Clutching a brown paper bag in his hands, Kira shuffled nervously from foot to foot as he waited to be let into Captain Hitsugaya's office. He had been greeted by a sour-faced woman who looked him up and down, glaring distrustfully at his package before heading off down a darkened corridor to check with her superiors. It was his second-to-last delivery for the day, and he was anxious to finish this task. The heavy box that he had started with had been discarded along the way; now all that was left was this and the goods for the Third, which were few enough that he could carry them all within the medkit strapped to his back.

The Sixth and Ninth Divisions had required extra bandages and first aid kits - a refill of standard emergency equipment. The Second had received a small box filled with vials of what Kira could only assume were tranquilizers and paralyzing agents, and hopefully not poisons of some sort. Captain Ukitake of the Thirteenth Division had requested more of his usual herbal cough remedy; it was delivered to two of his officers who shouted over each other about who got the honor of serving the captain his afternoon tea.

Kira remembered being trapped between them as they attempted to scream into each other's faces. He'd pushed ineffectively against them, but they kept crowding in! Being smashed uncomfortably against the hard chest of the very loud man and the soft breasts of the very loud girl was awkward. It was even more awkward than the time he had tripped and landed with both palms cupping Hinamori's assets and been slapped into next week.

"I'M MORE DEVOTED TO THE CAPTAIN THAN YOU ARE!"

"LIES! NO ONE IS MORE DEVOTED TO THE CAPTAIN THAN ME!"

"BUT I AM!"

"NO, I AM!"

"I AM!"

"GIVE ME THE TEA!"

"NEVER IN A MILLION YEARS!"

Their shouts had blasted into his ears accompanied with spittle and slight halitosis. If Lieutenant Shiba hadn't rescued him at that point, he swore he would have gone deaf. It didn't help that the part of his mind that was still stuck in Iemura-san's astoundingly boring lecture yesterday chimed in while his ears were still ringing and said, "Tinnitus: the perception of sound within the human ear in the absence of corresponding external sound."

As it was, he came out frazzled but largely unharmed. The resulting headache followed Kira into the Tenth Division, where he had been instructed to personally hand over this mysterious prescription.

Captain Hitsugaya had only just been appointed, so Kira hadn't seen him up close yet. Despite being Hinamori's childhood friend, he was reluctant to come out and socialize with her peers, and Kira himself was too reserved to push for a meeting outside of work.

It was said that Hitsugaya was the greatest child prodigy in the history of Soul Society, surpassing Lieutenant Shiba Kaien and perhaps even Captain Ichimaru Gin, because the previous prodigies hadn't possessed the charisma or leadership of a captain at such an age. It was frightening, in a way, to be faced with such a man. If any of the captains could be considered "monsters", as Abarai had once called them, then Kira thought it would be Hitsugaya.

"-to the left."

"Uh... Huh?" Kira snapped up to see the disapproving look on the officer's face. Heated shame came up from under his collar and crept towards his cheeks; her dour expression tightened as she noticed his uncertainty.

"What is it?" she snapped.

"S-sorry, ma'am. Could you repeat that?"

"Captain Hitsugaya confirmed," she said, carefully stressing each word as if speaking to a particularly slow child, "that he was expecting a delivery... You may go in. Down the hall and to the left. Understand?"

"...Er, yes, of course. Thank you."

As Kira proceeded down the hall, he focused his attention on finding the captain's office and pretended not to hear the mumbled slurs against his intelligence.

The captain's office was easy to find since it was the only office down this bend in the hall; the doors were large and imposing enough that it would be difficult to mistake this room for anything else. Kira raised one hand to knock, but before his knuckles could graze the wood, Captain Hitsugaya's gruff voice rang out.

"Come in!"

"Yes, sir!" Kira pushed the door open and made his way to the desk. Captain Hitsugaya was, for lack of a better word... small. He'd heard the rumors, of course, and seen the young captain from afar. It was a different thing entirely to stand next to such a short-statured boy- ah, man. Kira hoped that nothing untoward showed in his face as he bowed and presented his package. "From Captain Unohana, sir. She requested that I hand this to you in person."

Hitsugaya grabbed the bag, peered inside, and grunted his approval. "You... Unohana has sworn you to secrecy, right?" He narrowed his eyes with a suspicious frown.

"I'm sorry, sir? Captain Unohana didn't tell me anything other than to give this to you."

"So you... haven't looked inside."

"No! You have my word, Captain Hitsugaya!" Kira fought back the urge to fiddle with his sash or his sword like he often did when he was nervous. The captain's cool demeanor was unnerving, though Kira now understood why he was so loved by his division: he was extremely serious. An adult mind in a child's body. As such, he must be worried about his reputation, and perhaps about any teasing he might receive if he were to have a "child's" medical condition. Kira's shoulders relaxed as he came to this realization, and he spoke in his best imitation of a soothing voice. "You can trust me, sir. It is my oath as a healer to uphold patient confidentiality."

This was true, though somewhere in the back of Kira's mind, he thought it might be fun to take a peek at whatever it was that made such a revered prodigy twitchy with paranoia. His impish side was betting that it would be a growth serum of some sort; a potion for Captain Hitsugaya to take with his daily glass of milk.

But he tamped down on those thoughts before anything could come of it.

That was just one of the many things he had been struggling with recently. Kira had always known that it was improper for him, as the heir of a noble clan, no matter how minor, to indulge in such whims. He ought to be cultured and calm, not skittish and mischievous as he had been in his youth.

Captain Hitsugaya nodded in thanks. This was Kira's cue to leave, and he did so with as much grace as he could muster.


He stumbled into her office covered in mud.

Unohana was completely in her own league when it came to intimidation tactics. She gave him a disappointed look, and that was all that was needed to cow him. Third seat Iemura, who wasn't even being admonished, also shrank back in fear at their captain's overly motherly tone - the one that meant "You're in deep trouble, young man."

"This is unlike you, Kira-kun. I understand that you were once a member of a combat squad, but you belong to the Fourth now. As such, you cannot continue to engage in such violent behavior. This is the third time this week that you have been in a fight, and I fear that if you continue, you will shame all of us. As punishment, you'll be placed on janitorial duty on top of your regular shifts until you prove to me that you can control yourself."

So that was how he'd ended up doing overtime. He was on his hands and knees in the sewers under the Research Institute, scrubbing who knows whatoff the unforgiving stone where the toxic gunk had splattered after being dumped down a manhole. He was sure that natural substances were not supposed to glow in that particular shade of purple.

Afterwards, Kira finally managed to stumble back to his modest quarters. He'd barely closed the door behind him before flopping down on his futon. Funny, that... It was the first time he hadn't managed to roll up and put away his futon in the morning. With a bitter chuckle, Kira admonished himself for getting too lax with cleaning his room. Yes, it was absolutely hilarious because the reason for his negligence was that he was too busy cleaning everyone else's rooms.

His body ached in all the wrong places. It should have been his arms and legs that throbbed with a dull warmth after hours of running and swinging the familiar weight of his sword; hours of blocking and parrying and frenzied footwork. It should have been his palms that tingled like they always did when he did too many kidō spells in a row, because he was forcing too much energy to course through them. But it wasn't.

His back ached from continuously stooping down to lift boxes of medical supplies. Lift and carry, lift and carry... And his head ached; his temples felt like they were about to burst with seething anger just at the thought of those Eleventh Division brutes and their condescending laughter, especially when he damn well knew that he could take most of them down without even breaking a sweat. He wanted to prove himself to them, and yet he wasn't allowed to.

The only recourse he and his fellow healers had when confronted with bullies was to run away. That was what most of them did: they fled for the sewers and secret passageways. But fleeing from battle left a bad taste in Kira's mouth. It brought up too many memories of his first year at the academy, when he had stood still, frozen with indecision as his classmates were attacked. The knowledge that he had almost run away back then festered within him, and brought with it endless waves of guilt and shame.

His atonement was to stand his ground. No, he would not flee. Let them come at him with their punches, their kicks. He would block them all. And when he couldn't defend anymore, when they left him kneeling in the dirt and blood, he would pick himself up and trudge back to his division where Captain Unohana would shake her head at him and sigh.

Kira had never been one for breaking the rules. He had never been the troublemaker among his group of friends. So. He was a member of the Fourth now, and he would abide by their protocols, if in an unorthodox way. That was what he thought.

It was just that... he couldn't seem to let go. While healing held its merits, Kira was convinced that he was made for battle, and it stung to know that his entire career, his life ever after, all the boyish hopes and dreams he'd secretly whispered to his parents' graves about maybe making lieutenant, or even captain someday... They had all amounted to nothing.

He had been delusional.

Sometimes, as if confirming his most secret fears, Wabisuke would whisper to him that it was his fault things had ended up this way. It was his fault that he hadn't done a good enough job as a Shinigami in a respected combat squad, which was why Captain Aizen had kindly kicked him out, and it was his fault that he wasn't a good enough healer, either. He was worthless. Humiliation was all he would get to look forward to in the days to come. How could he face any of his old friends like this? How could he speak to Hinamori, who had done things right and retained Captain Aizen's favor? Or Abarai, who had made new friends in the Eleventh? How could that not be awkward, to tell his best friend that he was willingly being beaten up every day those same "new friends" of his?

It was even more frustrating knowing that he didn't have the right to be angry at anyone other than himself. Kira had never been the most social man, but he'd had his two best friends by his side. He'd had his stupid pride at insignificant accomplishments, and his stupid happiness whenever he was praised.

You're such a good boy. You're such a good student. You're such a promising young Shinigami.

Was it so bad to like being praised? Now, at times he just wanted to hide behind his hair, shrink inside his uniform, disappear, give up... Kira realized that he'd been doing just that: acting like a spoiled noble who didn't get his way. How painful it was, to know that he was sulking just because his overblown ego had been popped.

Thinking on his own failures was making him even more miserable, if that was possible. Kira rolled over, still fully dressed, and buried his head into the pillow with a groan. He didn't know when he drifted off, just that there was a heavy haze settling over his whole body. Poison, numbing his limbs, and a smile against his ear.

Tha's good, Izuru. I'm glad you're doin' well...