Chapter 6: Armoury Arc: The Winds Bear It High 1/2

Summary:

The calm before the storm, the air heavy with rain and the clouds charged with lightning. The smart find shelter. The foolish stand to challenge it and are struck down. And the legendary are the ones who throw the lightning.

...too bad Nariko doesn't know when to shut her mouth.

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

"Hirako! Let's talk."

I'd evaded Oshiro so far. Himura, on the other hand, was a bit harder. Only three and a half days until I didn't have to attend double Hakuda, but if they were anything like the twenty-seven and a half days before them, I'd be watching the clock the whole time.

Metaphorically, of course. Soul Society hadn't discovered the clock yet. Soon, I hoped, because without schedules, without starting and ending times and all that I was left itching for order-

Focus.

I trudged over to Himura as my classmates made their escape. It took only a frown from the man to make something within me shrivel. Probably the beginnings of my Zanpakutou spirit. He had that kind of face.

Don't believe me? Fine. I'll paint you a picture of him, then.

Himura Kyou was an inch taller than me, at best. The fact that his posture was better than a Kuchiki's made him looks taller, though. That and his presence. Not just his reiatsu, hot and metallic, like the sun reflected in a knife, but the way he carried himself. He seemed always ready to defend against—or attack—anything he hadn't triple-checked for safety. Consequently, we got a lecture every day about proper sparring conduct.

Maybe he didn't have it out for me, but it was still annoying. Anyway.

Himura had these wide, pale blue eyes that would've looked innocent if they weren't constantly checking his surroundings for weaknesses. Not just his students' technique, his surroundings. He called it readiness. I would've agreed with him if we weren't in school and surrounded by Shinigami. Part of his idea of readiness was keeping his hair too short to grab—a buzz-cut, like Love's, but receding and light brown. No unnecessary accessories customized his uniform. The only things that kept the man from looking like an out-of-place Army general were the faded black tattoos covering his body. All, according to Himura himself, were cataloged by the Second Division in the event that he died. Something about making his body easier to identify.

I had to confess, staring down at his perfectly regulation waraji, that they were actually kind of cool.

"Hirako, you aren't in trouble," he said, every syllable clipped like the drill sergeant he was.

It was a testament to the way Himura enforced the rules that my head only twitched up, instead of looking him in the eye. Respect, the only thing we agreed on, was paramount in this classroom. "Himura-sensei?"

"I want you to be honest with me, Hirako. What're you like in a fight?" He asked. "No, wait. Look at me when you say it."

I dragged my eyes up to meet his. Once they'd settled on Himura's eyes, or somewhere just above them, it was easy to keep them there. Inertia at work: objects in motion stay in motion, objects at rest stay at rest. Objects that are too uneasy to disobey orders obey orders, at any rate. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"What do I mean? I mean, what're you like when push comes to shove. Why you fight. Why you fight the way you do. How you'd fight against a strong opponent versus a weak one. Speak up, Hirako," he commanded.

I wrapped my fingers tight around one wrist. What did he want from me? I decided to take his questions at face value. "I watch people, sensei," I said at last. "People who look like I might have to fight them. I'd rather ignore them, but I fight to win when I can't avoid it." I hesitated, trying to put my usual strategy into words. "Against any enemy, I'd fight fast and hard. No point in going easy." Which segued nicely into why and how I fought. "I fight because I have to. And that's why I fight the way I fight too, sensei." Okay, I'd answered his questions. Can I go now? I tried to send that message through his held gaze.

Himura 'hmm'ed. "I thought so. You fit your clan better than I've heard, Hirako."

Curiosity won out over concern for my impending lateness. "I still don't know what you mean, Himura-sensei."

"I mean your clan likes doing things the smart way. No more work than you have to do. It's not a bad way to fight." He leaned in. I froze, caught between leaning back and standing still like I was supposed to. "But you know what, Hirako? It's not a good way either. Sometimes you gotta take the fight to them. Sometimes there won't be time for you to watch and learn. And sometimes pressing your opponent is just gonna put their back against a wall. Ever fought a trapped animal, Hirako? Desperate and scared's the worst combination. Trying to deflect it, or overwhelm it, well, you might as well be trying to stop a flood with your hands. It'll go through you, not around."

I blinked rapidly, opened my mouth to say something, and shut it again. The words would've refused to come anyway.

Himura sighed, a rumbling sound, and pulled back. "Hirako, what point am I trying to make to you?"

I gulped, took a few seconds to think through my response. "That I have to act instead of react?"

He shook his head. "Textbook, Hirako. True, but textbook. No. You have to get a handle on your fear."

My fear? I blinked rapidly at him. I wasn't scared, just smart. "I don't get it."

"Of course not," Himura muttered. "You're scared, Hirako. You don't fight fast and careful because you have to if you want to win. You fight that way because you're too scared not to. You fall back on your clan style time and again because you're too scared to remember what I teach you. Or at least, you fall back on the main points of your clan style. Attack, attack, attack." He shook his head again. "It works now, 'cause your classmates are boneheaded second-years, but someday it won't work. So I've asked Ounabara-san to extend your punishment."

"What?" I gaped at him, outraged. "You can't- I mean-"

"Your defense is shoddy and your grappling only slightly better, Hirako," Himura said. I could've sworn a hint of a smug smile touched his lips. "I can and I will, until I've drummed the fear out of you. Or taught you to control it, at least." He was definitely smirking now. "Cheer up. You won't have to help out the other Hakuda teachers anymore. And I'm moving your time. Instead of being with my second Hakuda 2 class, we'll meet... oh, after dinner. You'll learn how to eat properly for our sessions that way."

Oh, Shinji, I hope you were right about me learning something special from him. "Just you and me, Himura-sensei?" I asked, praying that it was some kind of group remedial Hakuda lesson.

He rolled his neck, vertebrae popping. "Depends on which one of my third-years I can get to help out. But mostly just us, yeah. We'll start two days from now. Gives me a chance to draw up some lesson plans. Got it?"

My heart sank. I didn't need more Hakuda lessons. I'd done my time and my classmates could attest that I was doing fine in Hakuda. "Yes, Himura-sensei," I grumbled after a couple seconds. "Can I go now?"

"You can go when I say you can go!" He barked. Himura let me stew a few more seconds before his smirk widened. "You can go."

"...and that's why I was late," I explained to Minoru. "He's always on about respect, but he doesn't respect other people's time!"

Minoru's forehead creased. It was easy to see that he was trying to think of ways to pacify me. "I'm sure he means well fer ya..." He said after a while. "Ah, this kana, is it right?"

I peered down at the symbol he'd written. Despite his late start, Minoru had proven to be a quick study—we were almost finished with learning hiragana. He'd get better with them through practice. "There should be an extra line here." I wrote it on my own paper. "You remember what it sounds like?"

"'Yo,'" he answered. "The guy who sits next ta me in Rukongai Studies is named Youji, that's how I remember."

I nodded, writing another kana on my paper. "It's helpful to have a mnemonic device—something that helps you remember a word, or a kana. What's this one?"

He rolled his eyes, a private victory for me. Every bit I could get him to loosen up helped—not just me, though it helped with teaching, but him too. Minoru had decent reiryoku, above Shinju's, but our Reiryoku Manipulation teacher chastised him at least once a class for being so timid about using it that by the time a technique was ready he'd wasted half the power. The more confidence he had, the better for his career. "That's 'ru.' C'mon, Nariko-san. I can recognize part of my name."

I grinned. "Hey, the r-kana were the hardest for me. How about this one?" I traced another one.

He squinted. "That's... Looks like 'se,' but the little marks mean something."

"'Ze,'" I reminded him. "Okay, your assignment for next time is to study hakuten and youon." To be fair, it was tricky to remember how kana changed their sounds, but 'ji' was a pretty common name ending for guys. I figured he'd get that one quickly at least.

He blew his bangs out of his face, putting away his brush. I cringed, glancing at his case. It contained space for a little extra paper and an inkstone, which meant it had probably cost him more than he could afford. On the other hand, the case's paint had begun to peel and its latches were questionable. I ran through my finances in my head. If I remembered correctly, I had more than enough money to get him a decent case. That one wouldn't last him too long, though I didn't doubt that he knew how to improvise repairs.

"You know, Minoru-kun, you're progressing really fast," I commented as casually as I could. "I'd say you deserve a reward."

He froze, staring at me like a rabbit faced with a hawk. "N-Nariko-san! I couldn't- it wouldn't be fair-"

"What wouldn't be fair? You really are doing great," I told him. Part of me was surprised—who didn't like gifts? Another part, though, wasn't—I usually didn't like gifts, unequal as they felt. Exchanges were far easier to stomach, especially if I thought the gift-giver was pitying me. On second thought, it might've been better to suggest that. "A new case would be practical. Better to buy one once than several because they keep breaking."

"But it's yer money," he insisted, jaw set. "I can keep my case together without ya goin' ta all that trouble. 'Sides, it ain't like ya get anythin' outta this. Just me." Minoru flushed, eyes flicking to his waraji. "I should be doin' somethin' ta thank-"

"It's not about what I do or don't get out of this," I interrupted him. Guilt, happily, hadn't found its way to my heart yet. Instead, bullheaded determination prevailed. I would get Minoru some kind of reward for his hard work. "I can tell you, I wouldn't be teaching you if I didn't want to. And I don't lie. You work harder than that spoiled Wakahisa. If he gets people fawning over him for doing half of what you do, you deserve a brush case at least."

"But-" Minoru began, then stopped. Resistance is futile! A little voice in the back of my mind gloated. Another voice added, more reasonably, He probably isn't comfortable with it. At least try and smooth things over. We need this one to like us.

"Minoru," I tried again, more gently, "if you really don't want one, I won't force one on you. It's not that I think you can't make it here without someone helping you along. I just want to give you something, friend to friend." Friend to friend? Where had that come from? But it was true, or would be sooner or later. "If it makes you feel better, I guess that's what I get out of this. Before we came here, Shinji was my only friend," I confessed. For someone who'd been used to making friends with her classmates, growing up on an estate that was distant from everything and everyone had been confusing and lonely. "It's nice... to have another friend."

Minoru stared at me for a long moment, eyes sharp and suspicious. His reiatsu played over mine and I let it without trying to pull back. I hadn't tried, but since people could obviously lie in Soul Society, I bet I could've twisted my reiatsu to seem honest had I not meant every word. It wasn't a wholly uncomfortable feeling. His reiatsu put me in mind of an owl—watchful, quiet, and the oddest mixture of feather-softness and talon-sharpness. "If- if I ever find out that you're pityin' me, or that you're just tryin' ta buy me like a pet, I'll- I'll make ya wish we never met," he warned. "I don't care if ya are a noble, I'll make you sorry."

That was oddly comforting, to know that he was ready to stand up for himself if he really had to. No doubt the Fugai district had taught him what was worth fighting for and what should be conceded to fight another day. "And if I do that, I hope you will make me sorry. I'd rather get punished when I screw up." I met his stare with my own. Whatever he saw there must've been convincing enough, because Minoru nodded.

"But really, ya don't have to get me anythin'," he said. "I can get by with this." He held up his brush case.

I poked my tongue out at him. "Stubborn. Fine. When's your birthday?"

Minoru huffed. "Ya know I don't got one," he said.

I huffed back. "And you know what I mean. What day did you wake up in Soul Society?"

To my surprise, he shrugged. "My gang never said what day they found me." Minoru shifted, shaggy hair falling away from his neck. As he did, I caught sight of blue-green ink. I hid my surprise behind a curious look. Maybe Minoru was older than I'd thought, if he already had a tattoo. Or maybe old cultural norms hadn't quite faded. "I remember it was right when winter came around, though."

I hummed, trying to think of an appropriate date. I gave up on being creative and suggested, "How about November 7th? That's the day winter starts, right? So it fits."

Minoru blinked. "Does it really matter?" He asked.

I grinned. "Of course it matters. You can't refuse a gift on your birthday, after all."

He groaned. "Nariko-san..."

"None of that," I told him in my best 'strict mother' voice. "You'll take your birthday gifts and you will like them. I hope so, anyway. I'm not so good at picking presents."

Minoru pulled a face at me. "You're the stubbornest person I know, you know that?" Shinji was more obstinate, actually, but I didn't expect him to know that, given that Shinji hadn't found anything he wanted at Shin'ou yet.

"I know," I said, beaming at him. "Unlucky for you, isn't it?"

Minoru half-smiled. "You can say that again."

"Unlucky for you, isn't it?"

I stood face-to-face with Yamada Seinosuke. So close they might as well have been in my face too, a couple friends of his stood on either side of him. None of them looked like bullies, if you ignored the swagger in their strides and the scared-rabbit stares other students gave them. The guy on Seinosuke's right had an open face and a gold ring on his finger, for heaven's sake. He should've been giving directions to lost first-years, not helping his friend rough one up.

That was how they'd lured me in, by the way. Gold-Ring had approached me, asking if I needed help getting to my next class, and subtly herded me to a secluded courtyard. There seemed to be an awful lot of those at Shin'ou. From there, Seinosuke and his other friend, a boy my height with droopy brown eyes like a dog's and lean, rough reiatsu like an alley cat's, had appeared.

"Well? Don't got a mouth on you this time, do you, horse-teeth?" Seinosuke jeered.

I kept my horse teeth hidden behind closed lips, silently watching them. In my experience, just acting weird or creepy could get people to back off. Unfortunately, my experience was from a lifetime ago, with kids who still thought drawing dicks on things was funny. It might not hold true here.

Staying silent also gave me the chance to think of how to get out of this situation instead of thinking up a comeback. Of the three, Gold-Ring had the strongest reiatsu by far, but his was the least-refined. Seinosuke held that honor, while Dog-Eyes looked to be the sort who fell in with bullies because he couldn't find any other group to run with. I'd have to watch him—if he decided he had to prove himself to Gold-Ring and Seinosuke, who knew what he'd do? I kept my eyes up, watching their bodies. Gold-Ring looked to have the most raw strength, which wasn't to be underestimated. Dog-Eyes's reiatsu scraped against mine. He probably served as a look-out when they roughed kids up in an abandoned classroom or some cliche shit like that. Pathetic, but it meant he was probably the most adept at looking for signs of danger. So what did Seinosuke have that made him stand out from the other two?

Searching for every advantage they could get, my eyes lit on Seinosuke's waist. His Zanpakutou. And it really was a Zanpakutou, not an asauchi. Instead of the usual black, his wakizashi had a white hilt-wrapping, with the sheath being toxic green. His sword guard, I appreciated distantly, resembled a lotus blossom. Beyond the beauty, though, it gave me insight into the nature of his sword's abilities: plant-based, or maybe poison-based.

My Zanjutsu was decent for my year, but not enough to defeat three older opponents, even if Seinosuke didn't have Shikai. And Gold-Ring, I saw, though I couldn't make out its design. I didn't know any Kidou. Since I didn't know any Houhou either, fleeing wasn't an option unless I could make sure none of them could follow. Hakuda was once again my only option. I just had to hope that I'd learned enough to make up for the low odds that I'd get lucky and Seinosuke would fall this time too.

"Hey! Horse-teeth, you gonna say something when you're done checking out my junk?"

Seinosuke's friends laughed. Gold-Ring had a surprisingly rich laugh, a deep baritone, while Dog-Eyes's was much higher and forced.

Me, I didn't think it was so funny. I flushed brilliant red. The heat scorching my insides might've been my impending death by embarrassment. Or it might've been anger. You know, the kind that had gotten the better of me last time Seinosuke and I met. I wasn't doing so well on the whole 'avoiding fights' front.

"If I was looking there, it was only because I hadn't heard that Yamada-senpai had any relatives," I said, giving him my most blatantly fake-innocent look. "You'd be his twin sister, then?" Aaaand there went my chance at avoiding a fight. I should just sew my mouth shut already. I tensed, ready to dodge.

"Poison her blood!" A new voice, dry and raspy, shouted. My head snapped around, looking for the new voice, and met with Seinosuke's slap. I gasped, twisting with the strike. Seinosuke stepped around me and kicked me in the back of the knee. I fell to my knees, processing my new position in time for his knee to collide with my nose.

"B-bastard," I choked out, scrambling back. Seinouke was clearly no amateur at hurting unsuspecting people. But who had his accomplice been? I glared around the courtyard through tears, licked my lips and tasted blood and salt. No one but him, Gold-Ring, and Dog-Eyes. While the voice hadn't been feminine, theirs weren't high enough to match.

Terrific. On top of a bloody nose and being outnumbered, I got the disadvantage of going crazy.

"Hey, Yamada, think that brush case'd sell for much?" Gold-Ring said. He ran a hand lazily through his hair. Something about the way it stood up after he'd finished made names spring to the tip of my tongue. Who did he- Shiba. And here I'd had the impression that the Shiba clan was a group of nice guys. Well, there was always an-

"I'll hold her down if you wanna sell it, Isshin-sama," Dog-Eyes said.

-exception. Holy fuck, Isshin? Ichigo's dad? My blood went cold. Oh, I wanted answers now.

Isshin shrugged. "Nah, seems kinda unfair. I'd rather ask nicely. Hey, Blondie-chan, I don't suppose you'd just give that little trinket to me? See, I've got a couple debts racked up, and my Clan Head'd kill me if she knew. This whole arrangement's temporary, y'know."

I growled in the back of my throat. My grandfather'd given me that case. "Not my problem if you're an irresponsible moron, Isshin." I put as much emphasis on his name as I could. Later I might be able to claim that I hadn't known his full name, but right now I meant all the rudeness the dropped honorific implied. He was supposed to be a good guy, dammit! He'd better get nicer in however long we had until canon.

Isshin's eyes narrowed into slits. His reiatsu writhed, a superheated blade at my throat. Even if Seinosuke had the most refined reiatsu, Isshin definitely won the prize for 'best-honed.' I drew the deepest breath I could and shoved back with my reiatsu.

"Let Seinosuke do whatever he wants with that upstart bitch," a bass voice, edged with crackling fire, rumbled. This time I very consciously didn't glance around. I'd like to be a nutjob with as few injuries as possible, thanks. I cringed anyway, scrambling to my feet. Time to end this. And by end this, I meant run the hell away, flash-step be damned. If Aizen could do it, I sure as hell was going to try.

"Wh-why're you doing this?" I croaked. "I'm sorry, alright? Let it go." For a last-ditch attempt at peace, I could've tried to be more convincing. I didn't, since I wasn't trying to placate them. I needed an opening and if I could play on Seinosuke's arrogance I might be able to get one. Isshin, pissed-off and therefore focused on me, would be harder. But I didn't have time to give a shit about Isshin.

Bring the fight to them.

Seinosuke scowled, leaning forwards. "So that's where all the fat that should've gone to your tits went: your head. You think that even if you forget and go on all la-di-da with your friends, everyone else forgets? Hell, you even got off lighter, snake-in-the-grass. Where the hell's the justice in-"

I rocketed forward, screaming at the top of my lungs, and slammed a crescent-palm into Seinosuke's solar plexus. Something crunched and he crumpled with a scream. I turned to flee and smashed into Isshin, who wrapped me in a front bear hug. I kicked frantically, succeeding only in smashing my heel into Seinosuke's head.

"Easy, little lady," Isshin grunted. This was not how I wanted my first time pressed up to a guy's chest to be. He reeked of smoke and night air. I opened my mouth to scream again. "Nanase, get her mouth!"

A grimy hand clamped over my mouth. "Do what Isshin-sama says," Dog-Eyes's nasal voice echoed from behind me. "Just cooperate."

Isshin shifted his grip, hands moving lower to get my brush case—I hoped. Either way, I took advantage of the loosened grip and licked Nanase's hand. Despite his disgusting behavior, he recoiled instinctively and I struck, snapping my head back into his nose. He staggered back, swearing. Isshin hadn't trapped my arms, so I jabbed full-moon fists beneath his ribs. He doubled over, letting me stomp on his feet and back up, bringing my elbow back into Nanase's stomach.

There! I bolted, opening created. If I'd done my job right, Isshin'd have some broken toes and Nanase'd be too winded to chase me for a few seconds. If I hadn't, Isshin wouldn't be able to run at full speed for a bit and anyone Nanase ran past would take notice of his bloody nose, if they didn't outright stop and question him.

I grabbed hold of my reiryoku, shunting it clumsily to my legs. Even if it wasn't flash-step, it couldn't hurt to reinforce the muscles there.

Note to self, I thought as my legs burned, take up running. This is pathetic. Granted, it was way better than anything I could've managed Before, but still. My steps were already slowing, heavy and jarring.

Alley-cat reiatsu surged behind me and I mouthed curses, too breathless to actually say them. Son of a bitch. Shit. Fuck. Dammit. Why didn't I know any others? Had to remedy that.

Halle-fucking-lujah. A mass of reiatsu signatures off to my right. I nearly fell down the steps of a training field as I turned—had to remedy my agility too—and headed for what I hoped was a class. Behind me, waraji pounded down the steps. Nanase cursed as he slid through a patch of mud.

I neared the class—upper-year Zanjutsu—and felt the surprised flicker of Nanase's power. An impulse struck me. Could I-

I was sure as hell going to try. No one got away with roughing up a first-year. No one got away with hurting me. The fact that I could handle myself was beside the point. My head was throbbing and my vision was water-blurry again and I was only a first year this wasn't fair.

I spun on my heel and charged Nanase. For a few crucial seconds he stopped dead, because who the hell ran towards the person chasing them? I bore down on him, shouting wordlessly, and by the time he had his hands up it was too late. I bowled him over, toppling to the grass on top of him. I sat on his chest, raised a full-moon fist. Stopped, because whatever he read on my face was enough to turn Nanase paper-white.

"Pleasedon'thurtme," he stammered. "IwasjusttherecauseIowed-"

"Tell it to Ounabara," I bit out, panting. I rolled off of him, hauling him up by his collar before he could flee.

Grey fatigue began to sink in as I stalked over to the class. It chased enough fury from my brain that I didn't go straight through the sparring students like I'd originally planned. No sense surviving Seinosuke only to take a bokken to the head.

The Zanjutsu teacher supervising, a granite block of a woman, merely raised an eyebrow as I dragged Nanase over. "Who did what where?" She asked dryly.

"Him," I said without preamble, "Shiba Isshin, Yamada Seinosuke. Ambushed me, wanted to take my stuff. Courtyard on the way to my Reiryoku Manipulation class."

She sighed, a whuffling sort of sigh like a horse or dog. Unflattering, but accurate. "Oh, for fu- for heaven's sake. Muguruma! You're in charge!"

A guy, running tantou kata apart from the group, strode over and my eyes went so wide I thought they'd fall out of my head. Kensei, definitely in his last year if he was allowed to work independently, spared little more than an irritated glance for me. Or maybe that was his resting expression, since he gave the teacher the same look.

As the teacher led us away, I threw a look over my shoulder at Kensei. He stood there, arms folded, not barking orders like I thought he would. Overall, he wasn't what I'd expected. The forward-flopping bangs hadn't made their appearance yet and neither had his belligerence—though admittedly he hadn't been in a position to do that without punishment. Kensei's hair was actually on the long side, in a short ponytail.

Less disappointingly, I thought as we neared the administrative building, he looked lighter. Freer. Not stretched-taut all the time, not shouldering the responsibilities of a captain or the mixed blessing of an inner Hollow. Like an actual person, a teenager trying to make his way in the world like the rest of us. Like me. I wondered if he'd met Mashiro yet.

"I'm coming in, sir!" Granite announced as we stopped in front of one of the ubiquitous screen doors. She slid it open and for the second time in a month, I was back in Ounabara's office. We followed her in.

Ounabara's tan face drooped a little when he saw us. "Hirako..." He growled. A few seconds passed as he gave us the long, exasperated look of a veteran teacher. "Let go of him," he ordered. I blinked, feeling my hand release Nanase's collar like it wasn't mine. I'd forgotten to let go, apparently. "And sit down."

We knelt, folding into seiza. The teacher who'd brought us here stood at attention.

"What, by the Soukyoku, happened this time?" He asked, some of the hostility draining from his voice. "Ishimori-sensei, this can't have happened in your class."

"It didn't," she said bluntly. "The girl here dragged over this kid, both of 'em bruised and bloody when they arrived. Hey—Hirako, was it?—tell him what you told me."

"Shiba Isshin offered me help getting to my next class," I said after a few seconds. "I went along with it because I- I didn't know what else to do," I admitted. Subconsciously, I was sure, I'd recognized Isshin as someone good, someone I knew would be important someday. More consciously, I liked having people pay attention to me, without my having to work up the courage to talk to them first. It hadn't occurred to me that attention wasn't always a good thing. "I thought we were taking a shortcut when we took a different turn than I normally do to get to that class. But he nudged me into this one courtyard and then Yamada Seinosuke and this guy Nanase turned up."

"Nanase Hibiki," Nanase muttered.

"Something to say?" Ounabara asked, tone just shy of his usual boom.

"I-I was only there because I owe Yamada-san," he stammered. As I'd thought, without his friends Nanase was almost harmless, eager to find a way to save his own skin. "He stopped some guys who were asking me to do stuff for them and I told him I owed him a favor. So this was his favor."

Ounabara huffed, apparently not thinking much of anyone who'd perform such a favor, even for their rescuer. I had to side with Ounabara on that one, though I wondered how long it had been since Seinosuke'd saved Nanase. They'd seemed decently close, especially since Nanase hadn't seemed to have many qualms about roughing me up. I was beginning to think that the only reason Seinosuke hadn't joined the Eleventh was his authority problem. Shin'ou had probably shunted him into the Fourth so he didn't turn out completely uncontrollable. "Hirako, continue."

I tried to sort what had happened. "Yamada-senpai taunted me for a while," I said as Ounabara began to look impatient with my thinking. "Then I said something stupid and he slapped me-"

"You called him a girl," Nanase provided helpfully, sounding as though he was on the verge of laughing. He wilted only slightly beneath Ounabara and Ishimori's glares.

I gave him my best death glare. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ishimori doing the same, arms folded tight across her chest. Ounabara's disapproving frown deepened. Did he have any other expression?

"You aren't under the Shihouin, boy." A couple seconds passed before I realized that Ounabara'd asked a question. Maybe his lack of emotion was actually a problem with his resting face.

"No, sir," Nanase mumbled, smile fading as he ducked his head. "I-I'm from the third ward in Takahashi." I ran through my knowledge of Rukongai districts. Plenty of gaps remained, though I'd tried to soak up as much knowledge as was available, but I was fairly certain that Takahashi was the sixteenth district of North Rukongai, known for its namesake high-up bridge above the churning Nanase River. Death times death—sixteenth was relatively well-off, but with a number like that, no wonder people'd picked on him. Nobles put high value on symbolism and superstition.