Hey everyone. If you know anyone who follows my other fics- that'd be Masks Hiding Masks and Old Mantle, New Mission- you can tell them I've got severe writer's block and they'll have to wait. This idea came before writer's block, so I can update now.
-I am a line break, beginning the story-
Kensei doesn't bother telling his division about his Hollow powers. Unlike Shinji, he's got the sense to know that what Aizen did to him doesn't mean he has to try to make up for it. Hisagi– that's his lieutenant now, looks weirdly familiar– knows, but either he doesn't think it's a problem or he's been conditioned by Tosen not to question authority.
The silver-haired captain sits at a desk, filling out the billionth form today. Most of it's division paperwork, but some of it's devoted to making sure the Hollow-Shinigami hybrid of the Ninth Division stays compliant. Kensei has to attend regular psychiatric examinations, attend every damn captains' meeting, and fill out forms every so often detailing where he's been that day– as if that leaves much time for a personal life. This red tape's constricting him so badly it practically crushes him.
Still, even the temperamental Visored understands why, and so he dips his brush endlessly into a pot of ink– missing the pens of the living world dearly– and shoves back the annoyance that rises within him. Shinji specifically asked Rose and Kensei to make as little trouble as possible for as long as possible.
In the blond's words: "We know we're not monsters. They don't, so let's try t'keep under the radar for a while, yeah?"
Oh, Kensei tries his hardest, like they've all tried for the past century, to think of himself as he always has: a tough-guy Shinigami whose perpetual scowl only ever lifts when Mashiro's quiet for once– away from the premises is better. But it's hard when you remember collapsing on the ground as your face melted off, panicking because you could feel your body rejecting itself as it moved in ways it was never supposed to. It's damn near impossible when you've lived your life for the last century hearing a Hollow's growled tones in your head and mastering its power.
Shikai is one thing. Sure, it sets you apart from your friends who haven't achieved it yet, and may never do so, but it's a fairly normal part of being a Shinigami. There's plenty of precedent for achieving Shikai, and you control it. It never controls you. Your Zanpakuto's spirit may have lent you its power, but you are the one that wields it.
Even Bankai functions that way, devastatingly powerful as it is. For a while it pushes you away from your peers. Maybe it's because you can feel the power running through you, ready to be unleashed when battle comes, and having that sort of ability makes your strides just a bit more confident, your sword swings quicker. Maybe it's because it's common sense to be a little bit wary of a somewhat overconfident guy with incredible talent and a sword. But after a while you calm down because you've been working towards this for a while, what did you expect? And your friends knew about your training too, so they adjust.
But Hollow powers? They don't work that way. Hollow powers come from a different entity in your soul, one that's only based on you in the loosest of senses. They push your power beyond that of a normal Shinigami captain and explode into existence in an instant, faster than a sword can be drawn to defend. Shinigami powers don't run the risk of locking the user up in their own soul as a psychotic, murderous monster uses their body to slaughter everyone around. Hollow powers aren't normal and they aren't expected because even the sickest freaks in Soul Society's checkered past haven't done it.
Kensei stood with his division members one day, talking with them and clapping a few on the back occasionally like he did every day. He stood there thinking that he'd kill any Hollow that crossed him and tomorrow'd be just the same. Maybe the silver-haired captain would get married someday.
And the next day his body and mind had been warped horrifically and Kensei'd been forced to leave everything he knew or be executed– maybe even publicly– like monsters that didn't deserve life. All the Visored had their identities shattered that day, and the next hundred years have been spent trying to glue the pieces back together.
The notoriously grouchy man makes the sealing stroke for a final kanji and shuffles the form into the stack of papers. Hisagi's good enough to do the deliveries for him, thank God, or a few politicians would be missing their heads.
Kensei rises, attaching Tachikaze to his belt and leaving his office with a faint sigh of relief. There's time for some training now, or maybe sharing a cup of sake with Rose and his lieutenant. Kira's a gloomy man, but good at heart, and the wavy-haired Visored is determined to reverse the damage Ichimaru Gin caused.
Exiting his division headquarters, the Ninth Division's captain finds members training in the courtyard, organized by Hisagi no doubt.
As Kensei comes up next to the dark-haired man, he grumbles a greeting in the form of "Yo."
Hisagi starts, surprising the white-haired captain. He's not exactly Sui Feng, and his spirit pressure is rather distinctive. Lost in thought, probably.
"Oh. Hello, Captain Muguruma. Need something?" Hisagi tilts his head at Kensei slightly, still facing his subordinates.
"Nah. Just bored. Too much red tape to really go anywhere, so I thought I'd train or something." The Visored replies shortly.
"Train?" The lieutenant blinks, turning to fully look Kensei in the eye. The white-haired man notices with annoyance that the little kid he protected so long ago is now a full half-inch taller than he is. "I mean... I just didn't think someone like you'd need to train."
Kensei's eyes narrow slightly. Depending on what the dark-haired lieutenant means by 'someone like you'...
"You're a powerful captain." Shuuhei continues without the slightest hint that he'd intended to say anything else. "It didn't really occur to me that you'd need to practice like the rest of us."
The Ninth Division's captain grunts. "Yeah, well, I do. Don't suppose you've got Bankai?" He asks, not expecting to hear an answer in the affirmative.
Kensei isn't disappointed. "No." Hisagi says. "Only Sasakibe-san and Abarai have Bankai among the lieutenants." His expression clouds. "I don't really like my Shikai in any event."
The Visored frowns at his lieutenant. "Why? It's your power. You worked for it, you should use it." He tells Hisagi firmly.
"It looks like it was designed to reap lives. My Zanpakuto, Kazeshini, he's always pushing for more blood, more pain, more death." The dark-haired man replies with surprising honesty. "I don't want strength at that cost."
Kensei can't help but raise an eyebrow at his lieutenant and look at him meaningfully. To his credit, Hisagi Shuuhei glances away, faint redness staining his tattooed face.
"Hey, you got time for a little more paperwork?" The silver-haired man asks abruptly, gears turning in his head. His lieutenant has time only for a short nod before Kensei continues, just loud enough for the nearby third seat to hear him. "C'mon. You and I are going to train." It's not an order or a promise. Just a statement of irrevocable fact.
Two long hours later, Hisagi is sealing his Zanpakuto, making an effort of will not to collapse to the ground as sweat pours down his back. That little part of his mind that maintains wariness of his captain reminds him that it could be blood trickling down.
Kensei stands in front of him, barely winded and outright grinning.
"Keep up like this and you just might hit Bankai soon, kid. You're strong." The slightly shorter man says with feeling, powering down from Bankai himself. What that feeling is, Hisagi isn't sure. Pride? Joy? Satisfaction? The tone is the same you'd use to call out a Zanpakuto's attacks, convicted and driven.
"I try, Captain Muguruma." The dark-haired man pants. The intention of this training session was to show him the power of a Bankai firsthand– though Kensei admitted he wasn't the best measuring stick– and get his technique up to snuff to beat Kazeshini, who of course demands trial by combat before he gives Hisagi Bankai.
Kensei snorts. "Stop being so formal. Muguruma-san's fine with me, long as you give me a name. And stop trying to stand up straight, moron!" He snaps, shoving his lieutenant to the ground and plunking himself down on the otherwise vacant courtyard's tiles. They sit there for a bit, resting, before Hisagi forces words out of his mouth, the air rough on his throat.
"Captain Muguruma... are you scared of your powers?" It's a deeply personal question, one that Hisagi's always wanted to ask someone, always wanted to know if someone else felt this way and he wasn't alone. Somehow it feels easier to let the words spill out now.
"What kinda question is that?" The other man barks, looking at him askance.
Hisagi turns red, glancing away. Whoops. "I'm sorry. I thought it might be too personal, but I went and–"
Kensei cuts him off. "Not what I meant. I mean, why d'you have to ask? Ain't it obvious?" The Visored captain releases a whoosh of air that can't quite be termed a sigh. "Yeah, I'm scared. It's not like Shikai, where you gotta muster the energy and say the command and it's you usin' the Zanpakuto's powers. You always have to be in control, mask on or not, or you might wake up and find everybody around you dead 'cause a monster took over you without warning. 'Cause a monster took over me without warning." For a second, Kensei looks open and almost guilty, but it's gone the next second.
Hisagi takes a deep breath, processing this. He knows the story from the inauguration meeting. It's different, hearing it. He can hear the pain in his captain's voice, the pain of being exiled and all the while knowing you might hurt someone if you ever slipped, might lose your mind and soul for good. A question pops into the lieutenant's mind, leaving his mouth the next second.
"How do you deal?" Not did, never did, it's not the kind of thing you can have an epiphany about and just move on with your life after.
"I don't." Kensei's voice is blunt and sharp, closed off to emotion. "I act like I did before and beat him into submission every so often. There's no 'dealing.' Just crushing the Hollow when I need to and getting it into anybody who's got a problem with me's thick skull"– Hisagi has the funny feeling that that might involve a bit of crushing too–" that as far as I'm concerned I'm Shinigami and I'm damn well going to act like it. You rested up? There's paperwork calling both our names for doin' this." He snorts, rising. "Gotta keep track of all the freak captains' moves, after all."
As the dark-haired lieutenant stands and follows his captain in a burst of flash-step back to their division, he realizes that he's scared of his own power, but not of Kensei's.
Hisagi Shuuhei trusts his captain to keep in control, and he'll use his hated power whenever Kensei asks.
-I am a line break, ending the story-
Plenty of Visored angst today, huh? I imagine that they'd have to appease the nobles and such a lot, though. As for Kensei's saying that he doesn't deal with being part-Hollow, I know he'd be that way. He doesn't want to dwell on pain and emotions, so he just doesn't. Kensei'd act like things were alright and close off any meaningful feelings he had because he wouldn't want himself to be weak as he perceives it.
