Chapter 1: A Day Off
Every squad in the Gotei 13 was training more than they ever had in the previous several centuries. The vigor and energy they poured into their fighting was such that it reminded Kyōraku of his early days as a cadet and neophyte shinigami. As a youth, he had generally participated in trainings on account of his friends' cajoling. As a result, his lackadaisical attitude had not particularly hindered his progress. Indeed, he had risen through the ranks remarkably fast and entirely on his own merit. The combination of his prowess in both fighting and evading confrontation had resulted in his being one of the most long-standing and senior of the Gotei 13 captains.
There were deeper philosophical reasons for his early attention to honing his skills and his continued position as captain, though; Kyōraku little liked fighting or warfare, but he understood that to better protect and care for the serenity he craved proficiency in battle was necessary. There was, of course, the added motivation that he'd heard women generally preferred strength and power to poetry and covert kiss attacks.
Still, it remained Kyōraku's lifelong paradox that to support harmony he had to be adept in war. This was a mindset he thought he'd shared with Tōsen and Aizen until, well… until each of those men showed their means of establishing peace were far removed from Kyōraku's. For Aizen, nothing short of complete domination and control would satisfy him. His kind façade had fooled everyone, and he had warped Tōsen into following a perverted form of justice. It was a bitter betrayal, one that might result in the destruction of the shinigami's entire world and way of life. For that purpose they all trained. None harder than Kyōraku's own eighth division.
The dogged pace his squad kept had very little to do with their own captain, though. In so much as he cared for and watched over his company, Kyōraku was a solitary man. He was hardly one to force people to do anything they did not choose to do of their own free will. It was therefore quite surprising to see the training schedule his vice-captain had created. There was barely a day off to be had over the course of several weeks. Every discipline was carefully covered, from proper sword handling to kidō mastery. There would be guest teachers from other divisions, demonstrations, lectures, and weekly trials. He admitted that her inclusion of a sort of "jousting" competition into the summer festival was quite clever, but it seemed so much. Too much, really. Far, far too much. True, the squad would be likely more experienced and competent, but they might be so exhausted by the time of the eventual battle that in the end the training would be completely useless.
"Oi, Nanao-chan," he called from where he sat slumped before his desk. She looked up from the stacks of forms covering her desk to see him waving a single piece of paper. "What's this?"
Pushing her glasses higher on the bridge of her nose, vice-captain Ise Nanao leaned to look over her superior's shoulder.
"Our training schedule for the next month," she responded crisply. "If you look at the following sheet you will see that I have divided the entire division into new groups for this next series of workshops based on their previous performances."
Feeling the question was thus satisfactorily explained, she returned to her task at hand, only to put her brush down in exasperation a moment later, as her captain very clearly did not intend to end the discussion.
"Yes, I can see that. Thank you for the clarification. I merely mean, isn't it a bit too… intense? They have already been going over this same stuff for the past month or two. Don't you think it's about time to slacken the pace a bit?"
"This is a continuation of the preceding trainings. The level will be increased for those ready to move on, and there will be repeat lessons for those who have not yet adequately mastered the basics." She adjusted her glasses again, this time in such a way that her eyes were hidden by the glare.
"And," she continued in a steely tone, "there have not been any complaints from the members as of yet."
Kyōraku simply tilted his head back and laughed.
"No, I would think not. They wouldn't dare. My Nanao-chan always intimidates everyone she comes across," he mused with a grin. "Everyone except for me, that is. Eh, Nanao-chan?"
"If you say so, sir," she said, turning back to her paperwork.
"Now, now, just wait a moment. I'm not done yet. Maybe I'm a little out of the loop, but I'm quite sure this schedule is much stricter than any of the other squads. Even Zaraki's not asking his people to fight this much."
She simply pursed her lips in response. Honestly, she'd hoped he wouldn't notice that detail. Actually, she'd assumed he wouldn't even bother reading any of the papers she piled on his desk. The fact that he didn't have such absolute faith in her abilities to go through the endless regulations and carry out their orders was simultaneously insulting and reassuring.
"Not to mention," he continued, "you're the one doing most of this training. Even when you're not in charge, you've scheduled yourself to be at every single meeting. That combined with your abject servitude to paperwork means you more than anyone are working far too hard. You barely eat when I don't force you to, don't think I haven't noticed that."
"As ever, Taichō, you are more than welcome to participate in or conduct any of the trainings you should choose to attend."
He laughed again. "Nicely done, Nanao-chan. In one sentence you warmly welcome me and yet firmly put me in my place."
"Is a taichō's place not with his squad? I am sure the entire division would benefit from your leadership, insight and skill." Her words were icy – more so than usual. But then, even his playful banter was losing a little of its usual luster.
He sighed, stretched and walked over to the open window to look out on the courtyard below where his entire squadron, save the vice-captain and himself, were sparring. This was not even on the agenda. This was of their own free will and choosing.
"Nanao?"
"Yes, Taichō?"
"Send word around that tomorrow's trainings are cancelled. Everyone is to have a day off."
"But-"
"I will look over your schedule and find a way to pare it down so they will still learn the skills they need without killing themselves in the process."
"But, Taichō, without this intensive training they will be completely unprepared when Aizen attacks!"
For the third time he laughed, but this time the sound was hollow and bitter.
"And do you think that any degree of training we can provide in the few months we have left will prepare them for what is to come?"
She was stunned. "T-Taichō."
"Not more than a handful of the officers are possibly ready to take on a menos on their own. How will they do against a single arrancar?" His voice turned softer as he continued to look on his troops. "Most of them will die, Nanao-chan. They will die fighting with all they have, and maybe with their combined determination they will be able to help sway the tide. It is determination that will win the war. More than skill or power, the final battles will be won by those whose determination cannot be swayed. Let them enjoy their final days a bit more. Work them if you feel you must, but give them time to enjoy life. Allow them to cement memories. That will give them a Seireitei work protecting. That is where the determination will come from."
There was a tense pause between the two of them then Nanao picked up her brush once again and returned to her work.
"Of course, Taichō, as you command. I will send word around that tomorrow is a day off and that the training schedule will be adjusted pending your revisions."
Kyōraku sighed and continued looking out the window. She was a frustrating one. Her eagerness to do her job clouded her otherwise fairly good judgment. Nanao was naïve. Perhaps with a bit more experience she could overcome this bifurcated, logic-based understanding of the world she had. Hard work did not always result in success. The answers to life's questions were rarely found in books, at least not the ones she read. Solutions to problems did not always exist, and even when they did, oftentimes they were where you might least expect to find them. He wondered if he ever got through to her at all.
News of the cancelled trainings took everyone by surprise. Yes, Ise-fukutaichō was a taskmaster. This was well known and understood. However, she was also extremely good at what she did. Her carefully regimented control over herself extended also to her work skills, both in the office and in the battlefield. While she had no tolerance for sloth or misbehaving while on duty, she was surprisingly patient with those who failed to properly complete an exercise. On more than one occasion, she would stop and personally correct a frightened trainee with calmness and a level of understanding few would normally associate with their otherwise seemingly frigid vice-captain. As a result, even those not in the eighth division treated her with respect and occasionally a little fear. It was the delight of the entire eighth that no one, with the possible exception of their own captain, could fail to find their vice-captain impressive and intimidating. It was with the firm, solemn respect her subordinates held for her that allowed her to make such exacting demands of them. They followed her stringent orders not out of devotion, but from duty and with the full knowledge that what she asked of them was nothing compared with what she asked of herself.
Well then, what to do with a day off? Many chose to keep practicing anyway. Some felt this was a ploy their vice-captain was pulling. Others felt that, a day off or no, the impending battle was of such seriousness that even so much as a day's break could cost them their lives and Seireitei. There certainly where others who took the break to spend time with colleagues and have fun in Rukongai. They were the ones who understood that this was a gift from their captain – and that he would likely end up paying dearly for undermining Ise-fukutaichō.
As for the said party, to her, a day's rest from training and teaching meant a day attacking the bottomless stack of forms. Rather, this is what she had intended until her captain came in, picked up her inbox, dropped it in the trash bin, grabbed her hand and shunpo-ed out of the office before she had a chance to say a word. A day off was a day off, and that was that.