Chapter 9: Turn of the Wheel Arc: Under Winter Skies 1/2

Summary:

Nariko's first year at Shin'ou draws to a close as a new year begins. Though she returns home for food and family, she finds that her friends--including a new spitfire--take center stage.

Notes:

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

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

Chapter Text

Arc Flower: Orange Blossoms

I would've liked to say that I passed my classes with flying colors, saved Soul Society from itself, and wiped out the Quincy in the rest of the trimester, just to continue my success. But that would've been lying. Instead, it went by pretty much like any school trimester, with the barely-passed exams, forgotten homework, and late nights I'd thought were behind me. Not that everything was bad—I did well on most of my finals and learning tessenjutsu proved easier than I'd expected. Not easy, given my spirit, but easier, possibly because the knowledge was literally embedded in my soul. Which led to my continual problems with Zanjutsu, my teacher assuming that Shikai meant I was more skilled than I was letting on and pitting me against the star of the class—who was Momohiko, naturally. Dude definitely got kendo training pre-Shin'ou.

My relationships with Shinju and Minoru neither improved nor deteriorated. Shinju just about tiptoed around me for a month before she seemed to settle into being the roommate of a killer. I could've said something, but that would've meant awkwardness and probably crying and I could never find the right time. We talked about everything else instead, but that knowledge always lingered in the air. Minoru withdrew back into his shy persona, thwarting most of my attempts to draw him out again, but he kept progressing in our Japanese lessons, which was rewarding enough.

Aizen and I continued to talk Zanpakutou when we got the chance, though we moved towards the ramifications instead of mechanics. For now, we were both content to not pry into how Zanpakutou worked. I, at least, no longer wanted to know what let Oshiro exist. The meaning behind Zanpakutou was a lighter topic, anyway. What traits were universally associated with certain kinds of Zanpakutou and such.

When fall break came, we weren't allowed to go home. Instead, Shinji and I went to our mother's clan estate—tradition dictated that children returned to the clan they didn't normally live with after attending their first trimester at Shin'ou. Maybe it was about recognizing the other side of the family's influence on prospective Shinigami, or maybe it was to allow us to spend the more important winter break with the family we were more familiar with. Rukongai kids generally stayed at Shin'ou, though they were allowed to wander around Seireitei, so Minoru, Aizen, and Nanase—who I still hadn't puzzled out, dammit—were left at school.

The winter trimester, too, was uneventful. I got over Akane, thankfully for my attention span. Introduction to Kidou turned out to be simultaneously more boring and more interesting than I'd thought—more interesting because have you heard the incantations? and more boring because they went over theory for way longer than I needed before we learned our first spell and spent a few days shoving people across a field with a first-level Hadou. I was briefly interested by the fact that Kidou numbers described the reiryoku requirement of the spell rather than numbering how many there were, but the teacher started droning on about the history of Kidou categorization and I dozed off again. Other than that, Minoru's birthday was the only interesting event—I discovered to my dismay that we weren't allowed to leave even for important events like that and had to promise to get him something during winter break. I didn't think he believed me. But Shinji solved that problem very handily.

"Hey, Fugai, Aizen, Nanase, ya doin' anything fer break?" he asked some time during our last week, like he didn't know they weren't. "Some of our relatives are bound to not be able to make it..." he trailed off.

Minoru, shivering under a frost-covered tree, shook his head. "J-just the usual. Studyin' and s-sleepin'."

Aizen blinked, removing his spectacles and wiping condensation from them. I was struck for a second by how eerie his eyes looked without being hidden by the smoky lenses, wide and darting. "Nothing much. Why?"

I glanced over at Nanase, who'd frozen like I'd just stabbed his mother. "Yeah, why?" he said weakly.

"Why d'ya think, dumbass?" Shinji said, beaming. I watched Nanase's face, hoping he'd mirror the expression. Serious expressions looked wrong on Nanase. "New Year's is way more fun with loads of people! 'Sides, we could always use a few more warm bodies."

I matched his smile. "Yeah! I don't know if you have obligations, Fujikage-chan, but we'd love to have you."

"Do we get our own bedrooms?" Nanase asked, warm smile reappearing. Good.

I considered. "Yeah, I think so. We have a lot of relatives, so there are a lot of guest houses."

Shinju tilted her head, playing with the tip of the braid she'd put her hair in today. "I can probably stay for a few days, but my family will want me for New Year's proper," she said.

Shinji nodded happily, rubbing his face to bring some color back to it. "Hey, whatever works. Any idea what you'd want for a present?"

Shit. I'd almost forgotten about those, except for Minoru. "I know what I'm getting Minoru-kun," I sing-songed. I'd been slowly putting my silly facade into place over the past few months. Arashi, as usual, hummed with satisfaction when I did that. She seemed big on keeping promises. Weird, since I wasn't.

It's about truth, daoshi, she insisted. Either you told me the truth when you said you'd do that and I give you my power, or you lied and I won't give you any of it. Which made sense, I guess. I pulled myself back to the conversation.

Shinju was musing over what to get us, it seemed. "A yukata for Shinji-kun," she murmured, half to us and half to herself, "and a calligraphy wall hanging for Nariko-chan?"

Shinji poked out his tongue at her. "Aww, it's no fun if ya spoil it for us, Shinju-chan! But I'd totally take anything you gave me," he added.

Enough of that. "There's no obligation to get anyone anything," I explained to Minoru, who'd begun to look stricken. "Tradition is to give everyone small bags of mochi and Mandarin oranges, but we don't have any oranges and everyone makes mochi together. Gifts are just for the people you're closest to. And all the kids get money!"

Shinji's face took on a ridiculously smug smirk. "Which means ya don't get anythin' from the family this year," he said, twirling a lock of hair that had yet to be winter-faded around his finger.

Wait, what? "But I haven't graduated yet!" I protested. "I'm not an adult!" I wasn't even a full two decades, let alone past my first century. I couldn't be an adult.

Shinju steepled her fingers in front of her. "Well, I don't know how it works in your clan, but in mine people are adults when they achieve Shikai, or when they take on their first official responsibility. Whichever comes first, you know?"

Shinji's smirk widened. "Same fer us. They might cut ya a break 'cause you're still young, so ya won't have to give out money just yet, but ya totally ain't a kid anymore."

My exaggerated pout was... less of a facade than it should've been for someone my age. I liked money. Not just the clink of kan against kan, but also the security it symbolized. Money meant the basics of life, even if I didn't have to pay for those yet. Better to be safe than sorry.

I let the conversation drift away from that topic, content just to watch and shiver. Note to self: invent either warmer clothing or better heating. Some brilliant bureaucrat had decided that Shin'ou didn't need kotatsu, which meant a couple months of freezing. Nanase was shivering a lot more than someone who was simply cold, though. I kept my face neutral as I watched him from the corner of my eye.

Analysis? Arashi prompted. I felt-saw her clicking through the rooms of my inner world's temple, pacing the way I did when I had a particularly annoying problem to solve.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. My Zanpakutou spirit seemed kinda pretentious. Maybe a little bit of soul-searching was in order. Still, I indulged her. He could be sensitive to temperature, I thought stubbornly. Lots of people are. Or maybe he's uncomfortable with coming for New Year's. But I can't tell exactly why just from the way he shivers.

Irritation rolled out from the blade at my waist. And you can't tell by observing the rest of his behavior?

No, I argued, 'cause I'm not Sherlock. We already know that he wants to be a part of something. It's possible that he just doesn't want to be put in the middle of a bunch of strangers.

She huffed, presence retreating. Perhaps later, daoshi. You fail to use all your senses.

My senses? I cast a glance at Nanase's waist, easily visible as he sat with his legs to the side the same way I did. If Arashi meant my spiritual senses, Nanase didn't have Shikai. Which didn't necessarily mean he didn't have a spirit, just that it hadn't told him its name yet. Hmm. Maybe I could do that. Or maybe not, given the shadows I kept seeing out of the corner of my eye, which could've been either onmitsu-track kids practicing stealth or the real thing. Bad news either way.

Oh well. If Arashi wanted to be fickle, I had only myself to blame for that.

Feathery white spun around us, not thick and wet enough to really be snow, as we tromped down the winding path towards the Hirako estate. Flurry, that was the word.

In the end, everyone invited had come with us for New Year's. Shinju had sent for permission to come with us and received it just yesterday. By all rights she should've been carrying less than she was, but Nanase, who walked at the center of our group, was cradling a Kidou fireball. In the interests of preserving the faint warmth it gave off, we'd agreed that Shinju could take his belongings since he didn't have much. Nanase ended up taking his bag back when we reached roadside inns anyway.

Apart from the cold—which one got used to pretty quickly—the trip hadn't been that bad. The aforementioned roadside inns were happy for the business, so they treated us well. And since we weren't moving fast enough to need our reiryoku for that, we could walk for longer times than humans. It was nearing noon on our fourth day and I felt as tired as if I'd just gone for a decent-length hike. Granted, I felt pretty icky too, hair knotted into frozen clumps by the snow and wind and clothes vaguely grimy the way they tended to be after a long period of doing anything, but physically I could've gone on like that for a while.

"So, Nariko-san, any family members I should be warned about?" Aizen asked, crunching over a patch of last night's ice.

I considered. "Not particularly. I bet you've heard rumors, but we aren't as bad as the last leader." I made a face. "Even the Hirako were smart enough to know that Uncle Haru was bad news for our future."

Aizen busied himself with cleaning his glasses. "So he was," he agreed in the toneless way of someone who didn't want to give his own opinion. Oops. Maybe I should've said something a little less embarrassing, in case he mentioned it in front of my parents later. Or, more likely, if Nanase heard it and mentioned it later. He'd been chattering practically nonstop the whole way. I'd only gotten a break from him when we'd stopped at a market to get gifts for each other and at hot springs when he elected to stay in his room. No one knew exactly how he stayed clean. Snowmelt and a bar of soap?

Of course, I wasn't much better when it came to talking. Nervousness about going home combined with Arashi's nagging had gotten me talking a lot more than I usually did about nothing at all.

"Oi! Glasses, Narin, keep up!" Shinji hollered back. I blinked, noticing that we were several paces behind the group. "Stop making kissy faces at each other an' walk!"

Aizen turned as white as the snow clinging to his hair. For my part, I screeched wordlessly at him, dashing past Shinju to jab him in the back.

"You idiot!" I shouted when I pluck the words from a mind that couldn't decide whether to shut down out of embarrassment or anger. "Don't- don't embarrass Aizen-san like that!"

Shinji snorted. "I'm pretty sure that it's s'posed to be the guy stickin' up for the girl, ya backwards bookworm. Oi, Aizen! Get up here with th' rest of us, dumbass!"

Aizen obliged, trotting up besides me. "Someday, Shinji-san," he said in the measuredly conversational way of someone trying to avoid reacting violently, "I'm going to teach you how to see things from others' perspectives. Such as perhaps not implying nonexistent relationships?"

My violent twitch had nothing to do with his second sentence. I hoped they all knew that.

Right, I thought as we continued, the sloped roofs of the first Hirako building appearing as we crested the last rise before the flatlands that lent us our name. This won't last forever. But how can I do anything when everything's so slow?

Shinju made a noise of appreciation. "It's so colorful, even in winter," she murmured. Shinju didn't have to point to show what she was talking about. The brilliant yellow and pink paint across the roofs of the guardhouses drew everyone's eye. It wasn't as bad as it sounded, really. The particular shade of pink used for the roofs was redder than our clan colors generally used and the gold, though not actually gold, came close enough to be tasteful. New Year's colors for fortune. Just seeing them made my heart warm.

Minoru, for his part, squeaked with surprise. "How long does it take to slather all that on?" he asked, blinking like he hoped they would go away.

"Way too long, an' these brats should've been around for it," a deep drawl said. Its owner emerged from one of the guardhouses by the east gate, shit-eating-grin firmly in place. Someday I'd have to find out if our family trees intersected at all.

"It's not my fault!" I protested as Shinji made a rude gesture at the man, retorting, "Ya want a fuckin' captain outta this fuckin' house or what?"

Kawaguchi Sousuke laughed, taking it in the spirit it was meant—or maybe he had plenty of spirits inside him by now. You never knew with the holidays so close, and the man definitely had a prominent gut anyway. As I'd found out as a child intent on trying out my new Shifting Moon tricks on someone, that didn't detract from his strength at all. "I swear, ain't no point in callin' ya 'young master.' Ya got a mouth on you as dirty as my great-grandda's."

"Mine too," a similarly bass voice rumbled as another guard stepped out of his guardhouse. He looked our group up and down from beneath thick eyebrows. Despite his bushy beard, a few ice crystals already collecting on it, Sousuke's twin Ryuunosuke had no hair on the top of his head. "Though I guess that ain't a coincidence. yeah?"

Oh, he was definitely drunker than a seventh-year after finals. "Good afternoon, Sousuke-san, Ryuunosuke-san," I said before they could embarrass themselves. "These are my friends, Fujikage Shinju-chan, Aizen Sousuke-san, Fugai Minoru-kun, and Nanase Hibiki-kun. They're staying with us for New Year's. I think my parents would've told you to expect us?"

"Ah, that's right," Ryuunosuke said, flushed cheeks rounding as he grinned. "If it's alright with y'all, m' idiot brother an' I'll get yer bags."

"I wouldn't want ta be a problem-" Minoru blurted, protests cut off as Sousuke stepped in and wrested his belongings away.

"Wish everybody had yer mindset, kid!" Ryuunosuke grunted as he took Aizen's stuff. "Make my job a hell of a lot easier. But nah, this is what we get paid for. Don't tear yer hair out over it."

"Not my stuff!" Nanase screamed, reiatsu bristling.

I glanced over to see Sousuke stopped with his hands outstretched for Nanase's belongings, confused expression on his leathery face.

"What's happenin'?" Shinji asked, all at once as much an adult as the guards, blond brows drawn together in a sharp frown.

"I-I just wanted ta take h-his stuff for 'im," Sousuke stammered, falling all over himself as he struggled for an explanation. "If 'e wants ta hang onta them, that's no skin off my nose!" He stepped back, raising his hands in surrender.

Shinji relaxed, smile playing over his lips again. "See, Nanase, it ain't no problem. Ya wanna take yer stuff, ya can, but it's fer convenience."

Nanase set his jaw, reiatsu subsiding. "Yeah, okay. Guess I haven't grown outta Takahashi after all, huh?" He forced a laugh, but the intrusion of his natural accent gave him away.

"Every group's got to have someone who's high-strung," I teased as we were led past the gate. "Guess you're ours, Nanase-kun!" I bumped him with my shoulder, prompting a slightly more normal chuckle.

"Guess so."

You know those family gatherings with all the relatives pinching your cheeks and talking about things you have no interest in but have to listen to anyway to be polite? Yeah, try that with a whole clan of people who've earned a reputation for being talkative and sociable a thousand times over. And half of them were drunk, the ones who weren't either children or slightly senile relatives whose wrinkles could give Yamamoto's a run for their money. The dogs underfoot everywhere didn't help.

We arrived right in the middle of that chaos, nearly getting run over by a servant running past as he yelled something about preparing enough food in time.

Shinji, for his part, started laughing his head off and threw his arms out wide.

"Welcome ta our home!" he shouted over the din, wrapping one arm around my shoulder and the other around Shinju's. "Let's get ya introduced ta our parents and find ya somewhere ta sleep!"

He led the way through the crowd of overwhelmingly blond people, tugging Shinju along. I barely managed to grab her hand and seize Nanase's before we were swallowed up by the sweaty masses. And let me tell you, sweaty was accurate—not everyone could hold their sake as well as our father and some faces were very flushed.

We found Kenji in his study, as usual, though it was a lot more crowded than usual with all the people who needed to ask him about this detail or that. Equally unsurprising was the amount of papers strewn everywhere. Some retainer was fluttering from person to person, addressing their problems if he could so Kenji had less to deal with. My heart warmed just seeing them. Order out of chaos—we couldn't manage it when it came to paperwork, but the Hirako could handle people.

"Perhaps we should wait until later," Aizen ventured, echoed by Minoru and Nanase's emphatic nods. It was amazing how they could synchronize so well when they were nervous. I was inclined to agree until Shinji shoved his way to the front of the line.

"Oi, old man!" he shouted just as Kenji turned around from grabbing a scroll. "I got introductions ta make!"

Beside me, Shinju's jaw dropped. "Is he usually that forward?" she whispered.

"Have you met Shinji?" I retorted, following him over to Kenji and motioning for the others to come with me. I dipped my head to at least pretend like civility was a thing around here. "Happy New Year's!"

Kenji, just like his son, cared absolutely nothing about what was in his way, practically knocking over his desk to wrap us both in a hug.

"M'little stars are back ta followin' the moon again!" Kenji exclaimed. Oh yeah, he'd definitely joined the drinking. My dad only got poetic with sake in him. He held us until my lungs started to burn, releasing us with a shout of "Introductions!"

Shinju bowed from the waist, knocking a paper half-hanging off the desk to the floor when her head brushed it. She stooped again to put it back into place, blushing brilliant pink. "S-sorry! I'm Fujikage Shinju, sir."

Kenji laughed. "Good catch, Shinji!" His forehead wrinkled. "Though we can't be havin' a Shinju an' a Shinji. Junko, that's it," he proclaimed, making a sweeping gesture towards Shinju, who to her credit just blinked and blushed darker pink. "I'm callin' ya Junko now, darlin'. Who's next?"

Minoru bowed even more deeply. "I-I-I'm called Fugai Minoru, Lord Hirako, sir," he stammered. "Honor t-ta meet ya."

Kenji grinned. "Where're ya from, boy?" he asked, raking a hand through already-unkempt blond hair. "Can't be near here, or ya'd know that hardly anybody calls the likes of me 'Lord.'"

Minoru flushed red, mouth working as he tried to come up with an apology.

"It ain't a faux pas, boy," Kenji assured him. "Yer district?"

"I-I'm from West 67th, Fugai," he said between short, sharp breaths. "S-so-"

"I said don't worry about it!" Kenji scolded, shaking his head. "Honestly, kids these days get so flustered over the littlest things. Next?"

Nanase stepped forward, bowing deeply enough to put even Minoru to shame. "I'm Nanase Hibiki, sir," he mumbled. "I hope you'll treat me well."

Kenji positively beamed. Oh dear. I was going to have to pry him off of Nanase. Kenji prided himself on his sense for people—to be fair, with his career he did have a good idea of who was good people or not—and, being a Hirako through and through, treated people he deemed likable as though he'd known them for ages. Not everybody liked that. "Course we will! 's New Year's! Ya need anythin' at all, come an' find me and we'll settle it." He sent a glance at the fidgeting adults behind us. "Ah, looks like I better not keep everybody waitin'. 'fraid I'll have ta shoo y'all out fer now, but- hey, kid, what're ya doin' hidin' back there?"

Ah, so that's who I'd been forgetting. I glanced over my shoulder to see Aizen shuffle out from behind Shinju.

"Sorry, sir," he muttered, adjusting his glasses. Behind the dark lenses, his eyes skittered off to the side. "I'm used to concealing myself, I suppose. I'm Aizen Sousuke."

Kenji blinked. "So you're the one with the right odd name, huh? How was it in that letter... 'indigo dye?' Like ya don't even exist, kid!" He laughed for just a few seconds longer than was comfortable, then shook his head. "Who the hell are ya?"

Aizen shifted from foot to foot. "Your guest, sir. If that's all...?"

"Sorry, I think he's a little drunk," I muttered to my friends before raising my voice again. "We're going to get my friends some rooms, okay? B-"

His brow creased. "Ah, wait! Yer mother wanted ta see ya as soon as ya got here—just Nariko, don't ya fret. Somethin' about a cousin whose name I didn't catch. She was makin' introductions fer her around the pavilion next to that old plum tree."

I pursed my lips. Ugh, she wants me to be friendly to some cousin I've never met? Probably going to be some socialite who wants me to show her around everywhere and hang out with my friends, I complained mentally. And it's going to be so awkward. What is wrong with that woman?

Still, after I'd grumbled sufficiently to everyone when we'd made our escape from the study, I trudged off to the designated pavilion. Stupid parents.

Though it wasn't like I minded too much, it took longer to get there than I'd expected. When I finally shoved my way out of the stream of people, I was faced with a group of yukata-clad women, none of whose faces were made up with anything resembling properly ladylike makeup. Arashi's sniff was almost audible.

Gotta love 'em, I thought to her as I lingered at the edge of the pavilion, trailing my gaze over the delicate buds that crowned the tree sprawling over the nearby pond and the pavilion itself. A shame I wouldn't be here to watch it bloom. At least I'm not expected to be good at putting it on. Or shave my eyebrows.

Stop avoiding your responsibility, daoshi, Arashi scolded. Go say hi.

As it turned out, I was allowed to avoid seeking out that responsibility, if only by having it thrust on me when my mother stepped out of a circle of women with the most brilliant smile I'd ever seen on her face. My stomach sank.

"Nariko! Ya certainly took yer time gettin' here, didn't ya?" She grabbed my arm and dragged me over, ignoring my whimper of pain. The thick sleeves of the winter uniform were no match for lacquered nails. "Meet yer cousin from the branch house! Ain't she just the cutest thing?" We came to a halt in front of the aforementioned cousin and-

Oh, you have got to be kidding me. I'm related to her?! "Sorry in advance," I blurted out.

Sarugaki Hiyori glared at me as though apologies were grounds for murder in her book. "What've ya got ta be sorry for?" she demanded, tiny fists clenched at her sides. "Ya get those bores at Shin'ou ta fail me 'fore I even get shipped there or somethin'?"

There's got to be a mistake, I thought, staring at her. She's adopted. Or a foster-daughter. Or an impostor. Nope. Not Hiyori. No way. Hiyori isn't so- My brain ran out of words, because there were a lot of things that my Hiyori was that this one wasn't. Visored, for one, and cartoonishly violent, for another. This not-Hiyori hadn't kicked me for pissing her off. Her hair wasn't even in her characteristic pigtails, for heaven's sake! What was this little comb doing there? Who'd gotten her to sit still long enough to pull her hair back in the first place? And where was her characteristic fang?

Makoto reached over and pushed up my chin with the back of her hand. "Don't start catchin' flies, Nariko," she said. "Ain't ya happy ta meet her? She'll be joinin' you two at Shin'ou for the spring trimester! Special circumstances, y'know," she added in a faux-conspiratorial whisper. "Well? Say somethin'!"

"Um, I didn't catch your name," I said intelligently, eyes still fixed on her face. Brown eyes shot daggers back at me.

Hiyori snorted, folding her arms across her chest. "Figures! Too good ta talk Osaka-ben an' too good ta ask anybody else's name!"

I just did! I wanted to scream, biting back the cutting words I was sorely tempted to fling at her. "Sorry," I said instead.

She snorted again. "Apologizin' all the time! What kinda princess are ya? I'm Sarugaki Hiyori. Bet I'd make a better heir than some shrinkin' violet!" She grinned, as though daring me to prove it.