"I am really a tramp down to my bones. I hate myself. I bark at the moon, but I don't have the courage to jump and grab it." — Renji Abarai.
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[???]
It was a greyscale world that cried with the forgotten echoes of what was once a glorious past. It was the type of world used as bedtime stories, whose story would change from every mouth that spoke it, the truth of it being regarded as nothing more than one of the numerous morals of the story.
A dead story.
A dead story full of dead men who remembered the real story but would never speak it, not because they couldn't, but because they had to play the mute. It was the only way the story would move forward.
… but recently, someone had told the story a different way. And for that, a dead man confronted another dead man.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" A figure asked, looking and sounding too alive to be a dead man, but that was what he was. That was yet how he saw himself.
"Eh? I was expecting someone to come talk me off, someone that wasn't you at least." The other replied, voice and posture smug and unrepentant despite the enormity of what he'd done. "So what's got your hem frazzled?"
"This is not a joke. I will have your reason." The first figure said, posturing the epitome of calm, much to his comrade's silent frustration.
"And why should I—" the smug figure had his words terminated as his back impacted against a pillar and his shoulders grabbed painfully to stop him from sliding down.
"Your 'stunt' drew attention that should have never been stirred. I'll have your reason, and for your sake, it'll be a good one." All through the short exchange, the first figure had been nothing but calm and casual.
Despite the assault, the other smirked. "If you don't know why I did it, does that not mean you're not supposed to know? Or is it that you think I'm a traitor?"
"…"
A snort followed. "You forget that you're not the only one here. Everyone here is just as loyal as you are, so what makes you think you are the only one who's supposed to know what we have to do?"
"Are you trying to say—"
"I'm trying to say that you're not the most important person here. We all have our tasks , and if we have to do it without you knowing, then instead of questioning us, why don't you question yourself why you were never told."
The hand holding the shoulder let go and the figure turned to leave, no longer interested in the slumped figure behind him.
"Tch. Fucking bastard." The other one cursed as he massaged his shoulder, his mood visibly ruined by the short encounter.
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...…
[Soul Society]
The Soul Society went through a tense period of three months where every Shinigami felt as if they were walking on eggshells, especially around their Captains.
Even soft-spoken Captains like Jūshirō and Unohana went through a period where their familiar soft smiles became a rarity which was all the evidence the rest of the Shinigami needed to know that something big must've happened, and not in a good way.
Theories and speculations flew around widely when even those close to their Captains, both Lieutenants and higher Seats, remained oblivious to what had happened.
The silence from the Captains was so unsettling that it unconsciously put the Shinigami into an extremely alert and cautious time due to how tense they were.
…. Well everyone except for the 11th Division that is. They easily adopted the carefree attitude of their Captain and it did wonders for them, making them the only loud and boisterous group during the Seireitei's impromptu state of alert.
During this time, Tōshirō had pushed himself deeper into his duties as a Shinigami of the 10th Division despite the concerned protest of Rangiku. She was a drunken liability of an adult, but Tōshirō knew how deeply she cared.
He also knew that she held some dull dislike towards the Captain of the 2nd Division so her opinions helped put things into perspective. As for his Captain, as much as the good-natured goof that he was most of the time, he was surprisingly serious and blunt when it came to some things.
"It makes no difference how you feel about him. If you hate him and he doesn't care about you then that is another weight off his shoulders."
Tōshirō didn't understand what he meant by that and his Captain never bothered to elaborate, leaving him to feel however he wanted to feel as 'it wouldn't change anything'.
He knew from Momo that he was rescued from Hell (why was he in Hell in first place?) by the 2nd and 6th Division Captains but what he didn't know was why he was kidnapped in the first place. His Captain had said it was none of his concern, but it clearly was if he and his friend were almost kidnapped.
With no other avenue to vent out his frustration, chucking it up to bad luck and a freak coincidence, he actively searched for any Hollow activity duty he could find to clear out his muddled head and to prove to Rangiku that he wasn't scared or traumatized. Like he would be scared of three lowlives who thought it would be prudent to ambush a kid(not that he was a kid or anything like that).
He had seen the 2nd Division Captain for a handful of times in the past months, which was probably the most times anyone had seen him in such a short time frame, and he didn't know how to feel when he realized that the blistering hate he felt towards him was turning into a cold indifference.
Hyōrinmaru however was pleased with his new state of mind, stating that he liked the growing tundra more compared to the former drizzle.
He didn't have the energy to argue or debate with anybody so he just accepted it all. Hyōrinmaru's validation. Rangiku's worry. His Captain's bluntness. His growing indifference — he accepted it all, because accepting was easier than swimming through the murk of emotions that were making him sick.
His Captain had seen the dangerous trend he was picking up and decided that instead of going into the Rukongai to hunt Hollows and tempt death again, he posted Tōshirō to join the upward surge of menial work happening all over the Seireitei to work off his itch 'the original way—the manly way'.
So Tōshirō found himself in a worksite near the 6th Division and he had to admit that his Captain was right in saying that nothing cleared the mind more than menial labor.
That was how he'd been feeling until one day when the 2nd Division Captain and the Head of the Research Institute visited the site for a few short minutes.
Tōshirō had cursed himself for the misfortune of having his location being the one they passed through and had resolved himself not to be affected by anything regarding the 2nd Division's Captain and to keep to his indifference.
He had done so expertly. Greeting them like every other Shinigami when they passed through, and not projecting even an ounce of hate or dislike towards the passing Captain, basically treating him like he would any other Captain — like a respected stranger with a title.
…. But why had it burned hotly in his stomach when he was treated the same way? The man hadn't even bothered to look at Tōshirō, barely giving him the same instinctual nod he gave to any Shinigami who greeted him.
He couldn't find it in himself to finish his work that day as something felt incredibly off, for reasons he didn't know.
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....
[Shin'ō Academy]
Rukia dragged a frustrated hand over her face as she once again was forced to be a participant in one of Renji's displays of his particular brand of stupidity.
They had been told that some of their lessons, especially the combat-focused ones, would be supervised by some graduated students and Seated Shinigami, which was something to be excited about, Rukia concurred.
Renji's rabid excitement was somewhat understandable, as she too was eager to see the standard of a graduated student who was a bonafide Seated Shinigami. The Captains, especially her elder brother, while a goal was not a standard — he'd said so himself.
What wasn't acceptable however was Renji's constant murmuring about finding out 'what level Black was', or whatever was the inane drivel he kept spouting. As she understood it, Black was a Shinigami who watched Renji train –but didn't teach, as Renji had stressed– and he was adamant on knowing exactly how strong the man was for some reason.
At first she didn't think much of it, which was foolish of her in hindsight, and when they had started their training under the guidance of their seniors, she'd seen Renji's excitement quickly turn into stark confusion.
If only he could have kept whatever he had in mind to himself, but no, he just had to spout it out silently enough for the entire courtyard to hear it. And he'd dragged her into it.
"Hey Rukia, are you sure these guys are real Seated Officers? I mean, I know that they're strong, but somehow I can tell that Black was even more impressive. I'm sure they can kick my ass but c'mon, am I supposed to believe that white haired brat is a Seated Officer?"
Said 'white-haired brat' as Renji had put it, was a graduated student who'd graduated with one of the fastest records in the school's history, and with an outstanding remark in every course he took.
And he was also glaring at them because the oaf beside her made this braindead decision of making his thoughts known.
She would kill him if this senior didn't do it himself.
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