Chapter Four
The Second Division of the Gotei 13 embodied diligence. In every action of every officer, efficiency and obedience were the rule – never the exception. The Onmitsukidō, being under the same captain as the Second Division, mirrored the Second Division's dutiful obeisance.
Failure was not tolerated; it was an embarrassment, worthy of permanent demotion and Captain Soifon's eternal disappointment. A reminder of the division's sentiments on failure came in the form of an inattentive rookie who had been assigned to the surveillance of the defunct Shiba manor.
"What is the punishment for tardiness – for failure to promptly report to your commander?"
Soifon was addressing the majority of the Second Division's night shift. They were arranged in marching formation in the division's main pavilion; the rookie stood, alienated and disgraced, several feet in front of the first line of shinigami. Each of the assembled shinigami knew the captain asked a rhetorical question. The petite captain knew that none would answer, and allowed the tense silence to continue, raking the rookie's nerves into frayed disarray. She gave no sign of emotion as she stared dispassionately into the eyes of her subordinates.
"You all know the answer. I can see it in your eyes, your stance. This one," She stated, gesturing harshly to the humiliated technician, "shall never rise to a seated position. In addition, he is assigned to daily remedial training for a currently undetermined amount of time."
Anger. Even though her inflection and pacing did not change as she spoke, the subordinates could recognize scarlet, burning anger in the captain's word choice. She did not speak his name, and worse yet she had not stated the amount of time that the rookie would be in remedial training.
Soifon was royally pissed.
"Was that necessary?"
He spoke from the shadows; his stealth and wits had hidden him from the sight of the Second Division's night guard. Soifon, however, had sensed his approach long before his arrival.
"You may be the commander of the Detention Unit, and I may allow you to speak your mind to me, but you are not allowed to address me without the appropriate title. It is disrespectful. Is that clear, commander?"
Her tone was neutrally reprimanding, but neither disapproving nor affronted. She hadn't so much as glanced in the Onmitsukidō officer's direction, her steely grey eyes firmly focused on the reports and requests on her desk. The officer, slouched against the wall and obscured by the lack of light, quickly rectified his mistake. He snapped to attention and bowed.
"Yes, Captain Soifon."
Soifon paused, her pen hovering above the script of a request for more training equipment, and turned her gaze upward. She had finally acknowledged the officer, regarding him with grudgingly given respect. The officer nearly smiled, nearly basked in accomplishment, beneath his mask; she had despised him because of his uncalled for familiarity not too long ago.
"As for your question…. His failure was costly. I cannot afford for my subordinates to be inattentive, or for them to think me lax in my discipline; public retribution is a reminder for the rest of the division." Soifon could feel the Detention Unit commander's curiosity – it permeated the air, eager and bright – but she did not elaborate. She did not answer, did not give, without request. The austere captain knew that unwanted help – be it information or reinforcements – could be as harmful as inaction.
"You called me here for a reason Captain, and I suspect it has something to do with that technician. Just what happened, Captain, for you to be so irate?"
His phrasing and word choice were as respectful as would be expected of the usual subordinate, but for this officer it was an unusually polite statement. He was no brute, nor was he stupid, but he was uncultured – a Rukongai orphan that had risen through the ranks through hard work and latent talent. Soifon was strict and had been raised by nobles, but she understood that this officer meant her no disrespect with his unrefined manners. It had taken time for her to reach such understanding, but it had been a fruitful epiphany that only came to her a few years previous.
"You are correct. A disturbance arose at the Shiba manor. The assigned technician knew that while the manor was unlikely to be disturbed, he also understood that it would be of utmost importance to report to his commanding officer in any instance where the Shiba manor was disturbed. He did not report to his commanding officer until 24 hours after the disturbance, and gave no excuse whatsoever."
The Detention Unit commander gave a low whistle; she could see that his eyebrows were raised in an expression of disbelief.
"Indeed, commander, I was disappointed when news reached me half an hour ago. The Ōmaeda family, while frustratingly arrogant, has never produced such an inattentive fool before. Marejirōsaburō is simply inadequate; thankfully, his elder brother is performing admirably." She repressed a sigh here, and set down her pen at last, choosing to meet her subordinate's gaze directly. The commander did not miss the lack of honorific on the disgraced technician's name.
"You will meet with the Patrol Corps commander and coordinate an investigation immediately. I expect you and your chosen squad to be mobilized within half an hour." The captain's gaze hardened here, and a small scowl settled in her brow. "Do not disappoint me, commander. I believe that I can only suffer so much of that."
"Yes, Captain." He saluted, waiting for her dismissal. At her nod, he moved to the doorway, saying just before his departure, "Take care."
She hated that he was close enough to her to get away with saying something so casual, and she hated herself for many other reasons. Yoruichi's bitter departure had tainted so many of Soifon's thoughts and feelings. Simply existing had been straightforward for Soifon, once upon a time.
That wasn't the way of things. Not anymore.
The veil of late night had settled over the Rukongai districts. In the outer districts, the gangs assembled under the cover of darkness. Few of the residents of the outer districts were stupid enough to be out in the open; the newly dead, though, were often caught by thugs and forced into the most inhumane of services – slavery, in all its ghastly forms.
Hiroki and Aki were smart enough from the start to survive the harsh brutalities of the outer Rukongai. Sirius had followed them into the ramshackle neighborhoods of the 80th district, and settled in with them for the night. Their chosen haven, an abandoned shed, was hazardous and derelict. Rodents and insects scurried along the walls, and the floor was simple dirt; nails haphazardly protruded from the molding wooden walls.
This shanty was the norm in the 80th district, and Sirius mourned for Hiroki and Aki's lost childhood as he lay down on the earthen floor. They certainly were not children in Sirius' eyes, except in looks, if they could survive such unkind conditions. He quietly guarded the entrance to their abode as the children huddled for warmth, whispering to each other in the darkness.
"I hear the Shinigami Academy is admitting students in a few weeks, Hiroki-kun. Do you think we'd get in if we're lucky?" Aki's whisper carried to Sirius, and he could hear bittersweet hope oozing from her inquiry. Sirius did not envy Hiroki's position at the moment; being subjected to such a conflict of honesty and soothing a friend was beyond him, and he knew it. I can't help someone else, I can barely help myself – ah but I can survive and live live live… how does that help Harry, abandoned and alone?
Sirius' self-deprecating trail of thought was cut short by Hiroki's reply, and he found himself impressed by Hiroki's sensitivity to the subject.
"Maybe, Aki-chan. I know that even orphans and commoners like us who have no training can get into the Shinigami Academy. My friend Hanatarō made it in just a few years ago, and his brother before him. You met Hanatarō, remember?"
"Yes. He wasn't particularly strong though, so how did he get in?" Hiroki chuckled a little at Aki's statement.
"True, he wasn't strong, but I hear that there's a division in the Gotei 13 that only heals. I can see him going to that division." Aki was silent for a few minutes after Hiroki said this, but her next proclamation was stunning in its maturity.
"Hiroki-kun, if one of us makes it into the Academy and the other doesn't, then the one who gets in should go. It's better than both of us staying out here." Hiroki didn't flounder for even a moment, and didn't give an intensely emotional response. He simply sighed before speaking.
"You're right, but I think we won't need to worry about that. We can both get in."
Not another word was said, and the trio fell into a restless slumber as they contemplated what the future would bring.
Eight members of the Onmitsukidō sped through the night away from the Shiba manor. It had taken them two hours to reach the noble house, despite their heavy use of shunpo, and when they reached the mansion the midnight moon was already shining bright. They made short work of tracing the unknown entity's reiatsu, and began tracking the signature toward the Rukongai districts.
The Twelfth Division's gadgets certainly helped them along the way; it would be one oversight – one moment where they forewent the technology – that would cost them their prey.
Another two hours of tracking into the Rukongai. The moon was setting, and predawn sat coldly on the land. Two children were huddled in a shack, and the unknown's signature was saturating the area. The Detention Unit commander spoke, hushed yet forceful, from his perch atop a roof overlooking the ramshackle shed. The seven others were the embodiment of attentiveness.
"Take the two children quietly. Knock them out if necessary, we don't need the people causing a riot or the gangs trying to challenge us."
It was left unsaid that the hound, an unintelligent creature incapable of divulging information, was to be unbothered.
Sirius awoke to whispering cloth and muffled cries; his eyes snapped open to see flashing shadows snapping up the now unconscious children, and with a guttural howl he made haste to follow as the shades flashed away into the dark neighborhood.
It was then that his world froze for a moment, and then he was falling away. The moors were back again when he stopped falling, and the Cusìth appeared to him, this time accompanied by a gargantuan two-headed canine – black as the night, but as terrible? – that resembled the mythical Cerberus. Its hazel eyes peered through the shades of night, reflecting the starlight in glints and shimmers.
Sirius knew that he should have been terrified, should run and hide – away away, always hidden away, so useless in the background. Instead, he thought of the ancient Greek myths his mother forced into his mind as a young boy, some that featured the Cerberus. She loved to remind us that we were descended from one of the oracles.
"What happened?" Sirius' question was spoken without forethought; he was vaguely concerned with how bemused he sounded. Am I hallucinating again? The delusions were never so mild, always so horrible – dreams of what never was, what was too true, and Azkaban twisted and turned it all into sadness, despair, dark dark darkness….
The skies above them darkened from a purple haze into inky black, and the two-headed one spoke from both mouths. Its clear voice – feminine and strong – cut through Sirius' wandering thoughts, partially returning his foggy attention to the present.
"It is of no concern any longer." As if the creature sensed his approaching protest – children kidnapped, how could that be of no concern? – it continued speaking, soothing his quietly ruffled temper. "The children will be safe because they are ignorant; however, you will find no safe haven. You are the one that the death gods – the shinigami – seek. Luck has saved you thus far." Death gods – they seemed important, and Sirius uncertainly recalled a memory about them.
Ah, yes. The Shiba manor's plaque.
"So death gods and shinigami are one and the same, that's what Hiroki and Aki were talking about…." The animagus was voicing his straying thoughts. Nothing could stay straight in his mind. "I should be worried, if these shinigami are looking for me." There was no worry, yet. Just fog and haze, and ambiguous impressions of emotions.
It was the same tired haze that came after his delusions; the agonizing hallucinations – Azkaban reaches for me from the past, I left something behind there, perhaps a piece of myself, and Azkaban gave me a souvenir too – that rent his mind to pieces left him in a broken stupor every time, his usual impassioned, volatile nature dampened. Insanity brought blissful negligence and searing agony in equal parts – a double edged blade, indeed. He supposed he was in shock; no past hallucination had ever been so mild or bewildering.
"What is this place? Who are you?" The canines elected to pace around Sirius rather than answer; his words echoed in the air and died. Normally he would have felt scorned, his pride battered, but mild irritation and bemusement were all that he could perceive in the daze.
"Is this even real?" Sirius tilted his head back to observe the obsidian sky; the constellation of Orion shined through an opening in the cloud cover, and his namesake peered at him – bright, luminescent, could I ever shine so brilliantly?
"It is indeed real," the Cusìth replied in its haunting multi-tone voice, and Sirius slowly returned his attention to the canines, his head lolling forward for a short moment. The Cusìth sat down in front of Sirius' immobile figure; it was only then that the animagus realized that the creature, while smaller than its counterpart, was impressively large – similar in size to the most massive of dogs. The other hound settled next to the Cusìth, and Sirius was dwarfed by the beast – at least the size of a horse, how could such a thing exist? The ebony-furred behemoth spoke, its bell like tones soothing Sirius' dazed mind.
"As for your other questions, this is your mind, your inner world. We are part of you, and represent your personality." Surprise flooded Sirius' mind, and the clouds above swirled in agitation, a soundless wind stirring them.
"You said this was real." The colossal one appeared to smile, and a throaty chuckle emitted from its two heads. Sirius disregarded this and continued his train of thought. "If this is my mind, it should be far more… twisted." Grins no longer adorned the dark one's muzzles. The Cusìth's rebuttal was swift and more complex than Sirius ever would have anticipated.
"Your inner world has never been stable, Sirius Black, and it has never been pleasant. You were raised in darkness, and that darkness has evolved, remaining in your mind for the entirety of your life. You have clung to hope since the day you were born, but that hope waxes and wanes, rises and falls like the tides. Your inner world is tumultuous and constantly transforming into something new."
Sirius didn't want to know what this place had been like during Azkaban, and he didn't even attempt to deny the darkness bit. Silence reigned for a moment, a day, a year – Sirius didn't know how long – while he contemplated this situation. His mind still festered in a daze, and he couldn't remember what he wanted to ask. He chose to simply speak his mind – mother always hated that.
"What are you two? You say you represent my personality. Do I have two personalities?" In his muddled consciousness, Sirius vaguely recognized subdued amusement – it would make almost too much sense for me to have two personalities. He hadn't realized that he accepted the beasts' words as truth; his auror instincts, the ones that would have told him to doubt and question, lay dormant and useless in some far corner of his mind.
The dark colossus responded first, saying, "I am a war hound. I represent what you choose to be, Sirius – an advocate of the light. I am your loyalty, your courage, your passion and ferocity, your morals. I am a warrior, and the most true of friends. A Gryffindor." The CusÌth spoke immediately after the dark one's proclamation, leaving not a moment of silence in which Sirius could speak.
"And I am a Cusìth, a true hunting hound. I represent what you were raised to be – a pureblood. I am your cunning, your drive to survive, your darkest desires. I am a master of disguise, of infiltration, and of efficiency. I am a Slytherin." There was a pause here; Sirius was astounded, and the night air turned deathly still around him. Still a Slytherin, am I? Even after all I've tried to do to change. The moon shone down on him, its light a cold comfort – comfort is better than none. His befuddlement finally left him, the shock of the Cusìth's words awakening his cognizance, and the low mists on the moors' hills dissipated.
"So, in a way, I do have two personalities." The dark one ignored his statement; a note of urgency entered its tone as it spoke.
"We are soul cutters, the weapons of shinigami – or, as they say, zanpakutō – and representatives of the bearer's soul. If you wish to survive in this world you must learn to utilize us, Sirius, or you may never reunite with Harry."
Ah. The creature was a part of Sirius, of course it knew that his sanity hinged on Harry's safety – he and Remus are all that I have left of those days.
"You must search your soul and say our names, or you will not be able to use our strength. Saying our names is the first step in opening the relationship between zanpakutō and shinigami." The Cusìth had said this, its braided tail swishing agitatedly and ears flicking to and fro.
The names came to Sirius of their own volition. His voice was firm and confident as he proclaimed the words. Fitting names, hunters of Greek myth, both turned to beasts. The animagus had no idea of the journey that was begun by speaking two simple words.
"Actaeon and Atalanta."
Notes (7/11/2011):
Ok. Still haven't figured out how to get my graphic tablet and software to convert handwritten text into typed stuff. Working on figuring that out. Still have tendonitis, but it's getting better. I think it was started by some serious knotting in my shoulders.
The writing is slowly becoming more casual; I hope you all like that. My goal for chapter length is 3,000 words. 2,000 words makes it just a little too short, and 3,000 is short enough where I don't kill myself.
Please review and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear what you think about Sirius' zanpakutō and the kidnapping scene; I don't know if it's a believable scene, since the Onmitsukidō is under pressure to be very thorough, but it's necessary at the moment.
Also, reviews are great motivation - moreso than faves or alerts.
Thank you to those that have already reviewed! I appreciate it, hearing that reviewers find this an interesting story concept.
