Theme: Hypocrisy
Characters: Unohana Retsu, Yamamoto Genryusai Shigekuni
Pairings: N/A
Rating: K+
Warnings: N/A
Retsu sat in a perfect seiza on a mat in Yamamoto-sensei's office. He hadn't spoken since she finished telling him her concerns, and that had been several minutes ago. She fought down the urge to fidget; her teacher would speak when it was time. Nonetheless, she couldn't help but worry. It was a serious matter, and she wasn't sure how he would react.
"There is no great crime in taking pleasure in your work, Retsu," he said finally. "A shinigami's job is a duty; there is nothing wrong with taking pleasure in doing one's duty."
Retsu hesitated a moment, not wanting him to think less of her, but troubled all the same. "Sensei, I wish I could claim those motives. However, this…when we purify hollows—even when we fight other souls for the sake of Seireitei, that is duty. This…this was personal. I…allowed myself to become too angry. To hate. To enjoy not only hating, but killing, and causing pain as I did so." She felt nauseous as she said it. She could still hear Minazuki's feral call singing through her blood, deadly and terrifying, could still see the look on their faces as she swooped down on them, inexorable as a tidal wave. The surprise turning to panic, turning to horror. And even now, she felt the echo of the triumph she had felt then. Her eyes dropped, tracing the dark lines of her shihakusho, reluctant to close her eyes lest she see the images burned onto her eyelids. "I don't deserve to be called a healer, Sensei," she murmured. "I don't even deserve this uniform."
Sensei leaned forward onto the desk and out of the corner of her eye she saw him steeple his fingers together with a sigh. "There is a great darkness inside each soul," he said. "It can be tamed, but it can never truly be conquered. However, the constant effort to defeat it is what defines us, as pure souls and as shinigami. It is what separates us from the hollows."
She looked up to meet his eyes, and his gaze seemed to pierce right through her. "We all have blood on our hands," he said gruffly. "You will be a better healer, a better shinigami for having gotten a taste for knowing that. But be warned," he said sharply, "master yourself. Go too far and any shinigami can become worse than a hollow, and if that happens," his eyes gleamed dangerously, "I'll kill you myself."
Retsu straightened and bowed deeply from her still-seated position. "Yes, Sensei," she said, a shiver running down her spine. She didn't doubt for a moment that Yamamoto-sensei would do just what he said if it came to it. But she had no intention of allowing that to happen. She stood and bowed again, more formally this time. "Thank you for your time, Yamamoto-soutaichou."
She bowed one more time and then left the room, sliding the thin door shut behind her. Outside, it was a beautiful spring day. The sakura were in bloom, and couples—mostly students from the newly-made Shinigami Academy—were everywhere, sitting together under the trees and on benches, talking and kissing. A few of them saw her as she passed. Although she smiled and inclined her head as she always had, many of them stared this time, or whispered to each other as she walked by. So, the rumors had spread around already. She shouldn't be surprised. In a way, it was a fit punishment for what she'd done. She held her head high as she walked down the familiar, dusty streets towards the infirmary where she worked. She was still technically a student there, an apprentice to the head healer. However, Kuze-sensei was already calling on her to handle many of the most difficult cases, ones even he had trouble. You have healer's hands, he told her once. It's a very rare gift.
She glanced at her hands and almost laughed. Healer hands indeed. What a hypocrite she was! Take something important, and she was as deadly and cruel as any hollow. Don't be so proud, a voice in her head interrupted her. It was an odd voice, neither male nor female, and overlaid with the depth of the sea. Her zanpakuto spirit, Minazuki. He clearly wanted to talk to her, and since Retsu didn't want to bump into anything, she sat down on the nearest stone bench and leaned back against the trunk of a maple tree, closing her eyes as she did so. Immediately, she found herself deep underwater, on the many-colored reef that was her zanpakuto spirit's home. The spirit itself was sitting on a throne made of coral, strumming a biwa set with abalone as its dark hair flowed in the water around its robed shoulders.
Retsu bowed respectfully, though warily. She'd seen the darker side of this spirit now, and she knew it was not as peaceful as it seemed. "I don't understand what you mean, Minazuki-san," she admitted.
"Do you think yourself so pure that you're exempt from the weaknesses all men share?"it asked, setting aside the instrument. "Do you think yourself so sacred that you have no darkness within you? Do you think yourself so holy that you have no deeper desires to be restrained?" It gazed at her, pure understanding in its eyes, knowing her better than she knew herself. "This is pride, foolish pride."
Retsu wanted to argue. She hated the way she'd felt, hated knowing she could do something like that, hated that it was so easy. "I don't want to be like that," she insisted.
Minauzki inclined its head. "I do not want you to be like that either," it agreed simply. "But that doesn't change the fact that the potential is there, as it is in every shinigami. Why do you think you fight us when you seek to earn shikai or bankai?"
Retsu blinked, not understanding. "I don't know. Because we have to prove that we're worthy?" she hazarded. That was what they'd been taught, at least.
Minazuki made a slight motion of its head that was neither a nod nor a shake of its head. "Partially. But more than that, to give such power to a shinigami who couldn't control himself would be like giving a flamethrower to an infant—dangerous both to the wielder and to everyone around him."
Retsu hesitated a moment as she watched the bright fish gliding through the water around the reef. "I suppose you're right," she admitted in a soft, low voice. Something tightened in her chest as she admitted it. Until then, she realized that she'd been unconsciously hoping that the darkness was something outside her, something she could blame on her zanpakuto acting up or on the circumstances. Her head dropped. It was her choice, her decision. She had to accept what was inside her, healer or not.
Minazuki sighed and floated to her side. "It's a hard lesson, Mistress," it admitted. "But it's one you have to learn. Don't throw away all the good you can do because you can also do a great deal of evil."
Retsu nodded slowly. "Yes, Minazuki-san." Closing her eyes in this world, she floated towards the surface and opened her eyes in the real world, finding them hot with tears. She blinked them back and then started to see someone standing in front of her. She jumped to her feet and brushed the petals off her uniform as she bowed hastily to Kuze-sensei, a tall healer with a balding head and half-moon glasses. "Ah, pardon me, sir," she apologized.
"Quite all right, Unohana-san…quite all right. But as I was asking, are you all right?" He peered over his glasses at her curiously, as if he wasn't quite sure what was going on.
"Oh…yes, Kuze-sensei," she assured him. "Just speaking with my zanpakuto spirit. I'm sorry I didn't notice you."
"Ah," he said, apparently satisfied, "that will distract you, especially when you're rather new to it all…but did you have a good conversation?" He began to walk towards the infirmary, Retsu falling in step beside him.
Retsu nodded slowly. "Yes, sir. I believe I did." She glanced down at her hands—healing hands but also hands that could kill. She sighed and let them fall to her side. One way or another, they were her hands, and she could decide what to do with them. As Kuze-sensei began to ramble on about his first time encountering his zanpakuto spirit, Retsu looked towards the infirmary ahead. She was going to be a healer, and she still had a lot of work ahead of her.
