Chapter 8: Selection
The darkness settled in the chamber, undisturbed by the light flooding in through the door. It was thick and heavy. It veiled the face, and it gathered over the eyes.
The Second was lousy with shadows; it seemingly manufactured shadows. A wise decision, because they surely operated under the cover of impenetrable darkness. Inky, dank darkness that blinded the eye and shrouded the soul.
Hisana stood behind her captain.
Her back was ramrod straight. Every muscle seemingly stretched up and locked. Each fiber was tense, vibrating as if invisible strings yanked them up.
She shivered. Or trembled? Perhaps she was shaking? She wasn't quite sure. Her body, wracked with exhaustion, could have been signaling its imminent collapse. Or, her body could have been trying desperately to generate warmth. She had gone numb with cold an hour before the meeting. Her veins buried inside her in a futile attempt to draw the warmth of the blood inward, but to no avail.
She could hardly feel anything now save for her heart. Yes, her heart pounded in her chest. It rattled around, threatening to sputter loose at any moment.
She felt like she had been plunged into a deep dark sea where nothing made sense. She felt like she was floating. She felt blind. All she could feel was the air current whip against her flesh. Deep rich intonations wafted over her. She could feel the words vibrate against her cheek, sinking in through the skin and bouncing against her bones. The reverberations sparked her nerves and added to her fluttering. Despite feeling the rises and falls of cadence and tone, she could not process what was being said. The sounds did not make sense. The phonemes were scrambled—a strange collection of noises.
Unohana took a small step forward. "Yes," she said. Her voice was soft and serene yet strong—strong enough to cut through Hisana's mental fog. "My Vice Captain has made her requests."
Silence.
A sudden drop in barometric pressure became perceptible. The air rushed to fill the lungs of those in the room. The shadows, however, lingered, undisturbed.
"The company comprises four members, including Vice Captain Hisana." Unohana lowered her head, waiting for the prompt. In her hands, she held the envelope. The folds were loose. The glue no longer held it; the seal had been broken. Likely, the captain had examined the chosen names beforehand.
"The other members of the company?" The Captain-Commander asked. His deep baritone filled the room. He peered over at Captain Unohana. His eyes, narrowly set, gleamed under his silvery brows, piercing the shade.
Captain Unohana bowed her head.
Hisana's heart sank. It dropped straight into her stomach. She could feel her blood curdle in her veins. Pressure built in her head, escalating. She could hear her pulse throb in her ears until all could she hear was her rushing blood.
She squeezed her eyelids shut.
A procession of memories assailed her.
The memories were unasked for and unwanted: Each of the Vice Captains had offered his or her sword in the days leading up to the final decision. Each Vice Captain made the offer in his or her own way. Each offering left its mark on her, burning a hole straight into her memory. She pushed the thoughts away. She pushed the thoughts down deep, hoping to forget.
She could not so easily forget.
And, right then, right as her own captain was about to reveal her choices, the memories came flooding back to her, serving as a stark, naked reminder that some memories were unshakable.
Kaien had been the first—sincere and steadfast, like his heart. She remembered his boyish confidence in the bar. He had been so certain that he was the right choice. So certain, in fact, he had circled his own name. He was so supremely confident in his skill to protect. He had earned his confidence—that much she could not deny. He had a warrior's heart and skill.
The next offer came from the First's Chōjirō Sasakibe. He had been genial, formal. His movements had been refined. His voice had been soft and elegant. She had apologized to him at the end. She remembered shutting her door afterward—cringing at how stupid her apology must have sounded to him.
The Second's Ōmaeda had bustled through her door at some ungodly hour. His personal guard or servant (Hisana never inquired) had stood nervously behind Ōmaeda as the latter explained the "situation." The meeting had been notable for two reasons: First, Hisana could tell that Ōmaeda was only offering his skill out of some misbegotten sense of duty or because of some directive. Second, she was left wondering if he had offered his servant's services in lieu of his own. She had shut the door behind him praying that no other Vice Captains sought her out.
That prayer had not been answered.
Not at all.
The Third's Vice Captain had arrived early in the morning. Sweat had dripped from his brow, and he had watched her with wide weary eyes that cast panicked and hurried looks in her direction. The Third's Captain had been a casualty in the battle against the rebels, and it was clear that the Third's Vice Captain was in over his head. Likely, a potent mixture of grief and stress had conquered his wits. Hisana had shut the door after his departure wondering if the mission would have provided him some respite.
The Vice Captain of the Seventh had nearly filled Hisana's office with his stoic brand of cool. Hisana could not help but stare into her own reflection shining back at her from his sunglasses. When he had offered his blade, she was half expecting him to take off his glasses as some sort of token. He had not. She had shut the door behind him on his way out, wondering if he had even agreed to join her on the mission. (He must have, she assumed.)
The Eighth's Nanao Ise had knocked on her door at an appropriate hour. The Vice Captain was poised beyond her years. She had sat perfect seiza before Hisana, placed a very large book by her side, and gently offered her skill. Secretly tangled in a piercing thought, Hisana had managed an earnest smile at the young girl's perfect etiquette. Ise reminded her of someone—someone she had left many long years ago. Her age, pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes were so appropriate that it pained Hisana to look at the girl. "Thank you, Vice Captain," she had called to Ise as the Eighth's Vice Captain stepped across the threshold to Hisana's office.
The Sixth, Ninth, Eleventh, and Twelfth had vacancies, and, while their Vice Captains did not show up at Hisana's door, the Vice Captains' absence served as solemn reminders of what was to come.
The Tenth's Matsumoto had made her offer after a few drinks. Hisana didn't remember much about the encounter other than the goodbye. The Vice Captain had squeezed her shoulder, and she had bent down to peer into Hisana's face. At first, Hisana was certain Matsumoto, in her inebriation, would crack some joke to cut the tension.
She had not.
Glancing up and half-expecting a sloshy quip, all Hisana saw was herself. Her reflection shined brightly in Matsumoto's eyes. And, for a brief second, she had been certain that Matsumoto had seen everything—the good, the bad, the disappointing—and, instead of judging Hisana, Matsumoto didn't care. She understood. She saw Hisana as Hisana wished to be seen—flawed yet well-intentioned, brave yet scared, somber yet hopeful.
On that note of quiet camaraderie, Hisana and Matsumoto parted ways.
Gin Ichimaru had been the last Vice Captain to offer his protection. He had done it so nonchalantly. He had been confident, like Kaien. Supremely confident. Not that she would choose him. No, quite the contrary. He had been confident that she would not select him. The meeting had been a chance encounter at the market. She had been purchasing an apple. He had stopped to inquire about her decision through his enduring smile. (Hisana had not been certain whether he was asking about her decision to purchase an apple or her decision to sacrifice her life. She never asked. She didn't really want to know.) At first, she had wondered if this was some sort of payback for ruining his fun with Byakuya days prior.
Before leaving, he had petted her head with an affected fondness, as if he was wishing her an easy death. And, then he had turned on his heels, leaving her in his wake.
"The Vice Captain has selected three members of the Gotei 13," Unohana began, folding back the paper.
Hisana chewed on her lip and held her breath. Reflexively, her mind drew up the image of the paper. She knew it well. She had labored over the sheet for days. She knew its textures, its blemishes, its creases. She knew the ink she had used—its color, its smell. She could almost feel the bristles of her writing brush against the paper's fibers.
She remembered the feeling that gripped her as she put the names to ink. No longer were the names mere thoughts, subject to change on a whim. No longer were her companions imaginary, hypothetical. As she wrote down their names, saw the characters scrawled in ink, it all became real.
"Vice Captain Kaien Shiba of the Thirteenth Division."
Silence.
"Vice Captain Gin Ichimaru of the Fifth Division."
Silence.
"Byakuya Kuchiki of the Sixth Division."
It was brief, but she heard it—a soft stirring. Immediately, her eyes flew open and shot across the chamber to see Captain Kuchiki shift uncomfortably at the pronouncement. His contempt was clear even if his impassive façade remained unbroken.
"Captain Ukitake of the Thirteenth Division, do you agree to this arrangement?" The Captain-Commander turned to his protégé with a guarded look.
"Yes," Ukitake stated.
"Captain Aizen of the Fifth Division, do you agree to this arrangement?" Again, Yamamoto's voice boomed, and, again, the captain in question answered with a sharp, "Yes."
"Captain Kuchiki of the Sixth Division, do you agree to this arrangement?" Yamamoto's voice dipped on the "you." Hisana's head bobbed up at the inflection. She wondered if it signaled the Captain-Commander's displeasure with her selection, or if the Captain-Commander was indicating that he perceived Ginrei's affront.
Her heart pounded in her chest, and her eyes widened. Silently, she prayed that Captain Kuchiki would speak the right word.
"No," Ginrei stated evenly.
Yamamoto unquestioningly turned to Unohana. "Does the Vice Captain accept this response?"
Unohana nodded. "Yes."
"Does the Vice Captain wish to revise her selection?"
Unohana shook her head. "No. There will be three total, then."
Hisana bowed her head, feeling her heartbeat slow, and she breathed a small breath.
"The Second Division requests the Vice Captains of the Fourth, Fifth, and Thirteenth to meet at the Second's central offices at 1400 hours."
That was the last thing Hisana heard for what felt like an hour. An hour, however, had not passed. No, indeed, it had been only a few moments. The captains and their subordinates scattered toward the egress, leaving her in a quiet moment to collect her thoughts.
When she finally stirred, she clumsily turned right into Kaien Shiba. Horror swept through her, setting her neurons aflame. "Excuse me," she apologized, red-faced and bowing.
He shook his head at her. "Byakuya?" he murmured, teasingly.
She glanced up at him. A small wry smile bent the corners of her lips. "Four would have been an unacceptable number."
He perked up at the realization that she had counted on Ginrei's refusal.
"Did you ever hear the story about the three arrows?" she asked with a breezy smile.
Author's Notes:
Rose Attack: Thanks for the catch! It is corrected. The four as an unacceptable number is a reference to four being an "unlucky" number. (No small wonder why the Fourth division is the medical unit in the Bleachverse.) I will try to include the story of the three arrows in a subsequent chapter.