which said some pretty disturbing things about Soul Society, really. I brushed off the grass on my feet and then got out my writing materials.

I'd brought very specific brushes and paper for my time here. Almost all had bamboo stalks and were made with rabbit hair, with those being divided into large, medium, and small and further into soft, medium, and hard textures. I'd discovered a love for calligraphy in my time here, so I'd gathered a collection of brushes. I'd been limited to one per category, save for the crown jewel of my collection: a silver-stemmed brush with hair from my first haircut as a child. It was supposed to bring good luck whenever I used it. Whether that was true or not, I didn't know, but the brush was irreplaceable and beautiful. I left it in its case with a twinge of regret; small brushes like that were used only for the smallest pieces and seals. Instead I picked an all-purpose brush and began to put down my notes.

Get close to Aizen. Figure out what's up with his powers. And keep Shinji away from him if possible.

It was a short note, but one I'd need. If the classes here were as hard as my father had led me to believe, I'd need to keep my classwork in my head and my plans on paper or I'd forget both.

I'd just gotten my materials stored away again when I heard a tremendous yawn from Shinju. Shit, I thought. Then, Is it bad that I'm swearing so early in the morning? Oh well. I'd never claimed to be a lady. Even if technically I was one.

"You're already up?" She murmured, face puffy with sleep.

"I've been up for a while," I replied, yawning myself. "Quick question: do you have hay fever?"

Shinju stood, padding across the room for a comb to untangle her hair with. "Yes, why?"

"No reason," I said automatically, going to fetch my own comb. One untangling of a rat's nest later, I put it up into a bun and turned to face my roommate. "Think this'll stay?"

She peered at it critically. "Looks like it. Got everything else together?"

I glanced around, grabbing my travel case, a sheaf of papers, and my scroll for notes. There would be times when I saw something that would factor into my plans. "I am now."

"Not without your course list," Shinju pointed out, plucking mine off the top of my trunk and handing it to me. "Honestly, am I going to be the responsible one here?"

Considering that I wasn't the one whose hair was wildly impractical for combat and that I probably had a good deal more research and theories about our studies, I doubted that. "That remains to be seen," I said. It was a way of saying something without saying anything that Asami-sensei had taught me long ago. Helped with keeping the peace while not committing, a very useful business ethic.

Shinju shook her head as we left the room and joined the masses in the corridors. "Are you really a Hirako? Shinji-san's so different, you know," she said.

I gave her my widest sarcastic smile. "Nope. Secretly I'm an impostor from another world, here on a mission to avert a future war." One of the benefits of my smile: absolutely no one believed me when I wore it. Even if the truth wasn't quite as powerful when nobody listened to it, my conscience felt a little lighter for it.

"You must be one, to joke so early in the morning," Shinji grumbled. Looked like she wasn't a morning person either.

Breakfast was plain and simple, not much different from breakfast at home. Made sense, if you thought about how many people had to be fed. They couldn't waste money on spices and complicated dishes here.

Minoru found Shinju and me pretty quickly; that kid had eyes like a hawk's when it came to picking out people he knew. I wondered as I shoveled a spoonful of rice into my mouth whether it was a reflex born from his childhood or just something Minoru was good at. Shinji plunked himself down by Shinju a few minutes after we'd sat down.

"You're late to the party," I teased. "What, we weren't important enough that you felt like hurrying?"

He poked his tongue out at me, taking a massive bite of his rice. "If I start hurrying now, there'll be a precedent," he insisted. "And if there's a precedent, people will expect me to hurry, and then I'll be runnin' everywhere doin' everything and die of overwork."

"Your roommates aren't here, Minoru-san, Shinji-san." Shinju broke up our conversation before it could lead to bickering. "Not hungry?"

Minoru shook his head. He'd inhaled his food even faster than Shinji and looked like he could go for more. "I didn't get no roommate," he muttered. I had to strain to hear his voice. "Somethin' happened and he had ta head back home."

"Lucky dog," Shinji declared with a wave of his chopsticks. I glared at him. We'd been raised better than that, I'd like to think. "Mine's too shy to say a word and a creep on top of it all. Fashion sense is hella lackin', too. He showed up in this cloak, mucha his skin covered as he could without bein' Kidou Corps. Didja know, he left the room when he thought I was gettin' my beauty sleep and came back all dirty-like at dawn? What 'e was doin' all night's beyond me."

"At least your beauty sleep worked," Shinju said. I blinked at her. Was that- did I just see-? "I mean, if you don't mind my saying so."

"Not a bit, lovely." Shinji grinned. "Didn't catch yer name. Nari-nee, introduce us!"

I obliged him with a roll of the eyes. "Fujikage-san, this is my idiot little brother Shinji. Shinji, meet my roommate Fujikage Shinju-san."

Any lecherous comments my brother might've made were interrupted as I felt someone come up behind me.

"Good morning, Hirako-san." Aizen's voice sounded a little less wavery than it had this morning, without even a stutter. "May I eat with you?"

Shinji flapped a hand at him. "Don't go asking me that. I got no authority, neither does anybody else at this table. You can sit wherever you want."

I scooted over, nodding at the bench beside me. "You can sit by me if you want, Aizen-san," I interjected. "And don't listen to Shinji. I've got authority over him; our mom said so."

His expression tightened slightly at the mention of our mother, but Aizen nodded and sat down where I'd motioned to. "You're Hirako Nariko-san?" He asked, as though we hadn't met under strange circumstances that morning. "And... Fujikage-san and Minoru-san?"

Both nodded. "Your hearing's great," Shinju commented, "to have heard us just now."

Aizen flushed, gaze dropping to his miso soup. "I must've heard someone mention them earlier," he murmured. "It's too noisy in here."

We sat in silence for a while after that, waiting for dismissal. Aizen wolfed down his food almost as fast as Minoru, to my surprise. I didn't know exactly what I'd been expecting—maybe that Aizen would eat puppies or something?

I had started to wonder if we were supposed to just leave when we'd finished when a familiar voice boomed out over the hall.

"Students!" Ounabara declared. "As the school year commences and we receive new students, I expect you all to make their integration into this school as effortless as possible. Should you find a lost first-year, please direct them to the proper class. Having them take detours through Kidou ranges is highly frowned-upon, may I remind you." Laughter bubbled up from the gathered students. "All first-years should procure their course lists, which were handed to them yesterday. Please find a teacher who may direct you to the nearest administrative office if you have lost that list. Dismissed!" He clapped his hands, sending students scattering.

"What do you have first, Hirako-san?" Shinju asked. "I think my first class is... Rukongai Studies 1? Aww, that sounds boring."

I tsk'ed at her. "Far from it. More interesting than Seireitei, where the latest news is about Ginrei-sama's newest bonsai. And I've got... Soul Government 1? Joy." I actually was pretty happy about that. Contrary to popular belief, governments couldn't function for as long as Soul Society's had if they were cartoonishly evil. Getting a look into why, say, the Central 46 was so ridiculously uptight about rules would be very enlightening.

We walked together to the building our classes took place in, which seemed to involve Social Studies-esque material, then parted ways.

The classroom I walked into was the lecture hall on a smaller scale, rings of low desks for students to kneel at with the teacher's slightly larger desk facing them. A blackboard hung behind the teacher's desk, a simple command written in thick chalk on its surface: "STAY STANDING." Terrific. A hardass teacher.

As my classmates filtered in without any sign of our teacher, I began to revise my opinion of this guy. Maybe he was eccentric. Or deader than the rest of us. I was hoping for dead. Eccentric was hard to deal with—and yes, I was aware how strange that was coming from me. My whole family was eccentric.

The teacher strode in five minutes after everyone was there—I knew, I'd counted both desks and people. He went directly to the board, snatched a piece of chalk, and wrote kanji there that gave me pause. Military, net, love, river? Why is that so-

I paled as I saw the furigana scrawled hastily above. Aikawa Rabu. Aikawa Love. Oh, c'mon God, could I escape just a few of the Visoreds? Please? I'm not supposed to be a protagonist!

Sure enough, the man who turned around bore Love's broad features and dark skin. No sunglasses or afro yet, thankfully. Love sported a buzz-cut and, incongruously, a small brass hoop in one ear. Yeah, I'd say he was definitely eccentric.

"Alright, for those of you who want to complain about seating arrangements, my name's on the board," he told us. "Aikawa-sensei to you, though."

"Aikawa-sensei?" A mint-haired girl said, tilting her head at the board. "Why can't we sit down?"

"'Cause I have to assign seats," he explained, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a crinkled piece of paper. "Helps with remembering names, and y'all need to get to know each other. Sitting next to strangers at Shin'ou'll give you some lifelong friends." I suppressed a snort. Love was Love, ridiculous fan of manga, track suits, and sunglasses, even if he hadn't discovered any of those yet. I kinda had to feel bad for him, though, given the way my classmates were grumbling. Disconnected as the divisions were from one another, it came as no shock that those who believed in teamwork as Love did were few and far between.

As we waited for him to finish deciphering the paper's contents, an idea made me snicker. Had Rose and Love met by sitting next to each other in one class or another? It would explain how two wildly different people had come to be friends.

"Something funny, Hirako?" Love said, fixing me with a level brown gaze. "Government amuse you?"

"No sir," I replied, blushing.

"Good. Okay, Abe Natsumi sits in the back row, third seat from the left. Then... Moon Eun-kyung? Yeah, you go in the front row, dead middle." Love went on assigning seats in this way, no obvious rhyme or reason to where anyone sat or the order in which he announced the seating. Ooh, this class would be fun.

Once we'd all gotten settled and introduced ourselves at Love's instruction, he wiped away his name from the board. "So, who can tell me the different governments of Soul Society? Hirako, you seem to like politics. Tell the class."

I grinned. If Love wanted to know about the government of Soul Society, boy was he in for a treat. "Technically Soul Society's ruled by the Soul King, but the Central 46 has all the power. They're a bunch of wise men and judges. Their authority over Soul Society is absolute. Beneath them are the Kidou Corps, the Onmitsukidou, and the Gotei 13. The Gotei 13 has thirteen divisions, some having specific purposes and others being more general. Divisions are led by the captains and lieutenants, who are roughly equivalent to the Grand and Vice Kidou Chiefs of the Kidou Corps respectively. The Kidou Corps handles senkaimon, Soukyoku executions, and the creation and regulation of new Kidou, I think. Something like that. The Onmitsukidou handles everything stealthy. Assassinations, executions, spying, messages, the Maggots' Nest, that kind of thing." Thank you, Bleach wiki, and thank you, many hours spent avoiding work. You taught me well. "And there are district and town governments within the Rukongai, with the clans ruling Seireitei and the low Rukon," I added. A person might've wondered why I showed off my knowledge. With people like Aizen around, it probably wasn't good to show my hand this early on. Fact was, that wouldn't work if I wanted to take the 12th's lieutenancy. I had to show off, make sure people knew I knew what I was talking about and came sniffing around.

Plus, it was just a class on Soul Society's government. Knowing about it didn't reveal much except that I was a bookworm and a brown-noser. And why shouldn't I show off something I was pretty damn good at?

Love's mouth opened, closed. Opened again as he blinked rapidly at me. "Uh. Yes, that. I guess I know who the class bookworm is now." The class laughed. I grinned back at them, entirely unashamed of my status. Love consulted a paper lying on his desk, probably a lesson plan. "Well, now that half our lesson's been spoiled, who wants to tell us about the Onmitsukidou in more detail? Liu?"

A Chinese boy who, judging from the fact that his nails were lacquered and filed to points, was on the Onmitsukidou track, inclined his head. "All covert operations are handled by the Onmitsukidou. While the Gotei 13 is obvious and handles all public military action, onmitsu act in secrecy and handle all delicate matters. Uprisings are handled by the Onmitsukidou, as are influential undesirables. The Onmitsukidou works beneath the Shihouin clan and is tied to the Second Division."

"They're called knives for a reason!" A spiky-haired girl from the back of the room called. "A stab in the dark with a little poison and you've got yourself a business deal all of a sudden!"

Whump.

If Love's reiatsu had had a sound effect, it would've been 'whump.' There was no flow, no crackle, just a drop into existence. If Shinji's had been a sunny day, Love's was an oven, contained fire and the press of searing air on my skin. A circle, I thought. Heavy, dark, deep, cold. Reiryoku in, reiatsu out. This time my blue-green light was joined by other displays of color. I caught tan grit and intent—a path?—from the boy to my right, amber dull feathers and a sharp mind—a crow—from a girl in the front row, even rosy paleness and roundness—a pearl?—from whoever sat behind me. But most kids—including the girl who'd spoken—stiffened or slumped beneath the press of the future captain's power.

After a deliberate moment, Love's reiatsu withdrew back beneath his skin. Was that what passed for discipline in Soul Society? "'The Kidou Corps maintains the order of the twilight. The Gotei 13 maintain the order of the day. And the Onmitsukidou maintain the order of the night,'" he quoted. "It's a poem written by the Captain-Commander himself. You can't have time without all of 'em, that's how I take it to mean. So don't go disrespecting your peers and your elders for the careers they've chosen. They're all needed if you wanna keep the peace. Apologize, Sinawatra."

The girl flushed, ducking her head. I could've sworn there were tears in her eyes, and no wonder. Reiatsu displays like that hurt if you couldn't shove back. "S-Sorry, Liu-khun."

"Not a problem," Liu said mildly. The set of his jaw said otherwise.

Love peered at a girl in the front row, who seemed to have given up sitting upright entirely. He waved a hand in front of her face. Meeting no response, he sighed. "Time for a lesson on how to project your reiatsu. Does anyone listen to the entrance exams anymore?"

Love rose, grabbed the chalk again, and began to draw. I cringed as he drew a circle, then a heart besides it. The circle was more of a wobbly square, while the heart looked more like a circle with a dimple at the top. How could someone suck so bad at art? Rukia was better, for heaven's sake. He half-turned back to the class and tapped the heart. "Your reiryoku is generated in here. So to channel it into reiatsu all you have to do is do what you did with those crystal balls. Draw a circle separately from your reiryoku, then funnel it into the circle and out your body. Hands usually works best, but I met a guy who said that his feet work better, so whatever. Literally, that's all. I can't guarantee that it won't hurt to resist your teachers' reiatsu, but you won't pass out like- uh, I think this one's Moon. Hirako, Fujiwara, Ukitake, Himura, you've got the right idea."

The rest of the class passed as uneventfully as a lesson from a dead man could.

Reiryoku Manipulation, Soul History 1, and Rukongai Studies 1 were unremarkable, I concluded as I headed for a dining hall. Reiryoku Manipulation was the best, a prerequisite for Kidou and Hohou 1 next term, but only because I liked playing with my powers. Otherwise, I could've napped and missed nothing.

Hakuda 2 had been substantially more challenging. Everyone had enough control that I wasn't worried about losing a tooth, but they were mostly older students. My inner quivering first-year had come out in full force. And to top it all off, my teacher Himura had started off the class with a lecture clearly aimed at me about not fighting outside of Hakuda class. I had a feeling that it would be my least favorite class this year.

I ate lunch, a bowl of salty ramen with pork, by myself. Wherever my circle of acquaintances—it was a little early to call them friends—had gone, it wasn't to this hall. I took the opportunity to get a good look at my classmates.

A surprising number were from the Rukongai, though most were from lower districts. The high-districts were really the minority, the rest of the students being fairly evenly split between nobles and low-districts. And it was weird to see that not everyone was Japanese. Most definitely were, but I'd seen Korean, Chinese, and Thai kids around. There was a pair of kids in Rukongai Studies that might be Vietnamese, but it had been so long that I could be wrong.

As for their spiritual abilities, few had anything remarkable. I caught the antiseptic-and-tile sensation of Seinosuke nearby, but there was only subdued irritation as he passed me. Phew. It was nice to see that he wasn't so petty that he'd keep trying to pick fights, at least not immediately after losing.

I blew my bangs away from my face with an irritated sigh. I'd been meaning to talk to Shinji about Aizen since this morning, but even when I did see him in the halls he was always talking to someone else. My brother, popular? Woe is me, I thought, popping a piece of pork into my mouth. I'll never be able to deflate his ego now. Especially since all his companions had seemed to be pretty girls.

I was forced to abandon the remains of my food as the gong for the next class rang, sending students scurrying off everywhere. I snatched my course list up from the table, scanning it frantically. Sixth class, sixth class... Hell yes. Introduction to Zanpakutou.

I had to practically sprint to make it on time. Some brilliant person had decided to put it on the opposite side of the campus from my Hakuda class. Note to self: take this schedule up with someone. Anyone.

I arrived to see Oshiro standing outside the classroom, beaming at and greeting every student who came by. Quite a few replied with a bright smile back. As I approached, he turned his smile on me.

"Hirako-chan! Are you feeling better now?" Oshiro asked, leaning in to get a good look at the bruises that had blossomed on the side of my face.

I grinned back. "Good afternoon, Oshiro-sensei. I'm feeling pretty good. Himura-sensei made someone take a look at my face, so it looks worse than it is."

"Himura-san?" He blinked, pushing his hair out of brown eyes. "Oh, I suppose I should've expected that you'd be in second-level Hakuda considering how you got those." Oshiro's eyes twinkled. I'd never thought that anyone's eyes could actually twinkle—brighten, maybe, or crinkle, but never twinkle. A new respect for the man filled me. "Well, head on in. Pick any seat you want."

I did as he'd said, finding a seat at the edge of one of the middle rows, easy to get to. There were windows in this room, but I had no designs on getting the universe's attention. I'd had enough of that, thanks, and I didn't need to be on the border between main character and side character. Only characters who were one or the other got plot armor in my humble experience. Lacking the angst and strangely specific appearance to be one of those, I'd settle for side character.

Oshiro came in a few minutes later, smiling at the class. His constant cheer was starting to wear just a little thin, but he hadn't said anything cheesy yet, so I let it slide. As a class we rose and bowed. Oshiro took his place at the front of the room, then turned to write his name on the board. I was starting to sense a pattern.

"For those who haven't met me yet, I'm Oshiro Nobuyuki. I teach Zanpakutou classes to all the years, so there's a chance that you'll have me next year too." He tucked a lock of hair behind his ears; it flopped stubbornly forwards again. "Does anyone have any questions before we start?"

"Yeah, where're our Zanpakutou?" The scrawny kid sitting in front of me called. I couldn't tell their gender—young and bony enough to go either way. I decided to call the kid a he for now. With lank, unwashed hair the color of peaches and a hairline scar down his neck, I guessed that he was from a middling district of the Rukon.

"Excellent question, Hayate-kun," Oshiro said. "You won't be getting asauchi today."

"What're those?" Hayate persisted. His voice, a little high and raspy, cleared absolutely nothing up. "I thought this was a Zanpakutou class."

Oshiro's face lit up. He looked like Shinji when Shinji'd found a person to prank and was devising ingenious ways to wreak havoc, just less devious. "Exactly why you can't have Zanpakutou just yet. We need to learn the basic terms and concepts behind Zanpakutou first." Theories. My mental mouth watered, anticipating the delicious problems to confront and explore.

Hayate grumbled something about 'old farts,' but he shut up. Everyone did. We all wanted to get our Zanpakutou as fast as possible.

"Now, to answer Hayate-kun's question, we have to go into what a Zanpakutou is. Hirako-kun, do you know?" Oshiro asked. I opened my mouth to give an answer, but a familiar voice came from behind me.

"They're like swords, right? Only they got powers and appearances that are different dependin' on whose they are. And, like, these funky worlds inside that Shinigami can go into if they want," my brother answered.

"A true prodigy," I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear me.

"Shut up, Narin," Shinji said without missing a beat.

"Hirako-kun! Hirako-chan! Save your squabbles for outside the classroom," Oshiro scolded. "In any event, Hirako-kun has the general idea. But not all Zanpakutou are swords. Banh-kun, do you know why that is?" He asked a tan-skinned boy.

If I'd been interested in Soul Government, I was fascinated by Introduction to Zanpakutou. I soaked up the knowledge offered like a sponge. It was heaven. I was being offered a path to godlike power as though it was the most ordinary thing in the world. So many secrets, so many ideas to play with and discover. Oshiro told us nothing that day that I didn't already know, but the potential that lay in every concept he touched on had my brain spinning. I left grinning stupidly.

"I don't like the look on your face," Shinji said, coming up besides me as I searched my course list for the last class of the day. "You're about to make somethin' go boom, I just know it."

I stuck my tongue out at him. Despite all the allegations to the contrary, I didn't actually care all that much for explosions. Too much collateral damage. Action movies had had my past self cringing. "Am not. But isn't all this crazy?" I nodded at the hallway, full of students who would someday become trained killers with magic powers that Goku would've considered overpowered. "We're going to have swords with the power of our souls someday, Shin. Better hope yours is something cool."

He shouldered me, snorting. "Of course it is. After all, it'll come from my soul."

I shouldered him back. "Look who thinks he's so great. I bet your Zanpakutou spirit's a slug."

"Zanpakutou spirit? You know about those?" Shinji tilted his head at me.

Shit. Was I not supposed to? "I do read, unlike certain morons." I smiled cheekily at him. "Why do you know?"

He shrugged. "Dad, who else? He was tellin' me 'bout great-uncle Youichi and how he got the third seat of the Fifth 'cause his Zanpakutou was, like, this super-strong flaming spear."

"Just third seat?" I asked.

"Right as he was about to get promoted, he up an' died. Zanpakutou spirit was some kind of intense phoenix-thing and Dad thought it just burned him out," Shinji explained. "I'm surprised ya don't know about it, Miss I'd-Make-A-Better-Heir." He narrowly missed smashing into a bearlike upperclassman as he dodged my elbow to the ribs. "I'm just sayin', we wouldn't be main family if uncle Haru hadn't been such a womanizer that the clan elders made him step down. Helped that Dad was more competent to boot."

I vaguely remembered Haru, technically my first cousin once removed. Tall even for a Hirako and more solid than most of us, I'd taken note of him as a young child because his eyes were wider than the typical narrow eyes of my clan. So that was why succession had gone a little screwy, huh? He'd have to have been pretty irresponsible for the Hirako to not want him as leader.

"Then there's hope for me yet," I teased. "Listen, I've gotta go to Zanjutsu, but I just wanted to tell you to be nice to Aizen. He's... different, but everybody's weird here."

"He's creepy, that's what he is," Shinji huffed. "I've only seen him eat meat, you know that?"

"Protein, maybe? You should try some," I snapped. Paranoia had clearly kicked in young. "I'm not having this discussion right now, Shinji. Go to class."

Zanjutsu, to my surprise, wasn't as exciting as I'd expected. Mostly we just learned how to handle our shinai and bokken, along with stances. That was fine with me—I needed time to think. Not about Aizen, not about Zanpakutou, just... time to think. About my old life, mostly. I tried to put it out of my mind most days, but talking about souls had gotten me thinking again. What kind of spirit would represent my soul? I'd often entertained the idea that my Zanpakutou spirit would take on the appearance of my old self, but today that struck me as morbid. Maybe Tousen could take up a dead woman's Zanpakutou, but seeing a person that was for all intents and purposes dead in my soul was just too creepy. I hoped it would be humanoid. Easier to understand that way.

When I left Zanjutsu, I had to sprint back across campus for my second Hakuda class of the day. Double Hakuda, I learned, sucked. Not only did Himura put me through the same exhausting regimen that I'd gone through in the morning, he took delight in drilling my blocks until my arms felt like lead pipes. At least none of the other Hakuda teachers wanted help with anything that day. I don't think I could've managed anything more strenuous than calligraphy.

When I finally collapsed into my bed, ignoring Shinju's heavy breathing, I fell into merciful unconsciousness.