CW: This chapter contains mild descriptions of blood and bodily injury.
Four hours since discharging from the Fourth, aided back to the Sixth by a kind, overtired healer and a crutch.
Three hours since grasping at the silence of the midday barracks, glaring away squad fellows who thought to chatter away in their bunks or beg her for details of her injuries to fuel their gossip.
One hour since falling into true meditation, reassured by the distant rattling of branches.
Fifteen minutes since landing on the forest path of her inner world, since opening her eyes to the fading riot of leaves that had brought her there.
Now Tsukiko limped through the endless black birches, the path long abandoned. She didn't dare lean on the trees for support, instead keeping her eyes on the thick green grass, sidestepping the hints of black within it that she now knew to look out for. The sword tied at her hip pulled her to the left, upsetting her already awkward gait more than once, but each time she resisted its imbalance.
It wasn't until a burst of wind began whipping the trees overhead that she came to a halt, somewhere deep within the forest. Her beating heart willed her to move on, to avoid the figure at last come to join her, but just like the black birches surrounding her, she remained where she stood.
When the trees swayed into a shush, pinging out tinny staccatos as the smallest branches collided with each other one last time, Tsukiko spoke. "It was never about the leaves," she murmured.
Another breeze, gentle. "Correct."
She scanned the ground for the nearest black root, well-hidden by the lush grass. Each cut on the bottom of her foot sang, like she'd only just been injured. "It's the bark."
"Correct again."
Tsukiko closed her eyes as shame settled in her chest, validated by Ki's confirmation of the roots' sharp, unsuspecting danger. Distraction was the word that came to mind. Under its guise of reassurance, she had walked right into—no, onto—a trap, then shredded her palm on another when the truth came to greet her.
More than shame now: Anger. Disgust. Defeat.
"Don't be so hard on yourself," Ki said, his voice not unpleasant but suddenly too close, like he was now leering over her shoulder. "You have always been taught to look up, never down."
"I should have been prepared," she said forcefully, though the effort exhausted her anger back into shame. "I should have known... I shouldn't have had to figure it out through him."
His footsteps just as silent as before, Ki moved before her. His robes were still that dense black, his skin nearly bloodless, and his irises remained white-blue and wild, no matter the tidiness of his appearance. Only the prospect of negotiating her foot kept Tsukiko from taking a step back.
If Ki noticed—and of course he did—he did not react. "Now that you see, you know what you must do, right?"
Tsukiko shrugged, avoiding his gaze. "I should meditate more often?"
Ki shook his head. "That alone will lead you in circles." He pointed at another gnarled tree root poking through the blades of grass. "Look to your roots. All of them."
Something began to click into place, and Tsukiko frowned. "You're not talking about going to Hokutan, are you?" she said.
Ki smiled almost apologetically. "I'm afraid not."
She cut right to the chase. "I'm supposed to leave the squad. I won't be anywhere near the captain for answers."
Ki waited until she was looking at him until he spoke again. "That doesn't mean anything, Tsukiko."
She held his gaze as long as she could, but apprehension won out. It wouldn't be fair to herself, this push forward when she had vowed only to move back. It wouldn't be fair to Captain Kuchiki either, though what she owed him was debatable.
Following her train of thought, Ki leaned forward, his gleaming eyes like a warning that he could clamp down on her throat in an instant if he wanted to. "Do you wish to wield me?" he said softly.
Her exasperation vanishing, Tsukiko willed herself to stay resolute. "You're asking a lot of me," she countered.
"Answer the question, Tsukiko. Do you wish to wield me?"
The apprehension returned, but more than that, excitement. Impatience. She grasped for the sword at her waist, if only for the sturdiness of it, but as her palm closed around nothing but air, it was only then that she felt she had come into balance in spite of her limp—that the Asauchi she had expected to find had vanished from her side.
Wide-eyed, she stared at her vacant hip, then at Ki. "What did you do?"
Ki raised his arm. "I will say it only once more, Tsukiko. Mind. Your. Roots."
His arm fell before she could answer, and she shielded her eyes as the leaves fell around her.
She came to in the barracks with a gasp, the Asauchi across her lap utterly unchanged.
The quiet of the following morning yielded little peace: no sooner had Tsukiko dressed than a squad fellow approached her, bearing a printed schedule so fresh the paper was still warm. Tsukiko offered the woman a brief, appreciative smile, only to let it fall when she realized her bandaged hand and the foot she didn't completely lean on were being stared at.
Tsukiko raised her Kuchiki shield at once. "Don't drills start soon?" she said smoothly.
It worked: surprise all over her face, the woman left at once.
Sighing deeply, Tsukiko reviewed her schedule. As instructed by the healer, it was free from drills and patrols, though she expected to see more variety than "mailroom" for the entire week. Maybe Ichika had hacked the scheduling system and planned to attack her there, since she was apparently now spending her time tampering with Squad Six's mail.
Tsukiko rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she had the medical clearance to do anything else.
But as her eventless first two hours inside the mailroom passed in utter tedium, Tsukiko was convinced that if Ichika really had hacked the system, it was only to bore her to death. Even initially, when all of the more experienced squad members were attending drills, it was obvious in which bins she should deposit each of the third seat's intra-squad memos or the fifteenth seat's special notice to his counterpart in Squad Seven. Stamps could only be placed in so many corners of an envelope, and the parcels she could lift one-handed had a clearly labeled sorting area. And, no matter the fact that her Asauchi was laid across the tabletop while she worked, Ki offered no conversation, not even obnoxious humming from the back of her mind.
As if none of that were enough, just after drills ended, Tsukiko eagerly looked up from the out-tray on the table before her as the mailroom door clicked open—only for her anticipation to collapse when the stoic Honda walked in.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he came over to observe her work.
Slowly dying a most excruciating death, so glad you came to slow it even further. "It was pretty clear where all the mail had to go, so I just jumped right in," Tsukiko said. She gestured to the piles of mail before her, all organized by recipient.
Honda snatched up an envelope from the out-tray and read the address printed on it. "Why are you handling Captain Kuchiki's outgoing mail?" he demanded.
"Oh come on," Tsukiko muttered under her breath.
Honda threw the envelope back into the tray and began to place each of her envelope piles on top of it. "You're only here two weeks, Hokutan, but let me catch you up on something very important," he said in a low voice. "I'm in charge of this mailroom. Nothing goes in or out without my say-so. You don't do anything unless I tell you. You don't touch the captain's out-tray, and you especially don't touch his in-tray. Got it?"
Tsukiko rolled her eyes. "Loud and clear."
"Good." The Lord of the Mailroom nodded toward a large crate full of post along the back wall. "Grab some empty trays and get started on the incoming mail from the Kido Corps. Make sure you read each recipient name carefully, and don't just throw the envelopes into the trays, we have a standard to maintain..."
As Honda rattled out more instructions, Tsukiko reluctantly grabbed her crutch and limped toward the stack of waiting trays. Maybe if she was lucky, she'd trip on the way over and bust open her foot so bad she bled out for real this time. It would teach Honda a lesson, in any case, making her hobble around like this.
She should've known better.
Over the next fifteen minutes, more squad members filed into the room, some managing better than others to hide their defeated looks at being assigned mail duty. Tsukiko almost appreciated the silent camaraderie, but it very quickly turned into irritation when the mailroom veterans began offering unsolicited advice on how to align envelopes in trays, double check addresses faster, and whatever else they felt would prevent Honda's quiet wrath.
"Try to print a little neater," a squad fellow said as they sat rewriting addresses originally scrawled in the lieutenant's chicken scratch (a very new mailroom task, Tsukiko was told).
Tsukiko held up her bandaged right hand, not even looking up from the envelope she was addressing. "This is the best I can do with my left hand," she said.
"Well, just try. Squad Six is—well, will be—known for its excellent penmanship."
The squad fellow was spared Tsukiko's reaction as Honda returned to the mailroom from the captain's office, bearing the infamous in-tray. Tsukiko scowled at his back. Honestly, who cared about the state of the characters on an envelope so long as you could read them, if barely? Besides, her left hand was doing far better than Lieutenant Abarai's standard...that idiot...who granted the likes of him a leadership position...he didn't even look the part with that ridiculous hair color and his permanent scowl...and definitely not with those tattoos on his forehead...or on his arms...or on his—
"Hokutan," Honda barked.
Tsukiko jumped. "Y-yeah?" she yelped, having smacked her injured foot against her stool's footrest. She almost jumped again once she realized Honda was standing right beside her.
He frowned as he handed her a fully addressed envelope. "From the captain," he said.
What now! Tsukiko shouted to herself as she took the envelope. It was even stamped, like she was a thousand miles away rather than down the hall. "Thanks," she grumbled. And someone, please kill me.
Honda turned back to the captain's in-tray, leaving Tsukiko to open the envelope one-handed. She managed in the end, even if the contents were now a bit mangled. But at least it was just one sheet of paper, one that looked rather familiar. It declared her name and squad assignment, as well as that of the captain and a single line explaining her reason for transfer...
Huh? She'd sent this out days ago. What was it doing back in—
Oh, Tsukiko thought to herself as she put two and two together. This was why Lieutenant Abarai and Ichika were in the mailroom with the captain the other night.
The victory of her realization was short-lived. Why bother going through all that trouble of getting the thing just to send it back to her? Was the captain that petty? Or did he think he was going to stop her and thought better of it? Not that it mattered. He'd already made it abundantly clear that she was no longer welcome in the squad...
But as Tsukiko's eyes fell on the line where she'd placed her signature, she saw it was blank. Frowning, she returned to the line defending her transfer request, but now that she was actually reading it, she found no words of acid or disgust. Not in the least:
Officer seeks new leadership style, captain approves change.
Neutral. Utterly, completely neutral.
Was this...a parting gift?
An Asauchi was suddenly smacked down on the table in front of her, and Tsukiko hissed as she hit her foot against the stool again. She glared up at Honda—of course it was him—and then back down at the sword, raising an eyebrow high and then higher when she realized it was hers.
"Your Asauchi may be little more than a glorified letter opener," Honda muttered, "but you should know better than to leave it lying around in here."
Tsukiko pursed her lips, only to let out a terse "yes sir" when she realized Honda wanted an answer.
Thus supplicated, Honda left her to her sword and transfer request form.
But what did that really leave her with? As far as Tsukiko could tell, just a ball of too much of everything. Not because of the form specifically, but because of how she should process it, especially in light of Ki's...recommendation.
Tsukiko looked between the form and her Asauchi. Slowly, then rapidly, her exasperation gave way to trepidation. She had one chance, and this was it. One chance to do something for herself and name her glorified letter opener once and for all.
Tsukiko messily folded the transfer request form and tucked it into her pocket. She moved Ki off her envelopes, then returned to rewriting addresses.
Leaves, thousands of them.
"Don't you hear it?"
They shushed and clattered against each other, sending welcome chills down her spine.
"Don't you see me?"
Their rattling was practically inside her, so strong was the sensation.
"When are you finally going to—"
The crash of leaves dragged Tsukiko right out of her slumber, accompanied by a smell of blood so strong that she snatched at her face, checking for a nosebleed. But there was no blood to be found save that deep inside her.
Tsukiko scowled up at the dark ceiling. Her heart beating too quickly to let her catch the last hour of sleep, she rose from her bunk, pausing only to check herself over for rogue cuts inflicted by hidden roots. She found none. At least there was that.
For all its tedium, the mailroom did offer some variety: boring and terribly boring. Tsukiko quickly learned that her first day was of the former, for her second and third days in the mailroom saw just her and Honda tending to the squad's postal services. At least with the others she had even a chance of conversation; with Honda, she had either pressing silence or snarky comments about her seemingly endless list of shortcomings. She wasn't sure if it was a good thing that she most preferred the silence when Honda was out couriering for the captain.
Maybe people talk to themselves when they're trapped in here, Tsukiko thought on her fourth day while Honda was out. It would be easy enough. Disguise it as making out the scrawled characters of a recipient's name or the verbal chugging along of letter sorting. "You can make it seem like you're perfectly sane," she mumbled. "Like you're just helping yourself get through the day."
She snorted. "Well, are you?"
Just as she was about to respond, she threw down the envelope in her hand. She was being ridiculous. If she was going to talk, she was going to do it with someone else. She wasn't one of Emi's family members who regularly conversed with the walls.
...She wasn't Emi either.
Anger rose in her chest, but it was quickly extinguished by a blanket of guilt. Emi. Stupid, senseless Emi. She may have been an idiot about the situation, but at least she was consistent. She'd definitely have lots to say now that Tsukiko was leaving Squad Six. That's how it'd been from day one, Emi with her endless commentary. At best, it got them disciplined by the lecturer they were supposed to be listening to. At worst, it got them banned from a bar during one of their brief, precious term breaks, too drunk and busy cackling to realize what had just happened.
Groaning deeply, Tsukiko lay her head on the desk. Fine. Emi was maybe not the root or even the oldest, but she had definitely done her share to support her.
And, much as she hated to admit it, maybe—just maybe—there was something to be learned from Emi's obsession with Captain Kuchiki Six. Like how to live with the fact that your opposite was an undeniable part of your life, influenced your actions before you even knew it.
Shaking her head, Tsukiko took out her soul pager and brought up Emi's number.
I'm sorry. Call me later if u can
She hesitated, then pressed send.
Three seconds later, she had an answer that she knew better than to be surprised at:
Sneak me into your barracks tonight and we can talk
"This place is a graveyard," Emi said, leaning against the countertop in the kitchens. She held one of the beers she'd smuggled over and sipped from it. "The Thirteenth's jumpin' no matter the time of day."
"Yeah, well, you people are more laid back," Tsukiko said. She was sitting on top of the counter, nursing her own beer. "We're by the book here. Lights out by 10 PM and all that."
"Nah, we just know that downtime doesn't mean quiet time." Emi took another sip. "Not that we're the party squad."
"Everyone knows that's the Third. No one throws an MCR-themed poetry slam like they do."
They snickered through the kitchen's quiet.
Emi gestured to Tsukiko's foot. "How are you getting around with that thing?" she said.
"Slowly."
"Ch, and you still don't know your Zanpaku-to's name?" Emi scoffed. "Least he could do is tell you his name."
"Yeah, well, that's what I'm trying to get him to do," Tsukiko said. "Also, um..." Taking a deep breath, she looked down at the floor. "Look, Em. It's been...weird the last couple months. It's all just..."
"A mess," Emi said evenly. "I know messes. Have to clean one up every day."
"Em, I'm trying to be serious," Tsukiko said.
Emi looked up at her. "Go ahead."
Tsukiko closed her eyes. "You got caught in the crossfire of me not handling things going on in my life very well—hell, I'm probably still not handling things properly. But that's not your fault." She sighed again. "Look, I could say it however many different ways, but...I'm sorry. I took things out on you that didn't involve you, and that wasn't nice."
Emi nodded. "Continue."
Continue? "You were only trying to help, but I was unwilling to see it."
"Mm-hm. And?"
"And...I think you're awesome?"
"And?"
Tsukiko rolled her eyes. "And I really don't wanna play this game."
Emi snickered. "And you are probably owed an apology too. You needed an ear to listen, and I was insensitive. So. We're even."
Tsukiko looked down at her lightly swinging feet. "Even" was a big word, but maybe it was applicable. Besides, she'd let Emi back in the vicinity of His Highness. That counted big time.
"It must be so weird learning you have a blood family," Emi said suddenly. "Like, I can't even wrap my head around that."
"Don't try," Tsukiko retorted. "It's like being turned upside down so fast you don't even know where your head is anymore."
"And of all the friggin' people out there...like, not just a Shinigami, not just a noble, but a captain noble."
"I know," Tsukiko groaned. "Between him and Lieutenant Abarai, it would be nice to have a regular relationship with someone in a position of authority for once."
"I'm an authority on Kuchiki Byakuya. You have a regular relationship with me."
"Shut up." Tsukiko downed more beer.
Emi perked up. "By the way, what's it like between you and Lieutenant Blueballs nowadays?"
"I...don't want to talk about it," Tsukiko said, tactfully swinging her hair over her shoulder to block her face.
"That bad, huh?"
"You could say that." Tsukiko looked at her bandaged hand. "Obviously he's the reason all this shit went down, but...that's not really his fault either? He got screwed over by the Kuchiki clan—"
"Ooh, something you understand."
Tsukiko snorted humorlessly. "Let's not bring that up either."
"At least you're not all blood relations," Emi said. She finished off her beer and set the bottle on the counter. "And you stopped before you rounded all the bases."
She looked up when Tsukiko remained silent. "Right?"
Tsukiko busied herself with smoothing over her bandages.
Emi squinted at her. "What did you do?"
"Nothing," Tsukiko said quickly.
"Oh, this sounds like something." Emi planted her hands on Tsukiko's knees and leaned forward. "Holy shit, you're redder than—" She gasped. "No."
Cringing the entire time, Tsukiko slowly nodded.
"When?"
"New Year's—b-but we were drunk and—!"
"Oh my goddess, that's disgusting! I love it!"
"F-fuck off."
"Does the Glorious One know?"
"No, and thank all the gods for that. But the sooner I get out of here, the better." Tsukiko sighed heavily. "For more reason than one."
Emi raised an eyebrow. "You still got feelings for Lieutenant Blueballs?" she asked.
Tsukiko promptly looked away again. "I'm leaving this squad, that's all that—"
"I think you should at least tell him goodbye, if only for your own closure."
Tsukiko scoffed. "Yeah, because 'goodbye' is gonna smooth everything over. What do you know about closure anyway?"
Emi snatched Tsukiko's beer. "Enough to know that I never want to get to that point." She drank heartily. "I'm determined to stay happy forever. Why do you think I'm so adamant about marrying your father?"
"Emi—"
"Kidding, I'm kidding! Or am I?"
Her palms were slick, but the flashing leaves didn't stick to them.
"Open your hand."
She made to unclench the fist she didn't know she was making, but the effort was gargantuan. She strained against her own muscle power, willing herself to reveal her bloody right hand, even if it was one finger at a time.
"Good. Now reach for me."
Still panting from her efforts, she tried to extend her arm, but she couldn't see her target for the leaves. "W-what—"
"Take me."
"W-where—"
"Take me, Tsukiko, take me!"
A sudden wind forced the leaves into a crescendo. "I can't...I can't see—"
Gagging on the taste of copper, Tsukiko sat bolt upright in her bunk as she gulped down air. Her right hand was throbbing, and as she moved it closer to her face in the darkness, she could feel a wetness against the bandages.
Cursing heavily, Tsukiko flung her covers off and promptly made her way to sick bay.
By the time the first week of mail hell came to a close, Tsukiko was praying for Ichika to burst through the doors and challenge her to a duel. Maybe that way she'd finally have the image of blood to match the scent that was now following her well past the morning.
What are you doing? she demanded of Ki one afternoon as she tossed letter after letter into the automatic sorter. You're not exactly making this whole root thing more enticing.
He did not answer.
She glared at the Asauchi tied at her hip. And I'm not talking to Renji either. Not that Ki had asked. But she wasn't particularly eager for him to bring up the subject himself.
She nearly ripped a letter in half when his laughter suddenly resounded in her ears.
"Why don't you hear me?"
"You don't say anything."
"I am the forest. I say everything."
She swatted at a flush of leaves. "You need to be more specific."
"The gods, Tsukiko, did you not just hear me?"
"I..." The leaves trembled in the air, and the ground beneath her began to quake. "Ki, I—"
"That is not my name!"
That was it. She couldn't pretend anymore. Not with her hand and foot so heavily scarred. Not with the scent of blood growing stronger each night, until she was choking on it.
Fine, Tsukiko said in her bunk, gasping for breath as the familiar coppery tang left her lungs. Damn you, but fine.
One glance at Honda across the room, laser-focused on what looked like the incoming mail from the captain-commander, and Tsukiko lightly touched the left side of her shihakusho. A small, unmarked envelope crushed against the fabric, its contents barely noticeable within its thick confines. One page was her signed transfer request form. The other was the work of a dried-up pen and the world's smallest notepad, both found rolling around in a desk drawer sentenced to a dusty corner of the mailroom. Plus whatever resilience Tsukiko could muster.
Honda shook his head, evidently displeased with some finding.
Tsukiko glanced at the clock. Maybe if it slowed enough, she'd enter a time loop so strong, she'd never be able to break it. Or if it broke, the force would shred the rest of her limbs to bits so she'd have to go to the Fourth and not rise from her stool, ease over to the other end of the table, and place the envelope in the captain's in-tray.
She looked at Honda again. If he caught her anywhere near the tray, he'd gut her.
She looked at her right hand, the day's bandages already loosened from its returning strength.
The sorter sighed as it idled behind her. Overhead, the lights hummed.
I don't want to do this, she told Ki—her Zanpaku-to, that is. I know I have to, but anything else would be better.
Silence.
There's really no other way?
Maddening as her Zanpaku-to's silence was, it did make it all the easier to convince herself that he was the one lifting her body from the stool, reaching into her pocket, and casually slipping the envelope between the mail already in Captain Kuchiki's in-tray.
Five minutes later, finished at last with the captain-commander's post, Honda snatched up the in-tray and left the mailroom.
Yes it's been nine months (unintentional). Yes I plan on finishing this fiend of a fic (very intentional). Yes I bumped the (final) chapter count up to 27 (it's divisible by 3 and 9).