Chapter 18: Cast in Gold and Silver Arc: From Ash, Renewal

Notes:

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

Chapter Text

Arc Flower: Laurel

As it happened, a day's headstart was a fairly flexible period of time.

Watching students trickle in from my dorm window, I could only guess that the headstart part was more important than the day. It made sense if I thought about it. Depending on where you'd been sent, your mentors—my arm ached at the word—might not need every hand on deck, not to mention the different travel times. Sure, flash-step was a thing, but its efficiency depended on terrain, the person hauling you back, and how often you could stop to catch your breath and grab a bite. Shinigami got tired too, after all. We were human.

I frowned, tapping my brush on the edge of the inkstone. Were we? Sure, we looked it, with allowance for cosmetic variants like pink hair, Komamura, and the tinkering of the future 12th, but outside of fiction, humans didn't shoot fire from their fingers or run so fast they left afterimages or even live as long as we did.

Humanity in Soul Society was a flexible thing. People still said "I'm only human" and referred to the "human" body. Which, well, fair. The only physical difference between souls, apart from the usual, was between Hollows and Souls-with-a-capital-S, leaving out animals, whose whole thing I wasn't touching, and you didn't exactly need to draw a fine line between Hollows and people. That humanity flew out the window when it came to discussing Quincy was something I chalked up to a mix of racism and common sense. Racism because anyone with eyes could see that apart from a tendency to look Western and thus in the minority, they were nowhere near Hollow-level different, and common sense because Quincy and their powers were nasty and in a world of souls united under a Soul King, theirs were fundamentally broken by loyalty to an emperor.

I was very, very lucky that when my soul had undergone reincarnation, it hadn't broken that way. The Rukongai was rough enough for regular souls.

And yet I felt kinda cheated by how much humanity I'd retained. Kurotsuchi had taken gods knew how many electrocutions, a dislocated shoulder, genital burns, and impalement and lived. That last one was somewhat a function of how impalement worked, granted, but a concussion had wrecked me. I was vulnerable to the same injury as someone who fell out of bed the wrong way.

"Concussion, sprained ankle, first-degree burn, shock, way too many bruises," I mumbled, taking stock of the injuries I could remember. My brain could access those memories as well as any, but it had experienced them concussed. They were never going to be perfect. But I had to be.

Going forward with that in mind…

What narrow abilities we had, barring cool Shikai—which I totally had, I reassured Arashi—or miscellaneous skills like sky-walking, just weren't that versatile, or even fun. Maybe that was why Shin'ou was so serious. We all wanted to be here, wanted to have the power of the Shinigami, but no one wanted to learn what we were here for.

And yet somehow I had to motivate myself to train, because while Soul Society operated on a time scale where a child could be decades old, threats didn't.

I set my brush down entirely, trying to gather my thoughts. The first thing I'd done when we'd returned was bathe. The second thing, the one I felt like I hadn't stopped since, was write. My Before scroll, the only belonging I'd brought to Kinsawa that had made it out, because I hadn't left it in the incinerated barracks, was the unfortunate recipient of my notes, being that my facial seals were in there. It was better than carrying around a library, though.

The first part was some quick ideas for what to do with my friends—guilt stabbed through me at that, but I brushed it away. I wasn't doing this because I wanted to hurt them; quite the opposite.

Nanase I needed to disengage from. I didn't hate him, far from it, but we were two years apart and very different people. Once he went to the Gotei, it'd be hard to maintain our relationship until we graduated, and two years was a long time in such different environments. He needed a social circle of his peers. Minoru, in my opinion, needed a nudge towards expanding his options in combat. He was decently effective and creative with his streetfighting base, but it wouldn't get him a good seat. I wasn't sure what to do with Hiyori—no doubt she already knew how to take on opponents of any size because Hiyori—beyond having her back. Still, she was Sarugaki Hiyori, future badass, but also Sarugaki Hiyori, cousin and current badass who'd almost died protecting me. She got a triple-underlined note to thank her profusely. Shinji needed a talk with me. I'd gathered that he and Aizen had gotten split up, leaving Aizen to fight his way out of a Hollow nest that had already killed a squad while Shinji skewered a Quincy. I didn't know how he'd handled his first kill.

Aizen needed... a lot more help than I could give him, honestly, but I could start with an apology for shutting down on him and work from there.

Where to start with Shinju. She and I... I pinched the bridge of my nose. We needed a reset button or this was going to get untenable. I didn't hate her, despite everything. She was clearly working through some baggage concerning her family and her social standing and I was completely the wrong person to help, given that I was resolved to ignore my own situation. I hesitated to call us incompatible, since we had perfectly civil conversations and we'd worked together fine before, but relying on proximity to get us to click was the wrong tack. There was a good chance we couldn't just click. We had to approach this like a contract, like a business relationship, and see where that took us.

But they would take care of themselves, to a degree. Only I could take care of myself. I just didn't know where to start.

Part of it, I suspected, would come with time. I had plenty of time, and that was the problem. It was hard to motivate yourself without a clear end goal and things like 'good at Zanjutsu' weren't exactly objective. And the time I had to build my skills before they mattered to recruiters was nowhere near the total amount of time I had. I couldn't afford to be lazy, but knowing that in the grand scheme of things, I could afford to put off training one more day, didn't help.

I cast an eye towards Arashi, mounted above my desk. Her silver guard winked at me, as if agreeing.

Thanks, I thought in her direction. Raindrops, like an afterthought, came back. I had a suspicion she was up to something, but what was beyond me. My Zanpakutou was more enigmatic than I would've expected—or wanted—from a Zanpakutou so fond of the truth. But I respected her privacy, like I preferred others to do for me, and didn't ask.

Part of the problem with motivation for training was her. Not my spirit herself, but the existence of my Zanpakutou. News of her had spread fast through Shin'ou. Even non-noble Shinigami of the Gotei 13 had connections to this place, what with friends and recruitment, so no doubt it'd be in Seireitei proper soon enough, if it wasn't already. Here I got stares and whispers and the occasional overly-enthusiastic question that my brain locked up trying to answer. Real Shinigami wouldn't be so impressed with the likes of me, but on paper, Arashi made me damn impressive. With her, I could be called a prodigy. If I was feeling confident, a legend in the making.

Gah. That just sounded wrong. But I had to keep it in mind, if only to gauge how much progress I actually had to make, because just because I could be called that didn't make me one.

Arashi was such a big selling point that I risked tripping over her. No matter how much I wanted to rest on my laurels and coast into a mediocre but respectable seat in the Gotei, I had a very specific destination that the winds of chance were unlikely to carry me to. If recruiters saw Arashi in my file and stamped yes without thinking, why bother working hard? It was a question that'd turn fatal if I listened to it, whether from bad luck or in the course of service.

My lip curled. I was a damn hard worker. To have that fall by the wayside, whether out of human laziness and procrastination or out of strangers being blinded by my lucky accident, was unacceptable. Not to mention I didn't have to be so good people fell over themselves offering positions. I had to be fantastic, so fucking stellar that I could demand whatever spot I wanted. Within reason, of course; I was never going to make captain even if that had been my goal.

So my immediate goals. I had five main areas to improve in: the four Zankensoki and my spirit-sense, as I'd taken to calling it.

Despite my crushing lack of Kidou skills, that entry was the smallest, partly for lack of information from which to work and partly for lack of ambition in it, long-term. I couldn't recall many lieutenants who were that skilled in it, save for Hinamori and Rukia. Of course, they were all competent, so I had to be as well, but I just wanted enough skill to be effective. Some Bakudou to set up bigger strikes and a few Hadou. I flexed my fingers, both to work the kinks out from writing and at the memory of that Byakurai. That'd been exhilarating. Something to work on.

Was I bad for not being enamored with Kidou? It should've entranced me, the power to throw elemental forces around and bind people with pure energy. But somehow, it didn't.

The thing about Shinigami powers was that they were skewed heavily towards fighting. Kidou alone escaped that fate, and then only because you could use it for things like fireworks and not-technology, not that the latter really saw much use outside of the Kidou Corps and a few noble houses' collections. It just wasn't that effective outside of surprise attacks and very limited tech. I couldn't really see myself using something that required long, involved chants in the middle of battle.

I bit my lip, pausing my brush between the 'Kidou' heading and the 'spirit-sense' heading. Did I have any interest in the Kidou branch that let me control my personal powers? Not particularly. This wasn't Naruto, where you could just slap down a seal and make things go boom. Seals here were for binding and restraint only, more a contained system of Bakudou than a real combat tactic. I kinda felt obligated, though, considering they were on my face. I marked it down as a 'after everything else is done' goal.

Now spirit-sense, since that was where I was on the paper. As shaky as any tactic developed while concussed was, tuning into Zanpakutou to predict their strikes didn't seem like a bad idea. Not a great one, since area-of-effect attacks like that poison cloud were still going to get me, as were attacks I just wasn't quick or strong enough to avoid or block. But it was more than nothing. If I could fiddle with the volume so it wasn't distracting, it could work as an auxiliary skill.

Houhou was another heading I didn't have too much under. I wanted it to be one of my strongest skills, just because not getting hit meant fewer wounds to heal and shorter, more conclusive fights. But it was hard to pin down what exactly mastery of Houhou looked like. All I really had there were improving my stamina and the number of steps it took me to get from point A to point B.

Hakuda was actually the bulkiest. On the logical level, it harmonized well with my tessen, which were short enough that a shift in grip would let me use them in hand-to-hand, theoretically, and it was my strongest skill. Emotionally, after getting half-disarmed by Kurotsuchi, I didn't want to be caught flat-footed again. Never mind that I wouldn't have been much better off using Hakuda then. I needed something to soften the edge of helplessness that'd buried itself in my gut, and the art that let me punch mountains in half and take sledgehammer blows without flinching would do. I did have a concrete goal there: to be confirmed as a Shifting Moon master. I had to do it anyway for investiture as hime, as the princess of my clan. Once I did that, I'd have more access to my family's political clout and prestige, as much as we had any, as well as responsibilities.

Zanjutsu expertise went without saying. I couldn't see myself as a master, but you needed excellent Zanjutsu to be a lieutenant, no ifs ands or buts. Certainly good Zanjutsu would be essential to bring Arashi to her full potential. Still, I had the feeling time was the biggest factor in Zanjutsu. Experience would teach me how to see and exploit holes in my opponents' swordfighting, which was half the battle with Zanjutsu anyway.

Heh. Half the battle.

On the side of peacetime... I frowned, returning my gaze to the dribble of returning students. I'd run into a group back from East 7th, Akioka, on my trip to the baths, who hadn't had more than a few scratches, and they'd readily admitted those came from helping clear a river blocked by storms.

I might've glowered a bit at that. They'd scurried away without further comment, at any rate.

They hadn't needed to comment. All I'd had to do—all anyone had to do—was look at their leader. A fair-skinned girl half a head taller than me, she'd been wearing a hairpin whose smoke-and-wings emblem belonged to the Kuchiki. The way she'd ducked her head while mentioning the source of her injuries hinted that she knew just how privileged she was. Her companions, twin boys in Himura red and a girl whose drab look said 'retainer,' wore smirks that said they knew too and they weren't particularly concerned about how everyone else had made out.

That I could begrudge. Privilege was one thing. Every society had it; it was what it was, whether it should've been or not. An "I got mine" outlook was another entirely. That sort of people didn't care about making things better, as long as they were taken care of, and they were vicious when that status was threatened. They weren't assholes, necessarily, just selfish.

I let it go. Even if they knew the facts, even if they knew the despair of staring death in the face again , they couldn't understand . There was no use wasting my energy when ignorance would get them killed.

I wasn't being cynical. Just realistic.

That exchange had kindled a thought in me: I'd been focused on the power of the battlefield and the future, but that wouldn't mean shit when some self-important relative of Momohiko mummified me in red tape. I should've already thought about it, with how much effort my family spent avoiding it and how older students had a class called "Administrative Abilities." Maybe my focus on the part of my history that'd keep me alive here had made me forget the history within my history—the sort that reminded me that you could totally go to war over some guy's ear. Politics and bureaucracy might not hold a sword to your throat, but they could definitely put its wielder there. Theirs was a subtle power.

Not that I wanted power. I swear I didn't. But I very much didn't want to be blindsided by the product of some backroom deal. So I'd have to acquire political clout, one way or another.

A conversation with my parents was probably the best step to take there. It'd have to wait until the school year was over, but they'd definitely have a few tips and tricks. It'd likely thrill them to be asked, or at least alleviate a smidgen of their disappointment in me. Shinju, with her upbringing at court and refined manners, might be able to help me out sooner, but I was going to wait until we established whether we'd be allies or just coexist. It'd be incredibly presumptuous to assume she'd help.

I had to iron out myself, too. What were the masks I wanted- no, needed to wear? I had told Arashi I wanted to scare the shit out of some people so they wouldn't fight me. People were scared of different things at different times; my implacable kata-mask would scare a novice, while inappropriate humor would unnerve people who expected to have the upper hand, for instance. The latter I might easily accomplish with a more general-purpose mask, one I found almost fun: the cloudcuckoolander. More specifically, the zany, eccentric genius who went off on tangents and cracked bad jokes in between exploits. It was the person I wanted to be, not the person I was, and so would fit me better than Shinji's blasé, casual demeanor or Urahara's goofiness.

That that person was more extroverted than me was something I'd have to deal with. But with enough recharge time, I'd be fine.

Needles of pain shot up my legs. I hissed between my teeth, flopping onto my butt to shake them out. One step I had already taken was trying to train myself to sit seiza better by sitting seiza even when I didn't have to. My legs had picked the perfect time to get longer, and the growing pains weren't helping my efforts.

Well, I might as well take a break, see the light of day, all that. I rolled my scroll up, careful not to smudge the ink, and tucked it into my shitagi. Arashi joined it, thrust through my obi.

Together we set out to do battle with our greatest enemy: social interaction.

I'd intended to seek out Nanase first, to get an assessment of how campus had been since our absence and to apologize to him again. It might've been unnecessary, might've even annoyed him to have me falling over myself apologizing, but I still felt guilty. It should've been his choice to tell me. That, and I needed to get started disengaging. Better to shift over to being cordial acquaintances now, so he could establish a more sustainable social circle among his peers. I was still going to watch over him, like Seinosuke had asked me to, but it was easier on the both of us if I had fewer people to manage.

Back to 'I'd intended.' Because apparently my kid brother had had intentions of his own, and they involved talking to me. Go figure.

"Narin? Ya listenin' ta me?"

And here we were, sitting under a tree in Mizuchi, him cross-legged, me in seiza, and both of us taking full advantage of the sunlight that had graced us today.

"Don't call me that!" I replied instinctively, twisting the beads of my necklace around my fingers. "There's a lot going on, that's all."

He rolled his eyes. "A.k.a. you're half-listenin'. But I guess ya ain't wrong." He took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and shut it again. "I-" he tried. "You-"

"Collect your thoughts," I chided, feeling the necklace's string go taut and deciding my hakama were safer fidgets. "Unless you want me to go first?"

He shook his head sharply, golden mane rasping against the starched kosode. "Not a chance! You'll start ramblin' about how I'm feelin' or somethin' an' we'll never leave. I ain't lettin' that get started."

"Hey, I'm not mushy as all that," I protested, ignoring that that was why I'd wanted to talk to him. "Stop talking and start thinking."

It was a few moments before he began, which took me a bit by surprise. I hadn't thought he'd actually take my advice. Not that he'd taken a while to really collect himself, but that was an improvement over his usual no-filter mouth.

"I gotta become a captain," he said, hands mirroring mine, wrapped in his hakama. "That's the only way anything's gonna change."

I had enough self-control to not let my jaw drop, just barely. That... hadn't been where I'd thought he was going to go with this. Where'd that ambition come from? Where had his devil-may-care attitude gone?

"Change?" I said, because it looked like his loose tongue had so many words rushing to make it out that it'd gotten tangled.

His sunny reiatsu, which usually played over his surroundings, beat against me with scorching heat for an instant. I nudged it back with a sheet of sea spray, a gentle rebuke. "They left it ta us ta pacify Kinsawa," he said. "A bunch of Shin'ou students who barely know which end of a sword goes in the enemy."

"That's a low opinion of yourself," I commented. Clearly I was going to have to tease it out of him. "Especially considering how strong you are."

He scoffed. "Okay, maybe I'm somethin' special, but how in the hell were they supposed ta know that? How were we supposed ta deal with a Quincy rebellion?"

"We did deal with it," I said quietly, remembering Minoru standing tall with Mari's head, stomach caked in gore. "You didn't exactly play a small part in that."

"But what if we hadn't?" he pressed, eyes glinting. "What if we froze up an' all that strength got pissed down the drain when the Quincy killed us?"

I frowned. I didn't particularly want to think about that what-if. Even the suggestion that we hadn't suffered to put Mari down grated, as if trying to undo how hard and right it'd been. "Leave the what-ifs to me, Shin. We did it. We lived. End of story."

"What if it hadn't been us?" he burst out, grip white-knuckled on his knees. "What if it were those girls that about blew themselves up with shitty Kidou a month or two before New Year's? What if they were there, they failed, an' the Quincy hurt more people?" He exhaled, long and hot, peeling each finger off his knees and cracking them. "They shoulda been there, Nari-nee! The folks who didn't get blown ta bits shoulda had their commanders sendin' backup. We shoulda had the guys whose jobs it were ta fight this shit there at our sides! We shouldn't have been left ta deal with that so Ounabara can sleep easier knowin' he ain't feedin' anyone who don't deserve it. That ain't how ya test strength. That's how ya test luck."

I sucked in a breath. It wasn't as 'modern' as my beliefs, but it was a step towards the Shinji I'd known, crafty and out of step with everyone else not because he was stupid, but because he was one step ahead. And as much as I hated to admit it—younger brother and all—he was being surprisingly mature. Being captain wasn't just a powerful position or my parents' dream for him, it was a huge responsibility. Recognizing that was... good.

"You're right," I conceded with a duck of the chin. "I'm never going to say that again, but you're right. They owed us more." I conjured up a stronger smile than the soft one I'd put on with my shoes, tapping my chin with one finger as though I'd just thought of something fun. "Now, that almost sounds like incentive to be a better version of those people. I wonder who might possibly be right for the job."

He tossed his head, reiatsu paradoxically calming. "I am aimin' ta be a captain! Get off my back, ya nag!"

I tsked. "Then I'm afraid you'll have to put just a bit of effort in. Captains don't just have to be good, dear brother, they have to be the best. They have to know the people and places they're protecting, be expert in every art, have Bankai... and have vision." I looked at him side-eyed, face turned towards the courtyard walls. "Does any part of that sound like you?"

He made grumbling noises. "Ya offerin' ta train me? I ain't really seein' any magic catalyst 'round here."

I considered. On the one hand, I wasn't qualified. On the other hand, what we needed was training and my parents had asked me to. That was a yes, then. I filtered it through my dreamy smile. "Is that a request?" I beamed. "Well, I could never refuse my little brother's cry for help." Ignoring his protests, I continued, "I'd be delighted. Only I'm afraid it'll turn into my great brother training me." A theatrical sigh, just sincere enough to avoid accusations of Urahara-silliness. "Zanjutsu, do you think? I at least have been doing pretty well there."

He sputtered for a second. "Who are ya, an' what've ya done with my sister? Actually wantin' ta train fightin'?" But a grin was working its way over his face at the implicit challenge. "Ain't no way you're gonna be better than me!"

It was a good thing I'd provoked that, or I might've slipped. As it was, my mouth twitched. "I was meaning to talk to you," I said abruptly, switching tacks and molding my face into something that I hoped looked compassionate. The only thing that stopped it from being the truth was lingering memory of the last time I'd talked about supporting Shinji. "I heard... you killed one of the Quincy. How are you feeling?"

He tilted his head, looking genuinely puzzled. It was an interesting look for him, given the effect it had on his heavy hair. "I'm fine."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's what you said when Ishiura-san died. You weren't fine, Shin." Talk to me.

"Ya said I didn't haveta be superhuman too," he shot back.

Okay, point. "There's more to humanity than how many mountains you can level," I said. "Like being mature enough to open up."

He threw up his hands. "I don't know what ta tell ya, then, 'cause I'm fine! He was a criminal an' he wasn't gonna give up hurtin' people any time soon. It sucks, but we had ta put him down, like ya do with the dogs when they get real old. Only he got hardcore Quincy."

Well. That killed every dialogue I'd planned. I guessed I couldn't expect him to react the same way I did, but somehow I had expected him to have that initial conflict. Then again, he had never known anything but the Soul Society dogma that criminals didn't deserve mercy. I thought about calling him on comparing Quincy to dogs, but I couldn't quite find the goodness in my heart after almost getting sucked dry a few days before by one. "Then I'll take your word for it," I said at last. What was I going to do, try to argue my baby brother into being torn up about killing someone who, yeah, probably wouldn't have given up murder and insurrection? "Just know that if you ever aren't fine-"

"-I can come ta ya, I know," he finished. "Will do." He yawned. "Ain't too much ta that, really. I fought a buncha these crazy fire guys with blue lines on their arms, then that guy appeared with arrows. I beat him. Just about passed out doin' it—don't tell any o' our teachers, but they might be onta somethin' with stamina trainin'—but he went all the same. Ran inta Short, Pale, an' Creepy after that. Ya should ask him about it." His lazy smirk flickered and fell along with his gaze. "It really ain't my story. Shouldn'ta been his neither, but ya know I ain't great at comfortin'."

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. "What, I am?" I said, forcing a dry tone to match my suddenly dry mouth. I smirked. "You have such faith in me, dear brother."

Shinji's brow creased. "But ya will talk ta him?" he demanded. His concern was serious, even if he didn't feel up to helping.

I nodded, rising. "Right after we finish up our spar." I rolled my eyes at his groan. "If we wait until tomorrow, we'll both forget. Now c'mon. I heard Matsuoka-sensei's training hall is free."

I headed for Aizen's and my usual haunt when Shinji and I weren't finished. Unlike before, my order of people to talk to wasn't disrupted by someone coming to find me. No, I managed that fine on my own, navigating around the campus notice boards to find Minoru and a gaggle of other students on the other side. Not all of them first-years, by the looks of it, and none of them still-tongued.

"Hey," I waved at him breezily. A few first-years in the group jumped at my appearance. One looked particularly confused, which I had to assume was the result of my smile. Shinju had been right about my face being buried in a scroll all the time. "What's up?"

He pointed at the board. "See fer yerself."

I obliged, wedging myself in between two students to get a good look. What, had Ounabara announced we'd be accepting Hollows next year? I smothered a giggle at the thought of a Menos Grande in a school uniform.

The giggle faded as I read the poster everyone was staring at. Well then. A tournament, open to all comers. I read a bit farther down. All comers 'with discretion,' specifically. Single-elimination knockout style, held off-campus, no art off-limits. Maybe I'd go check it out, see if I could get inspired.

Time to test the 'everyday' mask. I gasped dramatically, turning to Minoru. "Oh, is this one of those secret tournaments Fujikage-chan was telling us about?" I stage-whispered, prompting worried glances around from a youngish girl to my left. The older students chuckled. "Did you wanna go see it?"

He frowned, leaning over to me. "I was tryin' t'read it, actually," he muttered. "Been pickin' up the kanji I don't know from folks talkin'."

"How devious of you," I whispered back. The large picture of two swordsmen in red and blue clashing did help with that. "So did you? I haven't used any of my clan stipend—what's the entrance price?"

His frown only deepened. "Keep readin', Nariko-san. I need t'know if what they're sayin' is true."

I almost elbowed him for being vague, but figured it'd made me look like an idiot for not knowing what he was talking about already. So I hmmed and kept reading. It really was quite the detailed poster.

"'1,000 kan entrance price and 2,000 kan spectating price,'" I read. "'We hope that our honored audience understands the high prices, as we are taking into the consideration the presence of the most esteemed, most powerful... officers of the Gotei 13?" Minoru and I exchanged looks. I read on. "'In past years, our clientele has included Captain Kyouraku-sama of the Eighth, Captain Ukitake of the Thirteenth, and Captain Than Sein of the Ninth.'"

Well, shit. There were going to be captains there. That explained more than it didn't. Like why the administration lets this happen, I thought, noting the 'not sponsored by the Spiritual Arts Academy' seal at the bottom. For all that they were using the formal name for Shin'ou, they'd made a seal to proclaim they weren't affiliated with the school. That implied they'd held this thing enough times to need labels and hadn't been caught. Not to mention getting onto campus, where if the onmitsu track students didn't notice you, their full-fledged teachers would.

No way could we get involved. If this was the year they chose to enforce the rules, our careers would be over. Not to mention that even if they didn't, people from every year would be joining. We weren't ready.

"We've got to do it," I announced to Minoru. In the corner of my sight, our peers did a double-take. I caught a "they what?!" from someone who'd been just about to leave. Then they were gone, probably off to tell the world. Good.

He whirled, not even trying to be subtle about it. "We what?" he echoed. "No way! We're gonna die!"

I knew that. And yet. I didn't have to spend now until Turn Back the Pendulum just watching my brother have all the fun.

"How bad could it be?" I said cheerily, playing the first-year who didn't know what she was getting into. "You lopped off a Quincy's head not a week ago," I said, throwing out some Minoru hype. I felt just the tiniest bit guilty for throwing him under the bus as a diversion from myself, but I reasoned Minoru could use the profile boost. "So did my little brother, I think? Or was it stabbing." I pretended to think on it before tapping my fist to my upturned palm. "It'll be character-building!"

With that, I dragged Minoru free of the crowd, taking satisfaction in the whispers that followed.

When we were a decent distance off—strategically in the direction I'd already been going—I ducked into a free Kidou range. I slumped over, getting my breath, before popping up with a grin.

"So, tournament. Doesn't that seem like a fantastic idea?" I said, taking a page from Shinju's book and bouncing on my toes.

"No!" he blurted, then seemed to reconsider. His face went through a fascinating progression from 'crawl in a hole and die' to 'surprised at himself' to 'resolute.' "No," he repeated, more calmly. "Ya know how we agreed I'd make ya sorry if ya pitied me? Well, yer gonna be sorry if ya do this, an' it won't be 'cause of me. They''ll eatcha alive! They'll eat me alive!"

"No, they won't," I said. Technically, they wouldn't be cannibalizing us. "There's no way they could run a tournament like that without healers. It looks bad to have your moneymakers bleed out and be unable to move on or come back next year. Plus, people from the Gotei show up. Captains show up. No way none of them know how to heal."

"We ain't bankin' on captains healin' us!" Minoru hissed. "They're captains!" He said it in a tone reserved for kami. "We'd be blessed if they spit on us! They don't wanna haveta spoil their entertainment with some dumbass kids gettin' hurt."

My grin took on a sly edge. "Exactly! Glad to see you're catching on. They'll be watching. Watching us. If we can put on a good show, we can get their attention. Our profile goes up, our likelihood of getting good seats after graduation goes up, and if we win, our finances go up." The poster had mentioned a cash prize for the winner. It was extra incentive for us to win—and for our competitors, but why sweat the small stuff?

"An' if we lose or we look like morons, which we're gonna 'cause we're first-years, all that goes down," he retorted, but there was a crease of uncertainty in his brow.

"I'll pay the entrance fees," I said. "Don't worry about that part. And we're not gonna look like morons. Did you look like a moron beating down those fake Quincy? Facing down the Quincy at the mine entrance? Holding Mari's head high?"

"I didn't look so great when clown-face tried ta run me through with that Quincy shit; ya even said so," he said, but it was half-hearted. The glow of victory had entered his eyes.

"I also said you survived pretty nicely," I said. "And with just a few tweaks, you could look pretty great."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm in. Just as long as ya don't try an' pair me up with anyone."

"I'll help you beat the admirers off," I said, laughing.

I left him looking for Nanase—who would hopefully continue to stoke the flames of enthusiasm in Minoru—and continued on my way towards Aizen, or at least where I thought Aizen might be. Okay, I was pretty sure. Mentioning Aizen to anyone outside our social circle tended to garner reactions of "who?" or "that weird kid who always has a cold?" Nobody would've dragged him away from his library haven.

I took a left and found myself at a fork in the road. Well, more of a T, but that didn't really matter when I wasn't super sure where to go.

"Left, left, right, straight, left?" I mused aloud. "Or is it straight then right? Would it kill them to put more signs up?"

I turned left to try my luck and took a zouri to the face.

What. Somewhere between sputtering at the dirt in my mouth and trying to work out whether I was hurt or just surprised, I cleared watering eyes enough to see my assailant. Her blonde pigtails bobbed as she threw her head back, laughing triumphantly.

"That's fer pullin' my hair at New Year's!" Hiyori crowed from a safe distance. "Toldja I'd get ya back when ya weren't expectin' it!"

Was I supposed to be amused at how little some people changed? Annoyed at being on the receiving end of slapstick, which started to look a whole lot more like immaturity away from the screen? I settled for utterly lost. "I never pulled your hair, monkey!" I yelled back. On a whim I flash-stepped to her, coming up about a foot away from her. Whoops.

"Do I look like Shinji to you?" I demanded, looming over her as though I'd meant to stop there. My face was dark and hard. Just to see how quick I could switch personas, I hopped back a foot, simultaneously donning a bright, vague smile. "If you need your eyes checked, we can manage that, you know! I'm sure the Fourth Division member on campus would be happy to assist, or maybe they're just healers?" I tapped my chin. "Do you think the Onmitsukidou does vision tests? Like for assassins who throw knives and stuff?"

Hiyori's face set out on the journey to Horrified, got lost at Baffled, and settled in Defensive. "Princess Dumbass! Y-Ya shouldn'ta gotten in the way of my shoe! I was aimin' fer- the signpost!" She pointed at the middle of the T.

"Sarugaki-kun, there's no signpost. That's why I stopped." I fought giggles. She probably wouldn't appreciate that. "You think that'd be a good spot for one, though? I can see it." I stroked my chin, pretending to envision it.

"S-Stop messin' around!" she snapped, flushing pink. "Where's a moron like ya goin' anyway? It's almost time ta eat!"

Was it? Shit. I'd have to save Aizen for later. "I was going to the library," I said, and left it hanging there while I tried to think of a series I could mention that she'd assume I was looking for.

She interrupted my thinking with a knowing smirk. "Goin' ta look for yer boyfriend? I saw him skulkin' around the mess hall earlier." The gong rang distantly, as if to punctuate her words. She raised a tiny fist. "We're goin' ta lunch! An' if ya insist on hidin' in the library some more I'm gonna sock ya in the nose, Princess Bony! Ya gotta eat some!"

I laughed. "You too, then! Put some inches on those legs." I jumped out of the way of her retaliatory kick. "And look for carrots. You'll have less of a headache if you aren't squinting all the time."

Hiyori scowled, which just so happened to squinch her eyes in her characteristic glare. "Shut up. They ain't that bad besides! 's only distance that ain't perfect." She stuck her tongue out at me as if my vision were somehow something to resent.

I shrugged, steering her by the shoulders back the way I'd come, towards food. "Hey, we can be the Bad Eyes Club!" A thought occurred to me and I spun her back around. "Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?"

She folded her arms. "We are talkin'. I guess ya mean about somethin' else."

I nodded, readying myself to adopt a serious look, then reconsidering and dropping pretense entirely. My face hardly shifted, but it was a matter of courtesy. Hiyori was Before-special and my cousin. She deserved a more genuine me. "Yeah. Uh, back in Kinsawa." I waved away the stiffness of her stance. "It's nothing bad. I just- you saved me. Or you tried." Usually my past life brought experience to ease this or that 'new' happening. Here, nothing. All I had was gratitude, fresh and deep and so overflowing that I was torn between hugging her and never letting go and running away until I was on solid ground again. "You tried," I repeated, heat pricking my eyes, "when everyone, even me, gave up. You put yourself between me and death. You-you picked us both up and kept moving when it was done. Sarugaki-kun... I can't tell you how much that means. So, thank you. If I can ever do the same, I will."

Flinty amber softened. She stared up at me for a span of seconds. Just as I was wondering if her hearing was as bad as her eyes, she scoffed and turned away. "Stupid. What kind of failed bodyguard would I be if I hadn't?"

I trotted after her as she began to head in the direction of lunch. "You aren't a failure, Sarugaki-kun," I said.

"Shut it, Princess Dumbass," she said over her shoulder. "Pay me back by pickin' up yer pace."

Aizen wasn't at the usual table, but then, neither was Shinju. I hoped without any confidence that Aizen had made new friends to sit with; I was much more sure that Shinju had from her repeated references to people I didn't know in the past. I almost thought Shinji had joined them until he dropped onto the bench across from me and interrupted Nanase's chipper updates on the state of campus.

"When were ya gonna tell me," he said, and it wasn't a statement or a question, but a threat.

"Tell you what?" I asked around a mouthful of rice. A quick check of my mental 'need to know/don't need to know' partition didn't place anything on the former side. Had I planned to tell him about our parents asking me to train him in Zanpakutou, or just to pretend it was my idea all along? Was that it?

"Don't bullshit me, Nariko," he snarled. "Don't keep secrets so ya can take pity on some no-good thug!" He stabbed a finger at Nanase.

Nanase went white. "M-Me?" he yelped. "I didn't do nothing!"

Shinji's head snapped around. He was just as pale, but it was the white mask of adrenaline, not fear. "Don't fuck with me!" he roared, slamming his hand on the table. His reiatsu spiked, sending people around us reeling and dropping dishes. I swayed with it, shielding myself with a shell of cold fire. Nanase wasn't so lucky, tumbling backwards from the bench. Shinji vaulted the table, landing straddling Nanase. It was a familiar scene, except Shinji didn't look like he wanted teachers anywhere near this. "Ya think ya can rough up my sister an' no one'll bat an eye? Ya think 'cause yer just spineless an' yer friends are greedy bastards yer innocent?"

Ah. Somehow Shinji had gotten onto the 'don't need to know' side. And my classmates—and a few teachers—looked very keen on joining him.

"Hey, hey, chill out," I chirped, pinning a peppy smile in place. "Fighting between friends is so lame! Let's save it for the tournament! I saw this one guy-"

"There ain't gonna be a tournament if I kill him now!" Shinji snapped.

"D-Don't kill me! Please, Shinji-sama!" Nanase pleaded, voice soaring into its natural pitch.

"Lookatcha!" Shinji said. "Can't even fess up ta what ya did. Gimme one reason I shouldn't pulverize ya!" He shifted his weight, pressing on Nanase's throat. Would he? He wouldn't really do it. He was a good guy.

"N-Nariko-sama!" Nanase choked out. Reiatsu beaten past the point of resistance fluttered around him. "Help!"

The sun flared and I moved.

None too soon. Shinji's fist shook a centimeter away from Nanase's face, even with both my hands wrapped around his bicep, hauling him back with reiryoku-flooded muscles. His was the blind fury of the sun at noon, searing mercilessly, burning away my water.

Tough. I had lightning.

"I said, that's lame," I bit out. "We're to be shinigami, not white knights."

He strained against my grip. We both knew he could throw me off if he wanted to. I was banking on his respect for his older sister winning out over his anger.

Nanase whimpered beneath us and Shinji tore free. Apparently he cared for me so much he'd rather take revenge on my behalf than listen to me here.

A teacher had approached, though he stood at a distance, sizing us up. Sizing the noble heir about to beat down on the Rukongai dog. My stomach soured. Why the fuck did no one but me care how fucked up this was?

Shinji pulled back his fist again and I lunged, wrapping my arms around his shoulders.

"Get off him," I hissed, putting the chill of disappointment into the words, "and stop trying to fight my battles. I never thought I'd have to call you a bully."

Minoru finally stepped forward, helping me pull Shinji back. As we left, ignoring the eyes of our peers, I snuck a glance at his face. As usual, shaded by bangs and lips pressed into a tight line, it was unreadable. Only the flick of his eyes towards me indicated that we were in agreement.

Something had changed. No, Kinsawa had changed us, for good and for ill. It was the end of our beginning.