Chapter 20: Cast in Gold and Silver Arc: Spring's Fruits Begin to Flourish 1/2

Summary:

Yokatta! School's out and grades are closed. Despite this, Nariko and company are sticking around Shin'ou for a bit--there's a festival going on! Join them as they dress up nicely, stuff their faces, and sign up for the dreaded tournament.

Notes:

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

This is the part where I say: I can only exposit so much before dialogue and plot slow way the heck down. Suffice it to say that Japanese traditional clothing and customs are very, very complex and I will be making full use of them for symbolism and authenticity in this work. Specific terms, like obiage and obijime, will begin to have fewer explanations that break the flow of the story.

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

Chapter Text

Morning—evil, evil morning, shortly after dawn, thanks to evil, evil administration. They'd said something, or I'd been told at my repeated asking, about not wanting to waste the rest of their days, which were dedicated to wrapping things up for the higher years. Hmph. How about wasting the rooms they'd put us in? The ones we could've been sleeping in?

They were certainly wasting the amphitheater they'd gathered us in at the beginning of the year. It had to be hell on Ounabara's voice, which was raised to carry throughout the massive courtyard we stood in instead without the aid of architecture.

My sleep-weighted eyes flicked around the space and sluggishly my brain began to reconsider. What I hadn't noticed, being preoccupied with the teachers organizing us into rows straighter than a Kuchiki's back, were the awnings around it. Multi-colored cloths spanned the structure, too regular to be random. Someone had color-coded them, set up a system I was missing.

There. My family had called me a nerd and told me to stick to my studies instead of trivia when I'd committed it to memory. I'd proven them wrong, raising both to perfection, and now it was benefiting me. Purple, dark orange, spring green, puce... And so it went, down the line from the first to last. Or rather, from the first to thirteenth. One side was reserved for representatives from the Gotei 13, with two smaller tents for the Kidou Corps and Onmitsukidou, though I didn't doubt that the latter had more people than that observing. The other, occupants decked out in varying degrees of finery, was the domain of everyone else. Mostly nobility, with scattered residents of the Rukongai, here to see the results of their children, cousins, and possible future servants. Yeah, they said the Gotei 13 was an incorruptible power, but with nobility populating it, there was a certain degree of favors, networking, and contracting going on within, just as long as the wrong nobles didn't get too uppity. We all knew.

A jolt to my side, more surprise than pain. I glanced over to see Shinji, staring straight ahead with his arms folded behind his back. The way his left hand settled around his bicep—as well as the fact that the unusually-strict rows left no possibility for it to be anyone else—told me he was the culprit. Not that anyone would've guessed. Shinji's features held their usual smug, bored cast, but the lively fluctuations that usually lit them up were locked firmly beneath the surface.

Cold shoulder. Right.

Still, he was looking out for me enough that I tuned in just as Ounabara was finishing his welcome to the assembled crowd.

"-finally, the Spiritual Arts Academy extends welcome to all others, whether from clans of less prominence or from the Rukongai. We come now to the business for which you all have graced us with your presence. The Academy finds it necessary to separate the chaff from the grain, refining the quality of those admitted to the Gotei 13, Onmitsukidou, and Kidou Corps, and allowing us to more diligently train up the remainder. You understood this when you sent your peers and children to our institution, and the Academy will not provide you recompense beyond what we already produce in our successful graduates."

This time around, his speech wasn't vomit-inducing, just tiring, and then because I wanted to get on with my day. Results, give us the results already! We know you only care about the bottom line!

"Those standing before you today are those who have passed through the refining fire. Those who did not have been cast to the side, as impurities must be for society to continue. Make no mistake—this was not their first test, nor will it be their last. But today, the Spiritual Arts Academy recognizes their courage and strength as worthy. They have passed."

Polite applause broke out, more concentrated on the civilian side. They weren't here to know whether we'd passed.

Ounabara inclined his bare head as it died. "Today we recognize those preparing for careers in the Onmitsukidou and the Kidou Corps, the specifics of whose service is not available to the public, not intelligible to the public"-a smattering of laughter sounded-"or too complex to be cleanly assessed by any not in the relevant fields. As a whole, we recognize Feng Gang, Feng Jingyi, Feng Min, Feng Qiu, Feng Zhiqiang, Fujioka Ren, Shihouin Mizuki, Park Deok-Hye, Kobayashi Ami, Takamiya Chihiro, Fukui Chouko, and Liu Bai."

He paused, taking a pull from a flask of water. "We also recognize those who, through the recommendation of their supervising Shinigami, have distinguished themselves above the rest."

"In North 47th, we recognize Hayashi Junko, Maki Akemi, Nakano Hayate, and Himura Hideki. In South 14th, we recognize Sato Hiroki, Sato Hideyoshi, Shiba Suzume, and Shiba Hayato. In South 25th, we recognize Ise Kaede, Tachibana Kaori, Takahashi Keiko, Abe Katsu, and Yamashita Michiko. In East 36th, we recognize Watanabe Miho, Himura Minoru, and Sasaki Mayu. In West 31st, we recognize Kotetsu Kotone, Kotetsu Setsuko, Ukitake Hiroshi, and Inoue Chiyoko. In East 7th, we recognize Kuchiki Ayako, Himura Kenta, Himura Kenshin, and Kato Hanako. Finally, in West 5th, we recognize Wakahisa Momohiko, Hisakawa Asami, and Outoribashi Zinyamaru." My lip curled. Yeah, that was legit. Nice safe locations, accompanied by members of clans known to be very friendly to them... I didn't actually see any evidence of bullshit, but I smelled it. If they'd done anything, it hadn't been anything significant. None of them had even been close to how far out we'd been.

I wanted to spit on the ground, but my mouth was dry with rage and fear. If anyone had deserved the commendation, it was us. Instead it'd gone to those whose blood mattered more than what they'd shed. Had we been passed over because two of our members were from the Rukongai and the rest shadow nobles—those traditionally involved with the Onmitsukidou—or retainers to shadow nobles?

"Now we come to those whose recognition comes not from the mouths of Shinigami currently serving in the Rukongai, but instead from the halls of the Spiritual Arts Academy and even from the opinions of the Shinigami serving in Seireitei who recently graced us with their experience and wisdom. Where we must carefully read through the reports of mentoring Shinigami—all those assembled in some way merited approval there—to determine whose accolades are most deserved, the next students listed were nominated because their deeds were praised in many circles. The Academy feels it is worth noting that these students, in contrast to the groups previously mentioned, do not receive acclaim for actions taken as a group, but for individual deeds."

Hope fluttered in my chest. I quashed it. There was a time and place for hope, and this wasn't it. I'd make a fool of myself if I dared.

"Many students perform admirably while on this trial, but only a few achieved on such a scale that we felt compelled to acknowledge specifically what they did to earn accolades. We recognize Fujikage Shinju for the preservation of her teammate's life with healing Kidou in combat and for skillfully executed Bakudou such that another could execute the source of the recent revolt. We recognize Fugai Minoru for his decapitation of a Quincy in the throes of reishi intoxication and holding the line after experienced Shinigami had fallen. We recognize Sarugaki Hiyori for aiding Fugai in the same." I gritted my teeth at the failure to acknowledge her willingness to sacrifice herself for me, but perhaps it was expected here. Idiots. "We recognize Aizen Sousuke for putting down a Hollow nest that had already slain several older Shinigami. We recognize Hirako Shinji for personally eliminating the Quincy Bardulf and its followers. Finally, we recognize Hirako Nariko for crafting the strategy that saw three Quincy dead, many more abominations ended, and a traitor exposed, all without losing her companions."

Okay, so much of that wasn't down to me. My friends and Shinju had been crucial to that going through, not to mention a heaping of luck. Plus the plan hadn't even been that complicated. And were they really not going to mention that the traitor and one of the Quincy had been my mentors?

Apparently they were. Ounabara moved right on to the pleasantries and formalities required just to dismiss the onlookers. No such luck for us—he had more such things to rattle off so we could start getting our stuff out of the dorms and any other business we had from this year concluded. But finally we were done, released to congratulate each other and, as Ounabara hinted with only a slight tinge of his usual disappointment, attend a festival just outside the walls of Shin'ou. Not organized by the school, of course, but nobles being there lent a certain sheen of officialness.

I was mobbed, to put it nicely. To put it rudely—as was my first inclination—all the people who'd never thought much of me suddenly decided I was worth talking to, even fawning over. But the glow of pride was there to light my eyes and anchor my smile, so I made it through.

"-so then I said to him, 'Did someone call an exterminator?'" I related to a guy from Zanjutsu in my most humorous, conspiratorial voice.

"They were using some cocktail of Quincy blood and Kinsawa sekkiseki," I told a girl I saw often at the library, eyebrows quirked in nothing short of my finest attempt at intellectualism.

"Sure, I'd love to spar sometime," I said to half a dozen people, vaguely hoping that the Shinigami equivalent of getting coffee was just getting coffee.

By the time I could finally extricate myself without making it look like I was extricating myself, my head was spinning. Was this what it was like to be Shinju? Or Shinji? No, definitely Shinju, because Shinji went out looking for friends. Shinju held court.

I headed back to my room to find her occupied in a more mundane pursuit, that of packing. It was technically more accurate to say she was playing Tetris, since everything was already organized and just needed to be slotted into place, but that was too Before to tell her. Instead I joined her, since she'd started on my stuff.

"You work fast," I teased, wedging extra inkstones in between my nagajuban and tabi. "Did you need something to do with yourself, or were you just overawed with gratitude at my 'amazing' plan?"

She chuckled. "Already enamored of your own legend? No, I just wanted to tidy up a bit, you know? The faster you can get your belongings to where they need to be, the faster I can do the same."

"Fair enough," I said. "Thanks, anyway." I cast around for something to say. "The festival looks like it'd be fun to go to. The tournament, too."

She latched her trunk shut. "I'll be at the festival. A good chance to network and see my parents... and also Kohaku-nii told me there's a vendor who comes every year who sells the best ikayaki ever." She licked her lips, slightly dreamy expression crossing her face before blinking back to alertness. "Will your parents be there? I only realized after the fact that I should've given them a hospitality gift since I had to leave early, you know?"

I shrugged. "Dunno. They're the hands-off type, but they might come for Shinji. And me," I hastened to add, so Shinju didn't get the wrong idea about the Hirako. "I just don't know, since all the letters they probably wrote to me burned down with the barracks in Kinsawa."

She tilted her head, considering. "That is true. Now, what's this about the tournament? Are you going? It's not official, you know."

I bent over my belongings, ensuring they were all in the right place and taking the hidden-face time to roll my eyes. When I straightened, I gave her my best sheepish-but-not-swayed grin. "Yeah, but it's the closest thing to being official without a seal. Unless you think the hosts got past the onmitsu to put up posters on campus, poached students for entertainment, and advertised captains showing up without the powers that be shutting them down?" I gave it a moment to sink in before admitting, "I was going to join, actually. I persuaded Minoru-kun to do it with me. He was going to get Nanase-san on board, but..."

Shinju grimaced, as much as her pretty face could grimace. "Yes, I could see where you'd have a problem now." She raised an eyebrow. "You're really going to attempt it? You're going to die!" Pink stained her cheeks. "I mean, um... I'd hate to see our arrangement cut off so soon. And realistically, your odds of success are slim."

I sighed, stooping against to shut my trunk. "Yeah, everyone's been telling me that. But I figure A) there's no way they could run this thing without healers and B) I don't need to win to win."

That won a surprisingly wide smile from her. "You're looking to raise your profile? Well, that's a goal I can support."

"If that's a serious offer, I don't know what I can offer you in return," I replied. "Not to mention I was going to invite Sarugaki-kun... and Aizen-san, if I could find him."

"Not Shinji-kun?" she asked.

I hesitated. "It's a singles tournament. Even if he was willing to listen to anything I had to say, I don't want to fight my brother." I forced a chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. "I'd probably lose anyway."

Shinju's lashes dropped in a considering look, but she nodded. "I'm not sure how much I could do for Aizen-san, but Sarugaki-san could be reasonably pretty if she stopped scowling and Fugai-kun's only rough around the edges. In any event, as long as I was already there tending to your public image, it wouldn't be too much of a stretch to include those three, you know?"

"You still haven't said what you want in exchange," I pointed out.

"It's a good excuse to be out there mingling, if you're right about members of the Gotei 13 attending," she answered. "That, and my parents gave me this summer to do what I wanted." A smile played over her lips, making it all the way to her eyes. "If the worst thing that happens is that I'm bored, it'll be a good summer. I'll be able to tell them I stepped out of my comfort zone, at the very least, and the chance to see the technique of more experienced Shinigami is welcome." At my startled blink, she folded her arms. "You aren't the only one who can observe her opponents, you know. And if you must balance the scales, I suppose you can owe me a favor of indeterminate size. We'll have to see how well you do."

Ugh, generic favors. But considering I hadn't even asked for her help and I could always break things off if she got too extreme, it was going to have to be fine. "Deal."

She beamed—outright beamed, instilling me with whatever you called the feeling of d'awww and a newfound fear of bodysnatchers. "Perfect! Then let's get changed and go to the festival!"

"Changed? Into what?" I asked.

"Into some more festive outfits, obviously." She scoffed, clearly in a rare mood. "Don't tell me you already packed everything away."

"...I already packed everything away."

We made it out far later than even I had expected. Not only had we had to dig through everything to get to the relevant items, Shinju had pored over them, selecting the perfect outfit for me. Okay, it wasn't perfect, but it was acceptable, in her words.

So I minced down the hall in zouri rather than waraji. Shinju had tossed aside the undyed nagajuban I preferred under my kimono, calling it unsuitable, which was Shinju for horrible. Instead, she'd forced me into a baby blue getup, with tiny teal birds at the collar and sleeves. The kimono itself was sky blue, printed with multicolored irises and the waving lines of flowing water. The obi was bolder still, a deep blue-green decorated elaborately with tea green hydrangea to hint at the coming summer. I hadn't even meant to pack that, not expecting this kind of thing during my time at Shin'ou, but it certainly came in handy now. The whole ensemble was tied together—pun intended—with a narrow pink obijime.

I'd thought I'd escaped there. Oh, how foolish I'd been. Shinju had pounced on my head, twisting and stabbing at my hair until it was in an updo, secured with iris kanzashi, which I had intended to bring. Irises were some of my favorite flowers. The trailing silver butterflies were Shinju's addition, since those were some of her favorites and she had enough to make a swarm of butterflies. Or, as she corrected me, a kaleidoscope of butterflies. Never mind that they were monochrome.

Despite pronouncing me acceptable, Shinju had outdone me with her ensemble. A dove-grey nagajuban accented by muted pink butterflies added a subtle undertone to a light blue-purple kimono adorned with lavender and pink flowering dogwood. The obi, a white number painted with wisteria, perfectly complemented the trailing wisteria and butterfly kanzashi in her hair. With her skill at dressing herself—aided by my clumsier fingers—she almost didn't need the silver obijime to hold it together.

My contribution were the fans. Though we had to leave our Zanpakutou in the custody of the jinzen hall, since for some strange reason carrying magic weapons was frowned upon outside of the school year and wartime—why had nobody told me that before? Was it the scary rep? It was probably the scary rep—I brought along a white fan printed with violet clematis. Shinju got a white fan as well, but hers was decorated with intertwined koi and cherry blossoms.

In short, we looked fabulous. Even if my pale, pale neck was probably going to be sunburned by the end of the day and I was already getting a headache from the tight hairstyle. But fabulous. I was going to be happy today, dammit. Even if that bit about wrapping things up for the higher years was total bull, because they were already heading back to their own dorms to pack up. We had a short window of opportunity before the festival was overrun by giant, scary upperclassmen. Whoever started the 'notice me, senpai' thing was way off base, just saying.

Crystal chimed close by. I whirled to catch a familiar olive cloak disappearing into the library. Speaking of opportunities...

"Is there anywhere we can meet up?" I asked Shinju. "I just remembered I have to take care of something real quick."

She blinked, disappointment creasing her forehead. "Well, the wait for that ikayaki stall I mentioned is fairly long. If you look for it, you should see a large squid sign. Do try to hurry, though. I thought we could go get those tournament passes."

I nodded. "If you see Sarugaki-kun, you could try to persuade her to come along. It'd save time."

She bobbed her head in agreement and melted back into the crowd. Taking a big breath of fresh spring air, I headed in after Aizen.

The library wasn't how I remembered it. Maybe it was just the feeling you got coming back to a familiar place after an intense experience, or maybe it was that someone had pushed aside the shelves and swept away the dust to uncover actual windows. It was a strange juxtaposition, the architecture I usually associated with Europe and Before and the mountain of very Edo scrolls. Still, I appreciated golden beams filtering in, lending the place a soothing air, making it a refuge from the hubbub outside. Even the dust motes dancing in them brought a touch of cheer.

The usual library volunteer, looking a touch better-rested than the last time we'd met, was busily accepting scrolls students had just now decided to return. I almost felt bad for him as he tried to get people to at least form a line, but that wasn't my business. I slipped through them and followed Aizen, who was making a beeline for the back.

He returns to his den, Arashi murmured, flowing voice touched by glints of sunshine.

Do you have no compassion? He was in Kinsawa with us, except he had to fight off Hollows, I scolded her.

His sanctum, then, she said. The place he feels most comfortable, to which he returns to lick his wounds. Perhaps your presence will expedite that. Or set him off. Tread carefully, daoshi.

Always, I replied.

"Nariko-san?"

...or not. I'd tried to be quiet and inoffensive, but somehow he'd noticed me anyway. Not that I would've known without his speaking up—his back was to me, several feet away.

"Aizen-san," I answered. "Do you have a moment?"

He huffed a laugh, turning around. "I have the entire break, Nariko-san."

Well, this was going nowhere. "And are you going to spend it all in here?" I gestured around us. "There's a festival going on, you know. I figure we 'heroes' should make an appearance."

"We aren't heroes," he said, pushing his glasses up. "Least of all me."

"We're survivors," I said, ignoring the fact that I felt pretty heroic, "and we're kids. Personally, I'm happy to have a chance to chow down on street food and walk around in something other than a uniform. You don't want to go?"

He ignored me, adjusting his cloak. "Why are you here, Nariko-san? You made it clear you want me at a safe distance."

I crossed the distance between us and knelt at the low tables. I motioned for him to join me. "Because I wanted to clear things up, for real."

He knelt on the other side, eyeing me wordlessly.

"I was angry, back in Kinsawa, and scared," I said, resting my hands palms-down on the table, where he could see them. "Worried, too. About you. I wanted to help, but I didn't know how. It all kinda... came to a head when you freaked out. My brain froze up and my body ran away."

He frowned into his lap. "You say that, but you're here. You came back. You can't say two things at once."

Did Shin'ou have literature classes? It should've. But when I cleared away the snark, I understood, and my heart broke. "Not everyone who leaves leaves for good. I just needed time to center myself. I didn't want to lash out and hurt you by accident."

He raised his head. "You... didn't want to hurt me?"

I tilted my head. "No. I still don't, I never have, and I don't think I ever will." But I'll do it, if you go Butterflaizen on us. "So this is an apology." I bowed, forehead touching the table. "Aizen-san, I never meant to hurt you, and it is my sincerest hope that you will come to forgive me for having done so, and that I can be a shoulder to lean on for you in the future."

Pretty damn good, for having come up with that on the spot. Not that it was false, but I usually tripped over myself more than that.

"So, um, I heard about what happened in Kinsawa. Did you... want to talk about that?" There, the universe was back in balance. "You know, if you're ready, or comfortable, or anything."

He shifted from foot to foot, or rather from knee to knee. "You don't have to do this, you know. Extend yourself over and over again to me, after I've warned you away."

I smiled, a real smile, slight and bittersweet. "Maybe not"-even though I totally do-"but I want to. We're friends, at least in my estimation, you know? Trying to give you a place to open up isn't a mission. It's just me, knowing how hard it can be to keep secrets." I sighed, casting around for something other than a repeat of the 'you can trust me' speech I'd given him at New Year's. "I get that you're not the type to open up, but I'm not just saying this because I want to have slumber parties. Too many secrets weigh on relationships with others, and on you. Sooner or later it becomes too much to carry alone." I leaned forward, looking him right in the eye, or at least the glasses. "You can stay on the edge of the crowd as much as you want, just as long as you know that we'll always welcome you in."

Aizen leaned forward, giving me a searching look. Sunlight glinted on brown eyes and sent eerie paleness dancing across them for an instant. "And yourself? Whose shoulder do you lean on, Nariko-san? Who adds their strength to yours, when you're too burdened to continue?"

I pulled back, stomach flip-flopping. "You didn't answer the question," I said. "Do you want to talk about Kinsawa?"

He looked at me for a minute before settling back on his heels and pushing his glasses up again. "It was Hollows, as I'm sure you've heard," he said, stilted. That was redundant, really. Aizen was stiffer than Shinji and me acting out snippets of Noh plays as kids, except he was playing himself and still getting it wrong. "I was separated from Shinji-san and heard people shouting in the distance. I assumed that the source was Shinji-san and our mentors. When I arrived, I discovered I was too late. I fought and slew the Hollows. Only afterwards was I able to examine the remains and realize that my assumption of their identities had been incorrect." He wiped absently at his mouth.

Neat, clear, and simple. It was exactly the sort of story I would've put in a report to Torisei, sterile and factual because I refused to give paranoid control freak superiors any enjoyment from my writing. For opening up to me, it was pretty lousy. No hint of how Aizen felt about the whole deal, or even—and I felt slightly guilty for thinking this—some juicy details of an epic battle. Aizen was the first one of us to even see Hollows and that was all he had to say? Really? But I inclined my head, taking it in the spirit it was meant. "Thank you," I murmured. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

He tucked his chin down. "Please don't sympathize with me," he said. "Like I said, I'm not a hero."

A little firmness, to match his, to shake off the icy fingers on my spine at the thought of claws and fangs tearing into me like a gristly piece of steak. "I'll sympathize with whoever I want," I replied. "It's a nasty way to go, getting eaten alive. You avenged them. I don't know if hero is the right word for it, but I respect that."

Aizen's stomach picked that moment to growl, loudly. He doubled over. Guilt, no doubt for the unfortunate timing, flashed over his face, or maybe that was a wince at the volume. Either way, I pounced on the rare show of emotion.

"How about we go to the festival? I'll buy you all the unhealthy street food you can eat," I improvised. "And if you want to do the tournament with me and Minoru-kun while we're at it, all the better."

"I was already planning to attend," he said, stunning me for the second time that day. "As to your second proposal, as much as I dislike crowds, it's been a dangerously long time since I've eaten. I would like to go with you, very much."

"Excellent!" I said, rising. "But you should know, you're going to overheat and die if you hang onto the cloak out there. And they probably won't let you in if you bring your sword."

He paused, but at another rumble, sighed and shucked off the cloak, revealing a plain navy yukata faded almost to a more seasonal cobalt, further brightened by a slate obi. Well, men could get away with more subdued ensembles. I'd take it.

Together we headed out, dropped Aizen's sword off with mine, and set off for the festival.

When Aizen had said it had been a dangerously long time since he'd had anything to eat, he hadn't been kidding. I swear we stopped at every third stall to grab him something. After the first couple of pit stops, I thought he'd need some cool-off time to chow down. But no, no sooner had I handed him the purchase than it disappeared down his gullet.

After the fifth such instance, I planted myself between him and the path to the ikayaki stand, hands on hips.

"Am I going to have to hold your hair when you're sick?" I demanded. "Not that I'm cutting you off; I'm just getting a little bit concerned. This stuff is a ticket to a heart attack."

He gave his usual soft smile. Some color had come back to his cheeks, and he only swayed slightly when we weren't walking. Success. "Don't worry, Nariko-san. I grew up on worse."

And it was time for me to eat my foot. Dumbass. Rukongai, remember? "I'm the biggest idiot in the world," I muttered, shifting my smile—feeling almost natural now—to a sheepish one. "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

He lifted a shoulder in a shrug as we continued on. "Would you prefer that I chalk it up to the change in hairstyle? It's my understanding that such tight buns can cut off circulation," he said, giving me a concerned look.