Tap-tap. Tap. Tap.
With a weary sigh, Sasakibe put down his pen and straightened up, turning his attention from the form to the door. "Enter." He called.
The third seat, Arasubi Nakamaru, opened the door and made his way toward the lieutenant's desk with an intimidating stack of paper in his arms. Setting them down with a suppressed sigh of relief, (His back must have been bothering him again. He really should go to the fourth and have that checked out.) he said, "I can only wish you luck Sir. Those need your approval, so I can't help with them. But if you like, I could do you rounds for you- make sure everything's right."
Sasakibe grinned and shook his head. "If you do my rounds, I'll never see the sun! Besides," He continued more seriously, "it does the troops good to see me once in a while. Raises morale and whatnot."
Nakamaru smiled and said, "You're right, but you're only saying for an excuse to leave some of this paperwork for tommorow." He turned and was walking out of the room when Sasakibe's muttered "It's still true!" was heard and he laughed as he closed the door.
Later, he mused, he'd go out to the training area and give the recruits some pointers. He chuckled when he imagined their awe and surprise. He might even hide and listen to them talk long enough to learn their names before he showed himself. Greeting them by name would certainly make an impression. He sighed, his mood turning contemplative. He should have realized sooner. He was doing it again.
Sasakibe, after a few years as the first division fukutaicho, had developed an annoying habit of playing captain. He would act, talk, and even think as though he were the captain of the division. He started think of the third seat as the second-in-command, and it all went downhill from there. The root of the problem was most likely the fact that the real captain wasn't here. He wasn't around. He was, in fact in a room on the top floor of a separate building on first division land. Meditating, Sasakibe assumed. Or perhaps drinking tea and planning the war. He was doing whatever it was Soutachous do. But the point was, while he was doing what soutaichos do, he wasn't doing what taichos do. Sasakibe was, in fact, the one doing what taichos do. Paperwork, rounds, bonding with and keeping up the spirits of the troops.
In regards to paperwork, Yammamoto had long since athorised him to sign anything usually requiring the captains signature, and at this point he'd given up on checking with said ancient captain-commander for anything. If he didn't know better, he might have thought his superior didn't even care about the First Division. But that couldn't be true... could it?
When the First fought, Sasakibe led. Yammamoto gave them their orders.
When the First trained, Sasakibe taught. Yammamoto didn't need any practice.
When the First got new members, Sasabike met them, smiled and reassured the young warriors. Yammamotto couldn't be bothered with such trivial matters.
When the First lost those members, Sasakibe personally attended the funerals and more often than not, he spoke at them. Yammamotto checked the statistics to be sure recruits were graduating at at least the same rate they were dying- it wouldn't do to be short any soldiers in this tempestuous time.
All this time Sasakibe thought he'd been playing captain, pretending to be something he wasn't. But as he reflected on this mighty man who supposedly was captain, he found he wasn't sure which of them was really playing.