I do not own Naruto or Bleach, they belong to Masashi Kishimoto and Tite Kubo respectively. Though it would be fun to pick their brain for a bit, especially Kishimoto. The moon, man? The vegetarian Matrix, my guy? I'll buy the booze if I get to pick his brain a bit.
I don't have much else to say, really. Hope everyone has been well, drinking their vegetables and eating their milk and all that. Y'all ever just feel tired all the time? Hopefully you don't. I don't.
Anyway, let's jump right in.
XXXXXXX
Day One, Evening, 17:43:06
Urahara Kisuke ambled his way over to the motley crew that their new instructor had requested stay behind after dismissing the rest of the "chosen" Onmitsukido for the day. He recognized Shioin Yoruichi (who wouldn't) as well as a diminutive woman that he'd graduated from the Academy with, Mizuno Aki. If he had to guess… five feet and two inches, body mass index twenty-two point eight, 36x28x39. He'd need his tape to get a more accurate number, but he felt fairly confident in his eye. He couldn't remember much of her outside of her quiet manner and her raw speed, a generally reticent behavior of the no-nonsense variety, and a penchant for eating sour and/or salty things in her down time. Kisuke catalogued it as a means to refill carbs and increase sodium intake as a means to not become dehydrated in the short term, though he hadn't the heart (nor the bravery) to inform her that there were far more efficient ways of doing that than eating pickles as a snack.
The way she held herself, however…
Right-handed, said hand occasionally twitching toward that same hip when agitated, likely a habit born of a worn weapon. A dagger, or something equally short, if it were on the same side of her drawing arm. Resting posture putting her left foot forward suggesting that she leads from the right when she attacks (obvious). Callouses on her knuckles indicative of a preference toward hand-to-hand combat; forward-leaning posture, hair kept short, and fluidity of movement gives further credence toward current postulation. Additional data collection was halted by his new instructor's off-key jovial tone. Kisuke didn't know what the man's game was, but he couldn't help but to sigh at the strangeness of him. He'd clapped once, crossing his arms as all attention shifted toward his person.
"Alright, great news folks; you've been promoted. You are the lucky bunch that I've chosen to lead the nineteen squads. I know what you're thinking, 'nineteen squads? But Naruto-sama there are twenty of us!'" Kisuke thought that the mocking, high-pitched voice he affected was a little over-the-top and more than a little annoying, though he wisely kept his mouth shut on the matter. None of them were idiots, it was obvious that he'd selected a twentieth to lead the squad leaders, and he knew where he'd place his money on who that would be.
"Fear not! The twentieth, whom I shall name shortly, is to direct the squad leaders in their duties moving forward after the remedial training of the Onmitsukido has concluded," two thumbs were flashed way up, and it was an effort on Kisuke's part not to sigh in boredom.
"I shall be conferring with that individual personally, every day, from here on out. Furthermore, moving forward, the twenty of you gathered here shall be meeting for an hour-long debriefing period every day. For this first week, I want you keeping an eye on the other trainees and selecting any potential squad mates," Naruto had gravitated somewhat closer to Yoruichi who, in turn, had turned one of her shoulders so that she was also regarding the rest of the members of the huddle with Naruto now a little bit behind her. No one seemed surprised or confused by the implication, least of all Kisuke.
In fact, he was doing his best to both fight off a yawn and dredge his memory for what little he knew of the other members of the Onmitsukido. He was the newest, after all, and had stumbled quite accidentally into his membership by unknowingly making a few astute observations about a recently-submitted mission report when Yoruichi's father had been nearby.
Not a projected outcome for his career path, but Kisuke found that the entirety of his Shinigami career thus far had been harder than normal to predict. He'd thought he could adjust his effort enough so that he'd come away from the Academy with decent-but-not-prodigal grades of potential and try to land a cushy position as a middle-officer in the Twelfth Division. Should the attempt succeed (which he had found likely) he would be able to continue his studies, this time with a state-funded lab at his fingertips.
He was fairly certain he possessed the abilities to obtain a higher standing. Fairly certain, given that it was somewhat difficult to know what the exact qualifications were for the Seats of the Divisions as they were decided upon by the reigning Captain. Not that those criteria were impossible to deduce had he been willing to take the time and effort to examine the upper echelons of those individual commands, but the duties of the Thirteen Divisions ranged from healing and combat (things expected) to gossip-rags and street sweeping (alright it was likely just propaganda and someone had to clean the streets, but it's not like there wasn't a convenient source of labor beyond the Wall).
So it wasn't impossible to do. But Kisuke really, really hadn't felt like adding so much minutiae as points of data.
It hadn't been totally fruitless, however. He'd managed to gather data on active stealth techniques, after all; an assassin he was not, but knowing how to pass unnoticed through a crowd or hide from a hostile presence while in the field were tools he'd prefer to have at his disposal. Perhaps he could circumvent the training with a device that could generate a small field of invisibility? Or a cloaking effect, like the natural capabilities of some prey animals, yes, that bore investigating. What was the name of that genus of toad he'd read about last month?
"You'll keep an eye out but, I admit, I mean it only as a grading system. I've my own ideas on who fits where, but I'd like to know where you think they might do well. This exercise shall be a means of developing your eye for potential talent and balancing teams that you may select for future missions. You know: leadership stuff."
While his thoughts continued to wander, hands itching to get to work on testing his new ideas, he could hear their instructor pacing back and forth, feet tap-tapping upon the cobblestone. He spared a glance to his left and saw the newly-named officers beside him were shooting each other looks, puffing themselves up, or otherwise focused solely on Yoruichi.
Good. None were devoting any attention his way.
Moving slowly so as not to attract any periphery attention, Kisuke drew a small object from within his sleeve and began to doodle a few blueprint drafts on the inside of his forearm without moving his head from its upturned angle. The currently-unnamed tube loaded with ink had a small button on the end that he could push to produce an equally small metal tip as a conveyor for the ink to write with. Most of his contraptions exploded the ink out of the writing tip rendering it naught but an efficient means of increasing his laundry, but he had managed to make a few of them operable, a secret that he guarded jealously. They were an absolute terror to make and Kisuke held no desire to share them with anyone.
"But before we do anything else, I'll be naming the leader of the Onmitsukido trainees for the duration of your time under me," a tanned hand landed on Yoruichi's shoulder and she stood a little straighter, taking her time to lock eyes with everyone present. Kisuke was hardly an expert judge of emotions, but he felt fairly confident in his reading of expressions, and, having taken the time to glance up to catalogue her reaction, Yoruichi's had solidified into one he recognized easily: resolute determination.
Shihoin Yoruichi had been vocally opposed to Naruto's presence when it had first been announced by the Sotaicho at the official address; Kisuke had been witness to one of those verbal dressing-down sessions when he'd been taking dinner in the mess two weeks ago. However, from what little he'd managed to glean about her character, she was the type to adapt to any given situation and thrive in it. She would accept this temporary instructor and lead from the front with her head held high, taking every lesson that could be given. She would further ensure that all of the Onmitsukido would make it out the other side of this thing wholly intact and (hopefully) better for the experience. All of this she seemed to convey with her eyes, the grim set of her jaw, directed at every squad leader present. Even Kisuke couldn't deny that he felt a sort of swelling anticipation, a stirring in his chest at the taking part in this moment. He'd never been a part of a "moment" before.
"I've dedicated a large amount of thought to this. It may be a temporary post - a part of the training - but this is a large role to step into and will indeed reflect well upon the recipient moving forward. The eyes of the Sotaicho are on us, people. This chosen member first and foremost."
These twenty Souls would surely be bound closer together by the end of this thing, judging purely on what Naruto had put them through today. They would be responsible for leading others, for pushing them forward and keeping morale high in the face of this strange-but-strong instructor and, later, the demanding missions foisted upon them. In Kisuke's mind, Yoruichi was the best choice. Strong in her own right, with a pedigree to back it up, and showing this amount of resolve? He repressed the urge to nod at his own findings; she was the most optimal candidate available. She wou-
"And that man will be Urahara Kisuke."
The stirring moment died with a whimper. Or maybe that was his own whimper, because the moment those words left their instructor's lips, nineteen heads had whipped in his direction with varying levels of incredulity and fury stamped across them. There wasn't a lot to say, really.
"I'm sorry, what?"
XXXXXXX
It had been a long time since Naruto had wished that he'd had a camera handy but Yoruichi's slack-jawed expression at his announcement ended that years-long streak in an instant. The now-former Vice of the Onmitsukido had her mouth open far enough that he felt that he might be able to count her teeth. It took every ounce of his willpower not to openly laugh and simply clear his throat, continuing in the same authoritative but conversational tone of voice, "Did you have a comment, Kisuke-taicho?"
Oh yes, he was going to milk this. Would he take it too far? Absolutely. Well, probably. He had probably done enough already to ensure that he was the fearful trainer, there was no need for setting Kisuke up for a difficult time. Because it would be difficult, given how extreme the reactions toward his being named the Vice were. He didn't have to go further. He probably wouldn't. He absolutely would.
He would not.
He would.
Oh he absolutely would.
"I uh, I'm sorry Naruto-sensei, I feel like you might have forgotten that list of names again," there came a desperate, half-hearted chuckle, "maybe you meant to say that Yoruichi-sama was to be our captain?"
The aforementioned woman seemed to take back possession of her mental faculties at the question, jaw snapping shut in favor of boring an intense gaze into both his and Urahara's skulls, ponytail whipping back and forth at how quickly she snapped her head between them. Naruto made a show of screwing his eyes shut and wiggling a finger (from the hand not occupied gripping Yoruichi's shoulder) in his ear before cocking his head toward the other blonde.
"Sorry, did you say something?" The ghost of a silver-haired mentor shot him a thumbs-up from the corner of the training ground. Naruto only just refrained from smiling, hand jerking in the aborted motion of giving him a thumbs-up in response.
"You said I was to be made temporary Captain, sir. I believe you meant to sa-"
"You are Urahara Kisuke?!" His shout bounced from distant walls, the volume causing a few of his officer candidates to jump in place. Yoruichi tensed every muscle in her body with the intent to leap away, but he grounded her with a little more force from the hand that hadn't left her person. Kisuke's eyes, in the meantime, grew to the size of dinner plates while shock and relief warred within them.
He'd have to cure him of that habit of being so easily read. Eh, he'd add it to the already-prodigious list.
"Yes, sir. I am."
"Oh good, I was worried you weren't here to hear about your promotion. You're going to be the new Captain of the Onmitsukido so that would have been pretty awkward if you weren't. Here I mean. To hear about it. Your promotion."
Naruto reveled in the sound of a singular bird's cawing from a distance, its call echoing from the stones in the silence. He even thought of continuing the joke, when Urahara opened his mouth to continue his line of questioning. But there was only so much time for humor and, though he hadn't trained anyone in decades, he'd instructed enough teams of shinobi in his old age to know when to quit the laughs and draw the line.
Holding a hand up to wave off the upcoming comment, Naruto spoke, "don't, no need, you're stuck in it kid. You're the one I picked, no need to panic." Kisuke sputtered to the tight chuckles of a few of the squad leaders around him. Most still appeared shocked. He'd have to fix that; it was all fun and games subverting expectations, but they needed to know who they'd be answering to.
Not him, obviously, because he was no longer Hokage. And not Konohamaru because he was dead. And not Shikamaru, also dead. They had to answer to… not Konohamaru not Shikamaru not Naruto maybe it was Kakashi? That couldn't be right, Kakashi was dead too. Damn, he'd just said it, what was this kid's name? Uchiha. No. That wasn't right. What was his kid's name? What was his ki-
Wait, old man, wait. Kisuke. Urahara Kisuke, newly-minted trainee of the pretend ANBU. Hold it together. They might never achieve the same peak but they could aspire to it. And they didn't need his bullshit holding them back. He'd made a promise, after all, even if it left him in a role he'd rather drink piss than admit to. It would require some absolute bastard behavior, but he'd fulfil that promise and then some. The shinobi within him would just be upset otherwise.
Drawing upon an authoritative tone was old hat, and he did so accompanied by another clap of his hands, "alright, enough kidding around, stow that attitude Yoruichi. Kisuke, you'll be meeting with me once a week to discuss progress within the unit." The mentioned youth wilted at the statement. Maybe he hadn't chosen well after all.
Naruto had thought him to be adaptable and, more than that, open to an innovative approach. Really just a fancy way of saying subservient to the idea of a different form of training but…
Well, he'd been counting on it. And Kisuke didn't seem to want to hold any position of authority. The stripling had had his head in the clouds since minute one, had produced a pen from his sleeve and started doodling on his arm instead of listening to the briefing. He'd hung his head at the news of his promotion.
Naruto had hoped that he'd be a little more open to the idea of leadership but it would seem that, despite his insistence that he wasn't a Nara clan member, Kisuke at the very least shared the lack of desire to lead or compete or even make an effort toward succeeding at his new position. Shikamaru had been the same way, despite his genius, or maybe in spite of his genius. Naruto had never understood it; if a thing needed doing then you just put your nose to the grindstone and got up and did it, that easy. Shikamaru was a hard worker, he would never beget him that, but getting Shikamaru to do something that wasn't already on his agenda? It was like pulling teeth. Teeth with deep roots and hooks and made of iron or something else dramatic.
That was the problem with smart people, they always needed a reason. Shikamaru had called it "impetus", whatever the fuck that had meant, until Temari had come along and-
Wait. Wait.
"Change of plans," and what a feeling to once again have every head whip around to meet his gaze every time he spoke. It wasn't that he'd missed leadership so much as he hadn't felt like himself when he was without it, and though he had been a more-than-adept leader in his own right, Naruto would never have made the progress that he had were it not for his chosen council. Shikamaru had been an irreplaceable companion, his right-hand man, his brother in all but blood. He had provided insight into the subtle nuances of foreign policies that had saved their Village time and again, a mind for strategy in times of conflict that had prevented innumerable casulaties, and an innovative way of thinking that helped Naruto make his dream of peace a working reality.
For a time, anyway.
But his left-hand had paved the way for a greater change within the Village itself. She had been the leading voice behind a standardized training regimen for every rank below Jounin, the strong arm that kept his forces in line and ensured Konoha's ability to perform and react. The logistics of it all had been lost on him, but in its simplest form it involved every squad, genin or chunin, into a unit capable of combatting a force greater than themselves for a minimum of two minutes. On top of that, an interconnected communications system operating on a number of fail-safes that provided them real-time information on any given incursion upon the Land of Fire. Coupling the two of those with the draconic standardization of training that she'd initially suggested had transformed the Land of Fire as a whole into an impenetrable fortress, cementing their status as the number one power to not fuck with.
And that kind of dynamic really, really lined up with his current goal of providing an action-ready response force for Yamamoto. He'd started to like the guy, after all, and it wouldn't do anyway to break his streak of promise-keeping. That was a century old (centuries old?) at least, and this was an easily solvable problem. He would start it with a bang. Well, another bang. The Kisuke reveal was the first, this could be the second. Wasn't there a guy always doing things with a bang? Was he stealing his thunder? Or was it a woman… oh who gives a shit.
"Alright, new plan," he relished the fact that Kisuke could still look so hopeful for his own reassignment, even as Yoruichi's gaze sharpened, again. Yes, they were a fine pair indeed, more alike than they thought if only in opposite motivations. Best to stomp out their expectations now than let them fester into something gross like "hope".
Naruto shook Kisuke's shoulder to start, "your new captain is Urahara Kisuke, and that fact remains unchanged. You can't escape his special instruction; "special instructions", I might add, that he shall be teaching you as he learns them from the late, great me. Truly an astounding opportunity." Before the already-present weight of consideration upon the lazy fellow could somehow increase, Naruto continued:
"Shihoin Yoruichi shall be assuming an all-new and utterly covetous role. One should aspire to the peak of strength as proven by Kisuke-kun, but one might go even further than that, seeking the place of your very own Yoruichi-sama! Indeed!" Naruto couldn't dream for a more gullible audience with the way everyone seemed to lean in to hear his next words. Seriously, how had all but one man not caught on to his Game?
"She shall be my secretary! You are all dismissed, take the rest of the evening off."
XXXXXXX
The first week passed in misery. As did the second. By the third, Yoruichi thought that maybe life would just be a continuous loop of shame and pain and soreness, never to recover from. Ironically, this realization brought her a measure of comfort. Her pride stung initially from being placed as a paper-pusher, right up until the realization landed that she might push paper but she pushed her own body past its own limits far more during training.
Her role as Naruto-sensei's secretary took place in the evenings and provided her with ample amounts of experience in terms of bureaucracy. All kinds of forms requiring a signature crossed her desk; from requests to infiltrate other units to investigate signs of mutiny, petitions to increase the caloric values of the cafeteria meals. The bulk of her work, however, lay in her processing the field reports sent in by various field commanders in the living world.
And that wasn't all, that stack pertained only to the Onmitsukido. Divisions outside of the Second also put forward their own askance, usually for aid of reconnaissance in whatever sector of the Sereitei or living world, sometimes for additional hands for a project, and even once for a personal spy to look into the actions of a seated officer's lover. That page received a stamp in the negative quicker than Yoruichi could perform a shunpo.
Those were her evenings. Her mornings, on the other hand…
"What a lovely day for a hike!" The full complement of the Onmituskido stood at attention before the blond menace who was far, far too cheerful for the 4am wake-up call. Yoruichi spotted Kisuke slumped at the front to the left of their commander. She then had to hold back a snicker when she saw Naruto's hand dart out to slap him in his lower back, forcing him to straighten up with a yelp. He wasn't the only one dragging his feet, however. A majority of the unit were lethargic; when Yoruichi had been in command she had, of course, demanded an early training regimen, but it had begun at six. On weekend it hadn't begun until eight o'clock. Today was a Saturday. It was four in the god damn morning. Yoruichi fought a yawn.
"Alright people, up and at 'em, let's get some pep in the step! Why is everyone looking so tired? You're the Onmitsukido, you should be ready to go at any time!" The exhausted company finally formed ranks, standing at a loose attention. Yoruichi watched it all from her spot in the second square, saw Daiki begin to nod off where he stood. She even saw Naruto lean over to Kisuke and say something in his ear that made the man pale and stand straight as a pole.
"A-alright, uhm, excuse me, everyone! Wake up and stand at attention! Good morning, hello, get up!" His voice lacked volume and conviction. Maybe that was a harsh critique, but Yoruichi remembered from one of her earliest readings that the keystone requirement for leadership positions was a voice and attitude that commanded respect. Kisuke had sounded like a boy trying to stutter through a confession to a schoolyard crush and carried himself like he was afraid of that same school's bully.
Not a good sign.
She saw Naruto-sensei nudge him with an elbow and give what looked to be an encouraging smile, so Kisuke tried again with the same tremulous tone, "stand at attention, please! Form up, everyone, we're going for a run! Wake up, form up, do up, get up, please, just look ali-"
"Hey! Alright, everyone give it up for your commanding officer Kisuke!" The booming voice of the blonde seemed to jump a response from the sleepy crowd, people snapping up left and right from hunched postures. The voice; she knew it was required and he had it. Now if only she could reason out why he'd put someone so seemingly spineless in charge instead of her…
"Glad to see everyone's eyes! I've realized I was wrong about all of you! You see, just last night I was starting to convince myself that you lot had something to offer, but I see now that I was wrong," and there came his pressure, weighing like bricks over their shoulders. Kisuke had his eyes clenched shut but seemed to be… apologetic?
"So, your commanding officer called for attention. You dragged your feet. He called again and again and a third time. You slept standing up. I'm impressed! You'll find that sleep is hard to come by in the field, finding it where you can is a very important skill." The weight wasn't leaving, even as his tone grew more jovial. She supposed she should be glad that he weren't increasing it; he had demonstrated far heavier when he'd subdued the squadron tasked with apprehending him. Sweat beaded at her brow, but she knew that there were more than a few who must now be fighting unconsciousness. Fighting off greater spiritual pressure was a basic lesson for Shinigami, but few continued its practice.
It was sheer hubris not to, if she were to put it simply. Fighting spiritual pressure was the act of defending against the sheer presence of one much stronger than oneself. Who would ever want to admit to that they were so inferior to another? Ideally, the life of a Shinigami required a constant state of training. Training the body, training the mind, training the Zanpakuto. You did this between missions and other duties, both of which would also further your training. Experience was the greatest instructor. All of it developed one's spiritual pressure, a casual measure of one's overall strength.
So most Shinigami recruits never took the time to develop the skill of combatting a superior pressure.
Hubris. Plain and simple.
Yoruichi was willing to bet that more than a few of her unit were regretting that decision, a thought doubly prominent when their instructor's gaze swept over her position and she did feel an increase in pressure. He had to be directing it. That was a skill that only the most experienced of Captains seemed to have a grasp on so Yoruichi had to ask herself, who the hell is this guy!?
"Now, here's the good news, I'm not going to make you do something like PT to make up for your own lack of initiative. No push-ups, no crazy amount of sit-ups. Rest easy knowing you'll be able to reserve that strength today. Instead, Kisuke and I shall be waking you up one hour earlier!"
There were several audible groans of discontent. Not good.
Yoruichi sprang into action the moment she saw him shift his weight. She made it just in time to divert Naruto's fist from burying the wide-eyed member of the Onmitsukido, but only barely. She had intended on catching his fist but was forced to transition the move into an attempt to deflect in the split second she realized she couldn't halt its progress.
How is he this strong?
Having devoted her entirety in first catching up with their instructor and then just pushing his fist to the side, she was wholly unprepared for his reversing his momentum to land an elbow in her gut, driving the air from her lungs. It felt like landing on her back from a three-story fall with how the air was driven from her lungs, but Naruto wasn't done. While she was doubled over Naruto threw a knee toward her face. Only a desperate block from both hands saved her from a broken nose, though the backs of her hands still slammed into her cheekbones. The force of it snapped her head upward and, with a smooth and practiced motion, her instructor planted the foot attached to that pain-giving knee just behind her heel, pulling toward himself with that appendage and pushing hard into her sternum with one hand. Stunned as she was at the pain and trying to react at a pace far surpassing her own, Yoruichi lost her balance and tumbled ass-over-teakettle into the Shinigami she'd protected, sending them both to the ground.
Shaking her head rapidly, Yoruichi scrambled to untangle herself from her former subordinate while raising her hands in a defensive gesture. Naruto, however, was standing over them unmoving, hands clasped behind his back with a calculating look in his eye. She waited a moment more, but when no attack was forthcoming, she dropped her hands and settled for glaring at the blonde.
He gave an infuriatingly cocky smirk back, "very good, Yoruichi-san. Very good."
He had turned away and begun a steady pace back toward the front of the crowd before she had time to process that strange response. He barked at the crowd as he went, "seeing as none of you have the slightest clue as to what discipline is, it would seem I'll have to drill it into you. Luckily for me, that part comes part and parcel with the training you were about to embark on!" Reaching the front of the columns, the blonde man spun on his heel and gave the all a predatory grin, "how exciting!"
Yoruichi managed to find her feet in time to watch him sweep a hungry gaze over the gathered members of her Onmistukido. Kisuke still had his eyes clenched shut next to him, something akin to resignation settling over the expression. Yoruichi wondered again what their instructor might have whispered to him before he went corporeal punishment mode.
"From this moment on, your leader Kisuke and I shall be leading you on a great journey of enlightenment. Enlightenment, and greater stamina. Greater stamina and greater strength! Greater strength and, most importantly, greater pain tolerance!"
She had no way of knowing it now, but Yoruichi wouldn't learn what that whispered exchange consisted of until many years later. When she did, Kisuke would disappear for a week's time, much to the panic of his Division. Yoruichi herself would go on a bender that same night that resulted in her name listed at least three Captains' black books, a ban from her third favorite bar, and the personal ire of Yamamoto-taicho himself.
That day was far in the future. On this day, rubbing at her sore wrists, Yoruichi would witness for the first time the face her teacher wore when he had a particularly sadistic plan in mind. Naruto's face was scrunched tight in a nearly inhuman smile. The corners of his lips reached impossibly toward his ears, eyes shut and upturned, eyebrows neighboring his hairline.
"Ladies and gentlemen: welcome to Hell."
