Year Five: Autumn

Hisana lies in bed. All of her joints ache. She isn't sure if it's the training or the existential dread that penetrates these crucial places, turning them rigid and fiery with the slightest pressure.

"Get up!" cries Tsuna.

When Hisana doesn't respond, Tsuna retaliates by throwing a pillow at her head.

"Stop being a lump."

"I'm not a lump," croaks Hisana.

She isn't, she tells herself. She goes to classes. She goes to work. She goes to bed. Somewhere between those things, she also eats and bathes.

Most days.

Some days.

At least once a week.

"Did someone die? You've been like this for months," chides Tsuna.

Hisana flops onto her belly and trains one eye on Tsuna. It's her bad eye. The blurry distortion turns Tsuna into an abstraction, a mosaic of color that would be better served splashed across an expressionist's canvas. From what Hisana can tell, Tsuna is standing near the small writing desk under their only window, and she's still dressed in her Academy uniform. The latter observation is a curious one. It's unusual for Tsuna to be wearing her uniform so late in the day, especially given the constant swirl of events going on this time of year. Hisana had been hoping for a mostly silent, roommate-less evening for her to sleep through whatever sadness currently holds her in its grip.

"You don't even go on your evening strolls any—" Tsuna's voice trails as if an epiphany has struck her dumb. "Wait!" She then turns to Hisana with an energetic hop. "Did Mr. Nightly dump you?"

Hisana rolls her face into the mattress and prays for death by asphyxiation. When death doesn't collect her, she mutters a low, "No."

"He did, didn't he? That's why you're a giant lump!"

Hisana isn't sure whether her roommate sounds more surprised or entertained at this realization. Both possibilities equally irritate her. "Leave me alone," she grumbles, her words muffled by the sheet.

"No way!" laughs Tsuna.

The next sensation Hisana feels is Tsuna's bony fingers sinking into the meat of her forearm. Tsuna tugs gently at first, but when Hisana doesn't budge, the tugging turns into yanking.

"Stop, you're going to dislocate my arm from its socket," protests Hisana. Her shoulder already aches enough, and she doesn't have enough energy to schlep across campus to the nurse's station to have it popped back in. The nurse and she are on a first-name basis as is, and she really hates being reminded of that fact.

"Then, get up!"

"Why?"

"We are going out."

Training her bad eye on Tsuna again, Hisana shakes her head. "No. Last time I went out with you, I got put on probation for half a year."

"We aren't going to a party."

"We aren't going anywhere," corrects Hisana.

"C'mon," Tsuna whines, "we can go for a walk, then."

"A walk where?"

"To go see a performance."

"What kind of performance?"

"One with boys." Tsuna holds the note on the last word a little too long.

"I'm done with boys," declares Hisana. Truly, another emotional entanglement is the last thing she needs.

"You know what they say," begins Tsuna with a wolfish wag of her brows, "the best way to get over someone is to get under someone."

"That's terrible advice," Hisana notes drily. "And, it's not like that." She turns her head to the side and stares at the wall.

"Not like what?"

"I wasn't dumped."

Tsuna lets out a little "humph." "You know, you don't have to lie to me. It's been four years, and I still haven't managed to snag a date. Getting dumped would be the pinnacle of achievement at this point."

"No, really, I wasn't dumped," says Hisana, her voice sounding far less convincing than she intends.

It's not a lie. She wasn't dumped. At least, she hasn't been dumped yet. She knows it's coming. Logic tells her so. The law tells her so. Society would tell her so, too, if she breathed a word of it to a peer.

She was so dumb to make him this promise. So incredibly, breath-takingly, paralyzingly dumb. To be fair, though, he did have to pry it out of her. She should've never capitulated. Now, she's trapped between a promise and knowing—truly, deep down to her toes knowing—that when he returns, he will have forgotten her. He's never said it, but she assumes that this year-long training adventure is in furtherance of his goal to assume his father's former position at the Sixth. When he succeeds, which she has no doubt that he will, not only will he not be the same boy who extracted this promise from her, but he will be burdened with a myriad of new responsibilities as lieutenant, and, if she's reading the room, he will return shortly before or after being granted this role.

Meanwhile, she's stuck between wanting very much to throw this relationship an extravagant, but private, funeral and keeping her word. This all feels like a slow-motion death with all of the torture and gore except more drawn out and extended.

To further rub salt in the wound, Hisana is convinced that the person to whom she made this particularly idiotic promise will no longer exist in a year's time. If so, does that void the promise if the promisee is no longer alive? Is this the loophole that she needs to throw this promise in the garbage?

Hisana supposes that she continues to hold a moral obligation to herself to keep her own word, to be consistent, to be good, whatever good means. It's not like she thinks Tsuna's advice of tumbling into bed with a stranger—to the extent that she could even accomplish such a feat—is award-winning. It sounds like a recipe for emotional turmoil. And, it's not as if Hisana craves being in a romantic relationship. Quite the opposite. What she craves is the distraction that Byakuya provides. His company brought her peace by diverting her mind from her actual problems. This reprieve gave her brain a much-needed break from its ceaseless mechanical rumination on deeds that can never be undone.

And… yet… does it matter?

If the cat is forever trapped inside a box, does it matter whether it's alive or dead? What would breaking her promise to him even look like? It's not like she's going to run out and marry someone in a year's time. Surely, he must know this, having lived with these people for over a century.

Was this just his way of forcing her to consider him even during his absence?

Then, it hits her.

It hits her like a mallet to the head.

Byakuya feared that she would run away, and that's why he felt compelled to tether her with this ridiculous promise. And, if she's being honest, he's been paying attention. She doesn't have the cleanest track record of sticking around when the tide turns. Little does he know that there are better shackles than love-drunk promises to keep her here.

However, she won't deny that it is sweet, even if a little arrogant, of him to think that he's her reason for staying.

"Get up," grunts Tsuna as she reels Hisana's limp body to the edge of the bed.

Hisana glares at the girl, mildly impressed at her strength but mostly annoyed by her persistence. "Why?"

Tsuna blinks. "Why what?"

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because we're friends," she responds with a look of bewilderment.

They are? Hisana would beg to differ, but there's no use. Tsuna appears to have her mind fixed on some goal, and Hisana is too numb and exhausted to fight much more than she already has.

"You're so much heavier than you look," grunts Tsuna as she hunches down to drag Hisana further toward the edge of the bed.

"Fine," Hisana groans before her shoulder can slide off the corner, "you win. I'll get up."

"Really?" Tsuna stops her prodding to glance down with a look of surprise. When Hisana nods, she immediately releases her grip on Hisana's arm and claps happily to herself. "So, how did he dump you? Was it at least to your face?"

"I wasn't dumped."

"Then, why don't you go on your evening strolls anymore?"

"There's no point," answers Hisana as she sits up on the bed.

"But, there was a Mr. Nightly, right?"

Hisana's eyelids lower, and she glowers at Tsuna. In no earthly dimension would she dare reveal this confidence. Especially not to a literal member of Byakuya's official fucking fan club.

"So, there was a Mr. Nightly," Tsuna surmises in a silvery sing-song cadence. "Who didn't dump you, but you no longer see." She pauses for a moment, then her face lights up. "Did you dump him?"

Hisana is mildly offended that this possibility had not occurred to Tsuna before now. Is it so unfathomable that she could have broken off a relationship? Does she give off that level of desperation?

Probably.

"No one was dumped. He's just…." With her words quickly sinking, Hisana leaves them hanging there with a shrug.

"He's just what?" prompts Tsuna. "Incapacitated? Taking a break? Dead? Is he dead, Hisana?"

Grinning, Hisana shakes her head. "He's alive…. I hope."

"You hope?"

"He went away on business."

"What kind of business?" asks Tsuna.

Hisana lifts a shoulder against the sting of Tsuna's skeptical glance. "Business that apparently will take him some time to sort out."

"Shinigami business?"

"Sure."

Why not? Byakuya's training is tangentially related to his assuming an official role at the Sixth. That's shinigami business in a technical sense.

"Sure?" cries Tsuna. "That answer sounds like you're trying to shut me up!"

"If the shoe fits…." says Hisana under her breath.

"You know who else went away recently?" Tsuna cocks her brow. "Lord Byakuya Kuchiki. And he left just about the same time that you—"

"Mr. Nightly is not Lord Kuchiki." To punctuate her irritation, Hisana folds her arms in front of her chest and gives a little snort.

"Hmm," hums Tsuna, seemingly unconvinced. "I suppose you wouldn't like to attend the fan club meeting tonight, then?"

"Yes, I would not like to do that."

"It might be interesting."

"I cannot fathom a more pointless expenditure of my time."

Tsuna's eyes widen, and her jaw drops. "You realize that you have been lying in bed for the last few months like a beached whale, right? It's not like you have so many important activities to attend to."

While true, Hisana is suddenly very skeptical of Tsuna's intentions. "The thing you are about to drag me to isn't the fan club meeting, is it?"

Tsuna tucks her chin down. "No, Hisana. The meeting is after the performance tonight. I was planning on dragging you to it after."

Hisana's eyes narrow. "What performance is this, again?"

"You've really been out of it, eh?" notes Tsuna as if it weren't already evident to Hisana just how not with "it" she's been. "It's the annual zanpakutō release performance. Every year, the Fifth and Sixth years are invited to see shinigami who have previously graduated from the Academy activate their shikai. It's supposed to be inspirational as we head into the Trials."

Hisana bats her eyes. "The Trials?"

Come again?

"The Trials," repeats Tsuna, whose expression immediately deflates when Hisana doesn't respond. "Hisana, the Trials? The. Trials."

"You keep saying those words like you expect me to know what you're talking about when I clearly don't."

"Okay, I get that you're terminally sad right now and haven't been on your… well… whatever game you're on when you aren't pretending to be a dying whale, but have you not been paying attention for all Four Years?"

Correct. Hisana has been avoiding planning for the future like it's her full-time job. This is a fact—no, a truth—that Tsuna should know if she'd been paying attention.

Tsuna throws her head back and sighs. "Hisana," she groans, "the Trials are supposed to test the culmination of everything we have learned over the last four to six years."

"Four to six years?" Shouldn't that be a more precise number?

"Yeah. They start the fifth year and continue through our sixth year, ending with the practical test in which we all compete against one another."

"What?" This is the first Hisana is hearing of this. "Compete against one another?"

Now, it's Tsuna's turn to gape at her. "Yes, Hisana. We compete against one another in teams. They told us this during orientation. Multiple times."

"Have they told us since orientation?" Hisana squints. She barely attended any of the orientation events this time around, and the Trials weren't something mentioned when she was here before.

"Oh, right, you missed most of orientation because you got here late." Tsuna puckers her lips. "Well, Hisana, it is spoken about enough."

"By who?"

"Everyone! There's a banquet every year for the winning team. Were you never curious as to what that was about?"

"No," answers Hisana and means it with her whole heart. Not even once has she ever questioned the happenings around this place. None of it matters. Not to her, at least. She's stuck here regardless of what they do to her next.

Shaking her head, Tsuna rolls her eyes. "You really are hopeless."

"Say more about the Trials."

"What more can I say? It starts out small with field trips and such. Then, it culminates in the Senior Final."

"What happens to the losers of the Senior Final?"

Tsuna's lips pull to the side. "Nothing unless you're the team that places dead last."

"What happens to them?"

"If you're dead last—like you didn't even tie with a single other team—you fail."

"You fail what?"

"To graduate," says Tsuna as if it's obvious.

"And, then, what?"

Tsuna glances up and to the right as if she's trying to remember an instance of this ever happening. "I mean, it's pretty rare for a team to be that bad, but, from the stories, you either go work for your parents or you… like… clean the streets or something."

"You work for the Fourth in other words?"

Tsuna shakes her head. "No. You can't be a shinigami unless you qualify in some other way."

"Such as?" Hisana taps her foot impatiently.

"Such as," Tsuna mocks, "behead the current Kenpachi or have your family pull strings with the senior leadership or something like that."

"So, you go and clean the streets privately? Like work for the city?"

"You, specifically, would probably be deported to Inuzuri. That's what happens to students from the Rukon who fail; they get deported to their originating district."

Hisana tips her head back. While she does not want to return to Inuzuri, she really does not want to join the Gotei 13. Maybe this is her ace in the hole against Captain Kyōraku's meddling.

Maybe this is her ticket out of here.

The more Hisana thinks about it, the more the possibility of returning to Inuzuri, and on the Academy's dime no less, isn't the worst. She's significantly more capable now than she was upon arriving to Soul Society. Further, she's not actively being pursued by thugs, thugs that she assumes are long gone. Maybe she'll be able to find her sister, and, then, she can spend the rest of her life making up for the wrongs that she's done.

That's not so bad.

Actually, that's pretty good.

Maybe there's hope yet in her failing.

Tsuna grabs Hisana's hand and drags her from the bed. "We're going to be late!"

"Ow," grumbles Hisana, fully prepared to brace against the ache of her joints.

Tsuna turns to her with fire in her eyes. "What, now?"

Blinking, Hisana is surprised to find that her joints no longer ache as badly. "Nothing," she says. "Let's go."

Tsuna beams at her before slapping her hard against the back. "That's the spirit!"

Hisana nods absently to herself, unsure whether the heavy ache of depression or the reckless abandon of hope is worse.

Fucking hope…

…it's always the worst….

Somewhere between drink number five of the most watered-down whisky that Hisana's ever had the displeasure of tasting and Lieutenant Shiba's demonstration, Tsuna drags her toward the entrance of the field. "I told you that I'm not going to your fan club," she warns.

"I heard you the first thousand times," sighs Tsuna. "But, that's not where we are going."

"Where are we going, then?"

"To take a peek at the assignment board."

"Assignment board?"

"Yeah," says Tsuna before jerking her chin in the direction of a large bulletin board posted near the entrance, "right there."

"What are the assignments of?"

"Our trials, duh. They begin after this event."

"Like right after?"

Tsuna glances askance at her. "Are you kidding me?"

Hisana grins. Of course not. Everyone's drunk. No way the Academy would do something so stupid.

Although….

She'd never accuse the Academy of making good choices, all things considered.

"The Hollow Hunt is the first trial." Tsuna's gaze flicks to Hisana. "Do you need a primer on that, too?"

"Sounds self-explanatory," Hisana chuckles. "We hunt hollows. Got it."

"My team is getting pitted against," Tsuna murmurs to herself as her finger slides down the Class A roster, "dammit!" She takes a step back and grimaces. "Class A is ridiculous this year. How are we going to take on the first and second students in zanjutsu in our class?"

Hisana arches her neck to see past Tsuna. Class B appears to have been broken up into six groups of five, and she has been slotted into Class B(c), which appears to be competing against Class B(f). Hisana recognizes none of the names in either section except for her own so….

Off to a good start, she thinks.

"What are these?" Hisana points to the names above Tsuna's lineup.

"The potential places for the hunt. Looks like one of the teams will get Takinoue and the other will get Junrinan in the Western First," says Tsuna.

"Which team gets which place?"

Tsuna shrugs. "Coin toss, I bet."

Hisana glances back at her class's sheet. Lightly, she traces a finger down to her team and looks for the potential hunt locations. The first is Mount Koifushi in the Western Third, and the second….

Hisana startles, eyes wide, breath sharper than any blade in her throat, and blood pounding in her ears. She can't believe it. It cannot be.

No. No. No.

"What is it?" Tsuna's voice filters in through the din in Hisana's head.

No, no, no, no, no.

Tsuna shakes her by her shoulders. "Soul Society to Hisana, hello?"

Inhaling her first breath after what felt like an eternity, Hisana gasps. "It's nothing."

"Are you okay?" Tsuna turns to the bulletin board. "What's got you spooked?" She then leans forward to get a close look at Hisana's matchup. "Oh, that looks pretty balanced. Should be a real nail-biter."

Hisana doesn't care about the teams or who she's up against. She cares about the potential locations. Or, rather, not drawing one of the locations.

"Mount Koifushi, that's not too bad," Tsuna notes. "And then the other place is—" She stops, and Hisana can't discern whether she stops because she lacks familiarity with this nightmare-inducing hellscape or if she knows. "Kuroi Jukai?" Tsuna glances over her shoulder at Hisana. "I'm guessing it's next to Mount Koifushi."

"It is," Hisana says on a ragged breath.

"Do you know that place?" Tsuna's brows bunch together.

"I do. Although, we have another name for it in the Rukon."

"What's that?"

"The Black Wood."

Tsuna raises her chin. "Not good, I take it?"

Hisana shakes her head. "No." Horrible, actually.

"You've been there before?"

"I have."

"And you survived!" Tsuna nudges Hisana's arm with the tip of her elbow and gives her a wide, toothy smile. "So, you're going to do great!"

"Barely."

Tsuna cocks her head to the side. "Barely?"

"I barely survived," Hisana clarifies. As in, she very much almost died. Terribly.

"Are the hollows really that strong there?" asks Tsuna.

Hisana considers Tsuna for a long moment, calculating just how incredibly crazy she will seem if she tries to explain herself further. "Not hollows. It's the wood itself. There's something wrong with it."

Something deeply, existentially wrong with it. Hisana thought the stories were incredibly quaint when she heard them. It sounded like the sort of superstitious drivel that one might expect from an exceptionally bored and lonely fishwife. Except it wasn't. The stories came from other thieves or fences, folks who got around. And, sure, criminals boast to one another, and Hisana would never wager anything of value on a thief's word alone, but….

They were right.

Not that she didn't heed their warnings. Even if the stories sounded fantastical, there's always a grain of truth in them. Someone surely died a terrible death there. It is a Rukon forest, after all. The Rukongai forests are rarely kind to a weary traveler. Accordingly, most people-Hisana included-who cross into the Black Wood are driven there because circumstances, not hubris, demand it.

"Looks like you have Captain Tōsen and Lieutenant Shiba as your team's volunteers," observes Tsuna.

"Oh? Shinigami volunteer their time for this?"

Tsuna nods. "Yeah, seated officers can earn a sizeable stipend for recruiting quality talent. It incentivizes them to pitch in so that the students can have more exposure to the various squads before making their bids when entering the sorting system."

"You had me at stipend," teases Hisana.

Tsuna smirks. "I figured so. Me, too. Apparently, the Gotei 13 salaries aren't that great."

No kidding, especially for the work they demand of the unseated officers if Captain Kyōraku's hourly rate for her occasional Rukon missions is anywhere near market. A big "if," though, considering the source….

"Oh?" Hisana pretends to be surprised at this news.

"Yeah. There are ways to boost it. Like taking on bounties in Rukongai and the World of the Living, helping with various administrative duties, overtime assignments, working holidays, or volunteering at the Academy. And, if you get senior enough, you can teach."

"Do the senior officers not make a whole lot of money?" Hisana's heart swerves at the possibility.

Tsuna frowns. "It's okay, but if you have loans from the Academy, you're probably going to be paying twenty-five percent or more of your income for the first fifty to one hundred years."

"What?" Never would she ever consent to that arrangement. They can go ahead and take her out back and shoot her now.

"Right? I guess it doesn't matter though. You get subsidized housing and food if you're a senior officer. Probably isn't that bad."

Hisana exhales a long breath. Twenty-five percent of any salary is too high in her estimation. What sort of racket are these people running?

"Well," Hisana begins, faking a yawn and stretching her arms, "I'm tired. Better get some rest. We've got hollow hunting tomorrow." Before she can take a full stride, Tsuna grabs her by her arm and yanks her back.

"Wait a second!" cries Tsuna. "You aren't coming to the fan club meeting?"

"No," laughs Hisana. "I have no idea what gave you the impression that I would."

"Hisana!" whines Tsuna. "You simply must come!"

Hisana wrenches her arm out of Tsuna's grasp. "Why?"

"Because you said you liked Lord Kuchiki."

"I like money. I don't show up to its fan club, either."

"One of your electives was literally in economics."

"Correction," Hisana scoffs, "I would've taken an economics class, but there was no demand."

"Was that a joke?"

"Yes."

Tsuna frowns. "It was terrible."

Hisana chuckles. "I'll go to the club meeting—"

Tsuna squeals and bounces up onto the balls of her feet.

"—but," Hisana's voice slices through Tsuna's excitement, "not tonight."

"Then, when?"

"Before the end of the year. I'll go. I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to it," threatens Tsuna.

Hisana bats her hand as she begins in the direction of the exit. "Got it," she calls.

Hisana, in fact, does not in any way, shape, or form "got it," but a vague sense of decency climbs into her chest and won't leave her alone. Decency, like hope, is just the worst, she concludes, hoping that Tsuna will forget this promise, but knowing full well that she will not.

Dammit.

When Hisana arrives at what should be Kidou V: Are You Butchering the Chants? The Importance of Dialectal Grammar, Prosody, and Cadence to Effective Incantation Structure, she is greeted by an upperclassman who slaps a red bracelet on her right wrist and gestures vaguely for her to find her team. Before she can figure out the sections, however, she is stopped by the requisite preamble, of course. There is always preamble. This is the Academy.

Hisana's mind wanders when Instructor Ōnabara begins, what she is certain, is a grand sweeping speech on how far they have come and what the next stage of their training means for their journeys of personal fulfillment and professional success. He's pretty good at these types of pep talks. Hisana, however, has never been one for grand sweeping speeches.

Once all of the high-minded gesturings end, Instructor Ōnabara directs the students to equip themselves with their zanpakutō and to leave their tactical carrying bags in the dojo. Afterward, they are to go to their designated sections. The section letters are emblazoned on sheets of paper posted at various intervals on the dojo walls.

Glancing around, Hisana finds her section, B(c), and waits with arms folded across her chest for warmth. Most of the students look to be every bit as lost as she feels; their eyes darting back and forth between the groups, probably to friends in other sections.

"You're Hisana, right?"

The voice comes from behind her, and Hisana sort of, almost remembers its sound. Turning, she takes one look at the boy and draws a blank. "Yes," she says, her voice pitching up a few octaves.

He stares at her expectantly. He's cute, she thinks. He has a mop of thick curly brown hair and soft brown eyes. But, she has no inkling of who he is or why he knows her name… beyond all the reasons that other students may know her name….

Chuckling, he palms the back of his neck. "I suppose I didn't make much of an impression when we served as volunteers at the Fourth."

Her brows rise up. "Oh, the Fourth." Yep, still nothing.

"I'm Harunobu Ogidō."

"Oh, right." She has no clue. "I'm so sorry for not remembering you. I was pretty distracted, then."

"Yeah, you had a friend who was convalescing there, no?"

Did she really mention that to someone? What was she thinking? Wow, she must have been struggling for such a lapse in judgment to have occurred. "Oh, right," she says as if she has no idea what he is talking about.

"I take it that your friend pulled through?"

She nods. "He's well, now." She hopes.

"You also helped drive back the attack during that one field trip, right?"

"I was there," she deflects for fear of summoning memories of that night.

"How fortunate for our team!" he says cheerfully.

Too cheerfully.

"And, you're interested in the Fourth?" she asks, wanting very much to side-step further discussion on any topic concerning herself.

Ogidō nods his head. "I'm interested in the Relief Team."

"So, healing?"

He nods again.

"Well, a healer is a good person to know when hunting hollow," she says, trying so hard to stuff brightness into her tone and failing.

"Alright, listen up!" calls Lieutenant Shiba. When the roar of chatter doesn't immediately quiet, the lieutenant gives a sharp whistle. "Team B(c)," he tries again, "we are going to the Western Third District, a place near and dear to my heart. Got it?"

"Yes, Lieutenant!" a few of the students cry out in near-unison.

"We are gonna have to be quick because we don't want to wait all day to start. Also, I think it's probably a good strategy to beat Lieutenant Matsumoto's team there. Really set the tone of the competition."

"Yes, Lieutenant!"

"Great! Who here is the fastest at flash-step?" he asks. "We need a team co-leader."

Panicked confusion crests over the students as they look to each other. Hisana keeps her head down and her gaze glued to the floor. To her, this sounds a whole lot like the lieutenant is asking the class to serve up one of its own at an alter… as a sacrifice.

When no one steps forward, Lieutenant Shiba gives the team a long onceover. "No one? No one, really?" A current of disbelief washes over him before he clears his throat and says, "Hisana!"

Dammit!

"Yes, Lieutenant Shiba," she responds, not bothering to hide her clear wince. Damn it all. He probably picked her because she's the only name and face that connected in his head. Another exciting benefit of her dealings with Lady Y.

"You're good at flash-step," he declares.

Ordinarily, Hisana would vigorously protest this conclusion. Her flash-step is perfectly adequate. Not good. Adequate. However, since the lieutenant is well aware of her abilities from years prior, she isn't afforded the luxury of playing dumb.

"Yes, and Hisana has experience subduing hollows!" Ogidō chimes.

Hisana shoots Ogidō a scathing stare. If he registers her annoyance, the boy makes no indication. His pleasant smile remains plastered to his face, and he gives her a friendly nod of approval.

"Oh, yes," says the lieutenant, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "I think I remember hearing about that incident. It happened in the World of the Living, right?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Shiba," says Hisana, sheepishly, now suddenly fearful of who else might know the details of that disastrous field trip.

"Great! It's settled," decides the lieutenant. "Hisana, you'll be the co-leader."

"Who am I co-leading with, Lieutenant?"

"Whoever arrives at the meeting point first," replies the lieutenant.

"Where's the meeting point?" asks one of the boys in the back of the group.

Lieutenant Shiba steps to the side, revealing a table behind him. Stacked on top of the table are a few pamphlets. "Everything you need to know. I'll escort you outside, and, on my count, the competition begins." He waits for the students to collect the pamphlets before adding, "Got it?"

"Got it, Lieutenant Shiba!" most of the students cry out more or less at the same time.

Hisana stares grimly into the pamphlet, fingers tracing the coordinates for the meeting place in the Western Third. Dread fills her when her eyes skim the possible hollow hunting grounds for her team. Maybe we get the mountain, her inner optimist rings inside her head.

Closing the cover over her finger, Hisana glances up to see the group drifting toward the doors.

We're not getting the mountain.

Her heart twists in her chest.

We're getting the forest.

With head hung low and body full of fatigue, Hisana trails the group.

When she reaches the midpoint between the mountain and the forest, she is greeted by Lieutenant Shiba and no one else.

"You are fast!" he says, grinning at her in a boyish way that makes her feel self-conscious.

Hisana bows politely. "Thank you, Lieutenant Shiba." Surveying the glade, panic crowds her. "Is Lieutenant Matsumoto's team going to meet us here, too?"

"That's right."

"And, then we decide which location we'll be hollow hunting?" Panic quickly sharpens into fear, and, as she swallows, she finds that her throat has gone dry.

"Already decided."

"Oh?" Hisana stares at him imploringly.

The lieutenant shoves a hand through his hair and glances into the mountain looming over the glade. "Yeah. I owed Rangiku one so…." He cuts her a sheepish look and quirks a brow.

"So?" prompts Hisana.

"I'm pretty familiar with the mountain so I let her take it. Didn't feel fair—"

Abject horror floods Hisana, and, reflexively, she turns, trying her best not to stumble over her own feet. A primal urge to run—run long, run hard—vines through her, but she forces still. Fingers curl into the meat of her palms. Her nails prick her. The prickle of pain keeps her chained to reality.

"—hey, you okay? You look like you're going to faint—"

Pressing the back of her hand to her lips, Hisana shakes her head. "I can't," she says faintly, heat stinging her eyes. "I can't." Every molecule in her body stops. Abruptly, painfully, horribly stops. She can't move. Can't think. Can't breathe.

"Sure, you can," says the lieutenant, his voice low and calm. He leans closer and places a conciliatory hand on her shoulder. "It's okay to be scared. I get it. You had a bad go of it during the last field trip to the World of the Living, but I'm here, and you have a whole team who's motivated to succeed. You're not alone, got it?"

Hisana turns her head and stares. Eyes wide. Muscles pulled taut like cables carrying a great weight. He doesn't understand. She wasn't alone during her field trip to the World of the Living, either. And, there was a lieutenant there as well. At the end. So, it's not about the last time.

Not really.

Maybe a little.

Somewhat.

Not completely.

Lieutenant Shiba draws away for a moment before returning, hands full of straps. At the end of those straps are a collection of water bladders. "Here," he says, "take ten minutes and go fill these. We'll need them."

The bladders swing idly against the autumn breeze, and Hisana watches their movement for a long moment. This isn't a chore, she tells herself. At least, it's not just a chore. What the lieutenant is really offering her is a private moment to collect herself before the others arrive.

She can't look weak. Not to them. Never to them.

"Thank you, Lieutenant," she murmurs before transferring the straps onto her arm.

The lake isn't too far a walk, and walk she does. She wants the extra seconds of solitude because, every third heartbeat, her heart skips before shocking her with the next squeeze.

Once the last water bladder is full and sealed, Hisana turns back to the rendezvous site to see what she already knows to be true: The team is assembled. Her private moment to plot her escape or accept her fate at the hand of the wood has passed.

Now, she must pretend that nothing bothers her, that her fears are merely phantasms in the dark, that she is strong and steadfast. She must pretend to be all of these with effortless grace, too. Such is her lot as a resident of the Rukon. And, so, she greets the group with her most charming smile, and she offers the bladders with the kindness of a mother handing out flower crowns to the local children.

"Wow, Miss Hisana is really prepared," notes Ogidō approvingly.

"I'm prepared as co-leader, too," boasts a boy with short black hair and a thin jaw as he flings a few satchels down to the ground.

"Of course, Takumi," says Ogidō.

Takumi Shiozawa, Hisana thinks, recalling the name from the roster. This means that the other boy, the one wearing some sort of bespoke hat that fully covers his ears, must be Towa Mima. This leaves Kaho Inuma, the only other member and girl in their party, whose petite stature is mostly obscured by the lieutenant, who stands in front of her.

"Congratulations on arriving so soon, Shiozawa," greets Hisana.

"Yeah, I was the first here."

"Oh, no, you weren't," teases the lieutenant. "I beat you by a mile. Miles and miles, actually."

"Of course, Lieutenant Shiba!" The boy bows three times. "Apologies."

Lieutenant Shiba cuts Hisana a quiet glance, but she does not say a word. Practicality has beaten the ego from her long ago. And, by the looks of it, she may be the only member of the team from the Rukon so….

There's nothing to be gained by bragging to nobles. It only ever seems to put a target on the Rukon kid's back. A fact that Lieutenant Shiba appears either to know well or, at least, intuit as he does not correct the kid further.

"Alright, gather round. We beat the other team in assembling so we get a head start on them. The mission is to purify as many hollows as possible within forty-eight hours." He points to the red bands around their wrists. "These log the number of purifications, got it?"

"Got it!" respond the students.

"Since we will be in the forest overnight, the Academy has given us a few provisions. We should use these wisely." Lieutenant Shiba turns to Shiozawa. "Please distribute the satchels."

"Yes, sir!"

"The rules are simple," begins the lieutenant, "you all work together to find as many hollow nests as possible. An important part of this mission is for you all to learn to trust one another and to learn each other's strengths and weaknesses." The lieutenant pauses and pins Ogidō with a look. "You there, give me a strength of yours."

Visibly stricken, Ogidō stammers before responding, "I'm good at healing. I think."

"Great! A healer. We're lucky. I bet the other guys over there don't have a healer." Lieutenant Shiba's eyes dart to Hisana. "Hisana, a weakness?"

"Hakuda," she says quietly.

"Good to know. Who here is good at hakuda?"

"I am!" calls out Shiozawa as he hands Hisana a satchel.

"Great. If close combat is needed, you're going to have to be on call." The lieutenant slings his satchel over his shoulders.

With knees pressed into the ground, Hisana unclasps the flap of her bag and tears into the items, heart in her throat. "And your role, Lieutenant Shiba?" she asks, pausing to give him a hesitant onceover.

"Oh, yeah," he chuckles. "I'm here only to supervise. Make sure none of you get into too much trouble."

Briefly, Hisana wonders if this is a recently instituted safety precaution in light of the disastrous field trip to the World of the Living. Probably not. She assumes a few dead and maimed students aren't enough to effectuate change among the systems here.

"No water filtration system?" she grunts as she takes stock of the items that have been provided, which include a compass, a reishi sensor, a scarf, a knife, a flashlight, a map, and a first aid kit. Hisana immediately sets the compass and reishi sensor aside to make room in the bag. "Can we add more items?" she asks. "I can be quick. It doesn't look like the other team has assem—"

Lieutenant Shiba cocks a brow. "More items? Are the ones packed not sufficient?"

She hears his skepticism but chooses to ignore it. "No, they're not. We need something to protect us from the toxins in the forest, a filtration system, more water, and activated charcoal, at the very least." Yes, she realizes that she sounds crazy. She, however, doesn't realize that she's trembling until the lieutenant squats down beside her and places the compass in her hand.

"We can't do that," he replies quietly. "It's going to be okay, Hisana. Trust me." He then sets the reishi sensor inside her satchel. "I'm not going to let any of you get hurt."

"We can't go far inside, then," she says, watching him with the seriousness of a heart attack.

The lieutenant gives a mild nod. "We can stay close to the edges." His voice is steady, and his face is honest, but Hisana knows this concession isn't firm but contingent on the demands of the mission.

"Alright, everyone, let's go," shouts the lieutenant as he stands.

Hisana drags herself to her feet and observes the group as they set out. Every thought in her head urges her to run, to escape. She's fast, and she's in the Rukon. Homefield advantage. She also knows a route around the Black Wood, and, beyond the forest is a town where she could easily shake off any pursuers. Her fleeing would be treated just the same as before. There's no Sōjun to keep her bound with the threat of prosecution, and Captain Kyōraku doesn't care. He's the one who pled for clemency on her behalf when Sōjun demanded her head. And, Byakuya is eons away. She'd be long gone before he returned, assuming she isn't already a long-forgotten memory to him by now.

"Hisana!" calls the lieutenant, pausing to shoot her a stern look. "Are you coming?"

Hisana glances down at the map held between her fingers. Her other hand wraps around the hilt of her zanpakutō. A squeeze is all that's needed to force her forward, her prior hesitation melting against the spark of anger.

"Coming, Lieutenant Shiba," she replies.

Upon entering the Black Wood, an inescapable and heavy sense of dread takes root. There is something hungry in this forest. It croaks and groans like a famished beast. Nothing about this place feels right. Nothing about this place brings a sense of calm or peace. Even its quiet draws the fear to the blood just as quickly as the hiss of leaves shaking against the wind or the scrape of talons against the bark.

Hisana glances over her shoulder at the four other students. All of them survey the canopy or the floor with a greater sense of ease than she can find. Briefly, she wonders if they feel how the forest aches around them, eager to devour.

"You look on edge," whispers Lieutenant Shiba.

He, too, appears perfectly still, perfectly calm. His hands are tucked into the sleeves of his robes as he peers down at her with a quizzical brow.

"Where are we going?" she asks.

He shrugs. "That's up to you all. I'm here to supervise, remember?"

Hisana nods, glancing down at the map, half wondering how such a feat was accomplished since not even a compass works in this place. She gestures to the left. "There should be a waterfall not too far away from where we entered," she notes to Shiozawa.

Shiozawa eyes her for a long moment. "I don't hear any water sounds."

"Me either," she agrees before showing him the map.

"Looks a little east of where we came in," he observes, tracing the scale line with his finger. "But we should hear something by now, I would think." He tilts his head to his right. "Maybe they were a little off on the direction?"

"Or the distance?"

"We could split u—"

"No," Hisana interrupts before he can finish. "It'll be safer together. Plus," her eyes dart to the lieutenant, "there's only one officer if we get into trouble."

Shiozawa frowns. "You don't think they would send us in here if it was dangerous, right?"

Yes! A million times, yes, she thinks exactly that. However, revealing the extent of her faithlessness in front of the lord lieutenant would be positively insane so she gulps down her heresy and, instead, springs for a meek, "Maybe. They want us to hunt hollows. That's dangerous in itself."

"Yeah, but," he starts, unconvinced, "shouldn't we learn to trust one another? Also, if we split up, it increases the chances of us finding hollows to slay. Sounds like a no-brainer."

"A no-brainer?" she parrots, mortified. "Agreed. There's certainly no brain involved in this plan."

"Great, glad to hear you're on board!"

Hisana gapes.

"Okay, you all, listen up!" bellows Shiozawa. "We are going to divide ourselves into two teams, alright?"

Hisana flails. "I don't—" she reaches for a protest only to be interrupted.

"Harunobu and Kaho are with me, and we'll go east. Towa and Hisana will proceed ahead. If any of us come across a nest, we will alert the other with a kidou blast."

"A kidou blast in a forest?" Hisana asks wryly under her breath. "We'll cause a wildfire."

"I don't know about that, Takumi," says Ogidō, quietly. "I'd prefer to get a better sense of this place before splitting up."

"Me, too," Inuma chimes. "It doesn't feel quite right, plus none of our equipment works."

Lieutenant Shiba's brows draw together. "What?"

"Yeah, look," replies Inuma, handing the lieutenant her compass. "The little arrow thingy has been spinning like that since we got here. I'm surprised it hasn't broken yet as fast as it's going."

Lieutenant Shiba returns the compass to Inuma. "Does the reishi sensor work?" he asks.

The girl's hand dives into the guts of her bag. Producing the bulky handheld device, she toggles the power button only to receive a loud blast of white noise. White noise is the sound that's reserved for the presence of a being with high spiritual pressure. When elevated reishi is detected, the device starts clicking. Depending on the strength of the spiritual pressure, the clicking intensifies until it sounds like static.

Clearly, no one in the group is blasting his or her reiatsu. Further, there appear to be no hollows nearby. The device is simply overwhelmed by the strange atmospherics of this place.

Lieutenant Shiba peers down at Hisana. "You've been here before, I take it."

Ding. Ding. Ding.

"Long ago," she answers. "It's not safe, Lieutenant."

The lieutenant shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Alright," he decides, "no one is splitting up. You hear that, Shiozawa?"

"Yes, sir," murmurs the boy, his face deflating.

"We stick to the edges." Lieutenant Shiba gestures Hisana closer. "Your map," he says.

She opens it wide for him to look on over her shoulder. "The closest marked hollow nest is here," she says, pointing at the red hollow mask symbol floating to the side of the waterfall symbol.

"East, eh?"

"Who drew up this map?" asks Hisana because, holy shit, does she want to meet this fearless shinigami and take them out for drinks to learn all their secrets.

"The Twelfth."

Hisana frowns. "Using technology, I take it?"

The lieutenant nods. "Yeah."

Great. So, their map is probably about as useful as their compasses and reishi sensors.

"Well, this place is reishi-dense enough that it probably won't be long before we run into a few hollows. We can take them out, then leave. There's no rule stating we have to stay here the entire forty-eight hours," says Lieutenant Shiba.

Hisana folds her map and shoves it into her bag. "Yeah," she sighs, unconvinced. If she were to make a wager, their bracelets aren't going to properly log the number of purifications in this place anyway.

They've been sent here to die.

The lieutenant turns but stops short before fully facing the other students. "Hisana," he says, his voice low, barely above a whisper.

She raises her head. "Lieutenant?"

"You have shikai, right?"

She averts her gaze to her feet and gives an almost imperceptible nod.

"Good." Then, his face brightens—the deep lines of concern previously creasing his face disappear—and he addresses the others with a hopeful tone, "Alright, we're heading to the east. I want you all to stick close together, okay? No one is going to play the hero. Only I get to do that, got it?"

"Yes, sir!" answer the students.

Hisana stares, feeling adrift but mostly vacant.

"Let's go," he says with a boyish grin and jerks his head to the left.

Hugging her chest, Hisana follows the group. That burning ache returns to her joints, and the sense of numbness that she thought she conquered yesterday returns in full force. In this state of existing, but not really, she walks for what could be hours or minutes until the current stops, and she stops with it. A reflex. Nothing else.

"This doesn't look right," calls Ogidō. He snaps his map against the light breeze that picks up out of nowhere.

"What doesn't look right?" asks the lieutenant, doubling back a few paces.

"If the map is even a little bit correct, we should be approaching the other side abutting the clearing, but we're not. In fact, if anything, it looks like we've gone deeper into the forest." Ogidō's eyes flick up to the thick tangle of branches overhead. The light filtering through the interstices is thin, almost nonexistent. "If we were truly near the edge, I don't think the trees and vegetation would be this dense, Lieutenant."

Lieutenant Shiba glances down at the map, tracing a path with his finger.

"Stop it!" mumbles Inuma faintly in the background.

Hisana tears her gaze from Ogidō and Lieutenant Shiba to Inuma and Mima. Mima appears to be holding something over Inuma, and the girl is cowering to get away.

"Stop it, Towa, I'm serious," she snaps. "I hate those things."

"What are you doing?" asks Hisana, drifting closer to their commotion. "Mima, what is that in your hand?"

"Nothing!" the boy chuckles. "It's nothing."

"No, what is it?" she presses.

"A frog," says Inuma, dodging away from Mima's hand before skirting behind Hisana.

"Put it down, Mima," directs Hisana firmly.

"C'mon, you can't be afraid of frogs, too, right?" He chortles.

"The frogs here are deadly. Put it down."

"Look at him. Isn't he cute—" Before Mima can finish, Shiozawa stops him by placing a hand on each of the boy's shoulders.

"Do as Hisana says and put the damn thing down," orders Shiozawa.

Mima growls. "Fine. Whatever. You two are fucking lame." He drops the frog onto the forest floor where Hisana can get a glimpse of the amphibian's colors.

"Are you a frog expert or something?" asks Inuma from behind her.

"I know a guy."

"A frog guy?" teases Mima.

"Yeah." Hisana reaches for a weak binding spell to trap the frog so that she can observe it closer. When the spell leaves her fingertips, however, it ignites, creating a small blast.

"What is going on?" demands Lieutenant Shiba.

"Hisana is trying to fry up a frog," mocks Mima.

"What?" Lieutenant Shiba shoves his way into the circle of students. "What is the meaning of this, Hisana?"

She stares down at her hand. "Kidou is malfunctioning."

The lieutenant blinks. "What?"

"I called for a pretty simple binding spell and got a blast instead." She looks up at him. "The reishi here is unstable."

"Why were you calling for a binding spell?"

"I think Mima might have unwittingly suffered an envenomation from a frog. I wanted to trap the frog to get a closer look at it."

"You know about frogs?" asks the lieutenant, not even attempting to hide his skepticism.

She doesn't blame him. "I have a frog friend."

"A frog friend?" Lieutenant Shiba does not look convinced. "Assuming you mean a friend of frogs and not a friend that is a frog."

Hisana chuckles darkly. "Correct. Lieutenant Ise met him, though. A while ago. Maybe if we survive, you can convince her to recount his dissertation on the majesty of the poison dart frog."

"Was it a poison dart frog?"

Hisana shakes her head. "No. This one looked to be a species that's not just poisonous, but venomous as well. If it is, its body contains spines filled with toxin, and, when touched, those spines pierce skin and inject the handler."

"How will we know if it's venomous?"

"Well, Mima will start vomiting and be in the worst pain of his life in about thirty minutes."

Mima's face drops. "What?" he cries.

"Any way we can stop it?" asks the lieutenant.

Hisana glances back at Ogidō. "Do we have any tape in the first aid kit?"

The boy immediately begins fishing through the items in his bag. "Yeah," he says and tosses her a roll.

"Give me the hand that you used to hold the frog," she says, turning to Mima.

He extends both of his hands. "I touched the frog with both of 'em."

"Both?" she exclaims.

What an idiot.

"Am I going to die?"

If not for the sound of fear swelling in his voice, Hisana would've chided him or, worse, teased him with a dry, "yes." However, the poor kid looks to be on the verge of a full-blown panic attack. "Unlikely."

"Unlikely!"

Hisana rips a strip of tape off his right hand in one yank.

He cries out, "What the fuck?"

"Looks like there are forty venomous fogs indigenous to the Western Rukongai," chirps Ogidō at a clip that makes Hisana suspicious that he's reading a line from a book.

One glance and her suspicion is confirmed. "Where did you get that, Ogidō?"

"My father gave it to me when he learned of the potential places our trial could take place."

"Is this contraband, Lieutenant?" she snaps, pinning Shiba with a glare. He never actually told her that bringing additional items was prohibited but… it sure felt like that's where he was going with it.

"No. You can bring books if you want." He glances around.

"Most of the envenomizations from frogs are survivable," Ogidō continues.

"Most?" squeaks Mima.

"Yeah, it looks like the majority of fatalities come from anaphylaxis."

"Ana-who?"

"It's when your body's immune system has an adverse reaction, and you go into shock, and your airways close up, and you can't breathe."

"Holy shit, I can't breathe!" cries Mima, rocking himself between the shudders of pain every time Hisana rips another piece of tape from his hand. "I can't breathe," he chokes.

"That's because you're having an anxiety attack," says Hisana. "Inuma," she calls, her eyes trained on the girl, "center him."

"Oh, okay," she says and bends down beside Mima. "How do I do that?"

"Just guide him through breathing." The ripping sound of the tape is eclipsed by Mima's wheezing and Inuma's confused guidance. Hisana thinks this might not be an entirely bad thing since he seemed to panic more whenever he heard the awful sound of the tape releasing from his skin.

Once Hisana is finished, she tosses the used tape to the side and examines Mima. "You're fine," she sighs.

"I am?" His eyes flutter. "Like the frog wasn't venomous?"

"Oh, we won't know about that for another twenty minutes or so," answers Hisana. "But, you're not going into anaphylaxis."

"How would I know if I was?"

"Usually happens within fifteen minutes," replies Ogidō.

Brushing the dried leaves and pine needles from her hakama, Hisana stands and grabs up her bag. "How about we leave the local fauna and flora in this place alone?" she asks the group.

"Sounds good to me," murmurs Shiozawa, who has been oddly silent through this event.

"What direction do we go in?" asks Inuma.

Lieutenant Shiba stirs before tipping his head to the right. "This way. Hopefully, we are near the edge of the forest, and we can get Mima medical attention."

"As in we are suspending this trial?" asks Hisana.

"Yeah, I think we've all had enough team-building now."

"Are we going to fail if we stop before time?" A note of terror rings in Shiozawa's voice.

Lieutenant Shiba shakes his head. "Your team will be eliminated for purposes of the competition portion of the trials this semester. No one will get booted."

Well, damn, thinks Hisana. Can't win every game, and she's pushing her luck stopping this nightmare so early.

"It looks like the trees are sparser this way," says Ogidō, leading the group forward.

Again, Hisana's thoughts drift as they walk. The dread is still there, pressing into her like a great weight spreading across her chest, but the sharpness of terror dulls, and her gaze takes in more of the shapes, colors, and variety of the forest's flora.

"Has it been thirty minutes yet?" asks Mima every hundred or so paces they take.

"Probably?" answers Ogidō.

Mima exhales a long breath. "Good. No vomiting, no pain except for what Hisana did to me."

She feels Mima's stare crawling against her shoulders, but she ignores him.

"Why did you do that by the way?" he asks.

"Tape can pull the spines out, which helps reduce the amount of toxins injected," she answers.

"Oh."

"You're welcome by the way," she adds without sparing him a glance.

"It feels late, doesn't it?" asks Shiozawa.

"Hard to say," replies Hisana.

The light where they are is very dim, and the ambient light getting bounced around by whatever weird shit exists in the forest is a pale lavender. The shadows are thick for what's that worth, but perhaps they have lost their way and are merely being dragged deeper into the heart of the Black Wood. That's what happened to her the first time she entered this place. No tip or trick seemed to work in navigating the forest. The wood's will overpowered reason, logic, time, and experience.

"Why don't we take ten?" says Lieutenant Shiba, whose cheery demeanor has flatlined into a look of weariness.

Hisana glances around, and, finding a large fallen branch, decides to sit on it for a spell. They're not dead, yet. They're not being hunted by the forest's creatures, yet. They haven't run across any other souls, yet. This is all good. Maybe there's hope that her last experience is only an anomaly.

This thought, however, scatters the moment she hears a loud groan and the sounds of retching.

"Towa?" calls Ogidō.

"I'm dying!" cries the boy.

"Shit," grumbles Hisana as she flings herself off the branch. "What's it say in your book about Red Phantom Lion-headed frogs, Ogidō?" she asks before heading in the direction of the sounds of vomiting.

It takes her barely a moment before she finds Mima, gasping between anguished sobs. "Everything hurts," he yelps in pain.

"Mima, would you mind coming over here?" she asks, trying her best to keep her voice steady.

"Yeah, why?"

"No reason. Just make sure you move very slowly."

The boy's eyes widen. "Why? What's going on?"

"Keep moving. Slow and steady." Her hand squeezes hard around her hilt. It's only a flicker of darkness and two blue wisps of light, but she knows that flicker and those wisps well enough.

Mima's eyes darken, and Hisana knows deep down that he's about to leap into a sprint. Fortunately, a wave of nausea trips him, and he falls forward right as the predator stalking him springs.

The black panther with twin tails quickly finds itself skewered through on Hisana's blade. A few thrusts and a sharp swipe later, the creature's head is severed from its body.

"My face!" screams Mima.

"What is happening?" calls the lieutenant.

Hisana peers over the dead cat's body to find Mima face down in a green plant with large oval leaves. Segmenting the leaves in half is a red stripe. "Oh, shit," she gasps.

"What is happening to my face?" Mima howls.

Lieutenant Shiba, Ogidō, and Shiozawa rush to her side.

"Mima, don't move," Hisana directs him, launching herself over the panther.

"Don't move?" he screams out, incredulously, as if being tortured. "My face is on fucking fire, Hisana!"

"Yeah, I bet it surely feels that way," she mutters under her breath. "But if you flail, it's going to make it worse." Gently, she pushes his shoulder back. "Don't put your hands—"

Too late. Mima tries to tripod his weight on his right hand, which dives straight into the plant. "My hand!" he mewls.

"Yeah, don't touch that plant."

"What is this? Pain?"

"Oh, it's pain, alright," she agrees, helping him toward the little path where Lieutenant Shiba, Ogidō, and Shiozawa look on. "It's a Fire Stinger."

"A what?" cries Mima.

"It's a plant with little hairs that inject neurotoxins into you, like a needle."

"What?" he shrieks before bending over and vomiting next to her foot.

Hisana frowns as she watches spittle and stomach contents spray up her leg.

"Am I going to die?" he cries out.

"You're going to want to die given where you landed on that plant," she says drily. "Hey, Ogidō, would you grab some more tape?"

"Sure, I got this one," says Ogidō, relieving Hisana of the duty of trying to rip the needles out with adhesive.

Skirting around the dead panther, Hisana takes one look at Shiozawa and shakes her head. "Don't lean against that tree," she says before turning to see Inuma crouched down next to a bush, "and don't eat those berries." Glancing back at Ogidō and Mima, she inhales a quick breath. "Ogidō, be careful near that spiderweb!" she calls out.

Mima blinks, his eyes puffy from the effects of the Fire Stinger's hairs. "This one?" he asks and reaches to bat the spiderweb away before Ogidō can react.

"No, don't touch it!" Hisana screams, but, it's too late. Mima has put his hand through the web, and his face contorts into a look of raw pain when he realizes his mistake.

The spiderwebs in the Black Wood aren't made of silken, sticky thread; they're made of thread that cuts like razor wire.

"My hand!" he screeches. Blood, thick and red, rushes from the deep wounds, and Ogidō immediately ushers Mima to the little path.

"Here, here," Ogidō says, breath coming fast and thin. "Let me try kaidou."

"You know kaidou?" asks Mima.

"Yeah. I'm pretty good at kaidou, actually."

"Why didn't you do that sooner?" chastises Mima.

"Good question." The corners of Ogidō's lips twitch into a nervous smile. "Here, let me see that hand of yours."

Hisana glances up at Lieutenant Shiba. "Kaidou doesn't use a process that distinct from kidou, right?"

His gaze shifts to her. "Not really."

"Ogidō, maybe don't—"

Too late. Just as the warning begins to spew out of her, the air around Mima's hand explodes, severing the appendage from his wrist in a cloud of red mist. Blood splatters across Ogidō's face, and he stares into the carnage with an expression of sheer mortification.

Mima wears the look of a man about to run. Panicked, Hisana rips open her satchel and, with trembling hands, pulls out a syringe and a vial of clear liquid. "Ogidō, catch!"

He grabs the loaded syringe and immediately sticks the needle into Mima's neck, which sends the boy plummeting to the ground.

"What was in that?" asks Lieutenant Shiba.

Hisana glances down at the label stretched across the vial. "Zancuronium?"

"What?" cries Ogidō. "That's a paralytic!"

Hisana and Lieutenant Shiba trade confused stares. "Well, at least he's not in pain?" posits Hisana.

"Oh, no, he's very much still in pain. All that's changed is he can no longer move."

"Why would they give us a paralytic in the first aid kit?" mumbles Hisana.

Lieutenant Shiba's eyes widen. "A good question."

Hisana begins unknotting her kosode.

"What are you doing?" asks the lieutenant.

"We're going to need to improvise a stretcher," she says, glancing around for long and hearty enough branches to work as poles.

"It's cold," says the lieutenant, staying her hand before she can loosen her white and red kosode any further. "I've got it."

Taking her first aid kit to Ogidō, they begin working on wrapping the boy's arm in cloth before applying the tourniquet. Ogidō glances down at his wrist for the time and, with a black marker provided in the first aid kit, writes "T: 9:45 a.m." across Mima's forehead.

"Ogidō," murmurs Hisana, "we left the Academy at 9 a.m. There's no way it's only 9:45 a.m. now."

Ogidō blinks. "Oh, shoot," he says, glancing back down at his wrist. "My watch stopped." When he goes to smudge the time off Mima's forehead, the ink holds firm to the skin. "Well. It's as close as we have," he reasons with a grimace.

Also with a grimace, Hisana picks up the remains of Mima's hand and stuffs it into his kosode. "Just in case the Fourth can work some magic."

Ogidō nods approvingly. "Just in case." He then tears off two small patches of tape to hold Mima's eyes shut.

"You think he's going to be okay, right?" whispers Hisana.

Ogidō tenses. "I hope so."

"He can still hear us, can't he?" murmurs Hisana, realizing her mistake.

Ogidō nods, wincingly.

"Hang in there, buddy!" she says stiffly and pats his arm.

"Here," calls the lieutenant. He and Shiozawa bring the makeshift stretcher closer and help load Mima onto it.

When the team starts out again, it is in dead silence. No one says a word. Hisana feels uncomfortably warm, her neck and back are slick. Both Lieutenant Shiba and Shiozawa have gone pale, sweat beading at their hairlines. Ogidō, too, appears miserable, and Inuma looks scared and shrunken.

Hisana is too wary to ask the obvious question—where are we going?—because she knows not one among them has a fucking clue.

"Hisana," says Lieutenant Shiba with a strained voice, "would you mind carrying my bag?"

She nods, and the men stop long enough for her to retrieve the large bundle that the lieutenant wears strapped to his back. "What's in this thing?" she asks.

"Sleeping gear," he responds.

"Should we look for a place to bed down soon?"

"There may be a rock formation this way," notes Ogidō. "Could be a cave for us to use as shelter."

"A cave?" scoffs Inuma. "Don't wild animals den in caves?"

"And hollows," observes Hisana.

"That doesn't sound safe," adds Inuma.

"Sleeping out in the open is less safe," reasons Hisana.

Lieutenant Shiba's jaw clenches. "Let's follow the rock formation."

Wordlessly, they oblige, falling again into a cold silence. They walk for what could be hours or days or years. Time moves rather like a snake in the Black Wood, Hisana thinks. Slinking side to side instead of marching forward, one foot in front of the other.

As a light misting rain begins to fall, they stop at the mouth of a rocky nook. Hisana and Ogidō enter this divot, which is covered by rock and a patch of ground from above. Once they confirm the area is free of animals and hollows, the lieutenant and Shiozawa place Mima's stretcher down inside.

Hisana perches on a lopsided elevation of rock, relishing the cooling sensation of rainwater against her skin. "We should probably try to collect some of this," she notes, taking out the scarf packed in her satchel.

"Good thought," agrees Shiozawa, who does the same.

"Who should take the first watch?" asks Ogidō.

"I can," respond both Lieutenant Shiba and Hisana.

"Don't worry about it, Hisana," says the lieutenant. "I've got watch duty. It's fine. You all sleep tonight."

"That's not fair, Lieutenant," protests Ogidō.

Lieutenant Shiba waves away the suggestion as he struggles to untie his bag. "No. You four go in and sleep while you can."

The four of them do as instructed, taking their sleeping bags and bedding down for the night, or what Hisana can only assume is "night."

Sleep doesn't come easy to her. Any little sound—from Ogidō's soft snoring to Inuma and Shiozawa's quiet whispering in the dark—wakes her with a start. By the fifth startle, Hisana crawls out of her sleeping bag and exits the nook to find Lieutenant Shiba staring up into the patches of dark sky above, his zanpakutō resting across his lap.

"You should get some rest," she whispers.

He jolts up straight and his shoulders shift uncomfortably. "It's fine," he answers.

Paying him no mind, Hisana sits down, back pressed against a large fallen tree. There is a strange vibration that echoes through her when her shoulder blades touch the bark. Hisana, however, ignores this sensation as nothing more than the byproduct of a weary mind. Her arms wreathe her knees, and she stares into the silvery glow of what she hopes is starlight.

"Hard time sleeping?" he asks.

She catches him glimpsing her from the corner of his eye. "Yeah."

"Sorry for not listening to you this morning."

Her lips pull to the side. "I didn't really give you any concrete information. You weren't wrong to think I was struggling from the last field trip. I am." Her heart sinks at this admission. It would be a lie to say that her mind doesn't drift to the act of violence that night and that her side doesn't sometimes ache without cause or reason beyond the memories of the flesh that are buried there.

"I'm the officer, though. Should've dug deeper." He runs a hand through his hair. "I'm used to…." His voice trails into the distance.

"Noble students?"

His head lists to the side. "Yeah."

Hisana lets her head rest against the tree, and she closes her eyes. "The air here is thick."

"It's the reishi density. It's very dense in some places. Less so in others."

"What do you think this place is?" she asks.

"A real piece of work."

Chuckling, she cracks an eye. "You know, the townsfolk on the other side of the Black Wood think it's a god."

"The forest? A god?"

"Yep. They think this whole place is a god, and that's why it's so fickle."

"Fickle? I'd say perilous."

"Fickle, too, allegedly. They say it chooses who to gnaw up and who to spit out."

Lieutenant Shiba adjusts his position. The sound of his underrobe rustling against the coarseness of the bark fills her ears, and she inhales a deep breath.

"Well, if that's the case, looks like the forest chose Towa to chew up."

"I'd say," laughs Hisana. "I've never seen a run of luck quite as bad as his."

"What happened when you first made it through the forest?" he asks.

"Pretty much the same as everything that's happening now, except I was alone." She pauses. "Mostly alone."

He tips his head back to get a better look at her. "Mostly?"

"There was a kid who ran into the wood. I saw her go in, and her dad asked me if I would help get her out. He looked so scared, and, well, I had my reasons." Personal reasons. The kid reminded her of her sister. She was small with big eyes, dark hair, and sweet chubby cheeks.

"I take it that you didn't save the kid."

"I did not save the kid," she answers. "The Black Wood chose her that day to chew up and me to spit out."

"What happened?"

"Wolves got to her before I did," she says and sinks her weight into the fallen tree. "When I went back to the edge to escape, I managed to get dragged deeper into the wood. And, well, things get stranger the farther you go."

"Stranger?"

"It's the toxins, I think. They make you hallucinate. I can't say what is real and what isn't. All I know is somehow I made it out in pretty bad shape. It took months for the toxins to work their way out of my system."

"Did you have a lot of experience navigating forest systems before this one?"

Hisana lifts a brow. "Years of experience."

"Was afraid that was going to be your answer," he says and crosses his arms over his chest. "Anything in particular that stands out other than the wolves, panthers, and toxic everything?"

"The farther in you go, the less stable the wood becomes."

"What do you mean by that?"

"The ground is loose and can give way to molten pits that burn on oily air. There was a big pit toward the center. The smoke was so thick, I can almost smell it to this day. Then, there's the fog."

"The fog?"

"Yeah, poisonous fog."

"You're fucking with me."

Hisana smirks. "Not at all. There's a fog that drifts in and boils the skin."

"How did you manage that your first time out?"

Hisana jerks her chin in the direction of the scarves spread across the rock a few feet away. "Wet cloth helps neutralize the chemicals that blister the flesh. Personally, I dove into a spring. Lucky for me it wasn't a lava pool. I wouldn't recommend doing the same."

"Got it. No diving into pools around here," he laughs.

"That's the spirit," she teases him.

"So, what's the odds of us surviving out here?"

"I did it," she says, springing for a confidence that doesn't resonate. "Which means that it's a non-zero probability."

"There's more of us, too," he adds thoughtfully.

"But, we are sort of dragged down by Mima."

"How long do you think that paralytic is going to be in his system?"

"A question better asked of Ogidō," she laughs. "I really thought it was an analgesic."

"Me, too." He rolls his head in her direction, and she can tell he's studying her like he wants to say something impolite or ask a question that's far too personal. Before he has the chance, a soft moaning noise sounds from behind them.

Both of them turn to stare into the pitch black that is the entrance of the divot into the rock formation. As the noises pick up in cadence and intensity, they exchange a knowing look.

Two of the students are having sex. At least, that's what it sounds like. "Probably Shiozawa and Inuma," surmises Hisana.

"Why do you say that?"

"They were chatting earlier in the night."

Lieutenant Shiba continues to stare into the darkness while Hisana goes back to resting her back and head against the tree. "Officers in the field don't often succumb to temptation, Lieutenant?" she asks sarcastically.

He looks ruffled. Really ruffled. It's probably the closest that he's come to resembling Byakuya.

"Should we-"

"Absolutely not," she cuts him off. "In no world would I try to break up two students from that. I'm not their parents."

"Should I?"

"Would not recommend it. You're not their parents, either."

Stiffly, the lieutenant slides back down into his previous position braced against the tree. "They're really going at it," he notes under his breath.

Hisana glances at him, and, when he catches her, they burst into laughter. The laughter dies, however, when a low growl emerges from the darkness beyond the patchy silver light illuminating the forest floor.

Reflexively, Hisana tears into her satchel. Her hand wraps around the heavy metal of the flashlight, and she turns it on to realize that it, too, does not work. "Fuck," she groans before unsheathing her zanpakutō.

Lieutenant Shiba follows suit. "I can't sense them."

Them.

She, too, thinks it's a them.

Wolves.

"Hold on," she says. Closing her eyes, she tugs at the piece of resolve remaining embedded in her heart. "Sing, Komorebi," she whispers, releasing her shikai.

The second sight that she's used to—the vision of reiatsu streaming in beautiful golds and blacks—is the visual equivalent of white noise, just like the reishi sensor.

This fucking forest.

"Lieutenant?" she murmurs softly.

"Hisana?"

Hearing his voice, her hand reaches out, and she grabs hold of his arm. He doesn't react. Doesn't say word. Tethered and grounded to the lieutenant, the ribbons of gold of his reiatsu unfurl, and she can make out faint flickers a few feet away, in the crush of trees. "There are six of them at least," she whispers.

"You can see them?"

"Hints. The forest is hiding them." Hisana doesn't know how else to explain what the forest is doing. "The one at eight o' clock is advancing." The wolf's reiatsu snaps toward hers, seemingly drawn to their spiritual pressure.

Hisana hates four-legged opponents. They're far too quick, and, when they're lithe like wolves, they're capable of stacking attacks with little downtime in between assaults. While her power can be nimble, their speed often bests her own.

"There it is," notes the lieutenant. As he shifts into a guard stance, her grip on his arm slips. The static returns, and Hisana seals her zanpakutō. It's no use.

"Any tips on how to fight these guys?" asks the lieutenant.

"Just move fast and avoid kidou if you can." A second later, the pack makes its move with the wolf at eight o' clock taking the lead.

Lieutenant Shiba squares off against the leader. His blade sings through the air but misses. The wolf, however, doesn't miss, and lands with a piece of white fabric hanging from its mouth.

A rivulet of blood streams from the lieutenant's forearm, down his hand, down the blade of his sword. "These bastards are quick."

"That they are." Just as the words leave her mouth, she blocks an assault from her right. The wolf's weight collides with her on the counter, knocking her off her feet, where the creature pounces.

Hisana, however, manages to position her sword in time to stab the blade through the wolf's tender belly. Its jaws snap at her neck; its breath falling heavy and hot against her chin and cheeks. Twisting her sword deeper into the beast, she hears a wet squelch before the crack of cartilage and bone. Then, the wolf falls limp over her, like the crashing of a wave.

Breath floods from her lungs as she struggles to force the beast's body off her. Before she can wiggle her zanpakutō free, another wolf launches, maw snarled and pearly white teeth gleaming. Hisana isn't quick enough to swing her sword at the creature. Instead, she leans into the wolf's gravity, forcing her entire fist and arm down its gullet. Only when she feels the beast's teeth sink into her arm, does she loosen the kidou blast, which causes the wolf to explode in a puff of red as its meat and viscera scatter and thud to the ground.

Hisana is prepared for the next two wolves, managing a truly inspired wind-up that sends her blade careening through one wolf, splitting it in half. Dragging the momentum backward, she manages to catch the second attacking beast through the neck, plunging the sword deeper until it punches out through the other side. A jagged twisting motion decouples the beast's head from its shoulders.

When the relentlessness of the assault pauses, Hisana and Lieutenant Shiba stand close, forming a tight circle. Gleaming golden eyes stare at them like twin fires burning in the wood. The wolves that are more than mere ghosts in the dark retreat to the treeline.

"What do you think they're planning?" asks the lieutenant.

"I have no idea."

Almost on cue, one wolf lets out a shrill howl. The other wolves join it until the entire forest echoes with their pleas.

"Backup?" asks Hisana, trading glances with the lieutenant.

"What does backup look like to a pack of wolves?" he asks.

"In a cursed forest? Probably don't want to stick around long enough to find out."

And, yet, neither of them moves. Hisana isn't so sure it's fear, though, that's keeping them tethered. For her, at least, curiosity and exhaustion play bigger parts in her inability to flee.

That is… until she feels the familiar beating of reiatsu. Its overwhelm swallows her whole, forcing memories of the hunter in the wood to flash to the surface of her mind. Terror levels her, and she does everything in her power to brace against the force of the creature's reiatsu.

Next, comes the terrible sound of heavy metal scraping and clanging against rock. This is soon followed by the tremor of quaking footfalls. The wind picks up, bending the tops of the trees and shaking their branches.

Terrible groans rise from the earth as the ground splits under the weight of the creature that lurks in the dark beyond the edging of trees, where those corn-yellow eyes continue to watch them, covetous and unblinking. From the fractures, gas belches out then heat then flame. Again, she and the lieutenant exchange a look.

"I will rouse the others," she says.

But, before she can step off, the hunter appears. Its masked head hangs low, as if in shame, barely above the tops of the trees, and he lumbers hunched down into itself. By the positioning of the hollow's shoulders, it is dragging its arms behind it as to moves. The harrowing noise of metal against stone eclipses the wolves' whining and howling.

"Go, Hisana!" shouts Lieutenant Shiba.

Without missing a beat, she flash-steps into the nook and shakes Shiozawa, Inuma, and Ogidō awake. "Get your weapons," she commands them.

When they rush out of the cover, the lieutenant stands guard. "Hisana, take the students away from here."

"No, Lieutenant, there's no way—"

Agitation flares in his gaze as he turns to her. "Go, now!"

"Lieutenant—" she protests, but, seeing the look of determination that steels his face, she gulps down the rest of her words.

"Hisana," he growls.

"What about Mima?" asks Inuma.

"Leave him here with me."

"I can take him over my shoulder," Shiozawa offers.

"All of you leave, right now. That's an order."

Hisana's eyes lock on the sway of the trees as the hollow crashes through them. Targeting them, the beast lets out a roar that chills the blood and shakes the bones. The next step it takes splinters the earth, and the ground pulls back. The cracks widen, allowing fire to shoot up. The flames lick and burn at the forest floor and catch in the dry leaves and pine needles.

Lieutenant Shiba eyes Hisana. He considers her for a long moment. "Persuasion, right?" he asks.

She nods.

He offers her his hand, and she takes it, grip tight. He reels her close. "Think if I land a strike you can ride my connection or does your blade need to connect with the hollow directly?"

"I think I can piggyback off your attack." She's never done such a thing, but if she has to ground herself to him anyway, she doesn't see a way around his reiatsu other than using it as a link in her attack.

"Okay, hold on tight," he says, readying his zanpakutō.

Hisana calls forth her shikai. The golden tendrils of the hollow's reiatsu burn bright. Carefully, Hisana matches her reiatsu with the lieutenant. It takes a few attempts for her to link not only to Lieutenant Shiba, but to use his link as a successful connection point to grab ahold of the hollow, but, once she manages to snatch hold, she swiftly begins to unbind the knots of the creature's soul.

As she slips the remaining knot, she forces the beast to its knees before it is within striking range of where they stand. It is at this point when the lieutenant releases his hold of her, and she loses her connection to the hollow.

"No, wait, Lieutenant," she cries as he launches an attack only to step back as the hollow regains its footing.

Immediately, Hisana rushes forward, sword drawn and ready, but, before she can reach the hollow, the ground breaks from under her. The piece of earth beneath her feet pulls away, forcing her to the side. Fire rages up between her and the lieutenant. Flames begin to spark and catch in the dry grass and leaves, which drives her back still.

"Hisana!" calls Lieutenant Shiba, his trident twirling.

"No, don't!" she cries out, fear slicing her heart at the thought that he might try to staunch the flames with his shikai. "It's an oil fire!" Her voice, however, does not reach him in time.

One of his waves crashes into the flames spewing from the earth, which sets off an explosive chain reaction, knocking Hisana into the abyss running between the cut-up forest floor.

Gasping, Hisana tries to fill her air-starved lungs, but they quiver and seize, unable to draw the breath rushing down her throat. "No," she rasps, her voice thin and high as soon as Ogidō's and Shiozawa's faces appear above her. "Run!" she screams, crawling away from the geyser of fire that shoots up from below.

Shoving through crumbling rock and bramble, Hisana tumbles, breathless and with vision cutting in and out, down into an inky hole before crashing hard on her right shoulder. She's pretty sure her clavicle cracked apart on impact, but pain does not reach her. Nothing reaches her. Sound. Smell. Touch.

She stares up into the darkness, black as pitch, gasping for air. When the first breath tears into her lungs, she spasms so hard that her shoulders lift from the dirt before slamming back down at the force of the coughing fit that overcomes her. Hard breaths and the gurgling of spit in her throat echo in her ears, and, then, pain, white-hot pain, follows an electric path from her clavicle down her arm.

"Well, well, well," enters an unfamiliar woman's voice. "If we don't meet again, Stranger."

Hisana tips her head back to see a masked face standing over her. This mask, however, belongs to no hollow. It's a mask to purify the toxins of the woods. A strange amalgamation of leather, metal, and hard plastic.

"The forest has chosen you." The woman places the tip of her spear against the hollow of Hisana's throat. "Let's see if you'll survive again."

And, with that, all earthly light abandons Hisana.

Hisana is dreaming, a fact that she knows because she's not in the Black Wood, shivering cold and afraid. She's not cold at all. And, she's not alone. She's with Byakuya, sitting pleasantly at one of his family's restaurants. As is custom, she has a book on kidou, and she offers it to him. Also, as is custom, the moment he demonstrates a flicker of interest, she is crawling into his arms and turning to the passage that has her "stumped" today.

It's a dream so the words in the text swim and come in random order that seemingly mean nothing and everything. The words aren't important, though. What's important is the feeling that accompanies this ritual. Byakuya is pulled around her. He did not ask for this proximity. He never does. At least, not with words. And, she loves it. His initial silent protest. The feeling of his body vibrating with tension as this silent protest surges from the muscles in his arms to the muscles in his chest, and, then, to his throat. But, he swallows it. He swallows it down hard.

Does she like torturing the young lord? Of course. But, there's something else that she likes better. She enjoys the tension, the danger of him possibly rejecting her, and the knowledge that what she's doing under the guise of learning is really not that at all. It's really about setting him on edge, confirming to herself that he likes her in a way that he won't say out loud. Never out loud. Never full throatedly.

What she likes better than his poorly constructed reserve, though, is what happens next when she tries to engage him on kidou. This, too, is mostly pretense. She already has read the passage, has already read the supplemental interpretative guidance materials, has sat in a dojo or in the little patch of wilderness that frames the Academy grounds and put the wisdom of the text to practice. Often to poor results at first. But, she asks him the questions that came to her mind upon initial review. And, the answers that he supplies are usually things that she has recently learned. Sometimes they aren't, though. Sometimes he surprises her with his perspective or his experience, and she loves these moments best.

As they talk about the intricacies of casting or binding, slowly but surely the tension that previously vibrated in him rises and melts like tendrils of fog trailing into the morning sun. Only then, after all the preamble, does his arms fall around her like a well-loved blanket, and there she finds peace.

The peace she finds with him is quiet and sweet. It's existing without thinking. It's the heaviness of being known without commentary. It's being seen without feeling examined.

There are few people in this world and the one before it with whom she could ever find this kind of contentment, whose air that she could share forever without protest, whose mere presence next to hers meant safety, not a cause for alarm.

It is perfect, and she is happy, and nothing hurts.

When he bends his head and kisses her on the cheek, she knows that he feels the same, and no other words need to be exchanged as gratitude.

This, however, is only a dream.

The reality that tears her from the golden light and the warmth of love is dark, cold, and brutal. Its touch brings a shiver crawling up her back, shaking her awake with a start.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," enters a voice that rips through the inky fog of oblivion like a knife through silk. "Don't move too quickly. You'll reopen the wound."

Her eyes blink back the slumber, and she finds three women staring down at her. Their faces are bare, free of scarves and masks, and they all appear to be about her age… for whatever that's worth in this place where time's hand falls heavier on some than others.

"She's awake," the dark-haired woman shouts across the room.

Hisana's gaze shifts to see a tall red-headed woman striding toward her. "Ah, yes, our old friend returns."

"Friend?" Hisana's voice rises in her throat like shards of glass.

"A friend of the Black Wood is a friend of ours."

"I wouldn't say that." This homicidal forest is most definitely not her friend.

"Well, it's spared you twice," says the redhead.

"Spared?" Hisana watches the redhead with an incredulous stare. She wouldn't have considered herself particularly spared, given that she's lying here, agony crackling along the tracts of her nerves.

"It saved you from the wolves and the hollow," reasons the redhead. "Your friends' fates might not be as kind."

Hisana pushes up against the lumpy mattress. Sparks of electricity shoot up and down her side and across her chest. "Say more."

"There's nothing more to say. The wood is famished. It demands life."

Hisana studies the woman. Her jawline is sharp, her eyes dark, her skin pale, and her hair is tightly bound up in a braid. None of the other women seem particularly healthy-looking, either. Their faces are drawn; the hollows of their cheeks and neck are deep.

"You're saying that the wood plans to consume them?" asks Hisana.

The redhead tilts her head to the side. "The wood chooses who it takes and who it spares. You brought it a very potent sacrifice."

"Brought it what?"

"Your shinigami friend. He's strong. The wood will be able to consume him for centuries."

Hisana slings her legs off the bed. Her feet need to touch ground, need to find purchase. Maybe it's the toxins or the smoke inhalation. Nothing is making sense. And, the faster she tries to move, the quicker her world seems to spin.

"Drink, you're parched," says the brunette standing at her side.

The woman brings the rim of a cup to Hisana's lips. Cool liquid wets Hisana's mouth, but she keeps her lips sealed, superstitious enough to fear that consuming the water and food of this place might keep her trapped inside forever.

"Drink," the brunette repeats. A golden puff leaves her lips, and Hisana rears back to escape the woman's touch.

Kidou? she wonders, not sure what to make of the sparkling fog of buttery light that flutters and sinks over her cheeks.

When Hisana doesn't obey, the woman brushes her thumb under Hisana's jaw, and her mouth opens as if by reflex.

"Good girl," hums the brunette.

Hisana gulps down the water, wincing with each swallow. Her throat feels chapped, and the water stings all the way down. Once the cup is empty, the woman draws back and offers Hisana a torn scrap of dried meat. "From your hunt."

"My hunt?" asks Hisana.

"Of Isamu's tribe."

Hisana pans the room. The others have mysteriously disappeared. "I don't understand."

"They're children, but often are mistaken for wolves."

Hisana's muscles lock. "What?"

"We're all children of the wood," the woman adds distantly. "They will lead you to your man."

"My what?" Hisana's brows knit. "I don't—"

"The man you kiss."

Hisana shakes her head. "I wasn't kissing anyone. You're confused."

"Once he finds you, you kiss."

Again, Hisana shakes her head. "I think you may be mistaking me for another woman in my party." Also, how does this woman even know about Inuma and Shiozawa? No one was there but them. Right?

"You were dreaming about your former lover," says the brunette, her gaze drifting over the basin of water set on the wooden table beside the bed.

Hisana's eyes narrow as she inspects the woman. There is something not quite right about her. Her gaze is cloudy as if she is struggling to focus on the present and not some thought buried deep in the recesses of her mind. She is pale, skin as white as snow. And her dark hair falls around her shoulders and down her back like soot.

"Why do you think that?" asks Hisana, curious as to how the woman guessed that she was dreaming about Byakuya.

"The water turned pink. Your reiatsu is red so you must have been bonding with someone whose reiatsu is white. It turning such a lovely shade of pink means the bond is deep, like that of a lover."

Hisana peers over at the water to see that the woman isn't completely detached from reality. The water is indeed pink. However, Hisana isn't sure that she buys that it was her dreams that turned it. More likely blood or mineral runoff from whatever toxic shit lives in the soil altered the water's color.

"Your man's kiss saves you," says the woman. "So, accept it."

Hisana's brow furrows. "From what?" She's so desperately confused.

"Death."

"Death?"

"Yumena," calls the redhead, "you're making our friend ill at ease." The redhead's gaze lingers on Hisana's hand.

When Hisana looks down, she realizes that she's grabbed ahold of her hunting knife, and she freezes.

She hadn't even….

"It's fine," laughs the redhead. "This is why we have Yumena. The air affects her differently. She's able to convene with the wood to discern our truths when, perhaps, our senses deceive us."

"Is she often wrong?" asks Hisana.

"Often?" The redhead glances up in thought. "No. But, we are all wrong from time to time. Why? Did she give you a faulty reading?"

Hisana stares into the hand white-knuckling around the hilt of the knife. "Where's my zanpakutō?" Her eyes lock on the redhead.

"We don't allow the use of such weapons. The Black Wood finds them deplorable."

"Where is it?" Hisana persists.

"Again," the redhead's voice hardens, "the wood requires this blade to be sheathed. It causes great destruction, and great destruction must be paid. I don't think you'll like the terms of that payment."

"I don't understand—"

"The wood is hungry," murmurs Yumena, gazing into unseeable memory. "It is so hungry, Uruha." With these words, Yumena sinks to her knees, her body trembling like a leaf.

"A sacrifice, Yumena?" asks Uruha, draping a heavy pelt of glossy brown fur over Yumena's shoulders.

Yumena nods and then crumbles onto the floor in tears. "Or a hunt."

Uruha lifts her head, then gestures for Hisana to come near. "What is it you and your friends seek?"

Hisana stands, legs feeling like rubber. "A way out of the wood."

Uruha's gaze drifts to Yumena. "Will the Black Wood abide?"

Yumena shakes. Her fingers splay across the dirt floor before tensing, digging into the ground until her fingertips disappear up to her first knuckles in the soil. "Take the girl to the cave. She will find what she seeks there."

"Come," says Uruha, gesturing to Hisana.

Wordlessly, Hisana obliges, following the woman into a larger room. Surveying the space, Hisana guesses that they're tucked inside some natural feature, like a hill that's been hollowed out or a small cave. The ceiling is made of brown dirt and red rock. The ground is made of brown dirt and red rock. And the walls are made of brown dirt and red rock. Old branches and raw wood from the nearby trees have been bound and sanded down into improvised chairs and tables. A fire burns in a sunken pit, and a poorly sculpted piece of metal sits atop the fire.

"Listen up," begins Uruha, "a sacrifice is needed."

Tiredly, the others exchange dark looks.

Hisana doesn't miss how some of the women's stares snap to her. The air grows thick and heavy with expectation. Some of the women sink into themselves, curling into balls like insects in the throes of death. Others gaze bitterly ahead. More than a few study Hisana with a predatory look.

As the seconds stretch into minutes, Hisana cannot escape the obvious conclusion that she's the sacrifice.

"A hunt, then?" asks a woman with short choppy black locks.

Uruha sucks in her cheeks. "Yes, Moa." Her gaze shifts to Hisana. "After we take our new friend to the Obsidian Cave."

Moa's head bobs up. "What's there?"

"The price she must pay."

One by one, the women all bow their heads and say in droning unison, "Penance must be paid."

Tension builds in Hisana's back and shoulders as another inescapable conclusion rains down on her: Oh, fuck, she's been taken in by a cult.

Staring out into the pale haze of what Hisana can only assume is morning, she waits. Uruha, Moa, and a young girl with curly brown hair, Ena, are gathering items for the daily foraging.

"It'll be winter soon," says Ena, leading a very large, very colorful bird by a bridle. Its feathers are a purple that nearly blinds Hisana on first viewing. "Which means our bird friends will hibernate."

"What is that?" If Hisana didn't think she was holding onto the last strands of her fraying psyche before, she certainly does now.

"A Radiant Elephant Bird. They're big enough to carry a man, they're fast, and their legs are tough enough to withstand the toxins and extreme heat of the waters and flora around here. We use them for traveling long distances."

Ena hands Hisana the reins of the bird. "Her name is Koko. She's my mount," Ena adds.

"What does she eat? And how much?"

Ena laughs. "She loves worms and insects."

"Not people?"

Ena grins wide. "Not people."

"Are you not—"

Ena shakes her head. "No. I am going to help prepare for the hunt."

"What's that?"

"If you make it out of the cave alive, you'll see." Ena's grin shortens before she moves to the door of the shelter.

"If I'm going to the cave, can I have my sword?" asks Hisana.

Ena cuts Hisana a knowing glance. "You don't need your sword."

"I will if there are hollows." She'll also need it if there are no hollows. She's not arrogant enough to think she could take on the Black Wood's beasts with a knife alone.

Ena pauses, one foot inside the dwelling and one foot rooted to the damp forest floor. "Why?"

"My zanpakutō purifies them," answers Hisana.

Ena's sad little smile widens, and her eyes squeeze shut. "There's no purification in the wood, silly," she says before disappearing into the darkness of the shelter.

What?

Hisana stares first into the bleak pale black of the home and then into the hazy indigo of the forest. None of this makes sense. Briefly, she pauses to consider whether she has simply lost her mind. Maybe she's found the edge of the wood but has passed out before being able to escape. What a cruel poetic fate that would be, she thinks. Fingertips from leaving this place only to succumb to its poison.

"Let's go!" calls Uruha, bringing her gigantic Thunder Chicken, or whatever Ena called the creature, around to the front. The feathers of Uruha's bird are blue. A million shades of blue, but all vibrant, all glowing. "Here," she says, handing Hisana a damp scarf to wrap around her face. "We don't have enough respirators for everyone," Uruha explains. "And the trip to the cave won't be too long."

"Are there no toxins inside the cave?"

"Not ones that will instantly kill you if you wear your scarf."

"May I have my zanpakutō back—"

"No," says the woman firmly. "These zanpakutō have caused enough damage in the last few hours."

"What does that mean?"

Uruha snorts. "As if you don't know."

Hisana watches Uruha hoist herself onto her mount with a speed and grace that Hisana will in no way possess when tries to do the same. "I don't understand."

"Moa," calls Uruha, "are you coming?"

"Yes!" cries the girl, rushing to the front of the house. "We're taking the birds?" she asks, brow quirked up.

"Yeah. It'll be faster."

"What did Ena mean when she said there is no purification in the wood?" asks Hisana, struggling to clamber on top of her mount.

"The words are pretty clear, Hisana."

A shiver speeds down Hisana's back. "How did you—"

How did you know my name?

"Yumena heard your name in a vision. This was already explained to you. No one has time to repeat themselves." Uruha shakes her head disapprovingly. "Sometimes, I think I understand the Black Wood, and other times it is but a stranger."

Once Moa and her bird join them, they set off. The trail to the cave isn't far, but it is dense with vibrant flora that spits yellow, blue, and pink pollen whenever the birds brush their petals or leaves. This is another thing that Hisana tried hard to forget. How technicolor the world becomes the deeper you go into the forest. The verdant and lush greens and browns of leaves and trees morph into electric blues, sun-kissed yellows, and pinks and purples that remind Hisana more of the fancy lipsticks from the World of the Living than colors existing in Soul Society. The trippy colors and strange wildlife pull at Hisana's sense of reality more than her sense of wonder.

Is she hallucinating? Have the toxins finally begun to rot her brain? Or is this all real? Are the toxins turning the plants these strange colors and shapes?

"We're here," announces Uruha, gaze tethered to Hisana.

"What am I—"

"The wood will show you."

"Is there an exit—"

"If the wood decides for there to be one, there will be."

"And if not?"

"I suppose our need for a hunt is premature."

Hisana lifts her head. "I'm the sacrifice, then?"

"If the wood deems it so."

"If I live?"

"We'll ensure you are returned to the world outside the wood."

Hisana's gaze travels to the clearing a few yards away. If she makes a break for it now, maybe she could push through to the other side of the Black Wood. That's the way of this place, right? There's no sticking to the edges to survive; there's only going through.

"If you dare, I assure you that Moa is a very skilled markswoman, and you will be shot dead before you reach the clearing," Uruha warns.

Ordinarily, Hisana would question this logic. None of the women appear to be spiritual powerhouses, and, normally, an arrow to the back or head is survivable to those who can raise a decent shield of reiatsu. But, nothing seems to work as intended in the forest. At least, nothing Hisana has tried thus far. So, it's quite possible that a singular arrow could fell her.

"It's potential death in the cave or certain death if you run, Hisana. Trust me, we have our clear preferences, but the wood's will abides."

Hearing that, Hisana slides off her bird and gives it a quick stroke as thanks for carrying her all this way.

"We will leave Koko here for twenty-four hours in case you make it out alive. Give a whistle, and she will find you if she wanders off," says Uruha.

Hisana pats the bird's head once more for good measure. "Thanks, buddy." Then, she turns and makes her way into the mouth of the beast.

Darkness wraps around her, and she stops when the thin light from the forest no longer shines. Considering whether Uruha and Moa have gone, Hisana glances over her shoulder to find the entrance of the cave is now pitch black. She wonders if it's been sealed, and, if so, who sealed it: the wood or the cult.

Blue flickering light pulls her eye, and Hisana stares ahead into the belly of the cave. What once had been impenetrable darkness is now dotted with flames that beat in the stale dampness. The fires burning along the righthand side of the cave remind her of the wispy blue tufts on the panther that she slayed at the beginning of this trial. Frowning, Hisana tightens her grip on her hunting knife and continues forward, following the lights to a large chamber with two passages. Nearing the passage on her right, Hisana pauses to listen for a breath. A stale gust rises from its sloping path, rustling her hair and stinging her cheeks. A rumbling groan of earth and rock quakes the ground, and Hisana steps toward the left passageway.

She pauses again to listen, to sense, to feel, knowing no other way to discern which path to take. Nothing. Only silence. Even when she holds her breath. Not even the beat of air can be heard.

Hisana inches tentatively closer to the threshold of this corridor. She cocks her head to the side, and that's when she sees her. Plain as day.

Hisana's heart stops. Shards of ice stab through her chest, flash freezing her blood and coating her nerves in a patina of frost. Unable to move, she stares, mortified at the girl.

It can't be.

But, it is.

There the girl stands, looking just as she had that fateful day years ago. She's small, probably about five or six. Her eyes are large and hazel. Her hair is long and dark. Her cheeks are chubby and rosy. She's dressed in a pale blue kosode with an even paler green obi.

Hisana shakes her head in disbelief. Something is wrong. With her. Her brain. Her eyes. Her ability to perceive because this cannot be. And yet….

The girl throws her arm back in a swooping wave and laughs. "Chase?" she calls, her eyes burning with the fire of banked embers.

Hisana reaches out, but it's too late, and the girl is too far. "No, come back!"

Dammit!

Hisana tries to flash-step, but it backfires. Instead of finding her footing, she finds a miniature explosion. Half-expecting this possibility, she twists in time to save her foot from being damaged, but, in so doing, the force of the blast throws her into a wall. Ricocheting off the wall, Hisana flails wildly realizing that there is a gap between the passageway floor and the wall. With her heart in her teeth, she latches onto the edge of the passageway floor. Her fingers dig into the slick, prickly obsidian stone, and she glances over her shoulder to see that her feet dangle above an abyss.

She can do this. She can do this. She's hoisted herself up a million times before from this position. A million times.

And, just as she thinks that she's found her physical leverage, the divot that she's been using to cling onto gives way. Her heart flies up, seemingly unhinged from its shackles in her chest, as soon as she slips.

Don't look down. Don't look down. Don't. Look. Down.

The gravity of her focus, however, is forced down, down, down.

Down.

Down.

Down.

Tendrils of inky black shadow snake around her legs and ribbon up to her hips before settling as a heavy pressure against her belly. Desperately, Hisana claws at the rocky ground, feeling the weight of the shadows build. No matter her efforts, however, her hands are too slick with sweat and she loses her grip, fingers digging at the edge of the side until….

Nothing.

Only the sensation of free-falling takes over.

Plummeting.

Plummeting.

Plummeting.

Crash.

Water swallows her whole. Its waves and surface met her with the hardness of steel. Stinging pain bites and nips at her feet, her legs, her hands, her arms. Fully submerged and completely disoriented, she thrashes. Then, remembering not to panic, she tries to swim up or forward or to the side. She can't. The current drags her further down, further into the pitch.

Sinking, she relents, allowing her arms to float out at her sides. She's spent too much energy fighting. Her lungs are now burning, filled with air that is quickly being spent. Silvery outlines of bubbles escape from her nose, tugging her gaze upward. She throws her head back, seeing not the darkness of the cave but the grayness of sky, the heaviness of rain clouds. This isn't just the cave, now. It's the memory of the day she died in the World of the Living. Like before, heavy rain pelts the surface of the water. Unlike before, something has her by the leg. It anchors her. Its weight is too great to shake.

In her arms is yet another weight. Far lighter. Far easier to release. But, it is weight that she clutches with every molecule of existing life that she possesses. It's a baby. It's her sister. She doesn't need to see to know.

But, how she wishes she could see. She wishes she could look upon her sister's face, even in this horrible position, one more time. She cannot. The Black Wood traps her gaze up. Her focus latches to the gray shafts of light that no longer reach her at the depths to which she has fallen. She feels her lungs give way, angry and gasping. Reflex compels her to breathe. Water floods in through her nose and mouth, filling her until she strangles. She feels her eyes keep open, unable to blink as she stares into the pale light above, the light that will no longer have her. She feels how death glazes her, freezing her in place, stealing her thoughts, then her vision. She feels the current beating lightly against her skin.

Unlike before, when she was last pushed into a raging water, Hisana does not panic. Fear has no purchase here. Instead, the warmth of acceptance fills her.

She died.

Dies.

Will die.

Past, present, future.

This pleasant quietness of acceptance does not keep. Surprise and then shock tears through her like a beast's fangs through flesh the instant her body emerges feet-first from the water. Unceremoniously, she is dumped onto a jagged rocky floor. Deep gasping breaths wrack her chest as soon as she remembers to breathe. River water chokes her, shooting up her throat and spilling out of her mouth and nose. Hisana bows her head, eyes squeezed shut, and she braces with each horrifying wave that purges the water from her lungs. When the sensation abates, she stares down to see a puddle of clear liquid on the black rock. Sharp wheezes and even more bladed inhalations later, she sees that what she vomits up next isn't water but shadows. Dark, horrible shadows smoke out of her and fill the room with a purple haze.

Hisana lifts her head, chest heaving and body shaking cold and wet, to see that the ceiling that hangs above her now is not forged from stone but from water. Waves crest and ebb as she would expect from an angry sea. Seas, however, are down not up. The floor, not the ceiling. Briefly, Hisana wonders if she should be worried that the agitated water that floats over her will eventually remember its gravity and collapse, flooding the chamber.

Before she can plan her escape, the Black Wood rips her head to the left, to the chamber that lies ahead. And her arms give way. Her chest slams against the floor, and, when she raises her head, she is no longer in the chamber. She is no longer in the Black Wood. She's in Inuzuri. She's in the market. The oppressive heat is at her back. The dust and sand of the ground cling to her chin. But there is no child.

There should be a child.

Rising to her feet, Hisana peers through the fog of memory as it takes shape around her. The colors are dim and hazy, but it's the pallet that she knows well: blushes so muted they look gray, the earthen shades of sand and dust, the dull hues of poorly preserved woods, and the sickly yellows and browns of water-beaten tarps and canvases. A crowd has gathered to watch. Men, who possess arms thick with muscle, point and gesture. Women with world-weary stares and weather-beaten faces shake their heads and fold their arms over their breasts. A few paces ahead of the crowd lies a girl splayed on the ground, clutching an infant to her body. Towering over her are three stout men in their middle years.

Violence.

Brutish, boorish violence befalls the girl.

Hisana closes her eyes. She knows this memory well. But, she's never experienced it quite like this before. She's never experienced it simultaneously existing within and without. She's never felt the electric anguish of feet driving into her sides or the terror of hoping their ferocity spares the baby while situated as an onlooker.

Hisana doesn't want to see any more. She turns her head and averts her eyes to the side, to one of the little stalls selling half-rotted onions. The chamber, however, shifts its perspective so that she cannot circumvent the memory. There is no looking away. There is no avoiding it. There is no escape.

There she is. Hisana had forgotten how young she was when she was sent to Inuzuri. She was still so fresh in her girlhood.

Taking a step forward, Hisana feels herself shrink. Another step. She shrinks further.

Glancing down at her hand, it is small, the flesh smooth, unblemished by time or hazard. She's a child. She's the girl being brutalized before her, the one lying face-down in the market with a baby in her arms. Her abuse is little more than the evening's entertainment.

Hisana has long forgotten what prompted the beating. Maybe she never knew. Or, maybe, it's what comes next that turns the prior act to ash in comparison.

What were they expecting? How could they think that the kerosene of fear and the flame of violence would not result in an explosion? They were expecting a different response, a different girl, a death instead of a chain reaction. Because when the final thug kicks her so hard in the ribs that she hears the bone snap, he is not expecting her to loosen the blade at his ankle and slit the back of it. His one friend who rears back to stomp on her hand isn't expecting her to throw the blade and for the blade to find his left eye. The last one, the biggest of the three, isn't expecting her to set him aflame. Nor is the market expecting him to flounder into a dry heap of grass and set the entire district on fire.

In the ensuing commotion, she flees, knowing that she cannot stay here. They will come for her, and they will kill her. She knows that there is no escaping with a baby, either. A baby that she cannot provide for as it was. So, she….

The fog of memory shifts. Like forcing a wet painting into a bucket of water, the scenery of Inuzuri bleeds and the color lifts from the canvas. When the smoke clears, the cave's glossy obsidian walls return, and the air thickens and goes stale. Hisana pans the chamber.

Silence.

Cold, eerie silence.

This silence, however, is easily broken, shattered by the piercing cry of a child. A baby. An infant. A newborn.

The cry hooks into Hisana's very soul and reels her closer to the source of the sound. With every step, she grows taller until she feels her own weight and sense of proportion return.

She is herself now. Walking under her own command. Knowing full well that she must find the child, while also knowing full well that this is a trap. It is always a trap. Every single time.

Readying her knife, Hisana shoves its sheath through her sash. The walls around her distort. The wispy blue fires grow and merge until the entire wall glows electric blue. In those flames so brightly burning, she catches glimpses of her past. Nights that speak of betrayals. Days of tearful partings in the woods. The cold sting of loss. The even colder scare of vulnerability being met with watery rejection. The shock of an arm shattering. The acceptance of death by a blade much stronger than her own.

Each time, she tried to pull herself back from the violence demanded of her. Tried to undo it. Tried to reduce the damage of her actions. And, in her hesitance, she cannot help but wonder if she only made the situation worse.

Perhaps she should have burned down Inuzuri. Burned that entire town and its horrible citizens to the ground and left with her sister in relative safety. Perhaps she should've burned this fucking forest to the ground the first time it tried to absorb her. Perhaps she shouldn't have hesitated with the lieutenant.

Perhaps it isn't the wood that has chosen her. Perhaps it is violence that has spoken her name and sought her as its bride. And perhaps, she should capitulate.

Maybe that's the lesson here.

She can't undo what has been done. But, she can embrace what she is, who she is, what she has done, and why she's done it. She should feel guilt for her wrongs, but not shame. Shame is a weight that she cannot afford here.

Not in this wood.

Not if she is to survive it.

Death can have her shame today, she thinks as she nears the cradle, her blade ready. As much as her heart stammers and burns, her brain knows there is no baby. That baby is long gone.

That girl, too, is long gone.

Hisana reaches for the blanketed bundle. The moment her fingers graze the fabric, the illusion unravels, revealing a tattered strip of cloth and animal bones. She closes her eyes and allows herself a small breath before sensing the pressure at her back.

When she turns, her knife plunges into the underside of the cat's jaw. Shadows rise off the beast's body, and the cat's twin tails that snap back and forth have tufts of electric blue flames. Just like the flames that line the walls.

"Hello, old friend," says Hisana, finding the wisdom of Ena's words only now, only when she realizes that the reiatsu vining through hers belongs to the little girl who led her down this path and who led her into the wood all those years ago.

There is no purification in the Black Wood. Only violence. Only trauma. It consumes the lives it takes, over and over and over for centuries. It ruminates, and the creatures here all must survive these ruminations over and over and over until time stops.

She will not count herself among the lives claimed in this forest. She will burn this place to the ground before she is trapped in this cycle forever. She can torture herself well enough.

She doesn't need the help.

Ripping the knife out of the cat before it can rear back, she reaches for a blast of crimson red energy to launch the panther's way. As before, the spell hits the air and immediately explodes. This time, the explosion is small, and more controlled.

No matter. She'll keep banging away until this fucking cat is dead or thinks better of ever attacking her again. And, so she sends volley after volley of kidou attacks until the spells begin behaving, until the wood realizes that she is not giving up, that it will not have her today just as it could not have her all those years ago.

When the cat falls, the shadows pull back to reveal the young girl. She's still dressed in that pale blue kosode with that pale green obi. The decay of years does not mark her. No, her body is fully as it was when Hisana found her in the wood, half consumed by wolves.

Hisana's gaze flits to the long passage leading out of the chamber as she passes the illusion without further inspection.

Fuck this place.

Rage takes root deep within her, and she keeps walking. When she reaches the entrance of the cave, she loosens a fire spell upon the vines blocking her and does not stop her assault on the wood until it lets her go.

Stepping into the forest, she quickly locates Koko, who grazes peacefully a few feet away.

"Hey, buddy," she greets.

The bird perks up its head and shakes out its feathers in response.

Hisana runs her hand across the creature's head, lightly, of course, in case there are spines. Then, she feels the earth shake under her feet. The scraping of metal against rock comes next. Followed by the groan of trees bending against a great weight.

"Yeah, so, if Lieutenant Shiba couldn't handle that fucker, neither can we, Koko," says Hisana soothingly. "We are going to have to fly."

The bird blinks at her, then flaps its little wing.

"Okay, maybe not fly, exactly, but be fast. Super fast. Got that?"

Koko lets out a little cooing noise, which is all Hisana needs to confirm consent, and then they are off.

Hisana gives the bird her head. Koko does not disappoint, knowing the way back to the home built into the side of a cliff far better than Hisana could've managed on her own. The instant the bird stops, Hisana hops down and barges inside.

"Get me the fuck out of this place," she shouts, hand wrapped around the hilt of her knife. "And give me back my damn sword."

Yumena pokes her head out of one of the "doorways" and smiles. "I knew you'd be back."

"Wouldn't be much of a seer if you were wrong," mutters Hisana under her breath as she strides into the main living area.

Moa frowns at Hisana. "You smell."

"Where's my sword?"

"And you're leaking."

Hisana glances down to find that, yes, she is dripping wet. "I decided to go swimming. Now, where is my fucking sword?"

"So, we are really doing the hunt tomorrow morning?" asks Ena, eyes on Uruha, who stands with a shoulder braced against the wall.

"Appears that way," answers Uruha, a look of misery etched into her face.

"Will the new girl be included in the hunt?" asks Moa.

Hisana's gaze darts back to Uruha, who shakes her head. "The wood spared her. Its will abides."

"Its will abides," the women speak out in unison.

Yeesh, does Hisana hate it when they do that. "Great. Love that for me. Can I have my sword and an escort to get the fuck out of here?"

"It's night, Hisana," scolds Uruha. "It's too dangerous. The fog that's out tonight, alone, will strip the flesh from bone. The nocturnal creatures are even worse than that. In the morning, after the hunt, we will escort you to the edges." Uruha gives Hisana a defeated onceover. "Get some rest."

After a sleep that does not hold her for long, Hisana wakes to the thrumming of a party. Or, at least, that's what it sounds like. The women are all gathered, playing music, singing in drunken tongues, laughing, and speaking loudly.

Rolling out of the bed, Hisana shrugs back the stiff ache of joint pain, the burning ache of bone pain, and the sharp ache of soft tissue pain. What she would give for a long bath and a soft futon.

Yumena is the first to acknowledge her as the only seemingly sober soul there.

"What is happening?"

"It's the revel."

"The what?"

"The revel. The women have a revel before every hunt." Yumena holds her long red sleeve back as she pours a bowl of light green water for Hisana. "Here. You should try it. It gives you Second Sight and enhances your vitality."

"Excuse me?" Hisana sniffs the steam billowing off the scalding hot liquid. Its odor is pungent, reminding Hisana of the scent of picked weeds and fertilizer. "Second Sight?"

"Umm hmm," says Yumena. "It allows you to see the auras of the creatures in the forest."

"Oh, I can do that already." Hisana places the cup down.

"Really? Most people seem to lose their spiritual gifts upon entry of the Black Wood."

Hisana frowns. Yumena isn't wrong. She managed to get her powers to function appropriately after a lot of improvising in the cave. No telling whether she could get that lucky twice.

"Why is that?"

Yumena lifts her chin, catching Hisana with a sideways look. "The Black Wood won't allow it. It controls the atmosphere here."

"Everyone speaks of the wood as if it's a person-"

"A god," says Yumena. "It's our god."

Hisana's brows rise. So, this really is a cult. Perfect. Glad she's leaving. Absently, she takes a sip of the water and immediately spits it back into the cup the moment she realizes what she's done.

"It's okay. It doesn't last long, and it helps press through injuries."

"An analgesic, is it?"

Yumena nods. "And it releases your vitality."

"A stimulant, then?"

"Adrenaline."

Hisana's eyes widen. "Oh."

"It also sharpens your reflexes."

"Adrenaline can do that."

"It was banned a long while ago by the Seireitei except for authorized medicinal uses."

Hisana takes a seat beside Yumena. "You lived in the Seireitei?"

"I did. Long ago."

"What brought you here?"

"What brings anyone here," she says, her eyes flicking to Hisana. "The drive to escape."

Hisana doesn't think she necessarily agrees with that assessment, but she accepts it as Yumena's interpretation of what has brought them all together. "Why don't you all leave this place?"

"Isn't that obvious?" Yumena's wan smile lengthens. "We can't. The wood won't let us go."

Hisana stares into the murky green liquid. "Why?"

"We are stuck. Some of us think the wood preferable to where we come from. Others don't know how. Others, still, are afraid of being eaten and chewed up for centuries."

"There is no purification in the wood?"

Yumena nods. "Your man tried. And tried. And tried. He is very impressive."

"Did the wood let him go?"

"It did. It could not hold a spirit like that. It burns too hot."

Hisana smirks. "I would agree with that."

"Your man is not your lover, is he?"

Hisana shakes her head. "He is not."

"Pity." Yumena presses her lips together, and her eyes glaze a little. Then, a lot. And, for one harrowing moment, Hisana is reminded of the milky stare of death, and she shakes Yumena, who immediately stirs back to life.

"Sorry," she says, chuckling. "Some of us have been here so long that we must remember to fight the death that surrounds us."

Hisana presses her palms tight against the cup, hoping the prickle of heat will warm the fright that chills her heart. "Are you all dead?" she asks.

Yumena turns her head, her large green eyes reflecting the golden light of lamps. "Miss Hisana, we are souls in an afterlife. Aren't we all a little bit dead? Some perhaps more dead than others?"

And, that's the last question that Hisana asks Yumena.

"The hunt!" cries Moa. A fit of laughter sends her crouching down, breathless. "Ena, pass out the cards, and let's get this bitch done, ladies."

Yumena leans closer to Hisana. "Whoever draws the blank card will be chosen as the hunted."

Hisana's eyes widen.

"The Black Wood ultimately selects its sacrifice, if luck chooses wrongly."

"The wood's will abides," Hisana says mockingly.

Yumena chuckles. "A skeptic is so refreshing here. It has been a long while since the wood has given us new blood. I hope you choose to stay. I think you might like that version of your life better."

Hisana very much doubts that to be the case.

"Alright," begins Moa, "on the count of three, turn over your cards."

"If there is no blank card drawn this round, they start again," explains Yumena.

"One—"

"The girl chosen to be the hunted is given a minute head start."

"—two—"

"She can use whatever weapon she can find."

Hisana inhales a sharp gasp. "My sword."

"—three."

A loud wail sounds from the back of the crowd of women. It's a girl whose name Hisana does not know. She's small and thin with large watery blue eyes and shoulder-length hair.

"Shit, Kazusa," says Moa. The drunken glee on Moa's face melts.

Several of the other girls pat Kazusa's shoulder soothingly. Some express their sincere condolences. Others give their gratitude.

"I don't—I can't – No—" cries Kazusa.

Uruha shoves closer to the sacrifice. "You must Kazusa. You are strong. You are prepared. May the wood choose another."

"May the wood choose another," echoes the other women, Yumena included.

Kazusa's gaze snaps to Hisana. "May the wood choose her!" she cries out.

"Kazusa," cautions Uruha, "you know the rules. We abide."

Sobbing, Kazusa hangs her head. "Yes. We abide."

"Now, gather your weapons, and we will begin the count."

"I want her sword," says Kazusa.

"Absolutely not!" Hisana goes to stand but Yumena forces her down with a wave of the hand.

"Sit," says Yumena in her tranquil tone.

Hisana's gaze latches onto the woman, wondering how she has accomplished such a feat in a place where magic works poorly, if at all.

"Yes. The wood will grant her this request," declares Yumena.

Kazusa's eyes light with malice, and Hisana has no doubt in her mind what the girl plans to do.

"May I join the hunt, Uruha?" asks Hisana.

Uruha considers Hisana for a long moment. "Do you know what that means, Hisana?"

"I do."

"The wood may choose you."

"Good fucking luck to it if it does."

Uruha grins where the others gasp. "Very well. You may use Ena's mount. Ena, you shall stay behind and guard Yumena."

Ena gives a deep bow of her head. "Yes, Uruha."

"As for weapons," begins Uruha, her eyes on Hisana, "You already have your knife. But, you may also use Yumena's bow and quiver. That is, if your shinigami principles will allow it."

Hisana was a hunter long before she ever entered Seireitei.

"Fetch me the bow and quiver," she says, her eyes narrowing into slits.

"Alright, Kazusa, so the hunt begins. Sixty—"

"She's going to the fire pit," says Yumena.

"I know," murmurs Hisana.

"—fifty-six—"

"She thinks she can destroy your sword there."

"I figured."

"—forty-nine—"

"Good luck, Hisana," says Yumena with a peaceful stare.

Hisana watches the woman for a long few seconds.

"—thirty-five—"

"My bow pulls a little to the right," says Yumena. "But it is made from the best."

"Quincy?" teases Hisana.

Yumena laughs but does not protest the charge leveled at her.

"—twenty-three—"

Yumena must be very old to have been able to purchase a bow from any purveyor in the civilized districts. After the War, such weapons were permanently banned. Souls in the deep Rukon don't know the history and they need weapons to hunt so they rely on what they knew during life.

"—nine—"

Hisana knew how to string a bow as a girl in the life before this one.

"—seven—"

She knew how to make one, too.

"—five—"

Even won a few of her village's competitions.

"—three—"

She doesn't want to kill this kid, but….

"—one—"

Violence chose her first.

"—go!"

Koko knows the way far better than Hisana does, and follows the others, keeping toward the front. Everyone appears to have the same idea of chasing the trails leading to the fire pit deep in the heart of the forest. When they arrive, Kazusa is already positioned near the pit, bubbling with lava.

Hisana doesn't hesitate. She quickly draws her bow and lets the arrow fly. Before it finds its target, she threads another one just in case. Kazusa staggers on impact. The first arrow strikes her left shoulder. The second arrow, however, finds its mark, skewering her through the neck. She falls back, blood trickling out of her mouth.

Moa is the first at her side, and Hisana dismounts in a hurry to collect her zanpakutō, which has clattered to the ground next to Kazusa's right shoulder.

"She's still alive!" cries Moa, her face crumpling with grief as she holds the girl tightly in her arms. "The wood hasn't chosen her!"

"Moa!" calls Uruha at the back of the crowd. "There's no way that Kazusa is going to survive those two hits. Put the girl out of her misery. Have mercy, please!"

Hisana shoves her way through the crowd.

"No!" screams Moa. "No. It can't have her."

"Moa, please, mercy."

"No," cries Moa. "It cannot take her from us."

"She's gone, Moa!" Uruha shouts.

Hisana pushes closer, dread filling her belly full of icy slush. She knows what can happen. The possibility is extremely real.

"She's breathing, Uruha. If the wood needs someone, take the newcomer. Take her!" Moa reaches for Hisana's zanpakutō.

Hisana thinks that she can make it. She thinks that she can—

"Take her!" another girl yells, pulling Hisana backward by her neck.

Hisana unsheathes her knife and stabs the girl in the leg. Reflexively, the girl's grip falters, and Hisana wrenches out of her grasp.

"Don't do it, Moa!" Hisana says, stringing the bow as the others clear a path for her.

Moa shakes her head, but, before she can do anything stupid, Hisana loosens her arrow. It pierces through Moa's right wrist, forcing her hand to drop the zanpakutō before it falls into the lava.

Hisana swiftly collects the sword and presses the blade against Moa's neck. "Try anything, and I will behead you."

Moa collapses backward, face contorted in an expression of raw grief, and she lets out a primal scream.

Once Uruha reaches them, Hisana pins the woman with a stare that would slay lesser beings. "A fucking escort. Now."

Uruha nods. "Of course. We will guide you out of the wood."

Hisana sheathes her zanpakutō and threads it through her sash. Then, she slings the bow on her back because she is getting out of here in whatever fucking way possible. If she receives an unbraiding for using prohibited weaponry by The Powers That Be, well, fuck them. Fuck them every way to next week.

She climbs on top of Koko and leans down to give the bird a big hug. "Thanks, buddy."

The bird squeaks happily and ruffles its feathers. "We are getting out of here, right, Thunder Chicken?"

"Koko stays," says Uruha. "Elephant Birds only exist here. She'd die outside the wood."

Hisana frowns. "Is that what you tell everyone in your little cult?" she asks under her breath, urging the bird forward.

Uruha pauses to glare at Hisana before continuing ahead.

They travel as a group for what feels like eternity. But, as the heavy cover of branches peels back, allowing more of the sky to be seen through the tapestry of wood and leaves, the positioning of the sun reveals it to be early morning. Assuming that the forest doesn't also function as a time sink, Hisana might not be punished, disqualified, or whatever penalty she assumes they will slap her with for being late.

"It seems that you entered at the wood's eastern border if I am tracking the spiritual pressure at that border correctly," observes Uruha.

Hisana's brows jump up. "You can feel spiritual pressure outside of the wood?"

Uruha chuckles. "Yes. It's the only way to orient yourself in this place. You have to understand the nature of things outside of the wood to understand the wood."

"Within and without," murmurs Hisana.

"I guess?" Uruha pauses, catching Hisana in the corner of her eye. "I have to ask; although, I think I know the answer: Will you stay?"

"No."

Uruha laughs. "Understood."

"Do you want to stay?" asks Hisana.

"I like it better in here than out there."

Hisana cocks a brow. "How?"

"It makes more sense in here. What the Black Wood wants is more obvious, more direct. It needs food, we feed it. It needs tending. We tend it. And, in turn, it protects us."

"Protects you?" Hisana gives the woman an inquiring side-eye. "Didn't look like a lot of protection just now. Looked like we hunted down one of your own people for what? An inkling that the forest you've deified might like what you've done today?"

Uruha shakes her head. "You will never understand. Such a pity, too. Seeing as the wood has given you so much."

"So much?" squawks Hisana.

"Look at all this protection." Uruha gestures to the forest. "Who took you in and knew how to get you what you sought? Certainly, not those comrades you came in with. Who, if I may remind you, left you behind. We didn't set you out into the wild once you had served your purpose."

"I don't need others," objects Hisana.

"Bullshit." Uruha gives her a knowing glance. "Don't need others. If that's the truth, where's that man Yumena mentioned? The one you've been dreaming about?"

Hisana presses her lips together until she can taste the tinniness of blood.

"That's what I thought. He's left you behind, too, right?"

"It's complicated," says Hisana, voice clipped.

"Not complicated here. It is what it is. And we don't leave each other behind."

"No, you hunt each other whenever Yumena gets a tingle," Hisana scoffs. "And it's only direct as long as you stay sober, and the toxins don't get you, and you don't start hallucinating. Or the Black Wood decides it's time to start digesting you and your fears over and over again."

"You learn the rhythms well enough and that no longer happens."

"I could say the same about the world outside."

"What rhythm out there? The artificial rhythm of a power structure that you have no place in except as fodder."

"And here? I'm lunch."

"You're not on the menu in Seireitei, Shinigami?"

"I'm not a shinigami," corrects Hisana. "And, no. I'm not in consideration in Seireitei."

"You could be in consideration, here."

"As a snack!"

Uruha laughs. "I'm getting older and the girls will need a leader—"

"How many times have you given this exact same pitch?" interrupts Hisana. "All these girls potentially the next great Uruha?"

"No. Far from it. Most of the girls are here due to circumstances that will forever haunt them." Uruha watches Hisana sidelong. "We are kindred spirits in that way, though. When was the last time that you let down your guard this much when talking to those comrades of yours?"

Hisana grimaces. "Bad bait. My guard is down because I'm leaving and will never see any of you again."

"I bet you thought that the last time you were here. And here you are again. Back here. Needing to work through some of your issues, just like us."

"Well, unlike you, I'm good at letting my issues lie. I don't need to be in them forever. I choose peace."

"Is that why you carry a zanpakutō, Hisana? Is that why you didn't bat an eye when you put an end to Kazusa? Is that why you carry the bow even now when you know you're about to leave this place? Those are some pretty odd choices for someone who chooses peace."

"Violence chooses me. I need to be prepared."

"You can choose it back. Join us and stay here."

"No. Final answer."

Uruha sighs. "Very well. Your choice."

Hisana watches Uruha carefully. It doesn't sound like she has a choice. This sounds like a trap. Her hand drops to the hilt of her zanpakutō.

"Do you feel that, Uruha?" asks a young woman with golden hair and rosy cheeks.

"Runa, prepare the flank."

"What?" asks Hisana.

"It's the hunter."

"The hollow?"

Uruha nods.

Hisana senses the wind as it begins to pick up. But, she doesn't feel the earth quaking just yet.

"We'll take a longer trail," concludes Uruha after a pregnant pause.

"The hunter cannot be purified?" asks Hisana.

"No. The purification ritual doesn't work here. So, it gets defeated periodically, only to grow larger and more menacing with each iteration. We have all learned to avoid it."

"It's the wolf tribe," Runa calls from behind them.

"Dammit." Uruha jerks her chin up. "Continue down this trail, Hisana, and we will keep the monsters at bay."

"Wait!" Runa says. "Can we not go with Hisana?"

Uruha blinks. "What?"

"We would like to leave with Hisana."

"Leave?"

Runa nods.

"Leave the wood?" clarifies Uruha.

Runa nods again. "Some of us would like to leave."

Hisana glances Runa over. "I can take them out of the wood," she offers. No one should be condemned here.

Uruha shakes her head. "No. No one leaves, Runa. You know the rules. Getting Hisana out of here will anger the wood enough."

"Anger?"

"Yeah, Hisana, the wolf tribe and the hunter gathering isn't exactly a loving farewell party, is it?" Uruha glances back at Runa. "No one leaves. We stay back and keep the creatures at bay here."

"No," argues Runa. "No. We won't. We can't. No. It's gotten to be too much, Uruha. We want something easier."

"We can't. The answer is no." Uruha glares at Hisana. "We are going back."

"I'm not," says Hisana firmly.

"You can stay out here and let the wood eat you alive."

"Um, wolves!" a voice shouts from the back.

Hisana urges Koko forward. The bird responds by taking off into a sprint. Runa follows after, and then Uruha.

The wolves, as it turns out, are much swifter than the birds. Something that Hisana assumed to be the case, but she was hopeful. Quickly, she loads her bow. She releases shot after shot into the beasts. The arrows, however, only seem to piss them off and little else.

"Okay, Koko, I'm pretty sure you'd be a delightful snack, and I really don't want that for you. So, keep going, and don't look back until the wolves are all gone." Hisana is pretty sure the bird has no clue what she's saying but hopes all the same that it can intuit her meaning as she bails.

Rolling off her very broken shoulder was not the move she had hoped to nail, and, well, she didn't. But, she manages to find her feet. Sucking in a cold breath through her teeth, she unsheathes her zanpakutō, trying her best to sense in the static blaring of the Black Wood. The wolf that attacks her first comes from her left, and she isn't prepared.

The force of its lunge and the weight of the beast brings her down. She manages to create a bar between the wolf's neck and her chest with one arm. But, its ferocity builds and builds while her strength wanes.

Grabbing her hunting knife, she plunges the blade into the wolf's yellow eye. The beast whimpers and jerks back far enough for her to get a better position on her zanpakutō. Before she can finish it off, the next wolf pounces. This time, luck has her back and she tears into the dog's belly, spilling its blood and viscera over her.

Slick with blood and the gods only know what else, Hisana shoves up to her feet, and continues ripping through the fell creatures. Plunging her sword into backs, through skulls, and severing heads. When one of the wolves manages to get its mouth around her ankle and drags her, she yanks her hunting knife out of one of the other downed animals and jams the blade into the animal's left eye. Then, she summons a blast of fiery kidou that explodes into a ball of flame that spreads like wildfire through the forest.

The threat of flames sends the remaining pack members fleeing from her. She follows this up with several more blasts, each becoming more like the spell that she has mastered with every blast.

"Hisana!" gasps Runa, who too is covered from head-to-toe in blood. "You're alive."

"Where's Uruha?"

"She and others are trying to detain the hunter."

Hisana glances down the trail. She feels it finally. She feels the beating of reiatsu just outside this hellhole.

"There's no defeating it, Hisana," says Runa. "Your friend tried. He even split the mask. But, the wood will not abide."

Hisana surveys the wood. A wall of flame rages to her left, and hopeful faces of at least ten women stand nearby. Even if she wanted to help with the hollow, the fire prevents her.

Prevents them, too.

And, she's pretty sure if she springs for a water spell, all she'll get is an explosion, which will only add fuel to the wildfire that now takes hold of the wood.

"May we go with you?" asks Runa.

They really don't need to ask. They can just go. But, man, being in a cult must be a whole new level of awful that Hisana doesn't want to pick apart at the current moment. "Sure. Let's get out of here."

The women rush down the trail. Smoke blankets them. Coughing, they try their best to catch their breath. When they reach a small tunnel of trees, Hisana pauses. She senses a familiar reiatsu, and she draws her sword and knife.

That fucking black panther emerges. Its pace is slow, its body slinking. Its fur shines glossy, no longer do shadows rise and beat like flames off its back. The cat bats its tail, revealing the wisps of blue light at the end.

"Go," urges Hisana.

"Are you sure?" asks Runa.

"Just an old friend," she says, calling forth her shikai.

Static blasts her until the cat pounces, bringing her down. Tethered to the beast, she thinks she has it, and jams her sword through its chest, where she grabs hold of a golden thread of reiatsu. Wrapping it in her hand, she binds the cat in place, forcing its will to splinter against hers. Sealing her zanpakutō, she drags the blade of the sword through the cat's belly.

It's not dead because nothing is ever purified here. But, it's neutralized. For now.

Hisana shoves the beast's lifeless body off her, scanning her left arm long enough to see that it is barely hanging on from the attack. It looks more like a gnawed-up piece of meat than a limb.

Limping ahead, Hisana shrugs off her kosode, and wraps it around her arm, hoping that her bandage technique is good enough to keep the appendage attached. Up the path, the girls wait for her with Koko.

"Help her," directs Runa.

Immediately, the others boost Hisana onto the bird.

"Come back for us?" asks Runa.

Hisana nods.

"We'll wait for you at the edge."

Hisana glances over her shoulder. The fire has advanced much too fast. She pulls her scarf up over her face, and the others do the same. "I'll return," she promises.

"Follow the trail to the end, and you should see the light of the clearing," says Runa.

Hisana nods and then urges Koko forward.

The bird picks up speed, going faster than Hisana thought possible. A little distance ahead, she sees the trees begin to thin. The pale light of morning cuts through the sides of the forest. They are so close.

So close.

Ecstatic joy fills her until she sees how the forest begins to close the spaces between the trees, between the branches, how it bends and compels the flora to zip itself into an impenetrable shell of greenery and pine. She lets out a horrified gasp, heart pounding, pulse beating in her ears.

Koko's speed advances, the bird bowing its head as if perhaps its plan is to barrel through the forest's vines and thorns.

"No, Koko!" cries Hisana. The last thing she wants is for the poor bird to impale itself on the sharp branches that jut out.

Koko, however, appears to have other ideas. Instead of plowing through the shield of plants and flora, the bird goes full tilt then stops short, the momentum of which launches Hisana forward out of the forest's gravity, that she's able to employ a quick flash-step to gain more air.

Crashing through the sparse foliage at the top of the forest, Hisana cannot put the brakes on the speed fast enough to spare her the incredibly hard impact of landing squarely on her right shoulder and skidding across the ground of the clearing. When the forward motion finally careens to a stop, the smell of burning grass and earth chokes her, and the morning light gives way to darkness.

Flashes of motion, color, sound pierce the veil.

Nothing.

She feels pressure against her chest.

Nothing.

She feels a crack of pain as a rib snaps.

Nothing.

She feels the heat of a mouth against her own.

Nothing.

Air floods in, inflating lungs that had long stopped, long deflated, long lost the impulse to move.

Nothing.

Her eyes snap open the moment she feels the sting of electricity. Vision comes cloudy then clear. Lieutenant Shiba's mouth is pressed against hers for a beat. Then, it's not. She sputters. Coughing. Gasping.

"She's alive!" the voice that calls out is a familiar one, but Hisana cannot do much more than fight for breath as she rolls over, gagging.

"Hisana!" Ogidō's face appears over hers. Judging by his positioning, he is kneeling at her side. "Holy shit," he cries, his fingers at her mauled arm. "We need to get her to the Fourth, Lieutenant Shiba," he says, eyeline rising to where Hisana assumes the lieutenant must be.

"Hisana." This time it's Lieutenant Shiba's unmistakable tenor. His fingers nudge her chin in his direction. "Hisana, look at me."

She obliges, still gasping, filling her lungs as full as they will go.

Ogidō places a hand against her sternum, and the warm sensation of kaidou threads through her. Instantly, her lungs fill, and she jolts up, her gaze flying to the forest.

Without speaking a word, she flash-steps with every last molecule of strength that she possesses. The denseness of the greenery has given way, but she sees the girls. They are trapped as if the forest has pulled up a glass shield. Hisana can see their fists pounding against the walls of the shield. She sees their terror-stricken faces. She sees the smoke creep through the trees before curling and rising.

Before she can reach them to try and undo the seal that the forest has erected to keep them locked inside, Lieutenant Shiba grabs her up.

"No, Hisana!" he says, his grip on her tightening as she fights to get loose.

"Please, let me go, Lieutenant. Can't you see? Can't you see the women?" she shrieks.

His arms are strong, and she thinks his hands would be effective tethers if she wasn't so slick with blood and sweat. Slipping an arm free from his grasp, she tries to climb over his shoulder. "The women!" she cries. "Can't you see?"

"Miss Hisana," comes Ogidō's unsure voice, "there's no women, Miss Hisana. What are you—"

"She's in shock," chastises Lieutenant Shiba. "Hisana," he says, "please, just focus on breathing. Focus on—"

"No, Lieutenant, you must see. You must let me go to them. Let me—" Before she can finish, she feels his hand cradling the back of her head, and then….

Nothing.

Only darkness.

Only oblivion.