Undergoing rewrite on AO3 (link in profile).
Chapter 10: Take the world by storm, enter the Fourth!
"So, Fourth Division, hmm?" Yoruichi took a bite of her grilled saba, stating conversationally.
Soifon glared at him as if he had grievously offended her.
Tsuzuki kept his head down and ate quietly.
The moment he had stated his choice of division, half the officers were up and shouting, incredulous voices exchanging opinions back and forth. Even Unohana herself had looked surprised, a rare expression on the normally-serene captain's face. After all, most of the other captains had offered out of obligation, fully expecting to be rejected. Although – he sneaked a peak at Yoruichi's calm expression – it seemed as the Shihōin head had already predicted this outcome.
"Kisuke thought it was rather obvious," replied Yoruichi to his unspoken question, smirking. And naturally, what the blond knew, she knew.
"Argh!" Soifon exclaimed loudly, tossing down her chopsticks and rising from the table. It was no secret Kisuke's close friendship with Yoruichi annoyed her to no end. Add that to the topic at hand, and it was no wonder that she was stomping out of the dining room in a fit of temper. Tsuzuki glanced back at Yoruichi. Perhaps that was the conniving cat's intention all along, for they were now alone.
"So, Fourth Division, ne?" Yoruichi repeated. Without prompting, she revealed her thoughts on the matter. "I know of the combat medic sub-division. It isn't even big enough to warrant its own division like the Onmitsukidō or the Kidōshu. It is the elite of the elite medics in Seireitei, hand-picked by Unohana-taichō to be both capable of holding their own in the battlefield and proficient in kaidō. In return, she expects a lot from candidates and is much harder on them than the rest of her division. There's a reason why even the Eleventh Division fears her wrath after all." Yoruichi levelled a gaze on Tsuzuki. "So, I know Unohana-taichō, and she isn't the type to potentially waste all that effort trying to recruit someone whom everyone expects to join the Onmitsukidō." She continued looking at Tsuzuki expectantly.
"Yeah." Tsuzuki swallowed and stared at the floor. "That day, after I saw Himura-san, I asked her if she can consider me for her combat medic sub-division. She said she'll think about it when I graduate. I…" he burst out, "I just couldn't help but think, if I had known kaidō, then maybe I could have done something, helped Himura-san before her injures became irreversible."
"Tsuzuki," interrupted Yoruichi gently. "It's not healthy to keep blaming yourself. You got her to medical attention in record time, and healing using reiatsu isn't the same as Inoue-chan's rejection. There are injuries you just can't heal with kaidō, because kaidō only speeds up the body's natural recovery process using a boost from the medic's reiatsu. Inoue-chan simply resets the body to its previous condition, but no matter how good at kaidō you become, you won't be able to turn back time."
"I know," Tsuzuki whispered miserably. "I know I probably couldn't have done anything about it in this case, but I'm sick of watching people bleed to death in front of my eyes, because there are too few medics to go around, and even fewer capable of braving the front-lines. I don't want to feel this helpless anymore. I want to feel like I'm doing something, and working to become a combat medic makes me feel like I'm doing something useful. That's why I joined the Fourth." He stared at Yoruichi, willing her to understand.
Yoruichi pursed her lips and gazed searchingly at him for a long while. Tsuzuki did not flinch from her scrutiny, even when the smallest of frowns tugged at her brow. He knew that he had thrown possibly years of hard work out of the window by unexpectedly deviating from the plan, but he also felt that it was the right thing to do. Whether as Kurosaki Ichigo or Shihōin Tsuzuki, he would always do what he felt was necessary, and to hell with anyone who believed otherwise.
She blew out a long breath. "Make us proud," she informed him.
"I will," promised Tsuzuki.
… … … … … … …
"Welcome to the combat medic sub-division, Tsuzuki-san," greeted Unohana. "These are your senpai." She gestured to the group of shinigami standing behind her. They took it as her cue to step up and introduce themselves.
"Salutations, Tsuzuki-san. I am Yamada Seinosuke, the lieutenant." A young man with black hair and black eyes was the first to speak. "Strictly speaking, Unohana-taichō and I are not part of the combat medic sub-division as we both have other duties to attend to; however, we are both capable combat medics."
"Hello Tsuzuki-san, I am the Third Seat, Nakamura Kenji. I am normally in charge of this sub-division. Pleased to meet you." A non-descript middle-aged man stepped up.
"I'm Katō Natsumi, the Fifth Seat. Pleased to meet you!" A bubbly girl with her brown hair gathered in a ponytail on the right side of her head bobbed her head.
"Sixth Seat Watanabe Kotarō, pleased to meet you," mumbled the last boy, who looked even younger than Tsuzuki did, though appearance meant nothing in terms of actual age in Soul Society.
Tsuzuki bowed back. "Pleased to meet you all." He glanced around again. That was all?
Unohana took note of his faintly quizzical look to explain. "Very few have the potential to blossom as a combat medic, and of those who do, even fewer choose to undergo the gruelling training required. Most new graduates dream of becoming heroes on the battlefield, and the Fourth is rarely someone's first choice."
Including him, there were only six combat medics in the whole of the Gotei Thirteen.
"What made you pick me?" he asked, honestly curious. His reiatsu control was utterly awful and his demeanour completely different from what one would expect of a healer. Then again, if someone like Isshin could become a doctor…
A fleeting smile graced the captain's visage. "There are many things I look for in candidates. Above average reiatsu reserves, the form of their shikai, inherent combat ability, just to name a few… but above all, what I really want to see is a desire to help others in need, and the will to make it happen. You have demonstrated both admirably."
Tsuzuki could only bow in response.
… … … … … … …
A gentle breeze blew into his bedroom from the open window as Tsuzuki set about laying his futon for the night.
A clatter of clogs on the windowsill, a flutter of a robe in the wind.
Tsuzuki did not verbally acknowledge Kisuke's presence, although he paused in his actions, remaining kneeling beside the shikibuton he had just laid out, one hand still tucked between the folds of his kakebuton.
Hands landed lightly but firmly on his shoulders. "Are you sure about this?" Kisuke asked quietly.
Tsuzuki bowed his head, gazing unseeingly at his futon mattress. Was he sure about his decision? Certainly, anyone who knew him so well would be worried whether he was doing it as a form of penitence for Himura-san's injury, but Tsuzuki knew it was more than that. He had wanted to be a doctor ever since he had been a helpless nine-year-old crying his eyes out over his mother's dead body; it was one of the reasons why he had always studied so hard. Being on the front-lines of a war, he had held countless allies as they died in his arms, the healers always too few, too late. The moment Unohana-taichō had died, the war was effectively already over.
"Yeah, I am."
One of the hands patted his shoulder. "Well then," responded Kisuke cheerfully. "Let's see how we can turn this to our advantage, then."
Tsuzuki's head snapped up and he twisted his body around to stare incredulously at Kisuke. No recriminations, no admonishments, just simple acceptance.
Kisuke was smiling, open and friendly, the familiar calculating glint in his eye as he considered the matter. The sight of it made something inside Tsuzuki ache because Kisuke had never looked like that anymore, not after the Visoreds – "Unexpected stubborn streak and willingness to rebel against what some would view as your destined position…" he mused out loud. "Yes, I think we can work with this."
He took the covers from Tsuzuki's hands, and nudged the unresisting male to the side.
"Don't you have servants to help you with these things?" asked Kisuke conversationally as he expertly flicked the kakebuton open, whipped the thick quilt through the air and let it settle, perfectly aligned over the shikibuton already laid out on the tatami.
Tsuzuki watched enviously and wondered when, if ever, he would be able to do that. "I can do it myself," he retorted. "I don't need to be bathed and dressed like an invalid."
The blond made a noncommittal noise, flipping the nearest corner of the covers open and gesturing Tsuzuki to get in.
"I'm not a child anymore," Tsuzuki protested. Kisuke merely tilted his head and made a shooing motion. Compromising, he climbed under the covers, but remained sitting, the kakebuton pooling in his lap.
"I didn't say you were one," the former shopkeeper finally replied, "though your behaviour sometimes makes me wonder." He raised an eyebrow at Tsuzuki's grimace and nodded at the muttered apology.
They remained in a comfortable silence for a while.
"Thanks."
Kisuke only smiled. "Oyasumi." He stood, dusted himself off and hopped out of the window.
… … … … … … …
The Gotei Thirteen operated on a rotating duty system, where each of the seven non-specialised divisions was on call for a different day of the week. On call meant that any problems that arose were first directed to that division, regardless of whether it normally fell under their jurisdiction. For instance, a sudden Hollow attack on a patrolling squadron would prompt whichever division that was on call to send back-up, in addition to the division to whom the original patrol belonged.
Captains and lieutenants were required to report at regular work hours for five days a week on alternating schedules, such that there was always at least one commanding officer available in the division during work hours. If the Division was on call, both were required to be present throughout both shifts.
In serious emergencies, an alarm would sound, alerting all squadrons currently on duty in all the divisions to respond. Should the alarm persist, all off-duty members were required to report to their superiors and await further instructions.
The six specialised divisions – First, Second, Fourth, Ninth, Eleventh and Twelfth – had different duty rosters.
The Second Division traditionally was headed by the head of the Shihōin Clan, who also supplied a large number of the recruits. Unlike the non-specialised divisions, the seated officers were split into five commanders and fifteen Onmitsukidō squadron leaders, and the division was active 24/7. Requests to the Onmitsukidō came primarily from Central 46, other noble families, or the First Division. These would be reviewed by the lieutenant, then submitted to the captain for approval. The top five seated officers were each in charge of a different sub-division, and had three squadron leaders reporting to him or her.
The Fourth Division, being essentially the only source of medical care in Seireitei, had no time to rest. Unseated shinigami operated round-the-clock in three shifts of eight hours each, while senior seated officers could be required to remain on call for entire days during times of heavy casualties when all qualified medics were needed to save as many lives as possible.
Due to their unique situation, the combat medic division was permanently on call, similar to the Eleventh Division. It was also for this reason that combat medics were the only shinigami permitted to carry their zanpakutō and a jigoku-chō at all times, even if they were not at work. Should an alarm sound, all combat medics were required to report regardless of where they were and what they were doing, twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. In addition, Unohana-taichō could choose to activate the combat medic division for support, should she deem it necessary, for any other combat-related alerts that came to the Fourth Division.
Since they were often required to take part in actual battle on the front-lines, rigorous physical conditioning as well as regular sparring was a necessity. Although they were not required to work in the infirmary or relief station, they had to familiarise themselves with their layouts, such that they would be able to quickly bring in injured from the battlefield to the right place. They also attended all classes held for the field and infirmary medics, such that they had at least a theoretical knowledge of kaidō techniques even if they did not have the finesse to implement them.
… … … … … … …
"Even with a Vasto Lorde breathing down your neck, you do not leave a patient. Understood?"
Tsuzuki revised his opinion of Unohana-taichō. She was terrifying.
… … … … … … …
"The Academy is organising another student patrol," began Unohana without aplomb. "Due to the recent surge in Hollow activity in the Human World, we have been requested to remain on stand-by in case of emergency." She looked at the assembled Fourth Division members. "Will those on duty today afternoon report to their assigned squadron leaders please?"
Amidst the organised chaos, Unohana moved to the side where the combat medic division was gathered and spoke quietly, "All of you, maintain your usual positions please. Shihōin-san, as this is your first time being on call, please follow Kenji-kun for today."
"Hai!" they responded as one, rechecking their medical kits one last time and making sure they were fully stocked. The Fourth Division medical kit was a light blue backpack designed to be slung over one shoulder, with the kanji for "Four" embossed on the back. Being senior officers and combat medics, their medical kits contained a greater variety of items than the standard version, some of which were forbidden outside the battlefield.
It was rather pointless wondering if they were all prepared for nothing, Tsuzuki reflected as the alarm sounded and the combat medic division immediately left at a shunpo-aided run while the field medics were still scrambling for their equipment. Of course something was going to go wrong. What had Himura-san said – one in fifteen patrols would encounter Hollows? He briefly wondered if Kisuke would be inclined to make a better barrier for the patrols, to cut down on the death rate.
Then there was no time for thought as they hurled through the Senkaimon, a jigoku-chō on each of their shoulders acting as both a beacon and a means of communication if necessary. A flash of light and then he was staring up at a cloudless midday sky. It was almost a peaceful sight except for the screaming students running for their lives.
Kenji immediately shot to the left, where Tsuzuki could sense that the bulk of the Hollows were, while the other two moved to flank the fleeing students. A few were desperate enough to turn towards the medics' Senkaimon, but were quickly disabused of that notion lest they were run over in the Dangai by the incoming field medics. Tsuzuki scanned the horizon, looking for the squad on duty. Dressed in black, they would stand out like sore thumbs amidst the sea of white Academy uniforms. Unfortunately, it looked as if they were the first ones on the scene.
"Midaretobu, Tetsuō."
Kenji's zanpakutō scattered into fragments, and even with his trained eyes Tsuzuki could barely pick up the distortions in the air where they dispersed. With a sharply-barked command word, the blades began to spin, generating a tunnel of violent winds around the students, repelling the Hollows. With nary a glance at each other, Tsuzuki and Kenji took up positions at each end of the tunnel, picking off the Hollows that came their way.
With a loud clang, a second Senkaimon opened in the distance.
"Sure took their time," Kenji grumbled softly, straightening.
A pink floral haori was the first thing Tsuzuki saw and he sighed quietly. That might explain the delay. Although Kyōraku was by no means as inept as he sometimes pretended to be, he likely was not in his office during the alert and had to be tracked down first. Indeed, when the smoke cleared to reveal the two commanding officers, even from this distance Tsuzuki could see that Lisa was dragging him by his ear, and probably had been doing so since the moment she found him.
Kenji was already snapping terse commands, pointing the students in the direction of the second Senkaimon. The moment the last of the Eighth Division squads cleared the Senkaimon, the students would be sent through.
"Go!"
With a wave of his hand, the wind tunnel began moving along with the fleeing students, breaking off behind the last person and reforming rapidly ahead of the first one, shredding any Hollows that dared to come too near.
Kenji glanced over at him, eyes flickering over to the scattered reiatsu signatures dotting the field.
Tsuzuki gave him a terse nod and sped off, trusting the Third Seat to see this group of students to safety. Putting on an extra burst of speed, he began scouring the perimeter where the Eighth had not reached yet. Did someone use Hollow bait or something? Academy students, even in a group, should not have enough reiatsu to attract so many Hollows!
Tsuzuki cut through another swathe of low-level Hollows, pausing minutely as he identified a splash of red and blue amongst the black and white background.
He recognised that figure.
Worse, he recognised that a Hollow was headed straight for his unprotected back.
"Akira! Get down!"
Akira reacted instinctively to the command, dropping to the ground even as he yelped in surprise. "Tsuzuki-san?"
A beam of red light skewered through the Hollow's mask from the back of its head as Tsuzuki flashed over.
He took in the situation in one glance. Three low-level Hollows bearing down on them, one reasonably proficient combatant, one unconscious student on the ground.
"Hold them off," Tsuzuki instructed, dropping to his knees, laying a hand on the injured girl. His reiatsu hovered around the two of them, enough to give him warning if a Hollow chose to attack, but not enough to shield. He needed his concentration elsewhere. Green light briefly swept her from head to toe, seeking out abnormalities.
Skull, rough jostling in the past few minutes, possible concussion but no nerve damage, no internal bleeding, all fifty-one skull bones accounted for. Vertebrae intact, trachea intact, no blockage in airways, lungs intact, breathing rate normal. Ribcage cracked, but heart and surrounding major blood vessels functional. Multiple minor epidermal lacerations – Tsuzuki skipped over their exact locations, not life-threatening, not important – original blow was to abdomen region, knocking her backwards and she landed badly on her leg. Fractured femur, but femoral artery and nerves in the region intact, no other potentially fatal wounds.
The diagnostic process took over a minute to complete, but that was to be expected of a new medic.
Tsuzuki carefully silenced the pain transmissions from her leg temporarily and wrapped a thick layer of reiatsu over her leg to prevent further injury during transport.
The moment he rose, Akira was by his side, expectant.
"Can you carry her?"
With a sharp nod, the other student moved to do just that. Tsuzuki flitted forwards, cutting down the Hollows between them and the Senkaimon while Akira broke into a shunpo-aided run.
"Keep going and don't stop until you reach Soul Society!"
Without wasting breath to reply, Akira sped up, ignoring the Hollows in his path. His trust was not misplaced as the Hollows dissolved into reishi before they could reach him, Tsuzuki moving so fast he was almost a blur to Akira's eyes.
A shrill whistle sounded; the perimeter was secure and the Gargantas closed. All that was left was to purify the remaining Hollows.
Tsuzuki stopped following when there were no more Hollows between Akira and the Senkaimon, though he visually ensured the other had stepped fully through before turning to join the clean-up.
… … … … … … …
To his surprise, Akira was waiting for him on the other side when he returned, falling into step beside him as Tsuzuki made his way to the Fourth Division to be debriefed.
"I never see you anymore," the other finally broke the silence.
Tsuzuki hummed noncommittally. "I've been busy."
"So I heard," agreed Akira. "I read up a little on combat medics, they seem to have the longest working hours in the Gotei Thirteen."
Tsuzuki did turn and raise an eyebrow at him. "The school rumour mill really knows everything."
"But surely you do get off-duty some time?" Akira asked quietly.
"There are times when I'm not required to be physically present in the Fourth Division," Tsuzuki replied wryly. "Though whether that counts as 'off-duty' is another matter."
They had reached the crossroads between the Academy and the Gotei Thirteen division grounds. By unspoken agreement, both stopped. "I was wondering –" Akira cleared his throat "– if you're free next Saturday?"
"Yeah," he found himself agreeing. "Yeah, next Saturday works."
… … … … … … …
Anyone who ever thought the Fourth Division was easy ought to spend a day in the combat medic division, decided Tsuzuki, gasping for breath, hands stinging. He shook his hands out, closed his eyes briefly, and then returned to his practical work.
He would get it right this time.
… … … … … … …
"I need a medic!"
The clipboard he was holding slipped from his hands, landing with a clatter on the floor of an empty storeroom, whose ajar door was still swinging from the force it was ripped open with.
He knew that voice.
As he raced down the familiar corridors of the infirmary, the voice shouted again, closer this time, tinged with annoyance over the general cacophony.
"What happened?" he barked before he even skidded into main courtyard, where the voice had been coming from. Without waiting for an answer, he spun and pointed at the nearest shinigami. "You, fetch the Fourth Seat!"
Soifon glanced up in surprise as the unsure unseated shinigami milling about parted instantly for him, allowing him to see the body she had laid on the ground. "Well?" he asked tersely as his hands lit green with a basic diagnosis kaidō.
"Break in at Maggots Nest," replied Soifon equally succinctly.
"Is it ongoing?" Tsuzuki asked, a little disbelievingly. Who the world would want to break into Maggots Nest?
"Ongoing attempt to rescue a new prisoner," explained Soifon. "Onmitsukidō back-up in progress. Requesting for medical back-up."
Tsuzuki nodded once to show his understanding, deactivating the kaidō. Reaching backwards, he unzipped the medical kit on his back without taking it off and pulled out his jigoku-chō container, unscrewing it gently to let the butterfly flutter gently onto the tip of his finger. "To Unohana-taichō, emergency medical attention required at Maggots Nest. Live combat zone." He let the black butterfly go, then turned to the newly-arrived Fourth Seat. "Asphyxiation; trachea completely collapsed. Two fractured fixed ribs, punctured superior lobe in right lung, near azygous vein. Repeated blunt trauma injury to cranium suggestive of subdural haematoma. Status critical."
"Understood."
Soifon stood with him, giving the experienced officer space to work. Tsuzuki cast an eye over the unseated shinigami and two junior seated officers, grimacing slightly. None of them would be of much help in a regular live combat zone, much less the Maggots Nest, where they would have to rely on unarmed combat alone. It was evident that Soifon had come to the same conclusion, for she simply gave him a pointed look and turned to head out.
Tsuzuki removed his zanpakutō and handed it to the closest junior seated officer. "Please put that in my quarters." Before the other could do more than splutter, both of them disappeared with a loud bang.
At least, that was what it looked and sounded like to the ordinary shinigami, whose eyes were unable to keep up with the shunpo-enhanced speed that students of the Goddess of Flash were capable of, and could only perceive the aftershock created by their simultaneous breaking of the sound barrier.
It was utter chaos.
Screams and moans of the wounded and dying saturated the air within the prison, accompanied by the sounds of fighting and the occasional debris raining from attacks.
The Onmitsukidō were outnumbered and generally outgunned, since the intruders clearly did not adhere to the no-weapon rule.
"Move aside!" shouted Soifon as they barrelled into the prison, splitting up almost before they had cleared the doors to rocket into one intruder each. Using his momentum, Tsuzuki bodily picked up his opponent and threw him into the biggest mass of intruders he could spot, successfully taking them by surprise. A few went down, while the remaining staggered to their feet, besieged by Onmitsukidō members on all sides.
"Status report!"
"The main invading force has penetrated into the third level!" hollered back a squadron leader. "Some of them are at senior-officer-level! We can't hold them!"
"Where the hell is that Urahara?" shrieked Soifon.
"Off duty today!"
He had heard enough. "I'm going ahead," he yelled. "Soifon, you take the rest here!"
"Onegai shimasu, Tsuzuki-sama!"
"Oh no you don't!" roared one of the invaders, only to find that the man he had been charging straight at suddenly vanished. He blinked uncomprehendingly, once, and then his world abruptly tilted and went black.
Having taken the man down with a quick chop to the jugular, Tsuzuki was already halfway down the corridor leading to the stairs. Giving the spiral staircase a slight grimace, he rested a hand on the railing and neatly flipped himself over with enough force to ricochet off the opposite railing one floor down, catching the railing of the staircase leading to the third floor and swinging himself over into the entrance.
Here the sounds of battle was much fainter, but from what he could hear it was much fiercer.
When he arrived in the main prison hall he understood why that was so. A quick pulse of reiatsu confirmed that everyone except two senior seated officers was dead, and the latter two would not last much longer. He considered his options, took a deep breath, and gathered his reiatsu. "Bakudō #62, Hyapporankan!" He flung the blue-white rod of energy that formed in his hand towards the bulk of the invaders, careful to aim at an angle that would avoid the two Onmitsukidō members.
This bakudō was one of the few high-levelled ones that was thus ranked primarily due to the reiatsu needed to fuel the formation of the multiple rods, instead of a need for control. Even if he put too much reiatsu into it, it would only result in more rods than the initial hundred being generated, perfect against multiple enemies in an enclosed area.
As planned, many of the intruders were temporarily immobilised, while the rest spun to face him, leaving the two officers to stagger away and collapse gratefully against the furthest wall possible. Tsuzuki put a hand on his hip and surveyed the opposition coolly. Eighteen weaker invaders and six strong ones, weaker being a relative term since all of them would easily be at the level of a seated officer, with the strongest duo averaging around the level of lieutenant. No wonder the Onmitsukidō seated officers were having trouble. His first bakudō had skewered fourteen of them, but it would not hold them permanently.
"That's a pretty good kidō for a Fourth Division dog," sneered one of them, whom Tsuzuki assumed was the leader given how the rest seemed to look to him for orders.
"Thank you for the compliment," he replied calmly, contemplating his next move. While the small fry would not be able to injury him significantly even with his reiatsu limiter on, their sheer numbers could prove to annoying, like the continual sting of mosquitoes.
"Don't worry, he can't be ranked higher than Third Seat, he has neither a lieutenant badge nor a captain's haori!" the leader rallied his men. Tsuzuki's eyes narrowed. So at least one of them had knowledge of shinigami uniform standards, suggesting one or more of them might be shinigami deserters. His eyes flitted over the hilts of what he had assumed to be normal swords, but now re-evaluated to be possible zanpakutō, which meant there was a probability of shikai.
Against a worst case scenario of eight possible unknown shikai and sixteen other attackers, the odds of coming out completely uninjured was rather unlikely. As many of the small fry must be incapacitated as possible, which left –
"That is true, I am a mere seventh seat," agreed Tsuzuki out loud, inclining his head briefly. "Yoroshiku."
The leader's eyebrows furrowed. "Are you looking down on us?" he demanded, offended by the choice of salutation, which indicated that Tsuzuki considered him of a lower social status. In actual fact that was true, but from his point of view, he had just been slighted by a seventh seat, who moreover was from what was widely seen the weakest division. "Get him!" he snarled.
Tsuzuki flexed his shoulders, and flared his entire available reiatsu in a massive flood directed at the charging mass to avoid hurting the two Onmitsukidō officers.
Seventeen of them collapsed from the intense pressure, which was more than he hoped for but less than ideal. Tsuzuki pursed his lips. Had he access to his full reiatsu capacity, the battle would already be over. Of the remaining seven, two were still struggling against his first bakudō, leaving five of them.
"Oy, boss, you didn't tell me a seventh seat could be so powerful!" one of them gasped, staggering upright.
"There's no way he's a seventh seat!" snapped the leader. "He must be a third seat!"
"No no no, I cannot even hope to match the Second Division's Third Seat," refuted Tsuzuki. "If he were here, all of you would already be unconscious or in chains. Probably both."
"Then we'll have to take you out before he gets here!" At a signal, all five released their respective shikai.
Tsuzuki sighed. This was going to be troublesome. Without knowing their abilities, he could only hazard a guess that two of them were physical-type, since these zanpakutō clearly changed their shapes. The other three were more likely to be kidō-types, though they might have special abilities that could give even him some trouble. Even physical -type zanpakutō could be dangerous from a distance, as evidenced by Zangetsu's Getsuga Tenshō.
In that case, all he had to do –
Tsuzuki went low and left hard and fast, sweeping one of them off his feet with a brutal kick to the back of the knee while the other zanpakutō clashed into each other. He spun and slid into a rapid shunpo he normally saved for serious battles, dislocating the wielding arm of a kidō-type zanpakutō user with a sharp crack and kicking his zanpakutō into a far wall. Two down.
– was take them out first.
The other three drew back a little, more cautiously. Tsuzuki backed away as well, keeping the two downed shinigami in view. His studies of anatomy was not yet good enough to fully incapacitate them, but hopefully the pain would keep them down long enough for him to take out the rest.
Unfortunately, they were at an advantage. He was unarmed and there was no kidō in his highly limited repertoire that was usable in battle. His favourite hadō, Jūgeki Byakurai, had high penetrating power unsuitable for confined spaces. The only bakudō he could cast rapidly without an incantation were not meant for combat purposes. His knowledge of kaidō was not yet sufficiently internalised for him to be able to utilise medical kidō in a three-on-one fight; even though he had the speed to execute the necessary techniques he could not afford to concentrate on one opponent alone.
He had stayed still for too long.
Tsuzuki moved, narrowly avoiding a blast from one of the zanpakutō. It was at the speed of an Arrancar bala. Not good. The two physical-type users had closed ranks, and they were coming at him from opposite sides, while the leader fell backwards, readying his zanpakutō for another one of those blasts.
Pincher formation!
A chain sailed through the air, missing him by inches, but even before it curved like a boomerang Tsuzuki could see that it was not meant to hit him in the first place. Channelling reiatsu to his legs, Tsuzuki leapt upwards before the chain could wrap itself around his body, somersaulting in mid-air and twisting his body to avoid a strike from the other shinigami. He was most vulnerable in the air, as he could not change direction until he could land.
Or so they thought.
As the chain whipped upwards towards him at the same time the other zanpakutō slashed towards where he would be landing had he been in free-fall, Tsuzuki completed his somersault in the air and grabbed the chain with one hand, causing it to tangle around the other zanpakutō.
"Tsuzuri Raiden."
With a cry of pain both shinigami collapsed, convulsing from the electric current coursing through their bodies. They would not be getting up for a while.
Tsuzuki landed on the balls of his feet, reining in the reiatsu that had been suppressing the other weaker opponents to wrap around himself as a shield, just in time to block another one of those kidō blasts from his last opponent. Features twisted in rage, the leader shouted a war cry and dashed forwards at shunpo-enhanced speed.
A shift in the air, as though stirred by a breeze.
The leader lunged.
Tsuzuki stood still, relaxed. Unconcerned.
"Rikujōkōrō."
Six beams of light emerged from the attacker's torso, freezing him in place before he completed his motion, zanpakutō still outstretched uselessly.
"And this," introduced Tsuzuki, feeling a little mischievous, "is the Third Seat."
Kisuke blinked twice at him, withdrawing his hand from the other man's back. "Good afternoon, Shihōin-san," he greeted, immediately catching on. This was met by stunned silence.
"Shihōin?" one of them squawked.
"Ah, did I forget to introduce myself? I am Shihōin Tsuzuki, heir to the Shihōin Clan, current seventh seat of the Fourth Division." Tsuzuki gave a small dip of the head, as regal as he had seen the Clan Elders do.
"Because of your lack of proficiency in kidō," teased Kisuke.
"That is true, I have much to learn from Unohana-taichō. However, if you consider my combat ability outside the constraints of a confined building with allies trapped nearby, during my Academy graduation exam I defeated Kenpachi-taichō," he replied haughtily, moving off to examine the two Onmitsukidō members, who were stumbling to their feet now that the battle was over. Both were bleeding from multiple cuts, one of them had a cracked fibula, but neither was in any immediate life-threatening danger. The one with a broken leg would be problematic to transport up the stairs, however.
"I think this one just wet himself," informed Kisuke, having finished securing the last of them with reiatsu-repressing handcuffs.
Tsuzuki raised an eyebrow at him, before sighing and tapping the lumbosacral region of the spinal cord with a finger, sending a bolt of reiatsu to overload the axons in that region to temporarily shut off all sensory and motor functions to the lower limbs, and then wrapped it securely in a thick layer of reiatsu. He hoisted the temporarily paralysed officer in a fireman's carry, careful not to jar his leg too much. "Is the Fourth Division here yet?" he asked, beckoning to the other officer and starting towards the exit.
"They're in the main courtyard," called Kisuke, now tying them up in one line.
Raising his free hand to show that he had heard, Tsuzuki surveyed the staircase leading out of the prison. The climbing motion would be uncomfortable for the man he was carrying no matter how much he tried to keep his upper body still, not to mention speed would be beneficial. Coming to a decision, he gestured to the other officer to come to him, wrapped an arm around the other's waist, gathered reiatsu to his feet, and leapt straight from a standing position.
The angle and force he had kicked off at allowed him to shoot right past the railing on the ground floor, coming down in a highly controlled descent gently onto the floor. Letting go of the other man, Tsuzuki made his way out into the main courtyard, where indeed the Fourth Division had set up camp. Spotting a few stations without a patient, he strode to the nearest one and gently laid down his burden. Tsuzuki then lifted the cloak of reiatsu he had wrapped tightly around the pair of them, which he had been using in lieu of bandages to prevent their injuries from worsening during transport.
"Status report please." Unohana had come up behind him.
Tsuzuki stood to attention, voice crisp and clear, exactly the way she had drilled into him. "Maggots' Nest, third level, all clear. Urahara-san-seki is sweeping the perimeter. Two survivors, non-fatal injuries. Twenty-four captured, all at seated officer level, no permanent injuries on any."
Unohana examined him closely. "And yourself?"
"Uninjured."
She eyed him for a little longer, evidently checking him for injuries, then nodded briskly. "Good work. Please return to your stock-taking."
"Understood." Tsuzuki bowed, and walked out of the courtyard with his head held high, ignoring all the looks directed at him.
… … … … … … …
"You made it!"
Tsuzuki made his way through the crowd thronging to get into Junrinan, to reach Akira who was waiting off to the side beside the North Gate. As he neared, Akira pushed himself off the wall and fell into step beside him. "I've never seen you out of uniform before," remarked Akira. "But –" he peered at Tsuzuki "– why a yukata?" Akira himself was dressed in a simple dark-coloured cotton kimono, a more conservative version of what most shinigami considered appropriate off-duty clothing. Tsuzuki winced inwardly as he remembered the eye-wrenching colours Renji usually turned up in. Even if pink had technically matched his hair.
Tsuzuki coughed, a faint flush creeping up his neck. "I don't go out very often," he admitted quietly. "The only casual clothing I found in my wardrobe are yukata."
Akira smiled at him. "Don't worry, this is Junrinan, not one of the upper districts – festival or no, a yukata wouldn't be out of place." Even a persimmon-coloured yukata with a spray of white blossoms running up one side, was what was left unsaid. Tsuzuki had no idea who had bought such a yukata for him, but it was probably Yoruichi. The woman adored her shades of orange.
It was just turning July, the days were long and warm as the duo strolled down the busy streets of the First District in North Rukongai, peering into every single roadside stall to see what caught their fancy. As an Academy student hailing from Rukongai, Akira had no allowance to speak of, but his shunpo was fast enough – a side-effect of training with the Shihōin clan heir – that he did occasionally get hired as a runner for inter-Division memos.
"Hard to believe it's only been three months since you graduated."
Tsuzuki glanced sideways at Akira, who appeared to be engrossed in a stall selling ornamental butterflies. "Yeah," he agreed. "Unohana-taichō is a really strict taskmistress."
Akira straightened and they moved on. "I heard combat medics are technically never off-duty."
Tsuzuki snorted. "There's only six of us in the entire Gotei Thirteen. I'm not sure how we can ever afford to go off-duty."
"Really?" Akira's eyes widened. "Only six?"
Tsuzuki nodded.
"But there's at least three teams on patrol at any point in time," mused Akira, almost to himself. "Not to mention the graveyard shifts. What do you do if you get called in while you're asleep?"
Tsuzuki groaned, having experienced just that situation before. "Then that jigoku-chō tries its best to wake you up, or they send a runner to your house – most of the combat medics sleep in the Fourth's barracks for that reason, but I split my time between the Shihōin Manor and there because of my duties to the Onmitsukidō –"
Akira stopped walking.
"What?"
Tsuzuki cocked his head to the side. "What, what?"
Akira opened his mouth, frowned, closed it, and then tried again. "How can you be in the Second and the Fourth Divisions at the same time?"
It was Tsuzuki's turn to look confused. "I'm not."
"But you just said you have duties to the Onmitsukidō."
"Not all the Onmitsukidō are members of the Second Division," said Tsuzuki slowly. "Most Shihōin clan and retainer members are also a part of the Onmitsukidō."
"So what, you have to do Onmitsukidō missions on top of your normal combat medic schedule?"
"I usually get called in for backup on high-profile missions," elaborated Tsuzuki. "Or if immediate medical assistance is required in a live combat zone." The former did not come up very often, at most once every few months, and nowadays Yoruichi was always careful to schedule them around his off-days to give him sufficient time to rest before and afterwards. The latter was slightly more commonplace, but Yoruichi generally tried to send for the Fourth Division instead if he happened to be off-duty, unless the mission was of a highly sensitive nature.
"That's good," breathed Akira. "They're not overworking you, are they?" He examined his friend, trying to pick up any physical signs of fatigue.
Tsuzuki shrugged. "I spent most of these three months studying human anatomy and physiology under the tutelage of Unohana-taichō or Yamada-fukutaichō," he confessed. "Only recently did they start sending me out on the more routine missions."
They chatted casually about Tsuzuki's studies and Akira's classes, until the sun rose high in the sky and the day was positively sweltering. Akira declared that he was starving, and that he knew a good restaurant in the area so would Tsuzuki-san please come?
Seeing no reason to decline, Tsuzuki followed.
In the shade of the awning, Akira paused.
"I don't like it," he declared in a low voice. "But she begged and begged on her knees, so I'm giving her one chance."
Tsuzuki stared at the uncharacteristic expression on Akira's face.
Then he led Tsuzuki around the corner onto the terrace, and he understood.
Himura Kaede sat at a corner table, together with several members of his old class – the best kidō user over there, Hoshino Hideaki, he automatically registered, the other one with a good grasp of zanjutsu, and was that Tōsen? – before his mind ground to a halt. His feet stopped moving, and he was barely aware Akira had stopped too, beside him.
This was the girl he had failed to save, in this timeline.
Memories rose unbidden and crashed against each other, Kaede's body in the sickbed drowned out by Rukia's mangled body – both so headstrong, so much alike – Rukia, who had died with a smile on her face and Byakuya's words still ringing in her ears, "You've become strong, Rukia."
Kaede was rising from her seat, having caught sight of him, and Tsuzuki almost flinched. Not here, not now, not in public. Not when Hakka no Togame still glittered behind his closed eyelids with each blink and Byakuya's howl of anguish still reverberated in his ears.
Five years, six years, and he could still barely hold it together.
Akira had shifted his position slightly until he was half a step in front of Tsuzuki, eyes wary. Assessing.
Then Kaede sank onto her knees, laid her hands palm up on the floor, and bowed her head.
"Please forgive me, Shihōin-sama."
Tsuzuki barely forced back the memories threatening to flood him – he would pay for that later, but he would do that in private – to focus on the present, on Himura-san who was apparently issuing a full formal apology to him in public for no reason he could think of.
He glanced at Akira, hoping that the other had a clue.
"Do elaborate, Himura-san." Tsuzuki was taken aback at the hard edge Akira's voice had gained, at how he was staring at the girl prostrate on the ground without a flicker of sympathy in his eyes, at how none of his former classmates moved to stop her.
Kaede raised her head slightly, enough to speak clearly, but nowhere sufficient to look at him in the face.
"They told me it was you who saved my life." Her words came out in a rush. "I – I don't know, I was just so angry and depressed… it's easy to blame the person whom I knew had been there. When I saw that you were uninjured… I was torn between relief and anger and, and hurt that you had left me there to die. Then they told me you had run after me and took a Cero in the back and nearly died –" her voice hitched on the word "– that it was touch-and-go for a while and if Unohana-taichō hadn't been there you wouldn't have made it…" Her voice grew softer and softer and finally trailed off.
Tsuzuki blew out a long breath.
"I accept your apology," he recited formally. When Kaede looked up, eyes bright with unshed tears, he sighed and bent down, offering her a hand up. After she was upright and had been helped back into her seat by the other classmates, Akira and he were waved into the seats on the outermost of the terrace, evidently saved for them. As if summoned, a waiter appeared and began filling the table with steaming dishes.
"I'm sorry, too."
Conversation halted as everyone turned to stare at him.
"For not being fast enough to save you before that Hollow got its claws into you," he elaborated quietly.
"That's not your fault!"
Several voices exclaimed at the same time, Kaede's amongst them.
"I was right there, I was awake," Akira murmured in a low, troubled voice. "Your reiryoku levels were so low they had to perform a transfusion right there before Unohana-taichō could even begin to heal you. If that man hadn't been there to coax you out of your reiatsu shock…"
Tsuzuki blinked and put down his chopsticks. "What, Kisuke?"
"The one who kept the Senkaimon open for us," supplied Tōsen quietly.
Akira nodded. "Yes, you were going into shock and shutting down, Unohana-taichō couldn't do anything until he managed to get you to relax your reiatsu – except after that you didn't have enough reiryoku left to kick-start the healing so Yamada-fukutaichō had to ask if he was willing to undergo a transfusion procedure."
Akira stopped and ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. "And he just nodded and asked Yamada-fukutaichō to take as much as he needed."
Tsuzuki could understand his consternation. Reiryoku transfusion was a terribly disorienting procedure for the donator, since the body could only register that it was losing energy for no reason at all. Homeostasis control centres in physiological systems, especially the nervous system, would go out of control as the body tried to restore equilibrium, and there were many common symptoms such as phantom pain and dizziness.
Until today, he had not known how close he had actually come to dying; he had been too used to measuring injuries with respect to his original immense reiatsu pressure. A Cero from a Menos Grande would have barely left a scratch, certainly not a debilitating injury. Tsuzuki picked up his chopsticks again. It seemed that he owed Kisuke a proper thank-you and another apology later.
Speaking of whom – there was a flutter of green in the corner of his eye. Tsuzuki nearly dropped his tempura on the table as he snapped his head around, unable to believe his peripheral vision.
'What are you doing here?'
Urahara Kisuke was ambling up the street, dressed in a casual forest green kosode and matching hakama, his customary fan dangling from one hand. In fact, had Tsuzuki not known specifically that Kisuke was actually on duty today – courtesy of one too many irate Soifon rants – he would have thought that the other was off-duty as well.
I can see why Soifon thinks he's such a slacker, he snorted mentally.
Instead of replying directly, Kisuke simply changed his direction slightly, such that he was now headed directly for the terrace they were seated at. "Sorry to interrupt," he nodded politely at the assembled students before turning his attention to Tsuzuki. "Yoruichi-san wants you to know she has a meeting with one of the retainer clans later, so she won't be home for dinner."
Tsuzuki blinked at him. "She could have sent a jigoku-chō for that." Sending the Third Seat to play messenger boy?
"I wanted to ask if you wanted to eat out tonight," Kisuke continued as if he had not spoken.
"When do I have to be back?" If Yoruichi was away, so would Soifon, meaning that it was just him in the main clan building. If he did not need to report back for dinner…
Kisuke lifted up one shoulder in a casual shrug. "Whenever you like."
"Okay, just let me inform my –" Tsuzuki trailed off, casting his reiatsu out to feel for the signatures of his protection detail, who were normally skulking in some back street somewhere. Or, given this heat, possibly tucked in another corner of this restaurant enjoying their lunch.
"Where did my guards go?" Tsuzuki asked out loud in confusion, then elaborated for his avidly watching tablemates, "Since I'm the clan heir, I'm supposed to remain within the sensory range of an Onmitsukidō officer at all times…"
Kisuke had propped his cheek on the railing separating the terrace from the street, waiting with patient bemusement while Tsuzuki was futilely scanning his surroundings. Now he snickered, raised a hand and gave a little wave. "Hi?"
Tsuzuki blinked at him and started to laugh. "Nandayo, you slacker!"
Kisuke rolled his eyes. "This is the gratitude I get for volunteering for this job? You could have been stuck with some junior officers, who would spend their entire time thinking they're tailing you 'discreetly', whining audibly about babysitting a 'kid' when they could be doing 'real work'." Tsuzuki could practically hear the air quotes. "And invariably, in an actual situation, who will need you to bail them out." He grinned unrepentantly when Tsuzuki broke into fresh peals of laughter at the all-too-plausible scenario. "So, dinner?"
"Only if you're paying!"
There was a beat of silence as Kisuke gave him a blank look.
"What?"
"Of course I'm paying – scratch that, the Shihōin Clan is paying, actually…" he said slowly. "Why did you even mention it?"
It was Tsuzuki's turn to be confused. "Since when can you claim reimbursement for private meals?"
Kisuke straightened leisurely, sending alarm bells ringing through Tsuzuki's head – how many times had he seen Kisuke move so deceptively languidly, when an enemy was near? – though his grey eyes did not lose their playfulness, which went a long way to reassure Tsuzuki that nothing was seriously wrong. "Because today is the fourteenth of July?"
Tsuzuki fixed him with an uncomprehending look.
The fan fluttered. "And tomorrow is?" Kisuke prompted.
"Fifteenth July," Tsuzuki answered automatically. He blinked and repeated that to himself. "Wait, what?"
Kisuke leaned back on the railing and began to laugh at the flushed embarrassment rising in Tsuzuki's cheeks. "Did you just –" he had to cut himself off when it became too much for him to enunciate clearly through his peals of laughter.
"Shut up!"
As Kisuke opened his mouth again, Tsuzuki snatched up his chopsticks and stuffed the first thing he could reach – the tempura – into Kisuke's mouth before he could continue the sentence. The other man had to pause his teasing while he chewed and swallowed, but he was still shaking silently with mirth.
Tsuzuki stole a glance at the other students, who were all staring avidly at them evidently waiting for the punch line, and passed a hand over his eyes.
"– forget your own birthday?"
Now Kisuke was not the only one laughing.
"Seriously?" He heard Akira's voice in the background and groaned.
"I just lost track of the date, all right?"
"So you can understand my reaction," Kisuke finished. "Why would I take you out for your birthday, and then make you pay?"
"Kisuke." Tsuzuki was not whining, he really was not.
At the sound of the blond's name, however, the other members of his former class sat up. "This is him?" Tōsen asked.
"Hmm?"
"The one who kept the Senkaimon open for us?" elaborated Hideaki.
Tsuzuki made a noise of understanding. "Everyone, this is Urahara Kisuke, the Third Seat of the Second Division, and the person responsible for the Senkaimon that day. Kisuke, my former classmates." He gestured.
As one, everyone rose and bowed silently to the blond, who straightened in response, the teasing glint vanishing from his eyes.
"Thank you for saving all our lives, Urahara-san," Kaede spoke sincerely for all of them.
The look in Kisuke's eyes softened and he looked a little awkward. "There is no need for gratitude," he replied formally.
There was a stilted silence when nobody knew what to say.
"Ano… would you like to join us for lunch?" suggested Mikoto, one of the other girls.
"No, thank you," demurred Kisuke. "I'm a little busy actually." His fan came up and tapped against his lips.
Tsuzuki gave him a sidelong glance. What sort of Onmitsukidō mission required casual wear? And for that matter – he scrutinised the blond properly, realising with a jolt that his clothing was made of silk instead of cotton and catching the faint fragrance of sandalwood, and barely managed to keep his mouth from dropping open – really expensive casual wear.
As if magically summoned, two simultaneous beeping sounds started. Tsuzuki frowned and dove for his denreishinki, recognising the sound.
"What happened?"
Kisuke hummed, grey eyes scanning his own denreishinki rapidly. "Small situation just came up. That was a general backup request sent to everyone within range." He reached over and deftly flicked Tsuzuki's denreishinki alarm off, plunging the table back into silence.
"Do you need –" Tsuzuki began to rise from his seat, but then cut himself off. "Right, sorry, stupid question."
Kisuke only smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder, pressing him firmly back into his seat. "Sit, sit. Day off. Let the one actually on duty handle it. Ja!"
Tsuzuki turned his attention back to the group, only to find all of them staring at him. "What?" he asked defensively. Was it still about the birthday thing?
"Nothing –" Akira told him in an awed tone. "I've… just never seen you laugh so much."
Tsuzuki blinked and rewound the past few minutes in his mind. Akira was right – he rarely laughed like that in public. It was usually only one of his closest friends or family who could bring out that side of him anymore.
The rest of the meal was finished in high spirits, with everyone trading anecdotes back and forth that had the rest of the table in stitches.
"Are you sure it's all right for you to leave?" Kaede asked worriedly when the time came for them to depart.
"Sure?" Tsuzuki replied, not seeing the problem.
"I mean," Kaede explained. "Wasn't he supposed to be your guard? What if he came back and couldn't find you?"
Tsuzuki smiled easily. "He can track my reiatsu signature, that's not a problem." They filed out of the door, making their way to a less crowded place to continue chatting.
"Don't you have to be within a certain range for him to track your reiatsu signature?" asked Hideaki, as they flopped onto a grassy knoll on the outskirts of the town, close enough to the forest to be shaded by the treeline.
"I am within his sensory range so long as I stay in Junrinan." He swirled his tea absently and drained the last of it. Tsuzuki lowered his takeaway cup to see the rest of them staring at him.
"That…" Akira summed it for them succinctly, "doesn't sound like what a normal Third Seat can do."
"Oh," Tsuzuki snorted. "He's the Third Seat because Yoruichi-nee-sama ran out of higher positions to promote him to."
There was an awed silence at that.
"Tell us more about him!"
Tsuzuki considered the starry-eyed students in front of him. "Sure, what do you want to know?"
"What's he like in a battle?"
"How strong is he?"
"When's his birthday?"
Everyone turned to stare at Hideaki, who ducked his head slightly but refused to back down.
"He prefers to use kidō," Tsuzuki answered in turn, trying not to cackle at the idea of Kisuke having fans. "In fact, he was the one who invented my favourite hadō, Jūgeki Byakurai. I'm not exactly sure how strong he is, at least captain-level, and his birthday is 31st December."
More than a few mental notes appeared to be made about the last point.
"Captain-level?" asked Mikoto, looking deeply interested.
"Yes?" confirmed Tsuzuki.
"What's his specialist field?" she continued.
"It must be his kidō," asserted Hideaki, the resident aspiring kidō specialist. "Only kidō masters – usually the best of the Kidōshū – can invent new kidō."
Their heads snapped to Tsuzuki as though awaiting a verdict.
"How's his hakuda and hohō?" asked Akira aggressively.
Tsuzuki shrugged. "Well, he spars with Yoruichi-nee-sama on a regular basis…" he trailed off meaningfully.
Their eyes widened and they fell to discussing amongst themselves. Phrases like can keep up with the Goddess of Flash and kidō master were bandied about liberally, while Tsuzuki watched them in bemusement.
"What do you think, Tsuzuki-san?" Tōsen asked.
They were back to staring at him. Tsuzuki hummed thoughtfully. What did he feel was Kisuke's specialisation? The man was a master of all four shinigami combat disciplines, a genius inventor, and a zealous scientist. But none of these detached labels seemed to describe the man he knew, the man who spent sleepless nights monitoring the Visoreds' conditions, the man who threw himself whole-heartedly into his work, the man who once coaxed a fifteen-year-old teenager to stand up and then taught him to fight on par with captains in three days.
"I think it's his passion," he finally replied. Even as he said it he knew it was true. Yoruichi had once told him, and he wholeheartedly agreed, that although Kisuke appeared to coast through life with a happy-go-lucky attitude, he had the tendency to go over the top with the few things that he was truly passionate about.
The others blinked at the seemingly non-sequitur reply, but sensing that Tsuzuki would not elaborate, did not push for more.
Conversation faded away as they laid back and stared up at the clouds floating across the summer sky. More than one of them was lulled to sleep by the drowsiness of a good meal and the gentle winds that swept past.
"Worried about him?" Akira asked in a low tone.
"Not really," Tsuzuki replied truthfully. "I just wonder what sort of Onmitsukidō mission would take place in the First District of all places."
They debated lazily, each offering up increasingly absurd suggestions, but could not come up with a plausible mission given the lack of details.
As the afternoon wore on, being the spirit equivalent of teenagers and thus perpetually hungry, several of them made trips back into town to purchase snacks. Tsuzuki was one of them, and he returned with a plate of yakitori which met with great favour.
The ones awake for it sat in silence as the sun finally set, painting the horizon in a kaleidoscope of colours. It was a perfect summer evening. The chirping of crickets in the grass, the low voices of conversing friends, the bustling of a town getting ready for the dinner rush, the howls of Hollows in the distance…
Wait, what?
Akira sat up suddenly, all traces of sleep gone.
"Did you hear that?" he demanded of the group at large. Most of those talking to each other stared at him in confusion, but Tōsen was sitting ramrod straight, head turned to the right.
"Low-level Hollows, at least four, two kilometres away in a direction approximately a hundred and thirty degrees clockwise of our current location," supplied Tsuzuki from his position supine on the grass, eyes closed.
Conversation halted as another howl broke the silence, louder this time.
"How can you be so nonchalant?" wondered Kaede out loud, her knuckles white where they clutched the grass.
Tsuzuki opened his eyes but made no move to get up. "There's no one in danger – we're the closest – and they're coming this way instead of the town, probably due to our reiatsu output."
There was a beat, then the other students were scrambling up, getting into battle stances.
Tsuzuki tugged the last bit of yakitori off the skewer with his teeth and chewed languidly.
"Back up a hundred metres that way," he said suddenly, pointing in the opposite direction of where the Hollows were coming from, "and fan out, we don't want them to reach the town."
No sooner had they done so, did the first Hollow burst out from the woods, heading for the closest high reiryoku individual it could see.
Tsuzuki twirled his skewer absently between his fingers and swallowed the last of his chicken.
The claws were so close to his nose that he had felt the displacement of air on his cheeks when it shattered into reiryoku particles.
A shadow fell over his supine form.
"You're late," Tsuzuki informed him conversationally.
"Sorry to keep Your Highness waiting," snarked back Kisuke.
"What if I'd gotten hurt?"
Kisuke gave him an incredulous look. "By these? I'd just laugh at you. And then I'll tell Yoruichi-san, and she'll tease you about it for the next decade."
"So true," Tsuzuki sighed, hoisting himself up casually and dusting himself off, seemingly oblivious of the claws that smashed into where he had been lying a moment before, and which would have impaled him had he not moved. He fixed Kisuke with an imploring look. "Capture, pretty please?"
Kisuke sighed, surveying the arrayed Hollows, which had appeared while they were speaking. "So that's why you were baiting them?" He snapped his fingers. "Sai!"
Like puppets with their strings cut, all four Hollows collapsed on the grass.
The blond turned to dip a shallow bow at the students running towards them. "All yours."
"Thank you, Urahara-san-seki!" they chorused in unison. Cautiously, they advanced, then gradually grew bolder and set to practising their skills on the restrained Hollows. Even Kaede had stepped up, and was gleefully kicking away at one of them.
'Using live Hollows for training exercises, Tsuki-chan?'
Tsuzuki sent back the mental equivalent of a shrug. 'It's the second time in a year that they've been attacked on patrol – they need to learn how to deal with them.'
'Was it the Fourth that taught you how to lure Hollows?'
'Yeah.' Tsuzuki saw no reason to hide it. 'Raise your reiatsu to cover the others' signatures, place yourself closest to the swarming Hollows and present as defenceless a target as possible,' he recited.
"Hadō #31, Shakkahō!"
A flash of red splashed onto the Hollow's mask, but did not manage to break through.
"Your reiatsu output is too unstable." And suddenly Kisuke was no longer beside him, was beside Hideaki, gesturing with his hands. "Calm down, regulate it, now pull out the necessary amount to begin – yes, like that, you're doing well – and recite the incantation. Yes, that's right, let the reiryoku flow to your hand, don't try to consciously force it, now try again."
"Hadō #31, Shakkahō!"
The beam of red light was far stronger this time, slamming against the Hollow's mask and this time successfully creating a crack.
"Thank you so much, Urahara-san-seki!" The boy bowed deeply, the bow a student would offer to their teacher.
It was only because Tsuzuki had been looking right at Kisuke at that moment that he caught it – a flicker of a startled hesitation, before it was gone as quickly as it came, and Kisuke bowed awkwardly back.
In the split second that the blond lowered his head, a shadow pounced from atop the trees.
Catching the movement in his peripheral vision, Tsuzuki had whirled around before he had even understood what was going on, reiatsu gathering in his hand. The reiatsu-enhanced yakitori stick had left his hand before his mind had caught up with his instinctive actions, and neatly skewered the Hollow between its eyes with sufficient impact to disintegrate it on contact.
There was a beat when nobody even breathed.
Then Kisuke clamped down the wave of reiatsu he had automatically flooded the area with the moment Tsuzuki moved, and straightened.
"Had you felt that?" Tsuzuki demanded as he retrieved the skewer for proper disposal. He had not sensed the Hollow, which was highly unexpected but not impossible, and very, very, worrying.
Kisuke turned slowly to face him. "Not until it had begun its attack." His grey eyes were large in his face, body still tensed for battle. Tsuzuki revised the possibility of additional threat significantly upwards.
"Right," he told everyone briskly. "Finish off the rest of those Hollows, and back up a bit from the treeline. Kisuke, can you do an active scan?"
Without replying, Kisuke turned to the forest, and Tsuzuki could feel the wash of reiatsu brush past him, extending outwards. Behind them, the dying howls of the captured Hollows sounded in rapid succession.
Then Kisuke pulled his reiatsu back. "I think," he enunciated the words slowly. "These are the remnants of those Hollows that had hunted that patrol from the Third Division all the way from District Seventy-Two this morning."
"No Garganta?" Tsuzuki asked, just to be sure. Cunning, capable of tracking and hunting prey, and able to hide from those not actively seeking them – these Hollows were moderately more intelligent than the run-of-the-mill variety, but still not a major threat now that their presence had been revealed.
He received a terse shake of the head in reply and a side-long look. "Are you armed?" Kisuke asked abruptly.
Tsuzuki eyed him. "Are you?"
Kisuke shot him a look.
"I'm guarding the heir to the clan today," he began in an exasperated tone. "Yoruichi-san will have my head had I turned up unarmed."
Tsuzuki sighed. "Give me a bit." He loosened his obi until he could slip his hand into the folds, and retrieved Kurai'arashi from where it had been secured against his chest, sealed into the form of a tiny tantō for the occasion.
A disbelieving snort. "Really?"
Tsuzuki flushed as he retied his obi. "How else am I supposed to fit my zanpakutō into a yukata?" With a whispered gratitude, the zanpakutō lengthened back into its original size.
"Your sleeves?"
Tsuzuki rolled his eyes and raised his left arm, shaking the billowing sleeve loose to reveal the band of bo-shuriken strapped around his forearm, near the elbow.
Kisuke's eyebrows went up. "Spine holster?"
Tsuzuki shot him an incredulous look, gesturing to his clothing. "How would that help if I have to practically strip to even reach the zanpakutō in the first place?"
Kisuke's lips twitched, looking more and more amused. "Okay, when we get back, we're going to go to Yoruichi-san, and we're going to wheedle her into full ceremonial attire, and you can see how she does it."
"Wouldn't the servants be asleep by then?" Tsuzuki asked cluelessly. "How is she going to put them on by herself?"
Kisuke shot him another look.
"Right, I forget. Urahara Kisuke can do everything. Including, apparently, how to put on all twelve pieces of a furisode."
"More than that," Kisuke supplied, and he could see the older man try very hard to suppress a laugh. "Since she's the clan head, there's a few additional kamon-embossed pieces for decorative purposes."
"Wait," Akira broke in. "This Yoruichi-san you two speak of, you're talking about the head of the Shihōin Clan?"
Tsuzuki and Kisuke exchanged a fleeting glance.
"Yes?"
Akira opened his mouth, glanced at Kisuke, closed it again and shook his head.
"Oh, we're re~ally good friends," Kisuke told them in a sing-song voice, his fan fluttering about his face. "Isn't that right, Tsu-zu-ki-chan?"
Without bothering to give a verbal reply, Tsuzuki unsheathed Kurai'arashi, and sprang.
At the last second, Kisuke side-stepped smoothly out of the way and spun to the right, lips moving soundlessly. A fan of red energy blasted into the Hollow that had just bounded out of the woods, knocking it backwards and incinerating it in a flash. The flames roared higher, leaping for its nearby companions, which were too slow to get out of the way.
With his mobility severely hampered by the yukata, Tsuzuki's only option was to increase his shunpo speed to compensate for his inability to dodge. His initial lunge was true, and the Hollow that had crept up behind Kisuke had barely managed to shriek before its mask shattered. With a twist of his reiatsu, the first of the cold iron throwing darts slid free of its holster, thudded into his left palm, and just as quickly left his fingers to nail the next Hollow through the thinnest part of its mask. Its dying howl rang as he put on a burst of speed and slipped underneath the swipe of another Hollow's claws, leaping up to cleave its mask into two.
His eyes swept the left side of the forest, reiatsu raised as a preventive barrier, but no more movement came from the darkened treeline. He could feel Kisuke somewhere behind him, the other man's reiatsu a solid presence guarding his back. Fingering another bo-shuriken, Tsuzuki extended his own reiatsu outwards, trying to get a lock on the errant Hollows.
There!
A thrown dart forced the first one out of the safety of the woods, and Tsuzuki flashed forwards to bury his zanpakutō into its companion.
Only his finely honed battle instincts caused him to whirl around at the right moment, nearly tripping over his yukata, to see another Hollow – previously hidden by the shadows of the trees – bearing down upon him. Even as he raised his zanpakutō to block he knew it wasn't fast enough, nor was his reiatsu concentrated enough; there would be no avoiding injury.
A hand caught his wrist firmly, and like nails on a chalkboard, the Hollow's claws screeched off the fan – no, not fan, now that it was unfurled he could clearly see it was a tessen – Kisuke had been holding the entire time. Stepping out of the range of his swing, Kisuke released Tsuzuki's wrist, allowing him to step up and finish off the Hollow.
Waves of reiatsu pulsed out in another active scan, ensuring there were no Hollows remaining. Only when the other man gave him a short nod did Tsuzuki sheath his zanpakutō and move to pick up his throwing darts.
"I need to call this in," Kisuke murmured regretfully, flipping his denreishinki open and absently scrolling.
Tsuzuki nodded, having expected as much. "Then I'll go home and change first. What should I wear?"
"Something black," Kisuke muttered vaguely, tapping away at the buttons. 'Your Onmitsukidō uniform.'
"Okay..." Tsuzuki drawled slowly. "Where are we going?"
"Oh, out." He gestured vaguely in the direction of the Second District, eyes still glued to the screen.
Tsuzuki raised a quizzical eyebrow.
Kisuke glanced up and sighed. "Are you feeling all right today?" He made an expansive, elaborate gesture as he spoke. "We're going out to celebrate your birthday together."
"Oh!" Tsuzuki exclaimed before he could stop himself. Even then, he could not prevent the huge grin spreading over his face. "Shall I meet you at the Manor gates?"
"Actually."
Tsuzuki had stiffened immediately at the sudden change in tone, his hand drifting to his zanpakutō hilt.
"Change of plans," continued Kisuke smoothly, shutting his denreishinki with a decisive snap. "Go to your quarters in the Fourth barracks, change, and I'll meet you in the waiting area in the infirmary." He began striding off, paused, and turned around. "Understood?"
Tsuzuki swallowed and saluted. "Hai!"
Without another word out loud, Kisuke set off for Seireitei at a brisk walk. 'Zero, seven, twenty-three, two, four, forty-one, forty-seven, four. Take the main roads, I'll see you in twenty minutes.'
Tsuzuki tightened his grip briefly on the zanpakutō in his hand at the message meant for him alone, before he got himself under control. At a much slower pace, the rest of them too set off for Seireitei.
"How can he address Shihōin-sama so familiarly?" whispered Akira in a quiet voice.
Tsuzuki hesitated slightly before deciding to simply confirm Kisuke's words earlier. "It's true, they are really good friends."
Akira glance at him askance at the vague answer, but did not enquire further. They parted at the North Gate, the other students heading back to the Academy while Tsuzuki slipped into the crowd moving towards the Gotei Thirteen section of Seireitei. The moment the crowds cleared – few would willingly visit the Fourth on a fine Saturday evening – Tsuzuki broke into as fast a shunpo as he could manage without tripping over his yukata, headed towards the Fourth's barracks. He barrelled into his quarters a scant few moments later, very thankful for the fact that as a combat medic not to mention a member of one of the five Great Noble Houses he had a private room to himself.
Stripping his yukata off – finally – he tugged on the sleeveless undershirt and stretch pants of the Onmitsukidō, yanking his wrist guards into place over the bo-shuriken and strapping his zanpakutō to his back. He would have to thoroughly clean the ones he had used later, but for now they would have to suffice since there were no spare weapons in his public quarters. Tsuzuki frowned at his reflection in the mirror. Too conspicuous. He switched to a sleeveless black kosode instead and added arm warmers over the wrist guards. He winced slightly. Well, he still stood out, but he no longer looked like he was going on a mission. It would have to do.
Raising a hand to the shinigami manning the reception, Tsuzuki dropped into one of the seats in the reception area of the infirmary, back against the wall. Keeping an eye on both the entrance and the corridor leading out into the courtyard, he let himself sink into a light meditative trance, seeking out unerringly the red reiatsu ribbon connected to his soul.
'Happy birthday.'
Awareness blossomed slowly on the other end of the connection, and although Yukimaru did not reply, Tsuzuki knew that he had heard.
'That's tomorrow.'
Tsuzuki snorted mentally, careful to keep his face blank of emotion. 'I'm off-duty today,' he replied instead.
A beat, and despite the seemingly non-sequitur, Yukimaru unerringly picked up his meaning. 'Should I warn okaa-san for a guest, then?'
'Two,' corrected Tsuzuki. 'Taking orders for dinner.'
A longer pause this time, presumably as Yukimaru relayed the message to Masaki.
'Chocolate?' came the hopeful voice.
'For dinner?'
He could hear Yukimaru's laugh. 'All right then. I don't suppose we can get a tabe-hōdai spread, like in an izakaya?'
'I'll see what we can do,' promised Tsuzuki.
A new voice cut into their conversation. 'I'm outside the Division gates.'
Giving another wave to the shinigami on duty, Tsuzuki meandered slowly out of the infirmary. 'On my way,' he told Yukimaru, and released the connection.
'We're waiting,' floated back, and he bit back another grin.
Kisuke was waiting for him right where he said he would be, also having changed into black at some point. His zanpakutō too was prominently displayed, but on his hip. In Seireitei, this was so common a sight that no one gave him a second look as Tsuzuki fell into step beside him.
'Situation update?'
The other man gave a tiny shake of the head, as though trying to remove a lock of hair blocking his vision. "What would you like for dinner?"
Tsuzuki bounced. "A bit of everything?"
Kisuke gave him a sidelong glance. "And chocolate, I suppose?"
Tsuzuki gave a huff in reply. "I like chocolate."
Visibly biting back a teasing retort, Kisuke instead led the way to several restaurants that also did takeaway, only shooting Tsuzuki a glare when he thoughtlessly asked if they should split up.
"I doubt you can afford all that your bottomless pit of a stomach needs." It would have been one of Kisuke's usual teasing comments, but the remarkably realistic grin never lit up his eyes.
Flinching minutely, Tsuzuki accepted the implicit scolding for what it was.
Despite the sheer number of purchases that they made, they still managed to make relatively good time out of the East Gate, Kisuke proclaiming out loud that they should find somewhere to sit and enjoy their food before it went cold.
Once out of the town in District One, Kisuke threw cloaks over them both, allegedly to ward off the evening chill. Feeling the smother of reiatsu-concealing kidō built into the cloak, Tsuzuki broke into top shunpo speed as soon as it was secured, Kisuke right behind him.
They landed noiselessly on the roof, and dropped just as soundlessly onto the ground, melting away into the shadows.
'We're here.' Up close, there was no need to even seek out Yukimaru's reiatsu ribbon, it was a beacon in his mind.
With a soft click, the window unlatched and two blurs darted into the bedroom, following the shadowed figure into the darkened dining room, where there were no windows to give away the light.
"Really, the window?" Tsuzuki asked as they put down their purchases on the table.
Yukimaru shrugged eloquently. "Door's too loud."
Movement at the door indicated Masaki's arrival, who paused slightly upon seeing a stranger in her house. Without hesitation, Yukimaru strode over to the blond and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Catching on immediately, Kisuke returned the half hug immediately. "Happy birthday, Yukimaru."
"Good to see you again, Kisuke." He let the other man go and turned to Masaki. "Okaa-san, this is Urahara Kisuke, my brother's personal guard. He spent a lot of time with us before Yoruichi-san adopted my brother."
Kisuke offered a thirty-degree bow to her. "Hajimemashite, Masaki-san."
Feeling Masaki begin to relax as she echoed the traditional greeting, Tsuzuki moved to cut in. "What, I don't merit a hug?" He pouted ostentatiously, making the other three laugh even as Yukimaru moved to wrap both arms around him.
Kisuke busied himself unpacking all the food they brought, laying out bowls of rice, dishes of boiled edamame and tsukemono, a tray of artfully-arranged sushi, plates of yasai and ebi tempura, arrays of agedashi dōfu and nasu, skewers of kushiyaki, a giant platter piled high with taiyaki and senbei wrapped in nori, as well as a heatproof container filled with still-hot sencha.
"Does this meet with Your Majesty's expectations?" teased Tsuzuki as Masaki moved to fetch mugs for the tea.
"That depends," Yukimaru retorted mock-solemnly, "on whether you have brought the sacred offering."
Tsuzuki snorted and laid the final item on the platter of desserts, a single bar of chocolate. A new import from the Human World, chocolate was only available in a tiny shop in Seireitei at outrageous prices currently only affordable to the upper nobility. That tiny chocolate bar had cost more than all the other food items added together.
"Itadakimasu."
Yukimaru immediately reached for the inarizushi, while Masaki picked up her rice bowl. More used to regular meals, Tsuzuki picked elegantly at the edamame while Kisuke served himself several slices of sashimi.
"Is that ōtoro?"
Kisuke paused at Yukimaru's exclamation, a slice of the aforementioned fish halfway to his mouth. "Yes?"
Yukimaru groaned enviously. "What kind of salary are you getting?"
"Way more than me," interjected Tsuzuki before Kisuke could flutter his fan and deflect the question, emphasising his point with a piece of fugu. "Now that I've graduated, I don't even get an allowance!"
Masaki gasped upon recognising the fish. "Isn't that banned?"
"Only in Rukongai; there's still several sushi shops licensed to serve fugu in Seireitei," explained Kisuke. He eyed the potentially toxic slice of fish dangling from Tsuzuki's chopsticks. "Monitor your own status, will you? It'll be troublesome if you went and died."
Tsuzuki nodded, snagged Kisuke's dish of sauce, dipped the fish into the shoyu, and put it in his mouth. Tapping two fingers against the reiatsu vent on his left wrist, he pulled up a real-time diagnostic screen using a modified medical kidō originally developed to monitor the status of patients during delicate or prolonged operations in the field.
Masaki watched the proceedings with interest. "Yuki tells me that you are working as a combat medic?"
Tsuzuki nodded and swallowed his gari. "Yes, there are three sub-divisions in the Fourth Division: the infirmary medics, the field medics, and the combat medics. The infirmary medics are trained to keep the Sōgō Kyūgo Tsumesho operational round-the-clock, led by the Fourth Seat. The field medics are sent on missions as support healers, while the combat medics serve as the primary response team."
"What's the difference between combat medics and field medics?"
"Field medics generally stay out of battle," explained Tsuzuki, having answered this very question many times before. "They set up a mobile relief station near the actual battlefield, far enough that they won't be caught in the crossfire, so that they can concentrate on healing the wounded without worrying about being attacked. They're trained to operate all the equipment and perform delicate operations."
He took a sip of his tea and continued. "Combat medics are heavily involved in actual combat. Often, shinigami get critically injured in the middle of a battle, where it's too dangerous to send in field medics, but they may die if not treated in time. Combat medics are sent to the front-lines to retrieve these fallen shinigami and ensure they reach the relief station in time."
"There's only six of you, right?" Yukimaru asked, chewing on his kappamaki.
Tsuzuki answered in the affirmative. "Most shinigami who choose the Fourth Division are generally less suitable for combat," he elaborated diplomatically. "To start, we need very high levels of reiatsu, much more than the average shinigami. Due to the demands of the job, we have to travel very light, so we learn to manipulate our reiatsu to achieve the same effects as specialised equipment. For instance, major blood loss – the number one killer – in virtually all locations can be temporarily suppressed by flooding the area with concentrated reiatsu."
Kisuke made an interested noise at that. "Have you considered the alternative applications of bakudō?"
He nodded. "I'll be learning some specialised kaidō to supplement my repertoire as well after I master the basic medical kidō."
"Give me a list later, I'm sure I can think of some more," instructed Kisuke, spinning his chopsticks absently over his knuckles as he contemplated the issue.
"Show-off," coughed Yukimaru, then had to snag a skewer, which was flicked at his forehead, mid-flight.
"Do you want to become a shinigami too, Yuki?" Masaki asked, possibly to derail an impending food fight from breaking out.
Yukimaru frowned as he considered the question, chewing idly on a piece of aubergine. "Not at the moment, I think." He shot her a winning smile. "I'd like to stay with you for a while longer."
Masaki beamed at him, for a moment so alike the woman from his childhood memories that it made something inside Tsuzuki ache. He contented himself with stabbing a piece of agedashi dōfu perhaps a little more violently than necessary, earning himself two concerned looks from the other two men at the table. Shaking his head minutely, he sat back and listened to the conversation drift on to other topics, occasionally offering his input, but mostly relaxing in the presence of three people he trusted, a soothing change from his hectic schedule lately.
It was when the desserts were mostly finished that Tsuzuki finally broached the topic that had been at the back of his mind the whole night. "So, what prompted the priority code earlier?"
"Priority code?" echoed Yukimaru.
Kisuke laid his chopsticks down with a quiet 'click' and took a moment to consider his words. "Certain ostensibly inconsequential and unconnected circumstances have conspired in such a manner that I am compelled to conclude that their concurrence is not as coincidental as they would claim to be."
Tsuzuki and Yukimaru exchanged grim looks at the lapse into formal speech patterns.
"As you noted earlier, I had been dressed for a mission rather than guard duty," he began. "Normally, you would have remained within visual range of an officer at all times; however, just this morning I was suddenly requested to take over because your original guard had taken ill and there are no other seated officers available."
Tsuzuki frowned. "Is that even possible?"
"A quarter of them, including Ōmaeda Marenoshin, is off-duty today. Of the rest, half are currently on missions outside Seireitei, two are ill, and the remaining are part of Yoruichi-san's retinue. This means that for most of today, I had been the only seated officer of the Onmitsukidō present in Seireitei." He paused briefly. "In light of this, I consider the fact that my mission was irrevocably delayed by two hours with no satisfactory explanation, that a supposedly straightforward negotiation was plagued with sufficient unforeseen complications to render it a total failure, that I was repeatedly called out of range of my charge –"
"I remained within your range," argued Tsuzuki.
Kisuke pursed his lips. "Within my actual sensory range, yes, but not within my publically known sensory range, and certainly not within response range for most of the afternoon."
"What's the difference?" questioned Yukimaru.
"Sensory range is defined as the ability to track the location of a reiatsu signature," the blond detailed slowly, "while response range for a personal guard would be the ability to detect and respond to a threat within ten seconds. For most shinigami these would usually be around the same distance, but partly due to my familiarity with Tsuzuki I am able to track him over a vastly greater distance than I can passively scan for potential danger."
"In fact," he continued, tone icy, "I was only alerted to the presence of Hollows because Tsuzuki had suddenly raised his reiatsu output. Hollows that appeared in North District One despite the lack of a Garganta, that only appeared when for all intents and purposes he was unprotected, that ostensibly were part of the group that had chased that patrol to the West Gate, and that included a type that Tsuzuki is publically known to be unable to readily detect."
"But –" Yukimaru too was frowning. "Low-level Hollows aren't much of a menace."
"With eight Academy students nearby, and Tsuzuki having a known reputation for putting his life in danger to protect them?" rebutted Kisuke tartly.
"He's right," Tsuzuki interrupted, grimacing at the reminder. "I've only escaped injury because my reflexes are way better than they should have been, and both of us were carrying more weapons than expected."
"And they were no doubt expecting you to trip over your yukata at some point," added Kisuke, not unkindly. "You've so rarely worn traditional attire during your five years as clan heir that it should have greatly hampered your mobility."
"Had he been wounded," Yukimaru murmured with dawning horror, "he would have returned to the Shihōin Manor to recuperate."
"Which, as aforementioned, is completely devoid of guards," Kisuke finished grimly. "When I became aware of all these, it became imperative that you do not return to the Manor tonight."
"And thus the priority code."
"And thus the priority code," agreed Kisuke. "Every eventuality that could have been feasibly planned for has been taken into account, and the only reason why we are here is because of what the masterminds could not have known. Especially, I suspect, that Tsuzuki – the rebellious, forthright clan heir – is willing to obey orders from a Third Seat who by all means appear to have achieved the position due to personal favours rather than actual skill."
Tsuzuki automatically opened his mouth to refute the last point, before realising that it was exactly how most people up and including Soifon perceived the blond, who in turn encouraged the misconception.
"I'll spend the night in the Fourth's barracks," he conceded.
… … … … … … …
Tsuzuki sat slumped outside the wall surrounding the Fourth Division in the dead of the night, leaning against the cool stone. It was one of the walls bordering the open fields behind the Fourth Division medical centre, far away from any buildings. Rarely did he get to be alone nowadays, when he was not studying, training, or performing his duties.
He knew what Akira had been driving at earlier, he really did. Shinigami were not expected to hold two jobs at the same time, much less of this calibre.
But what choice did he have?
Tsuzuki rolled his head up to stare sightlessly at the sky above.
"I'm sick of trying to perform the Onmitsukidō duties on top of my actual job."
There. He had said it out loud. Even if there was no one around to hear him.
Tsuzuki stared into the distance, where he could just make out the walls surrounding the Fifth Division.
He put his head in his hands.
"Just because you adopted me doesn't mean you own me!" he burst out, muffled by his palms.
Tsuzuki remained in that position, blood roaring in his ears, until his pendant grew warm against his chest. He then rose unsteadily, putting a hand against the wall to brace himself for a moment, and padded silently back into his room in Fourth's barracks.
… … … … … … …
To be continued.
Extra disclaimer, the line "You've become strong, Rukia" belongs to Tite Kubo, although it's used in a different scene from canon.
Japanese:
Kenji's shikai release: Midaretobu, Tetsuō = Fly about wildly, Iron Hawk
"Nandayo, you slacker!": In this specific instance, may be meaningfully translated as "Oh my god / What the hell, you slacker!" It has an extra dimension of informality that I doubt you care about; and if you do care I don't think you need me to translate the Japanese for you.
The code (0 7 23 2 4 41 47 4) reads, quite simply, "Priority call, unfriendly shinigami (exact numbers unknown), Urahara Kisuke determines highly likely threat will occur within the next twelve hours (exact time unknown) to Yoruichi and Tsuzuki, potentially lethal." Original cipher in basic Japanese.
All food items listed here, as far as possible, are confirmed to have existed during this era.
Undergoing rewrite on AO3 (link in profile).
