Summary of previous entries: Abarai Renji is betrayed by his Captain and left for dead in the human world- for reasons unknown. His body is recovered by Urahara Kisuke, who has requested Renji instruct Ichigo Kurosaki as a shinigami warrior- for reasons unknown.

RECRUIT

It has been awhile. Thank you for sticking with this story. The fifth entry is already written. I am hoping there will be 2 more. I have been asleep.

4. Romance Not Certified

The next few weeks settled into a routine. In the afternoons, while Ichigo was at some other sort of schooling, I would laze about in the house. The best spots were in front of the windows right about noon. That's when the sun would light up the floors; and I would sleep there. During the first days, the boy named Jinta would prowl about the room. I listened to his footsteps, as he would sneak toward me. He must have thought I hadn't noticed him. In the first week, Jinta would only stare and see how close he dared to get to my napping form.

He'd never disturbed me; however, today I noticed his footsteps sounded heavier. I peeked at him with my left eye. He was holding a bat- a very large bat. I groaned and sat up, twisting around to face him. "Dinner doesn't wield any weapons," I tell him and he pales.

His voice stammers as he says, "I'm not dinner! Not your dinner, not anyone's!" I laugh at him and his grip tightens around the bat. I've no idea what he could possibly be thinking. I glare at him, but he doesn't leave. Instead he says, "I don't believe that you're a real shinigami." His palms slide around the handle of the bat, leaving a trail of glistening sweat. He says, "shinigami are good people. You're not a shinigami." He spat with the words.

"You haven't met many shinigami," I say, lying back down into the sun. "If you had, you'd be eaten by now."

The child growls in his throat. He shouts and his eyes are fixed onto mine. "You stay away from Ururu!" he yells. I wave a dismissive hand at him. He's beginning to test the lengths of my tolerance. Before either of us has time to speak, voices from the next room seep through the walls. It's Ichigo and another young, male voice I don't recognize. Jinta whispers something under his breath as the two voices continue to bicker. I had to put some effort into it, but I was able to strain my hearing enough to make out their conversation.

"It's bad enough that you've dedicated yourself to becoming one," the unknown voice says. "But now this?"

Ichigo says, "This?" He says, "This is who I am."

"No, it's not." The voice is calm, but stern. "You can't ever be one of them, Ichigo, and it's not something you should aspire to anyway."

"Don't say it that way."

"Look," the voice wavers slightly, "I can't be around you if this is what you're doing." I hear more shuffling and then clear footsteps heading further away, fading with each step. "If you ever come back to your senses, you can come back to me too."

I hear a door shut and then Ichigo blowing out a long, frustrated sigh. He says, "idiot," and then it sounds as if he slapped the wall.

I look over at Jinta and watch him nod his head in approval. I ask him what he's so smug about and he says, "None of your business," and as an after thought he adds, "asshole."

I met Ichigo in the kitchen. He was shuffling through the cupboard's contents when I ordered him to come and train. He sighed again and slumped his shoulders. He leaned over on the counter and gave me a look as if to say he wasn't in the mood. I suppose it had something to do with the stranger he'd argued with in the doorway. "Training," I repeated. "Now."

He breathed out loudly again, but nodded and stepped away from the counter. This is when Jinta strolls into the room with a smile bearing all his teeth. The child pats Ichigo on the arm and says, "'Bout time you dumped that loser. It's not right how he hates exorcists so much."

"Exorcist?" I ask. I've never heard the word before. Jinta glowers at me and returns his gaze to Ichigo.

"I hope he never comes here again," Jinta says finally and stretches his mouth into a wider smile. This must be a human matter, I think.

"Training," I repeat and point toward the hallway.

It was a seemingly longer walker than usual to the subterranean training grounds. Ichigo was solemn and distracted. Once we arrive onto the grounds, I tell him to jog to the end of the room and back. I tell him not to make more than fifteen minutes of it either. He sets off, but before he does he blows out another long sigh and I lose it. I find myself shouting. "Sighing is one in the same as whining!" I yell. "If you're one of Urahara's men, you should have tolerance to spare. The guy's a little touched. So get running," I say, "now." Ichigo eyes me with a glimmer in his eyes that could pass for amusement. Then he trudges off shaking his head. It leaves me thinking I may have overdone it.

When he returns, panting and sweating. I felt it necessary to remind him of his current situation. I tell him, pointing a finger in his general direction, "Listen kiddo, I'm as top of the line as it gets for a trainer. Understand? World class," I say. I'd learnt that word yesterday from the television thing. "High up on the military food chain, you understand?"

"Oh? So how come your social skills suck so bad?" he says, still catching his breath. At first, I dismissed him because I hadn't believed I'd heard it. It takes more than an extra helping of courage to chide a powerful enemy; it also requires a significant reduction in intelligence. Plus, I hadn't gauged Ichigo's character to include the capacity for disrespect. So my reaction to him was stupidly slow. Once I grasped it, however, I took a deep breath through my nose and willed myself to handle the issue with calm clarity. Instead, I opted for brutal honesty.

"The only reason I'm co-operating with that loose canon upstairs is because I'm using you in the same way he is. He wants you strong, so I'll make you strong; because once you're strong, he'll open the way to Soul Society. And I'll follow you through and begin my bloody epic of revenge." The words fumble out of my mouth as if someone had been pulling them on string. It makes me wonder how long I've held these truths inside, keeping them as safe and buried secrets. "Here's a history lesson for you: thirteen Captains and a General govern the Soul Society. I was more than strong enough to become a Captain- and there was more than enough opportunity; but because Soul Society is run by a bunch of Conservative bastards, there was no room in the hierarchy for district trash like me." I feel my face scrunching up into an expression of anger and disgust. I hear the tones evident in my voice. "So I sure as hell won't tolerate the same judgment from you. Do you understand that?"

Ichigo glared at me with a lingering defiance, but he nodded his head slightly in acknowledgment.

"Get your sword," I spat.

That night I was lying on my back unable to sleep. Something inside of me felt like it was aching. It was a certain soreness akin to hurt, but not quite. Perhaps my pride had been wounded after all. I think I must have let myself get soft somewhere down the line. I let myself become sensitive and vulnerable. How else could the words of one young man cause me to suffer insomnia?

Some people don't need prove themselves in everything they do. Sometimes all they need is a name or reputation to command respect or admiration. I wasn't and never will be one of those people. I hadn't let it bother me before. So why now?

Why now when none of the past had any weight to it anymore?

My body's refusal to sleep had led me to wander in the house. I eventually padded barefoot into the kitchen and peered inside the fridge. I wanted something to drink. What the human's called Pepsi. However, something distracted me- a noise I could hear over the humming of the fridge. It was the rustling sound of two people outside the window. I walked silently toward it; and to satisfy my curiosity, I poked a finger through the blinds and peeked through. What I'd seen had been the last thing I'd been expecting.

It was Ichigo alright- with his arms wrapped snugly around another teenage boy. They're faces were mashing together. I resisted the urge to tap on the window. It was the shock of my own immaturity that prevented it. Instead I took another glance to make sure I'd seen this correctly. I felt one of my brows rise as I let the blind drop. I had no idea the kid had swung that way. I really did want to poke fun at it. I bit my bottom lip and decided to tease him tomorrow.

I woke up in a foul mood. It seems that during the night your mind well run wild with dreams despite your reservations. I had dreamt of Rukia. I dreamt of her siblings- it wasn't a good way to start the day. With my thoughts lingering on nightmares, I walked into the kitchen. Urahara was there, sitting at the table. And it occurs to me that I may have to kill him. His eyes, his body, his speech and his breathing- it all tells me that he's keeping a deadly secret.

"Don't give me a reason," I say to him. I glance over him quickly and continue to the fridge. I daresay that he knew exactly what I'd meant. He'd known that I'd threatened to kill him. "Tell me what you're planning with Ichigo." I grab a litre of water.

"What do you figure?" he says, his eyes on me and his hand under his chin. I take a drink of water.

"Send him in. Stir up trouble." I shrug. "He won't make it undercover- too much honour, too much honesty."

"He's loyal to me," says Kisuke. "He wouldn't sabotage his cover."

I shake my head. "They will see through it."

"Do you?"

"You're fooling him." I set the litre down. "He thinks he's doing one thing, but you're having him do another." I lift my brow and say, "What you're doing with him," I shrug again, "I don't suppose it matters." And then I pause. I look back to met Kisuke's stare. "I won't interfere, but if you betray me, you will incur my wrath."

He grins at me. He says, "betray? I haven't promised you anything Lt. Abarai. How could any of my actions be a betrayal?"

I grin at him. It must have been menacing because he winces. "If you lie to me, you would be betraying my trust. Do not betray my trust, Kisuke."

I'm a firm believer in revenge; and I will give everything for its satisfaction. My very existence is only sustained by my drive for retribution- and I will take it with steel and dejection. After all, it's all I have to live for. My life is already over.

"Oh," he says simply. "Stop being so scary Lt. Abarai. I want us to be friends." People say the damnest things. He says, "We can help each other, me and you."

"When the time comes," I say, "just don't get in my way."

"Push Ichigo!" I shout in the boy's direction. A false wind blows through the training grounds. It causes his damned hair to bend like blades of grass. It would almost seem as though we weren't actually indoors. "Come on!" I shout.

Ichigo is barrelling through a sandy trail. He sprints over rocks, gravel and dunes. I see a film of sweat moistening his flushed face and he pants heavily. After a few minutes he slows to a trot and approaches me. He rests his hands on his knees and lets the sweat drip from the end of his nose. His voice comes over huffing breaths as he says, "I don't see you running."

After working with Ichigo for just over a month, I know exactly how to push his buttons. I say, "What's the point of my running when I can use shunpo?" Flash step. Ichigo snorts and wrinkles his nose.

He says, "then teach me shunpo."

"Why? When you can run?" I flash him a wide, brilliant smile. A flame of anger flickers behind his eyes. His face scrunches and widens at the same time. I can hear him mentally cursing at me. Yet somehow tormenting the boy didn't seem as amusing today. I lift my chin and take a deep breath as the fake breeze presses past me. I feel the wind lifting the longest strands of my hair. I feel it moving past my skin. This fake breeze, it feels more real to me than anything.

"Renji," Ichigo says. I look lazily at him, letting my eyelids drop almost to closing. He asks, "should I do another lap or something?"

And I tell him if he thinks it will improve his sorry abilities then he should go for it. Ichigo begins to stammer at the comment, but I'm no longer listening. I inhale another full breath of the generated, man-made air. I breathe it out.

"Renji?"

"Avoid the captains," I say to him. "You can handle their lieutenants as long as the battle is one on one; but avoid the captains." I don't bother to look at him as I give him this advice. I know he's listening. "Almost all decent shinigami have the ability to read the spiritual pressure in the atmosphere; so if you can, end every battle quickly. We can sense battles. We can pinpoint their locations instantly, easily. So always keep moving. When you're inside the Seireitei never remain stagnant or you'll be found and killed." I glance at Ichigo and he nods. "You can hide in the Rukon districts. Use them to your advantage. The dirtier the district the better." I look up at the fake, deceptively deep, bluish sky. "Hit hard. Hit fast. And retreat faster. That's how you'll survive, understand?"

He nods. "I'll remember."

"Another word of advice, kiddo," I say, "don't put your life on the line for someone withholding the truth- not even for returning a favour."

He gives me an odd look. "How would I know if they're not telling the whole truth?"

"When they stop answering questions." I tell him, "people do acrobatics with the truth Ichigo. Ask yourself: is withholding information the same as lying about it?" I squint because the room somehow becomes brighter. I shield my eyes from what feels too much like sunlight. "Isn't misguiding one with only bits of the truth the same as manipulating them with lies? The only thing that distinguishes a liar from an honest person is purpose, Ichigo. Liars have the intention of lying; because they can only lie when they know the truth. And even a liar will tell the truth, but only with a manipulative purpose."

"That's a bit," he pauses, squinting, "complicated, Renji."

This is what I get for trying to teach a kid a life lesson. Kids never get anything. They don't even get themselves. I say, "You have to watch your back Ichigo. Even around those you trust."

"But I trust them," he answers, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

"You can't get stabbed in the back by someone you don't trust," I say; and something dawns on him. I see it in his widening expression. His eyes dart onto me and then he quickly averts them elsewhere.

"You were stabbed in the back," he mumbles, but I pretend not to hear him. Instead I point to the ladder, which leads to the exit.

I say, "that's enough for today."

In the evening, I sit in the dining room. I let my hair down and finger comb the worst of the tangles from it. My mouth stretches into a yawn. And I hear someone walk in through the front door. I hear light and quiet footsteps- a woman's. I guess she's no more than fifty kilos. She's moving toward the main hall and then the footsteps cease. I hold my body and breath still and listen harder. I hear softer, quicker and lighter footsteps- too light to be human. If I didn't have a shinigami's ears, my guess is that I wouldn't be able to hear them at all.

It was as mysterious as a poltergeist and as suspicious as a burglar; but I decide to leave Urahara to his own business. It was clear that this home had its secrets, and that these secrets were not for my ears.

I drum my fingers on the table, until I hear the loud, clumsy opening of the door I had originally been waiting for. I'd been waiting for Ichigo to return. He'd left late in the evening and came back- I glanced at my watch- very early this morning. I choose to wait in the kitchen because I knew the boy had to pass through it to reach his quarters. I listen to his footsteps drag along the hallway floors. When he finally enters the kitchen, I say, "Good morning."

He nodded and a snarl was placed lightly on his lips. "Don't you sleep?" he asks. I can hear the annoyance in his tone.

"I don't need to sleep," I remind him. "Shinigami only sleep for the experience."

"Yeah," he says, "right." His eyes roll across the room. "So what do you want? I know you were waiting up for me. So what do you want?"

I tell him to sit. "In this house," I say to him, "you're under my watch. You're my responsibility." His eyes begin to pop out of his head, but before he talks, I say, "I took that on when I accepted Kisuke's hospitality. Now, I've been lenient with you-"

"Lenient?" He nearly shouts. I raise my hand to silence him.

"I let you manage your own life. I allow you to choose when you eat and sleep and mess about. I gave you this leniency because I trusted your dedication. Cleary, I gave you too much credit."

He waves his arm in the air and shouts, "What? Look buddy-" Buddy? "-I've been busting my ass training day in and day out! I deserve a little time off!"

"You can have your time-off after training," I say. "And you don't decide when training is." I glance at him. I can sense his furiousness simmering underneath his small hold of control. "This is a warning," I say to him. "Remember it."

He sighs angrily and nods. "Alright. Sorry Renji," he says quickly, biting his lip. "I won't miss another training session."

"Good," I say. "Go."

He leaves the room in a muted fuss. He gets worked up too easily. He's emotional, I think. It makes me wonder how he'll fare in Soul Society. And I have to remind myself that it's none of my business if he gets himself killed.

Only it is.

Only it's not.

Damn it if I may actually like the kid. If he dies, and it's because I didn't instil in him the skills he needed to survive… then how should I feel? Should I mourn my pride- or his death? Should I regret my actions or wished I'd done more? I would move on, of course; but what amount of reflection is required before it?

Remember his purpose, I tell myself. Remember my purpose. Ichigo is the gateway to Soul Society. The boy is nothing more. Ichigo is only the means to an end.

I need to keep things simple.

This update took one year. I'm kidding. It was just in the data dust.