Beware of the dog
The Fourth Division of Gotei 13 is, as a rule, composed of soft-spoken, level-headed and mild-mannered shinigami.
We are the quiet, kindly type. We have the magical soothing touch that heals wounds. We keep the whole place clean. We know herbs that make miracles happen. We even manage food stocks and keep track on uniform cleaning.
The Fourth Division is a big, united family.
And we have to be, because we have to stand up against the most of Gotei.
We can describe ourselves with many great and accurate adjectives, but others usually don't bother and don't notice. Or use something along the lines of «weakling», «callboy» or «punchbag».
So much for being the little and essential cogwheels without which the smooth working of the big machine would stop. If it wasn't for us, no one would do the cleaning. If it wasn't for us, no one would do the deliveries. If it wasn't for us, no one would do the healing. If it wasn't for us, no one would manage supplies. If it wasn't for us, no one would provide punchbag services!..
Wait. No, I call the last one back. Let other divisions look for punchbags in their own barracks, while we, being sensible humanists, would leave peacefully.
But of cooourse, would anyone listen to what some little medic mouse has to say? Talk about impossible. You just heal, clean, deliver and run on and about, doing odd jobs.
It's not that odd jobs bother me - I rather like them, actually. The change of pace is nice. Being the leader of a Relief Team means you're stuck in the General Relief Station for about half a week – and if it's not that, it's field work in Rukongai – and even if day-in day-out dealing with difficult patients doesn't wear you out, report writing does.
September wind breezes by, and dry leaves dance around me in yellow and red whirls. Oh no you didn't…
It takes some time to sweep leaves back into a neat heap.
There are fourteen Advanced Relief Teams in total. Each has a leader, a co-leader, and about ten other healers following them. That's about one hundred and seventy-something healers. Two or three dozens of shinigami left out are mostly healers in training, or the ones doing housekeeping in our division. There are, of course, Unohana-taicho and Kotetsu-fukutaicho, but they are busy supervising us.
Then there are eighteen officer ranks - again, there are captain and lieutenant, but they are sort of above and out of ranks. Officers take positions of team leaders, and those who don't, become co-leaders instead; the rest of co-leaders positions is filled with non-seated healers.
And then there's me, Ishikawa Akane, in no way a seated officer and yet somehow the leader of the Thirteenth Relief Team. How did that come to be I haven't any idea. It's just that one morning I show up to receive my assignment, only to be told something along the: "Kamuta-san left to become a teacher in the Academy, and it was decided you'd fill in his position," kind of lines. I can't even begin to imagine what were other team leaders thinking – and by the by, it's them who decide on the new candidate. Now, if I was promoted as a seated rank, and only then made the leader, that would've been acceptable in every aspect. But like that, I'm just a joke.
Still, it could've been worse. At least I'm still a member of the Fourth Division.
Somebody's voices enter my hearing, and I duck into the shade. I'm a medic mouse. People aren't supposed to notice me, not when I'm out on the streets of Seiretei minding my own business.
The group of shinigami passes by, chatting and taking no note of me.
I stuff leaves into a sack, and drag it towards a small dead end for someone to pick up later. Street cleaning was my morning assignment, and I've already done my share. Now it's back into barracks for afternoon meal, and half the day is gone. Some one or another odd job to pass the time until evening, and then it's time to rest.
The sack isn't particularly heavy, just hard to carry, and it drags after me in an awkward way. I'm about to walk around the corner, but my steps come to a halt.
There's a girl I recognize as another member of the Fourth by the way she cowers alone. A man, and I won't be surprised if that's some thug from the Eleventh Division, is towering above her with a wide, mocking grin on his mug. He has one arm propped against the wall, just beside the girl's head.
I clench my fist a bit tighter. I can feel knuckles going white, stretching the skin.
That's another problem we girls have to deal with - no one wants to listen to what we have to say. So if some guy - especially some big tough guy from the Eleventh - suddenly thinks it's an awfully funny idea to hit on you just for kicks... well, what can a girl do? Close her eyes and pray that maybe the scary man would get bored and go away, please.
I should be looking away. I should be keeping my head low. I don't even carry my zanpakutou with me. My mark in swordsmanship class was barely adequate, for crying out loud. This man can break my spine with a flick of his hand.
I'm a medic mouse, I'm a small cogwheel taken for granted, everyone looks down on my kind, and this bastard is messing with one of our girls on my shift.
- The thing pushing into your back, - I try to keep my voice calm and even, - Is a broomstick.
I don't even know how did I got behind his back. Nevertheless, I push a little harder. There's a little devil in the back of my mind, and it giggles, and all the while the anger is seething.
- It's a broomstick polished by the hands of a hundred shinigami, if not more. It shines rather well. It's heavy and rock-hard. It can break a brick in two. Would you like me to find out where I can hit you with it and how hard?
The big man turns his ugly mug towards me.
The girl has a mixture of horror and relief in her wide-open eyes. I know how good it feels to have someone stand up for you, and standing up for someone feels good as well. But it's still a big tough guy from the Eleventh. And we're still just two small medic girls.
- Lemme guess, you're the puny dog? - the man scowls, - Do ya need some kickin'?
- I said, - I have to raise my voice, and I can already feel my anger wavering, - Let her go, or I will hit you.
A grin splits his face.
- What, with this?
He reaches out and grabs the broomstick by the handle. I know I don't stand any chances against a man three times my size, so I show just a little resistance - and then let go.
The man loses his balance for a brief instant, but that's all I need. I hurry to smack a slowing kidou on him, then I grab the girl by her hand and make a break for it. I can hear the man yelling, but that only makes me run faster. I've bought us only a few seconds. It's down to basic survival instincts now – run or get beaten. The fear is your fuel, and the more you build up, the faster you run.
- Tha-tha-tha... - the girl mutters.
- «Tha» - no, «run» - yes! - I bark back, turning around the corner.
The girl shrieks, because there are some people there – I don't know who, I just see white and black. I make a mad dash for the wall, crash into it and cushion the impact for the girl. Faint glowing dots dance in my eyes before darkness rapidly becomes the sunlit street. I stay still for another second just to yell my sincerest apologies and then break into running again, dragging the girl after me.
The tiny devil in the back of my mind giggles, thinking about the man we ran away from, and wondering whether he'd be lucky enough not to bump into a captain head-on.
There are soft-spoken, level-headed and mild-mannered shinigami in the Fourth Division, the gentle, kind and caring type.
And then there's me, Ishikawa Akane, a puny dog with a loud bark, little bite and a penchant for acting stupid.
Author's note:
It's a continuation of sorts to my other story, "Red". I think it takes place after the events of the 48th volume of manga, when things are peaceful again. Still OC-centric, perhaps even more so.
So why am I writing this? It's because I'm curious to explore 4th Division duties, I think. It's said that they are healers, cleaners, and also that they manage supplies (but of what?). These things have little to no mention in canon, but that's why fanfiction exists - to speculate on such things, right?