Pull Down the World

Chapter 7 – A Bowl of Tea


Seireitei, the Court of Pure Souls, was a strange place. It was built like a maze - full of gargantuan homes and offices, long walkways, and screened-in gardens. Gin should have found it impossible to navigate after long years in the open wastes of Ishibana, the 79th District of West Rukongai. He was used to seeing for miles around him, knowing the lay of the land with a simple glance. Here in Seireitei, Gin was lucky if he could see further than ten meters. White brick walls rose everywhere he turned. There was so much shade here in Seireitei that he hardly ever needed to squint to keep out the blaze of sunlight. Of course he still did – force of habit, mostly.

Gin should have found Seireitei impossible to navigate. Its labyrinthine order was yet another bulwark against interlopers from Rukongai. How could anyone know these paths unless they'd grown up walking them every day? And yet it was another strange aspect of the Court of Pure Souls that made navigation as easy as finding sand in the desert.

Society was stratified in Seireitei. Oh, they were all alike in a way – snobbish, self-absorbed, and clueless. The residents of Seireitei had never faced the hardships of life in Rukongai. Wealthy merchants never squabbled over scraps of stale, crusty bread. Servants slept on comfortable beds, not patches of rocky ground. Nobles didn't know what it was like to take refuge in a cave to escape a dust storm. But for all the ways its residents might be alike, Seireitei was marked by deep divisions.

Gin had learned these divisions quickly as an Academy trainee. Lowerclassmen didn't associate with Upperclassmen. Students didn't associate with Teachers. And no one associated with the servants who kept the Academy clean and orderly, who cooked the meals and made the beds. Each group moved in its own world. Seireitei itself had proved little different on Gin's infrequent trips into the Court proper. Nobles lived in private enclaves, cut off from their neighbors. Merchants did their best to imitate the Nobles, building high walls around their estates. Even among the Shinigami, there were stark divisions. Either you were part of the Gotei Thirteen, or you weren't. And if you were, then you were fiercely loyal to your own division. Members of the Eleventh kept to themselves, because they thought they were better than all the other Shinigami. Members of the First kept to themselves, because they didn't want to be distracted from the daily business of running Seireitei. Members of the Fourth kept to themselves, because no other Division wanted anything to do with them.

There were hierarchies in Seireitei, and hierarchies within hierarchies. And Gin had learned that the easiest way to navigate in Seireitei was to ignore your eyes and use your ears. You could always tell where you were by listening to the conversations around you. Here, near one of the great estates, the talk was all about the scions of the Four Noble Families.

"Did you hear? The heir to Shiba refused a lieutenantship again! This must be the fourth time his Captain has asked him."

That had to be Kaien. Lots of talk about him lately.

"Is that Shihouin girl ever going to grow up? She's head of a whole division, now – AND Commander of the Special Forces. But she still acts like a teenager!"

That must be the Second Division Captain. Yoruichi? Gin thought that was her name. He was surprised at how often he heard her mentioned with disapproval.

"We're the power in this world, Boy. 'n you ain't nothin' but meat."

What the Hell? Gin spun, dropping into a fighting stance and searching for the source of the voice. His knuckles were white, curled around the hilt of the short zanpakutou belted at his waist. He scanned the crowd, searching for the familiar face. The face that couldn't be here. The face of a dead man.

"Hey! Aren't you Ichimaru Gin!?"

Damn it. Out of the corner of his eye, Gin saw a pair of boys approaching him, one tall and one short, both in the striped uniforms of the Academy. He straightened to face them and forced his grin into place, but his eyes continued scanning the crowd. "Aa, yea, s'pose I am."

"Oh, wow! I heard you're in the special advanced class! They say you're the most pr-"

Damn you, Kaien. I never had to put up with this before.

Gin had taken the Shinigami's advice – reluctantly. He no longer tried to disguise his skill at the Academy. Gin had to admit that there was a certain logic to it, beyond even what Kaien had suggested. Notoriety carried its own protection. Utagawa had certainly heard his name by now. Perhaps the man even remembered the boy he had met in Rukongai, years ago. But Gin couldn't simply disappear, couldn't be disappeared, anymore. Too many people knew who he was.

And thanks to the social stratification in Seireitei, that meant every trainee in the Academy wanted to be his friend.

"-was amazing! I mean, I wasn't there to see it, but I heard all about it from Takumi. I mean, you and Shiba Kaien!?"

"Ain'cha done talkin' yet?"

The two trainees blinked, confused.

Gin eased his zanpakutou from its scabbard and began using it to pare down his fingernails. "An' here I thought I was gonna have a nice mornin' walk. Maybe jes' spend some time thinkin'. But no, you two had'ta come pester me, din'cha?"

The taller trainee opened his mouth angrily, and Gin's zanpakutou sliced through the air, inches from his nose.

"Oops. Guess my sword must'a slipped a li'l there." Gin waggled his free hand ostentatiously. "Sorry 'bout that. Din' mean to in'erupt ya. Weren'cha jes' about to say somethin'?" A broad smile curved across Gin's lips as he watched the two wannabe Shinigami.

"C'mon, Shouji." The shorter trainee grabbed the other one's sleeve and started tugging. "Let's get out of here."

The taller one, Shouji, brushed away his companion's hands. "Yeah. Sure. Whatever. You know, Ichimaru, you're a real-"

"Jerk? Yea, I like ta think so, too," Gin laughed. He propped the back of the zanpakuto against his shoulder, and continued smiling at the other trainees.

The short one tugged at Shouji's sleeve again, and with one last glance at Gin, they both slipped back into the flow of traffic through Seireitei's streets.

Gin scanned the crowd one more time, looking for the face of the man he knew couldn't be there. When he was satisfied, he slipped his small zanpakutou back into its sheath and continued on his way.

It wasn't long before Gin found what he was looking for. Towering white walls stretched to either side of a thick wooden gate, emblazoned with a hexagonal crest that reminded him of a squid. Unlike many of the walled compounds he had passed, this one had no guards stationed in front of the gate. Perhaps there was no need. Even Gin had learned enough of Seireitei to know that few people would come here uninvited.

The door was heavy, but Gin had little trouble pushing it open. As he slipped inside, his eyes met an unexpected scene. Outside these walls, Seireitei was all white stones and mortar. Gin supposed it was built that way on purpose. Rukongai was always dusty and dirty. In contrast, the clean white of Seireitei blazed like the sun. Like so many other things, the paleness of Seireitei's architecture was a way to set those who lived inside its walls apart from those who lived without.

Inside these particular walls, however, there was hardly a speck of white to be seen. Trees grew all around, their tops cut just low enough to be invisible from the street. Creeping vines snaked across the inner surface of the walls, reaching all the way to the long peak of tiles that capped them. Ahead of Gin, a wide path of cobbled stones snaked off into the distance, but except for that everything here was green and growing.

Not seeing any sort of escort, Gin shut the gate behind him and strolled forward along the path. He refused to hurry, instead allowing himself time to take in the greenery. It was beautiful, but Gin couldn't escape the sense of wrongness that accompanied its beauty.

The path wound back and forth through the trees, never cutting a direct path. Still, Gin saw nothing to indicate the presence of another soul in this garden. He must have walked nearly ten minutes before he found the first sign of civilization aside from the cobblestone walkway.

As Gin came around a bend in the path, a red wooden bridge arched up before him. Four tall polls spaced along each side supported polished brass lanterns. At the bridge's apex, a bench sat facing out over the…

Gin realized that he couldn't hear the sound of running water. Stepping around the bend in the walkway, he saw that the bridge spanned not a creek, but a ribbon of round gray stones that stretched through the garden in both directions.

Why would someone build a bridge over a bunch of rocks? For that matter, why would someone arrange a bunch of rocks into a band like that? It certainly wasn't another walking path. The stones were loose and uneven, and Gin had walked over enough loose, uneven stones in Rukongai to know that walking along this ribbon of rocks would be surprisingly painful, however smooth they might look.

The nagging sense of wrongness was stronger here, but Gin still couldn't put his finger on what was causing it. He decided to mount the bridge and take a better look at his surroundings. From the top, he let his eyes wander in both directions along the river of stones. It wasn't straight; rather the stones wandered through the garden as a real river would. Taking a seat on the bench, Gin found that he was facing back into the heart of Seireitei. The Central Court and the Execution Grounds rose above the treetops before him. In fact, from this bench he found the view both more beautiful and more disconcerting than it had been anywhere else in this garden.

Slowly, Gin realized what he found so unsettling about the garden. All the trees were carefully pruned to the same height, tall enough to obscure the walls from the inside, but not tall enough to be seen over the walls from the exterior. The undergrowth was green and thriving, even where the canopy looked thickest. There were no fallen branches, no dying trees. The garden was a construct of nature, and yet unnatural. It wasn't like the wilderness that could be found in parts of Rukongai. It was a sculpture, carved from living things.

"An' would'ja expect anythin' else? We control this world, Boy."

The voice whispered through the air behind him, and Gin leapt to his feet. His eyes scanned the garden frantically, and he thought he saw a flash of movement along the edge of the river of stones, a lone figure slipping back into the trees. Gin put his hand on the rail of the bridge and tensed his legs to vault over.

"Ichimaru Gin? My apologies. I did not think you'd be here so soon."

Gin's head whipped toward the sound of the voice. A white-haired man in a pale scarf and a sleeveless white coat stood on the path below the bridge, staring up at him. "Aah," he forced himself to laugh. "Was jes' admirin' the view ya got here."

The old man nodded his head in greeting. "Welcome to the Kuchiki household. I am Kuchiki Ginrei, Captain of the Sixth Division of the Gotei Thirteen. You did not have any trouble finding our compound, I hope? You found someone willing to offer you directions?"

"Nah, din' need 'em. Ain't hard to find, long as ya know how to look." Gin turned away from the rail and walked to meet the old man, putting his grin back into place.

The Shinigami Captain blinked. He paused for a moment before speaking again. "That is good to hear. I apologize I could not meet you at my Division's headquarters, but my presence is required here at the estate later today. Now, if you will please follow me." Although it was a request, Gin heard the tones of command in Kuchiki's voice.

They walked along the cobbled path for no more than a minute, the old man a pace ahead of Gin. Then abruptly, Kuchiki turned to the left as if he was about to leave the walkway. Gin turned with him and was shocked to discover a smaller path leading between the trees. He would have sworn no such path existed only moments before.

"I din' know there was another path here. Did'ja… y'know, do somethin' back there?" A part of Gin still resisted making conversation with men like this, but sometimes a little politeness was necessary, however it grated. Gin was here by invitation, and Kuchiki Ginrei was not a man to insult lightly.

Without breaking stride, the old man turned and gave Gin a grizzled smile. "No need. The path isn't hard to find, as long as you know how to look."

Ahead of them, the ground dipped and opened into a clearing. A squat wooden building stood in its center – unpainted and unadorned, but with a beautiful geometry that named the mastery of its builder. Kuchiki led Gin down into the depression and paused at the building, sliding open a slightly-elevated door and motioning for Gin to enter.

Gin bent forward and poked his head inside. The interior of the building was small, able to hold six people at most. An alcove was recessed into the far wall, and it held a long canvas scroll unrolled to reveal a brush-painting of a mist-shrouded lake. The center of the room's floor was recessed as well, and Gin could see that a large cast-iron vessel rested within.

Gin pulled his zanpakuto from his belt and untied his sandals, leaving both outside. He slipped into the room and kneeled facing the black iron vessel. A few moments later, another door slid open on the wall across from Gin. The old man stepped inside, carrying a lacquer tray that held three bowls and a number of objects Gin didn't recognize. With an air of ceremony, Kuchiki sunk to his knees opposite Gin.

"Will you share some tea with me?"

Ahhh. So that's what this was all about – tea. Gin had heard that among the nobles, there was a right way and a wrong way to drink tea. Of course, he didn't have the faintest idea what the right way was. But, he supposed, that was a puzzle to be unlocked like any other. If Gin had to associate with this man Kuchiki at all – and he really couldn't refuse a Captain of a Gotei Division – at least he could take a little pleasure in the meeting by finding a puzzle to solve. Gin couldn't help chuckling at the thought. When the old man fixed him with a stare, Gin bowed his head in feigned humility. "Sure, Ser, if ya'd like."

The old man began by placing a piece of yatsuhashi – red bean paste folded into a thin sheet of riceflower cake – onto a small sheet of paper. In silence, he slid the paper to Gin and placed a small knifelike wedge of bamboo to the side. Gin bowed and murmured his thanks, trying to recall the sorts of words he'd heard other Academy trainees use from time to time in the mess hall.

Kuchiki began to focus on preparing the tea, which Gin took as a sign that he should eat. With the small bamboo knife, he cut the yatsuhashi into a few bite-sized pieces. Gin enjoyed the sweet taste of the little treat, although it lacked the more enjoyable sweetness of the fruits he remembered having in Rukongai. Much of the food in Seireitei was like this – good, but with understated flavors relative to what he had known before.

As he finished the yatsuhashi, Gin turned his attention back to his host. The old man had removed the cast-iron vessel from the recession in the floor, and he was now lighting a coal fire in that space. Gin sat quietly, watching as Kuchiki replaced the vessel on the now-warming bed of coals. Kuchiki moved with a delicate deliberation, but Gin immediately found himself confused by some of what he saw.

Kuchiki's actions were all very direct, not wasting any motion. The old man didn't spill a drop as he ladled water from one of the bowls into the cast-iron pot. When he used an odd stick of curved bamboo to scoop green powder from a small jar into the two remaining bowls, he measured out six portions for each bowl – all of them filled to precisely the same height. But if his actions were so purposeful, why had he taken the time to turn the bowls and jar toward Gin before using them?

As the water was heated, a breeze blew through the little room. It mingled the scent of the trees outside with the bittersweet smell of the tea powder. Gin took another look at the bowls and the jar the old man had used, now sitting on the floor beside the lacquer tray. They were each painted to show a different tree branch with blooming cherry blossoms. Gin cocked his head and noticed that the designs simplified further around the sides of the bowls and jar. He must have been staring at the center of those designs, the point where they were richest in detail. So that was purpose behind turning them – to set the designs so he could best see them.

The water was beginning to hiss in the iron vessel now, and Gin returned his focus to the old man. Kuchiki was still moving with the same practiced grace, but Gin saw now that the old man was making a special effort to look at everything he did. As he moved steaming water from the vessel into the two bowls with tea powder, Kuchiki kept his eyes fixed on the head of the ladle. As he carefully laid the ladle beside the recessed space in the floor, as he took a short bamboo whisk from the lacquer tray, as he mixed the tea in the bowls – no matter what he did, the old man's eyes stayed glued to what he was doing. They didn't wander for even a moment. Kuchiki's hands looked strong and steady, so Gin didn't believe the old man's attention was entirely necessary for what he was doing. There must be a special significance to the visual focus on the elements of the ceremony as well.

As he finished, the old man set the whisk aside and placed one of the two tea bowls in front of Gin. Then, he took his own bowl and watched Gin expectantly.

Gin bowed, again murmuring words of thanks and acceptance. He bent his head forward to examine the bowl, and lifted it gently with both hands. Then, balancing the bowl on the palm of his right hand and gripping the edge with his left, he turned the bowl until the old man could see the center of the cherry blossom pattern. Gin found a small mark, a single five-petaled blossom, on the side of the bowl opposite the branch. His mouth twitched into a small smile. A marking on the reverse side suggested that he'd been right in assuming that the bowl was meant to be turned to face a certain way. Satisfied, he raised the bowl to his lips.

The tea was hot and thick, and surprisingly sweet. Gin had never tasted tea like this before, but he found that he liked it. A part of his conscience rebelled at the thought. No. I can't let myself start to enjoy this sort of life. These people are the ones who turned Rukongai into the Hell that it is. The farther you are from Seireitei, the farther you are from civilization. How can I fix the system if I don't even reject it myself? In two more sips, Gin drained the last of the tea from the bowl. He replaced it on the floor and inspected it briefly. Then, Gin gripped the rim in his left hand and spun it until the bowl was just the way he'd found it.

The old man was finishing his own tea. His eyes twinkled and the corner of his mouth twitched as he watched Gin turn the bowl. Gin wondered if he had been wrong to turn it back. But with the level of detail that appeared to go into making tea…. No, it made more sense to return everything to the way he found it.

Solemnly, Kuchiki placed his bowl back on the floor and regarded it for a few seconds. Then he took Gin's bowl, placed it next to his own, and began cleaning them. The old man was the first to break the silence. "Are you aware, Ichimaru Gin, that you drink tea in exactly the same way as my grandson? Byakuya also uses his left hand to turn the bowl."

Gin gave the old man his biggest grin. "Ain' that right? Can't say as I know, one way or th'other. Never drank tea like that before."

"I thought as much," the old man nodded. "Far from perfect," he sighed, "But then so is Byakuya. He lacks the patience for it, I think. But for you to guess so well at the proper forms? No wonder Genryuusai asked me to meet with you."

"Genryuusai?" The name tickled at Gin's memory, although he wasn't sure why.

"Yamamoto Genryuusai Shigekuni, the Captain-General and commander of the First Division. Also, the founder of the Central Reijutsu Academy."

"Aaaah," Gin responded dully. He had only the vaguest memory of the man, though he had surely seen him when he entered the Academy. An old man, with long white hair, hunched over a thick walking cane. Could that man really be the head of the Gotei Thirteen?

"Given your progress and the reports of your instructors, Genryuusai has suggested that you be tested for admission into the Gotei Thirteen at the end of the year. The Captain General doesn't believe there's any reason for you to continue with the Academy training. From the little I've seen, I'm inclined to agree with that assessment."

Gin felt the warm glow of pride fill him. Whether or not he wanted to be part of this world, he would need work within it for the moment. Moving from the Academy to the ranks of the Gotei Thirteen was a big step up the ladder of influence. He would never think of himself as a Shinigami, but if others thought of him that way, it would open new doors for him to explore. Maybe behind one of those doors he'd find the answers he sought. Maybe he'd find some way to pull down this unjust world the Shinigami had created.

The scuffle of feet outside announced the arrival of visitors. A woman glided in front of the open screen where Gin had entered the tea room, bowing from the waist. Her blue silk kimono was patterned with the same six-sided crest that had been embossed on the gates leading into this estate. As she straightened, she addressed her words to Captain Kuchiki. "My Lord, Lieutenant Aizen of the Fifth Division is here with a message from Hirako Shinji."

"Then please allow him to enter, Mariko."

The woman bowed again and stepped back, motioning to another person whom Gin couldn't see. As the woman moved away, a Shinigami took her place. He wore the shihakusho, the traditional black-and-white uniform of a Shinigami. In addition a band encircled his arm, supporting an emblem that bore the insignia of the Fifth Division – four hanging lilies. He was bald with sunken cheeks, and his eyes were close-set above a wide nose and a gash-like mouth.

"It's been a while, Sosuke," the old man said warmly. "What brings you out here today? Does Captain Hirako want to use the Sixth Division training grounds again?"

A smile touched Aizen's thin mouth for a moment. "Ah, no Sir. Though he's still complaining about our renovations every day. With luck, Division Five's new headquarters will be done in the next few weeks. But I'm sure it would make him very happy if you offered him a place to practice. He gets… restless." Aizen smiled again, and pushed a finger up the bridge of his nose.

"Indeed he does," Kuchiki chuckled. "Well, Sosuke, if it's not our training grounds, what is it that the Fifth Division would ask of the Sixth?"

"Actually, Sir, Captain Hirako's request concerns you in your capacity as head of the Kuchiki family, not as Captain of the Sixth Division. Our renovations have prompted a small dispute from some of the lesser noble houses. We are adding two floors to the Central Dispatch building to handle the increased message traffic we've seen in the last few decades. We're stretched thin as it is, providing Hell Butterflies for all the administrative divisions in Seireitei. The added space should help considerably in meeting that demand."

The old man frowned slightly. "I don't understand how this concerns the lesser nobles."

Aizen ran a finger up the bridge of his nose again. "Well, it appears that some of the estates near the Fifth Division complex were purchased especially for the view they afforded of the inner court. The additional floors are seen as an eyesore by some of these nobles, and they've demanded that we don't renovate the Central Dispatch building. Unfortunately, they only made this demand yesterday. A few months ago, we might have been able to revise the building plans, but now the new Central Dispatch is almost done. All that's left is installing the roof tiles. If we have to tear the whole thing down and start over again, it will be months before we finish."

"I agree," Kuchiki nodded. "They are being unreasonable. I assume Captain Hirako would like me to speak with them?"

Aizen sighed in relief. "Yes, sir. It would be a huge relief to us." Again, he pushed his finger up the bridge of his nose.

Something about that gesture bothered Gin. It almost looked like the man was adjusting his glasses – except that this man didn't wear glasses. Suspiciously, Gin opened his senses and felt for the resonance of reiatsu – the Gift. He was aware of his own Gift, of course. He could feel the reiatsu of Captain Kuchiki as well, like a tightly-coiled spring. In fact, Gin's Gift had developed enough that he was able to feel the presence of a number of other souls within the Kuchiki estate as well. One, still close but moving away, was probably the servant Mariko. Another soul, more distant, seethed with power and unrestrained force. When he focused his attention on Aizen, however, Gin didn't fully understand the resonance he felt.

A lieutenant should be the second-strongest member of his division, but Gin was sure that his own reiatsu dwarfed this man's. And yet, Gin could feel the echoes of a larger reiatsu here. It wasn't like Kuchiki, who was keeping his reiatsu tightly restrained. This felt more like an empty shell of some sort.

Without warning, the shell seemed to flicker into Gin's sight, like a crimson aura around the lieutenant. He blinked in surprise, and was vaguely aware that Aizen and the old man were continuing to talk. Gin had always felt the Gift in others as a resonance, like an echo of something he couldn't quite describe within himself. This was the first time the Gift had ever manifested visually for him. Unconsciously, he stretched out his hand to touch the shell surrounding Aizen.

"Ichimaru? Was there something you wanted to say?"

The old man's voice brought Gin's head around, and he dropped his hand immediately. Gin looked up at the Lieutenant again, cocking his head to the side. "Was jes' wonderin' if yer glasses were botherin' you today, L'tenant?"

Aizen rubbed his finger up the bridge of his nose again and smiled. "Oh, no. They always slip a little."

Gin glanced at the old man. No sign of confusion there. He looked back to the lieutenant and grinned broadly. "Ain't the only thing that slips a li'l. Aah, Cap'n Kuchiki, looks like the two o' ya have some talkin' to do. I'd kinda like t' get back to my trainin', if that ain't a problem."

The old man nodded. "I will inform the Captain General that I concur with his assessment. In one month, at the end of this Academy session, you will be tested for entry into the Gotei Thirteen. Please think about which Division you might like to join. For my part, should you pass, I would be happy to accept you into the Sixth."

Gin rose to his feet smoothly. "I'll keep that in mind, Ser. An' thanks for the tea." As he slipped out the screen door, Gin let his reiatsu brush against the red shell surrounding the lieutenant. It felt like touching lightning. For an instant, Gin saw another man's image superimposed over the lieutenant – a thin man with glasses and shaggy brown hair. And then the image was gone, and the lieutenant's skull-like face turned to face him.

"S'cuse me, L'tenant. Cap'n." Gin retied his sandals and slid his zanpakuto into his belt. He climbed the path out of the clearing and returned to the wide garden path without looking back.

Aizen Sosuke. Who are you, and what are you hiding?