First weeks
Raen's first week at the Shinigami Academy didn't go as swimmingly as she'd hoped it would.
Firstly, the time she was expected to get up in the morning was downright unacceptable; who in their right minds would want to do anything at eight in the morning?! She was horrendously late three days in a row, missing the first lesson entirely each time, before the instructor had a message sent to her that if she missed another class she'd be expelled.
So, on the fourth day, she forced herself out of bed and actually missed breakfast just to get to the damned class on time. The result was that she was in an absolutely foul mood. Her spirit energy seemed agitated, reflecting her emotions, and she developed a raging headache from holding back with sheer willpower alone. It was so bad that she almost completely lost it when the instructor unwisely marched over first thing, intending to give her a piece of her mind for the absent three days.
I looked up balefully as this skinny woman swanned up to me, arms folded and lips pursed. Like an anorexic pug, I thought viciously.
"You must be the new student," she drawled, "It's nice to finally meet you."
I was not impressed by the sarcasm that dripped off her tongue, nor the fact that, once again, I'd met someone who refused to use my name.
So, utterly unable to say anything polite, I opted for what I hoped was a neutral grunt.
"Mn."
Her smirk slowly slipped off her face as I gazed flatly at her, and a look of uncertainty took its place.
My headache worsened.
"S-so," she went on bravely, "Do you have anything to say for yourself?"
"Hah?!"
Are you friggin' kidding me? Do you know how hard it was just to come to this stupid class?
She paled.
I couldn't help it. A tiny bit of killing intent may have bled into my reiatsu at this point, and two students sitting nearby actually blacked out before I reigned it in. Everyone else seemed to have a hard time breathing, too, so, as dignified as I could, I excused myself from the room before I made things worse. The instructor got out of my way too, sweating bullets.
I decided to find some coffee before I committed murder.
It was the last time I was asked to come in for the early class, and somehow I was never expelled for missing it.
My other classes only started after ten in the morning, and so they went much better. In my usual cheerful mood, I breezed through the lessons on swordsmanship, hand-to-hand and agility, relishing the physical challenge. After just two weeks, I was bumped up to the advanced classes, with the "special students". They were a ragtag bunch from the upper years, who happened to have more spiritual energy than most, or at the very least superior control.
I heard that the advanced class students were all expected to graduate straight into seated positions in the Gotei 13, but in general I kept myself as inconspicuous as possible, my performance average within the special class. Only I (and I suspect, the instructors who had access to my files) knew that I outclassed them all quite drastically in terms of power. I lacked experience and knowledge, though, so I had no way of knowing how I would fare against them in a fight.
The theoretical classes I joined with my fellow first-years, and I found it challenging, but surprisingly interesting. My favorite past-time became vegging-out in the library after classes until late, reading up on whatever struck my fancy and inventing new ways to smuggle snacks into the no-eating zone.
And it was a relief to find an activity that I could do alone, because for some or other reason the other students in general avoided me. I could understand the two students who'd blacked out in the early class might feel awkward talking to me, but was it really necessary for the others to scuttle across the hall to avoid me? And the hushed whispers behind cupped hands were too obvious to be ignored.
It seemed that I was "that girl", and I found no friends in my dormitory or in class. I tried a couple of times to make friendly overtures, but this seemed to make them treat me with even more suspicion and incredulity, so I stopped. It was a difficult situation, since I had entered the year almost half-way through the first term. My classmates had already made their cliques and were sticking to them.
It was surprising how much it hurt, actually, being treated with such suspicion, since I was actually at heart a very social person.
Nevertheless, I persevered with my quiet existence, slowly mastering the skills I would need to become a useful shinigami. And at the very least I could remind myself that I was not alone, not really. Because although he never answered my tentative calls, I could sense my zanpakuto observing from a distance, aloof. I often tried to communicate, spending hours in the evenings in a meditative state (which was described in many textbooks I read) asking for his name. But I had no real hope that he'd respond; after all, I'd done nothing worth earning his name yet. Indeed, almost no one knew my name... a problem that bugged me more than I would've liked to admit.
On weekends I started taking long walks exploring Seireitei's labyrinthine alleys and roads, noting the locations of important buildings such as the squad barracks, and trying out a different noodle stand each time. It only took me two weekends to locate Captain Sexyhair's barracks, Squad six. I even managed to find his home, a massive noble's estate not far from the barracks, by stalking him one afternoon, at a discreet distance. At least, I thought I was being discreet... but then Renji flash-stepped and materialised right behind me.
He threatened to have me locked up if I continued such creepy behaviour.
I resolved to learn how to mask my presence better.
Unohana observed the young woman thoughtfully over her teacup, pinky finger gently raised.
Raen was chatting cheerfully enough, but she detected a hint of melancholic loneliness in her voice when she spoke of her classes.
Her brownish-blonde hair fell in soft curls, framing a face of high cheekbones and large, dreamy blue eyes. She was tall, attractive and obviously powerful. No wonder her fellow students were intimidated by her.
"You've made no friends at all?"
Raen tried and failed to look nonchalant. "Ah, well... it's only been three weeks. I expect they just need a little more time to get used to me..." She poked at her cake with her fork. The fact that she was no longer shoveling it down was a testament to how much it bothered her.
"But, you know," Raen said suddenly, and Unohana could see she was trying her very best to sound perky, "I thought the girl who sleeps across from me was going to smile at me this morning." her eyes lit up. "Really, she almost did! I swear her lips actually twitched at me. So I'm... I'm not too bothered..." The way her voice trailed off made it sound like a question.
Unohana hid a smile. She really was too easy to read.
She reached over and patted her hand genially. "Don't worry too much about it," she said serenely. "I was highly unpopular when I was young, actually."
Raen's blue eyes bugged out. "What? I don't believe it... You're so... so..."
"Hm?"
"Warm."
Unohana chuckled. "A long time ago, I was anything but. I loved fighting more than healing... more than anything, or anyone." She smiled at the reminiscence.
Raen's eyes were wide as she hung onto every word.
"And, I was so fearsome," she chuckled again, "Towns would empty three days before I arrived, just to avoid me."
"No way," Raen said in a hushed voice.
Unohana nodded. "People fear what they don't understand, and what they can't control. You will find a way to connect to them, in time. Until then, you should diligently continue just being yourself. That way, when you find a friend, you'll know you can trust them."
"Is that why people ran away from you?" Raen asked inquisitively, "Because they didn't understand?"
Unohana coughed. "Ahem. Well, no... It probably had something to do with the trail of bodies I'd leave in my wake." She smiled at Raen's dumbfounded expression. "Ah, the foolish bloodstained years. It seems so long ago, now..."
"Wow. Well... Do you... miss the fighting?"
Unohana suddenly looked a little more serious. "I don't miss the killing. It was a darker side of myself that I happily replaced with more valuable things. But, the joy of battle... I don't think one can get rid of that desire so easily."
Unohana watched Raen as she mulled over everything that had been said. From what she'd heard of Raen's entrance exam, and the fact that she'd been placed in the advanced combat classes already, it seemed she had some raw talent when it came to fighting.
Was it more than just talent? Many shinigamis like Kurosaki Ichigo, or Hitsugaya Toshiro, for example, were powerful enough to be considered 'geniuses'. Was she like them?
Or does a thirst for blood lurk beneath those soft, big blue eyes?
Like me... and Kenpachi.
"Ah, that reminds me," Unohana said suddenly.
"Hm?" Raen blinked, interrupted from her thoughts.
Unohana sighed. "I don't mean to add to your burdens, but I feel responsible for warning you..."
"About what?"
"It seems that a troublesome man has learned of your name."
"A... troublesome man?"
"Indeed."
After Raen's exam, Abarai Renji had told Kuchiki Rukia about her impressive fighting prowess. It wasn't surprising; they were friends, after all. But then Rukia had casually mentioned it to Kotetsu Kiyone during a visit to the Thirteenth Division, and then Kiyone had gossiped about it at the last Shinigami Women's Association meeting. Which resulted, predictably, in Yachiru practically flying through the roof with excitement, screaming something about finally finding someone new for "Ken-chan" to play with.
"How should I say this...?" Unohana put down her teacup and folded her arms. "Perhaps straight-forward is best."
"Okay?"
"It's highly likely," she said calmly, "That some time during the next few days... the captain of the Eleventh Division will try to kill you."
Raen choked, spraying cake crumbs everywhere.
"What?!"
Author's note:
Much like Raen, I often find it impossible to talk except in grunts before at least 9 o' clock in the mornings.