A Month Later. . .

Daisuke Doi was almost sliding open the office door before he realized his master had fallen at least a half dozen steps behind. Confused—as he quite frequently found himself—Daisuke turned and eyed the frozen man who, though similar in age, was of a vastly higher station. "My lord?"

The young lord didn't respond, and Daisuke's anxiety spiked. Though Lord Shunsui Kyoraku was by far the easiest of his masters to please, Daisuke still avoided him. It was nothing personal. Nobility simply made him nervous. Their presence had a nasty habit of sending all intelligent thought or deed far from his mind. Now especially, what with Lord Shunsui's uncharacteristic brooding, Daisuke was at a loss. And also stuck. Having not been dismissed, Daisuke could only stand silent and try to get his perspiring under control.

It wasn't until several painful, uncomfortably moist seconds had passed that the young lord approached. At his continuing silence, Daisuke summoned up his shaky nerve. "My lord?" Amazing how a dry mouth could make the utterance of a simple question near impossible.

Lord Shunsui jerked from his thoughts and shot a mildly surprised look Daisuke's way. The servant's face heated as he dropped his gaze.

"You're free to go." Lord Shunsui's jovial tone was absent, leaving only a cautious foreboding beneath his words.

Daisuke, however—elated as he was—paid this inconsistency of character little mind. He bowed swiftly and ducked down the hall, greatly relieved to be away from him. The young lord fell quickly out of sight, and Daisuke eagerly put him also from his mind.

~.~

Heaving a mighty sigh, Shunsui bolstered himself up enough to slide open the door to his brother's office. The noise from its tracks deafened his heightened senses, and Shunsui felt the attention of the room's three occupants snap to him. He strode in with a smile, almost deliriously pleased his brother had yet to show. "Good afternoon, men," he cheered, plopping himself down on a plush cushion. All three had leapt to their feet when he'd entered and now seated themselves again with good-afternoon-my-lords and yes-my-lords.

To his immediate left sat the ever-twitching manager of the estate, Kai Nishimura, looking nervous as always. His intelligence was assumed, of course, as his position required, but Shunsui cared little for it. With his watery eyes and sharp, needle-thin limbs, Kai was far too annoying for Shunsui to ever treat him kindly.

"Your brother will be here shortly, my lord."

Shunsui turned to the speaker, Tsubasa Nishimoto, and smiled genially. "No rush," he declared to the head of the guard. "I can't imagine I've been summoned for anything important." He chuckled, sharply aware of how the other two shifted in their seats. Tsubasa only nodded stiffly.

The head of the guard was approaching old age with a powerful body and a sound mind. Few on staff could claim Shunsui's regard, but Tsubasa was one of them for his steadfastness and frankness of speech. Not one to hide the truth in word or in deed, Tsubasa's expression had Shunsui's stomach twisted into knots.

Shunsui was just about to speak to the final man, Takumi Masuda, manager of the Kyoraku footholds (who Shunsui fondly—if uncomfortably—referred to as the resident noh mask) when the slam of the office door startled the managerial staff to their feet and Shunsui's heart to his throat. "Good afternoon, my lord," Takumi said blankly. Silence met his greeting.

Shunsui would have risen. Honestly. As the Head's younger brother, it was only right to show him basic respect. But the sudden pressure in his chest and weakness in his knees kept him firmly seated.

"You look well, my lord." Kai's tone dripped honey.

Frozen as he was Shunsui instead strained his ears, listening as his brother crossed the room with a pace as even and deliberate and commanding as ever.

"Sit."

His staff near collapsed to their cushions in their haste to obey. Shunsui's adrenaline spiked at his brother's voice and his stomach knotted tighter as he came into view. Ever composed, ever regal, Lord Kenzo Kyoraku walked around and stood behind his desk, glaring down at his brother with punishing fury. Kenzo's glaring disfigurement nauseated Shunsui, and he fought to school his face to impassiveness.

It had been about a month since that horrific spar, and since then Shunsui had desperately tried to put Kenzo and the fight out of mind. Even as he'd heard of his brother's recovery, he'd avoided Kenzo like the plague. His ravaging guilt was far easier to ignore when his brother was out of sight.

The Kenzo before him was not the Head from a month ago. He was deathly pale, even more so when compared to the angry, puckered scar that raggedly carved its way across his face and down his neck. Shunsui's stomach lurched for—though it was ugly and deforming—the memory of inflicting it was fresh and sickening. He recalled how disgustingly that flap of skin had hung over his brother's lips and fluttered with each ragged, watery breath he'd taken. How Kenzo had gagged as blood had pooled into his panting mouth. Shunsui had jeered at such weakness.

A hard lump settled in his throat as he continued his quick inventory of his brother. His brother stood tall, but his shoulders were slightly askew (the pop of a violently displaced shoulder had tickled Shunsui at the time). That cavernous scar mangled his expression, turning his once handsome brother into more of a beast.

Kenzo's lip curled as he looked down on his younger brother, and Shunsui felt hot fury erupt from amidst his guilt. His fist curled and nose flared. Did he forget how Shunsui had laughed when he'd parted Kenzo's flesh from his bones? How he'd mocked his brother's wretched cries? Shunsui could have ripped him apart! How dare he stand there—back straight, pride intact—as if Shunsui couldn't possibly tear everything down around him.

The beat of silence passed.

"I will make this quick." Kenzo's eyes narrowed, as if waiting for a flippant interruption, but Shunsui's jaw had locked in fury. The swollen edges of Kenzo's scar had made a mess of his mouth, and Shunsui took sadistic pleasure in it. "I can no longer tolerate your presence. It's clear you're a danger. Therefore," with this he pulled a document from his desk and sat, "you will be attending the Shinigami Academy this upcoming term. Classes begin in two days time, and the welcoming ceremony is tomorrow. You will leave in the next six hours. Goodbyes aren't necessary." He finished and waved the parchment about to dry the ink before sliding it across his desk. Scowling, Shunsui took it, staring instead at his brother's infuriatingly clean, manicured hands. Remembering when they'd been bloody and torn as he'd tried to claw his way away from Shunsui. "Present that to the staff there. It's your enrollment."

Shunsui glared at the form.

"Perhaps you will even die with honor."

Shunsui's gaze shot up. He wanted to argue. Gods knew he wanted to rage. But with his brother's blatant hatred, and the other men's pitiless silence, his objections died beneath the wave of his own outrage. He rose, bowed, and left.

He had six hours to get shit-faced.

~.~

Silence ruled as the door slid shut.

"You did well, my lord."

Kenzo tore his glare from the door and leveled it at Takumi's pointlessly pleasant expression. "I've fallen behind in my work," he said, glowering at his manager until he looked away. Kenzo needed no coddling from the likes of him. "Give me your reports."

Kai startled as if struck before diving into his account of the estate.

Kenzo crossed his arms as he listened, loathing how his hands trembled.

~.~

There were few locations in the entirety of the Soul Society as naturally handsome as the Shinigami Academy. With the setting sun casting a marvelous glow about the campus, the incoming students passing its gates were awed by so fine a setting. Each building stood with brooding dignity. Their mighty stature blanketed the incoming populous with grand shadows. A gentle breeze upset dozens of wind chimes, and hushed the new pupils, as if they were treading on sacred temple grounds instead of a rigid military facility.

It was in the center of a green yard, indeed the center of the whole campus, that the most opulent edifice stood, towering well above its neighbors. The rooms and offices of the staff were housed within its walls. In fact, it was the only building strictly prohibited from student access—not that many dared approach anyway. For it was a tangled web of thick and sharp and large and heavy reiatsu the like of which most had never felt. And above it all, one reiatsu stood out from the rest. Built into its fifth story, the balcony doors of a large office opened to allow for a view of the large courtyard beneath it. With the dimming light, the balcony had the most picturesque view of the Academy. Its was breathtakingly beautiful.

A lone, aged figure stood at the balcony's edge, watching the incoming crowd of students with a blankness he usually reserved for only the dullest of meetings. His eyebrows, long and bushy as they were, had begun to part from his face and were a stubborn presence by their owner's eyes. His beard and moustache, not to be outdone by so small a competitor, hung proudly to his chest. So great was their weight and so mighty the fear of their owner, not even the passing breeze stirred them from the chest they rested upon.

Rigid stoicism stiffened the man's shoulders. Uncompromising honor braced his spine. The only movement that veritable statue allowed himself was his finger's slow, rhythmic tapping against the hilt of his blade. Not even the sudden appearance of a familiar reiatsu stirred him into motion.

"This class possesses impressive reiatsu," the voice commented behind him.

His nose twitched in absent irritation. "They also have meddling families."

The newly-arrived light-haired man rose from his military seiza and went to stand at his superior's side. "Indeed, sir. And it seems they've only grown more troublesome."

Only his long-suffering, amber eyes shifted to his subordinate. "How do you mean?"

His companion jerked at the hem of his shihakuso, smoothing out shunpo-induced wrinkles. "I've just been to see our admission list. It seems we have our first Heir Apparent. From the Ukitake family." He studied his ever-grim taicho's reiatsu and sensed little change as always. The old man's answering grunt, however, took him by surprise.

"The sickly one."

The younger man couldn't halt his raised brow. "Sickly?"

His wrinkled fingers ceased their incessant tapping. "There are rumors. Of the boy's fragility."

This statement sent the remaining brow to find company with its brother. "I wasn't aware you were interested in political rumors, Eijisai-dono."

"Politics is my bane. Not my interest." The young man bowed his head in acceptance. Silence fell between them as they watched their incoming students march through the entrance. The chatter and laughter of hundreds of young people only just reached the balcony and filled the quiet between them.

"This goes on much longer and we'll find ourselves overrun with more nobles looking for glory," Genryusai muttered to himself.

His lips pursed at the age-old complaint. "Is there another option, sir?" The sudden silence surprised him into turning to Genryusai. The old man continued to stare at the crowd in the distance. Genryusai's distaste for nobles was ancient, and he'd complained of their influence in the Gotei 13 for at least a century. It was always a repeat of the same script. Why now this deviation from his usual grunts and grumbles?

An idea struck him, and his eyes narrowed at his superior. "You mean to tame the Rukongai?"

Without obvious movement, the caverns lining Genryusai's face deepened. "The greater numbers would be to our advantage. And it will stop those highborn leeches from turning the Gotei into their blade."

He turned forward once more and lowered his chin. "Very good, sir."

The thickening silence between them would have stifled most company. "Your silence is deafening, Sasakibe-fukotaicho. Speak."

Chojiro clasped his hands behind him. "It won't be easy, Eijisai-dono." He took his superior's silence as invitation to continue. "If you've heard rumors of a sickly minor noble surely you've heard whispers of the Rukongai."

"Indeed."

His eyes flickered to his taicho's and for once he was looking back. "She is not to be underestimated."

Genryusai's reiatsu rose in suffocating displeasure. "I haven't survived this long by underestimating my enemies, Fukotaicho."

Chojiro forced air into his lungs to reply. "Of course, sir. My apologies."

~.~

"You are fortunate, students. For today you've embarked on an adventure few before you have undertaken. . ."

Jushiro, seated as he was in those odd high chairs and desks, couldn't halt the spastic twitching of his knee, so great was his energy.

The Shinigami Academy was an awesome sight! Mesmerizing in its size and grandeur, Jushiro had been struck speechless as he'd passed its lofty gates, as had many of those beside him. He'd been carried by the crowd to the vast hall he now found himself, and his neck had ached with the force of his oscillating. He hadn't wanted to miss a thing.

"The path you've chosen is long and arduous with no small danger. Learn quickly and you will live. The lazy and stupid will not survive here. . ."

Once inside the gates, the new students had been separated from the upperclassmen and herded to the great hall they now found themselves. Glancing around, Jushiro estimated at least a hundred, perhaps a hundred fifty, new peers around him. He eyed them critically, taking in postures and builds, even their intentness on the opening speech. How could he not? When any one of them could be his greatest competition.

"This first term will determine the path of your training. Therefore, your performances in the coming weeks are crucial. . ."

Anxiety at the thought of mediocrity halted his knee mid-bounce. What if he didn't measure up? What if Kohei had only spouted flattery at him?

He swallowed thickly and focused on slowing his breathing, grateful his lungs didn't even twinge. It would do no good to worry himself on such things, especially since there was so little evidence to base them on. Though logical, such reasoning did nothing to stop his dampening palms.

"You'll each be given a roommate, assigned to you randomly. In coming terms, you'll be bunked with a student of similar ability. Requests for transfer are permitted but rarely granted. You are not at home anymore, gentlemen, and we are not your mothers. Expect no partiality for we have none to give. . ."

The speaker moved on to other dire warnings, and Jushiro felt his gaze begin to wander. At the front, just behind the orator, a long table seated what looked to be around twenty instructors. Their combined reiatsu had been fierce enough to cause several new students to stagger to their seats. Fortunately, Jushiro made his smug way to a desk with relative ease, and marked those who didn't as weak. As the speech wore on, however, an elderly man with lava-like reiatsu had even Jushiro panting from his oppressive presence.

"Rise and show respect to your new leader: Genryusai Yamamoto-soutaicho. . ."

The screeching of more than a hundred of moving chairs tore through the air as every young man jerked from his seat. Jushiro in his haste attempted to rise to his feet without even raising his head, for even the lowest of servants had heard of Yamamoto. Silence finally reigned, and Jushiro tilted his head up just enough to see.

In the time it had taken for them to rise, Genryusai Yamamoto, founder of the Shinigami Academy, lead reformer of the Gotei 13, and wielder of the greatest known fire-type zanpakuto, had made his way to the front, further silencing the already hushed crowd.

~.~

A wave of powerful reiatsu washed across the students, and Shunsui cursed from his bowed position as his knees creaked and head pounded.

"Sit."

The commanding voice sent everyone collapsing to their seats. Shunsui, ignoring his hangover-induced nausea's pleas for quiet, made a minor spectacle of himself. He made more noise than necessary, and ensured he was the last wto his chair. He'd be damned before he bowed and scraped for some dusty old man.

Despite Shunsui's miniature rebellion, once he'd settled even a pin drop could have been heard, so heady was the silence. "I have little time and even less patience for foolishness." How could a mere voice, spoken with such slow severity, make even the walls quake? The distance hid his expression from Shunsui, and the young man couldn't help but feel a secret relief he wasn't in one of the front rows.

"Children," he barked. "Tonight will be your last night of freedom. Tomorrow, you belong to the Gotei 13. I will tolerate no weak constitutions. No insubordination." Even from where he sat, Shunsui could see his lip curl. "Before your heads hits your pillows, some of you may discover you're weak-willed and spineless. If that is you, don't bother going to class tomorrow. I will not have my energy wasted on babes playing soldier."

A weighty reiatsu settled across the room once more, and Shunsui had to force his lungs to expand as his heart pounded painfully in his ears. "For those who wish to test their merit, morning drills begin at dawn." A heated glare swept across the students. "Tardiness will not be tolerated."

~.~

Unfortunately, Shunsui's inability to understand punctuality resulted in more physical punishment than he'd ever endured. Running and jumping, climbing and crawling. In that first half-hour, so much sweat and dirt and mud caked him that others began to lean away at his approach, so potent was his stench. Perhaps it wouldn't have been as bad had he stopped shooting arrogant smirks to his instructor. But he hadn't. And he now walked to the first class exhausted beyond anything he'd experienced. Luckily, they'd all been allowed to shower before donning their new uniforms, and Shunsui reveled in his previously unappreciated cleanliness.

His exhaustion was only compounded by the presence of Kazuki Matsumura, his new roommate. Shunsui had never shared anything in his life, and had been dismayed at the thought of a roommate. Upon meeting Kazuki, he found his hesitancy justified. Small for his age and impossibly annoying, Kazuki hadn't been able to mask his delight when he'd discovered he was rooming with a Kyoraku. Even now he prattled on and on about his family as they walked to their first class, ignoring Shunsui's obvious dismissal of him.

It was to Kazuki's incessant chatter that they entered one of the campus' many training halls, and with dozens of racks of practice blades scattered around the room, their task was all too obvious. The room itself was vast and had four giant mats covering the floor. Each mat had four or five imposing instructors waiting for the arrival of their students.

The class was divided into four groups and training began. Not even a quarter of an hour passed before Shunsui realized how horribly outclassed his classmates were. Most had unbalanced stances and weak grips, were bumbling and fearful, and his own roommate was particularly useless.

Boredom—the worst of Shunsui's vices—quickly seized him. Normally thrilled to cross blades with another, Shunsui instead felt only detached as he easily dispatched each of his opponents. It wasn't long before Shunsui noticed his instructors whispering and eyeing him. At every glance and not-so-subtle gesture, he became more indifferent.

Shunsui knew he was more than good. Not because he was arrogant (though he certainly was), but because facts were facts. Nothing felt more at home in hand then a sword. There was nothing sweeter to the ear than the sound of a whistling blade. His sword was an extension of himself, and he felt it to his very core. And as is the case with most prodigies, Shunsui look down on those ungifted in his art.

Shunsui was called forward to spar again, his opponent frail like a girl. He lifted his blade, and even his sword seem to sigh with him.

~.~

With a final sweep of his feet, Jushiro knocked his opponent to his back and lunged, pinning him with a sword to the throat. Their instructor called the match to Jushiro, and both rose and bowed to each other.

There were plenty decent swordsman, Jushiro decided, having spent the last couple hours sparring. But they were not at his caliber. There were a few brutes that gave him trouble, but Jushiro, having realized long ago he was not gifted with great strength, made up for it with speed and tactics. Only one, his new roommate Naoto Hirano, managed to stand more than a couple seconds with him.

The class finished with Jushiro in high spirits. He done well, if his instructors nods meant anything. And his chest hadn't so much as twinged.

A good day, he thought. And he left for the next class with a grin on his face.

~.~

After a half-hour lunch, the class was ushered to the large kido practice field at on the edge of the campus and divided into groups once again. Whereas the previous class was a demonstration of every student's skill, this one was dedicated to instruction. Each instructor gathered for himself a handful of students and walked them through the basics of kido: sensing, manipulating, and manifesting.

Shunsui, aware yet unfamiliar with his reiatsu, performed each task the way any seasoned athlete took to a new skill. A bit awkwardly—as it had yet been committed to muscle memory—but with far greater ease and grace than the average person. All that to say, he did well considering, and was by far one of the betters in his class.

Three-quarters way through the lesson, Shunsui stood off to the side, waiting his turn to be tested, bored as ever. He'd since occupied his time in his own head, getting a feel for his own mind, stretching and pressing to test his own limits.

Reiatsu intrigued him. He'd always been aware of the bubbling force in his mind, but he'd never bothered with it, assuming it was normal to have a thick, stagnant, pulsing force within him. Knowing now it could manipulated and explored, Shunsui had never been so excited to be left with his own thoughts.

So there he stood amongst his peers, eyes half-closed as he dove into himself. Further and further until he wondered if there was a limit to this vibrant and thick and electrifying new world. At least until he hit a wall so unyielding no amount of mental straining granted him access.

He stared at this wall indignantly. How dare a part of his own power be blocked off to himself. Annoyed, he struck the barrier with as much mental force as he could muster. The strike echoed sinisterly in his own mind, he nervously looked around, seeing nothing. Suddenly the hairs on his neck snapped to attention, and he instinctively catapulted himself from the depths of his mind just in time to be called forward by an instructor.

Shaken by such a primal reaction to—as far as he could tell—nothing, Shunsui fell back to what he knew, and went back to class to make a spectacle of himself. And he certainly didn't think on how horrifying it would be if you could be watched in your own mind.

~.~

On the other side of the class, Jushiro was unknowingly in the same state as Shunsui: bored beyond comprehension.

Kido was as natural as breathing for him. From a young age he'd been able to sense the tide of his power and had since grown familiar with its ebb and flow and crackling intensity. It rose immediately at his beckoning, and Jushiro was capable of using it as a battering ram, easily sending it crashing into his opponent like a tsunami as he had with Kohei.

These basic tests hardly required his attention, and even as his instructors came with increasingly difficult tasks, his performance far outclassed most of his classmates. However, as the class wore on Jushiro noticed a girl (one of only three in his class) who performed each drill with nearly as much ease. He eyed her technique, and his lips pursed. Up until now, Jushiro hadn't come up against competition of any kind, and now that he found her he could think of little else.

Her sun-beaten face was blank with every performance, a sure sign of her effortless control. Long limbs summoned her kido with casual quickness that spoke of long familiarity. No matter what was asked of her, like Jushiro, she performed with a silent efficiency that had the approval of their instructor.

Bordering on manic, Jushiro took to the drills with greater gusto, determined that she not outshine him. He pushed himself, making each incantation faster and stronger than any of hers.

He was not to be outdone by the likes of her.

~.~

Shunsui watched the spar in front of him with a jealous gleam in his eye. The combatants moved almost faster than he could track, their fluid movements belying the strength behind each strike. They jumped and dodged each other, seeming to read the other's mind, until their demonstration match was called to a halt. Both bowed and faced the class, bruises already forming were blows had landed.

Hakuda, his instructor began. The most common style of hand-to-hand combat in the Gotei 13. And according to Shunsui, by far the most intriguing. Neither he nor his brother were formally trained in hakudo. It was seen as little better than common street brawling in the Kyoraku House, with none of the finesse and grace of zanjutsu. To say Shunsui's interest was piqued would be an understatement.

When it came time for his turn to spar, Shunsui took to the mat with a bit of apprehension. He won of course, with the same awkward grace he'd performed kido with. It certainly helped that the white-haired opponent he'd faced had been less skilled than himself.

Even with his flighty mind, Shunsui's attention was keenly held by his instructors, a feat in and of itself. He reveled in the new exercise even as his hand itched for his blade, and he left the class superbly pleased with himself. For what young man didn't love the idea of beating his enemies with his bare hands.

~.~

Jushiro, on the other hand, left their hakuda class infuriated. He was by far one of the weakest in that class, and he couldn't see how he could quickly improve. Hand-to-hand combat required far too much caution from him. Get hit just right in the chest or have the wind knocked out of him, and it'd be all too easy to succumb to a coughing fit.

No. Jushiro quickly wrote off hakuda. He was fairly certain he'd stick to zanjutsu.

~.~

Several Weeks Later

As the stars made their entrance on to their nightly stage, they brought with them a breeze so frigid that, while it sharpened their own beauty, it forced two young women to take refuge inside the Ukitake estate.

It was a late and free evening, as their attire suggested. The thick yukatas were old and horribly out of fashion. Each bore colors of faded quality and hems with frayed edges. Yet for all their wear and tear, the years had only endeared them to the women. That coupled with their messily done hair and freshly scrubbed faces only further spoke of the confidence and acceptance the two women found in each other.

Giggles and chatter filled the air. The night had been full of fanciful talk and shared gossip, teasing and grins. Entertaining no doubt, but of little value. That is, until the women shut themselves in Kimi's bedroom:

"So since you won't broach the topic, I shall," declared one of the women. Kimi raised a brow at her friend in question.

Akira Masuda occupied the position of Kimi's closest friend. Tall for a Japanese woman and impossibly witty, Akira was very nearly Kimi's complete physical opposite. Kimi was the more delicate and petite of the two while Akira was as bold in body as Kimi was in word. Her jaw was unapologetically square, and her eyes deep and dark. Kimi was a pretty maiden. Akira a lush and intimidating beauty.

"I've heard talk recently. Not from you, I might add. A poor friend you are indeed."

Though suddenly anxious at the thought of rumors, Kimi rolled her eyes at her friend's dramatics. "What talk?"

"Talk of a recent guest of yours." Her brows raised in sardonic question as her eyes gleamed.

"A guest?"

"A guest. I was at a party at the Shimabukuro House and I had a group of shrews approach and attempt to smooze information from me. Naturally, I had no such thing, but I thought to myself surely these were baseless rumors. After all, my dear Kimi would have told me of such an important event."

Kimi shifted uncomfortably in her seat as she was eyed by her friend.

"In case you'd forgotten, I'm your closest friend and am entitled—yes entitled," she declared at Kimi's sharp glare, "to information on the happenings of your life." At Kimi's continued disapproving look, Akira rolled her eyes. "And do spare me your pouts and silence."

A battle of wills ensued, Kimi with her embarrassed frustration and Akira with her patient expectation.

"Fine." She ignored how Akira brightened. "Kenzo Kyoraku visited us a couple weeks ago with his mother."

"His mother? Where was his father?"

Kimi's lips pinched. "'Indisposed,'" she quoted. They shared a look pointed distaste.

"And the reason for their visit?" Akira's innocent question did little to mask her avid curiosity.

Kimi had been reading in the library with Isamu—a rare moment of peace between them—when she'd been told the Kyoraku Head was present with his mother.

"You know, surely, of Kenzo Kyoraku's new status?"

Akira's lips split in a predatory grin. "Kimi, what are the odds you knew before me?"

Kimi nodded, cognizant of her friend's insatiable appetite for gossip and rumor.

The servant had told her she was to be expected within the hour, and to be ready when called upon. Kimi never lived a slower hour. Anxiously she'd waited, unable to read a page further.

"Are you nervous?"

She had looked up to see Isamu eyeing her hesitantly. "No." She glanced at the door.

"Is he trying to marry you?" The question shocked Kimi, as it was said with curiosity and none of his usual disgust.

She thought back to the many gatherings of that season, and how each time they were together Kenzo had politely sought her out. Had caught her up in conversation, had even on occasion deemed her worthy of a smile. His mysterious scar, though it mangled his mouth and made him seem a fair bit beastly, had done precious little to diminish his quiet charm. "I don't know."

Isamu's gaze felt heavy on her, his perusal sharper than Jushiro's and just as penetrating. He finally looked back to his book. "There's nothing to worry about. If it's not about marriage then everything goes back to normal. If it is," there he shrugged, "you could do worse than marrying the head of a clan."

Kimi nodded numbly. Though she was grateful for her brother's uncharacteristic comfort, her stomach still churned at the thought of leaving the library. Somewhere on the estate was a man who might be attempting to bind her to him for the rest of her life. And though Kenzo had proven amiable in his quiet and stoic way, Kimi still hardly knew him. There wasn't an unmarried noblewoman who hadn't heard whispers of marital abuse among their peers. There wasn't a noblewoman who didn't dread it, and Kimi was only slightly braver than they.

"Fear doesn't suit you, Nee-san."

Insulted and embarrassed, Kimi whipped round, acidic words already half-formed, when Isamu's grave look silenced her.

"Our parents won't let anything happen to you. Neither will Jushiro-ani." He turned again to his tome, red slowly creeping up his neck and tinging his ears. "And I most certainly won't either.

Struck dumb, she could only stare until the servant came to call, sparing her from attempting a response. She'd left the library without a backwards glance, ignoring the affectionate warmth that had bubbled within her.

"That was kind of your brother."

Kimi shrugged.

"Well what happened when you arrived?"

"I was called to dine with them and so I did. It was as dull as you can imagine."

They were only half an hour into the meal, and Kimi was already deliriously bored. When she'd arrived she'd been greeted warmly by her parents and politely by the Kyorakus before being swiftly ushered to the table.

And now they sat, her father engaged with Kenzo while their mothers exchanged pleasantries, leaving Kimi to sit and do what was expected of her. Namely to look pretty and keep the tea cups filled. Both of which she did superbly. It was after she had again refilled their cups that she found the opportunity to study the Kyorakus in detail. While she'd frequently seen both those past few months, she'd never really looked at them, and it was odd having them in her home.

Kenzo was as grave and regal as ever. He sat with perfect posture in his handsome navy blue kimono, paying rapt attention to her father as they discussed land and trade. Kimi sipped her tea as she eyed the two.

They were complete opposites in everything but stature for both were tall men. Yuudai was lean where Kenzo was broad. Her father was pale and by far the hairier man. Kenzo had sun-kissed skin with a smooth and hairless face. One was animated and genial, the other unflappable and rigid. Even so, to Kimi it seemed they got on well enough, and she was greatly relieved.

Kenzo had suddenly glanced her way before quickly looking back to Yuudai. Kimi took another sip of her tea.

His mother on the other hand.

Reina Kyoraku. A severe looking woman if ever there was one. A slight frown had permanently puckered the space between her thin brows. Since the meal began her mouth had formed into a disapproving line. Her chin was sharp, her frame slight. Her kimono, of the highest fashion, was at odds with the modest bun pulled tightly on top of her head. Cold ambition was obvious in the tilt of her chin. Pride could be seen in every movement. Where Hana was full of maternal warmth, Reina had only icy haughtiness. They could not be more different.

Reina, unlike her son, didn't spare her a glance.

"So Lord Kyoraku takes after his crone of a mother."

"It would seem so."

"Ukitake-sama."

Kimi started at such a formal address and stared at Kenzo. As the head of an entire clan he was under no obligation to be so deferential to Yuudai, a minor noble at best.

"I confess to have been stalling. There is a purpose to my sudden visit, if you'll allow."

Yuudai smiled kindly. "Of course, Kyoraku-sama."

Shocked again as she watched Kenzo shift uncertainly and clear his throat. "Also forgive this breach of custom. Normally my father would be here to discuss this with you, but as I am the new Head the task falls to me." Yuudai nodded. "If it pleases you and the Lady," he nodded to Hana, "I'd like to discuss—," here he fumbled with his words.

Kimi couldn't help her slight smirk and could feel her mother just ooze with satisfaction. Reina, on the other hand, shot her son a sharp look.

He cleared his throat. "To discuss a union of our families."

Pin drop silence.

Yuudai's face broke into a grin; Hana reached under the table to grasp Kimi's fingers.

"Soul King above!" cried Akira, hopping up from her seat. "You're getting married! Wait." She settled suddenly into her seat. "You are getting married, aren't you?"

Kimi shrugged. "My father said we must discuss it, but I'm sure they'll agree.

"And that old Kyoraku biddy agreed as well? I can't believe it!"

"She said it suited her."

A few seconds passed in silence as Akira let the news settle. "Kimi Kyoraku." Kimi shot a flaming look at her grinning friend. "I like it."

Akira immediately dove into Her plans The Wedding of the Century, and Kimi tuned her out.

The rest of the dinner passed with palpable excitement on the part of her parents. Both fairly bounced in their seats while Kimi instead kept a rigid hold on herself.

Marriage.

Her heart pounded painfully, and it was with an iron will that she beat down her panic.

Kenzo had caught her eye after her parents had turned their attention to Reina and froze her in her seat. Barely breathing, she watched his marble expression soften minutely before the corners of his mouth tipped up. He looked away again, and Kimi frowned. She simply didn't know what to think. Everything was going to change.

Kimi rolled her eyes as her friend prattled on. Several days and anxiety attacks later, Kimi Ukitake found her resolve. Kenzo Kyoraku was just a man. And as intimidating as he and his mother were, she knew she was also was a force to be reckoned with.

Fear doesn't suit you, Nee-san.

No it sure as hell didn't. The Kyorakus would do well to stay out of her way.

~.~

The carriage pulled away from the Ukitake estate in silence.

"Have I upset you Okaa-sama?"

Thin lips pressed even thinner. "You did a poor job of controlling yourself."

He nodded gravely. "Forgive me, I lost myself."

"You'd do well not to get distracted by a pretty face. It'll lead to your destruction." Both knew of whom she spoke.

"Of course." His clipped tones masked his irritation. Silence fell. "I believe my lapse will work in our favor."

"How so?"

"Yuudai Ukitake is an honest man. He would be one to value transparency. And I was nervous."

Her thin arms crossed. "As you say."

The ride continued in silence.

~.~

Autumn's peak came and went. The tree's bold burst of color had passed and now more leaves littered the ground than hung in their branches. Winter was on the horizon, foretold by the heralding of icy winds. And though the seasons changed around them, the students of the Shinigami Academy only further settled into their new lives.

Jushiro, as the weeks wore on, became the unspoken favorite among and staff and students alike. And as his popularity soared so to did his skill. Never before had he been able to devote so much time to practice. So improved was he that he'd yet to face someone of his own caliber, and though he hid it well, youthful arrogance took root in him. Regardless of his newfound pride, Jushiro was held in high esteem by all.

Shunsui as well made quite a name for himself, rising, unlike Jushiro, to infamy. He was quite the enigma, and far more admired by the students than the staff. Adored and loathed. Both welcomed and merely tolerated. His talents were as undeniable as his laziness; his charm as smooth as it was irritating. Teachers threw their hands up in frustration while the students rejoiced for no one could sneak a drink on campus quite like Kyoraku.

Both young men had heard of and seen the other. When asked, both could say they'd met. However, though their social circles were close they never touched. And their first semester passed with little interaction between them.


A/N: Sorry for the delayed post. I changed a large part of the story and couldn't get this chapter to come together like I liked. Normally I wouldn't post unless I was completely satisfied with it, but after several months of just staring at it, I couldn't figure out what else was needed.

Also, let me know if the italicized flashbacks were confusing to follow. I'm still not sure if I like it, but if it makes the story too hard to read I can change it.

Lastly, because I changed a big part of my story, i had to change a single line from the last chapter. Basically I took out the line that said Shunsui wouldn't speak to Ayaka for two decades since it won't fit anymore. Other than that the story is the same!

I swear I'll have shorter authors notes in the future.