Chapitre 15: Chapter 10: Turn of the Wheel Arc: The Serpent Coils
Summary:
New Year's celebrations conclude! Emotions bog down relationships and the Accent Association returns to Shin'ou.
Notes:
Theme song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMii9q4qz0E ("Finest Hour" by Extreme Music)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"Hey, who wants to help me put ornaments at the entrance gate?" I shifted my grip on the ornament in my arms as I spoke. Heavy, but that was to be expected from something that was probably better described as a pine topiary than an ornament. "Anyone feeling strong today?"
"Where's the other one?" Minoru asked, glancing up from where Nanase was presently creaming him at shougi. Or at least I thought he was from the way Nanase was grinning like a maniac. Standing on the threshold didn't give me a great view. "Or two, or whatever?"
"One," I said, giving up on getting a quick answer and easing the ornament to the floor before my arms gave out. It shed a few needles, as if disappointed in my unwillingness to use reiryoku for such a mundane task. "I left it where some poor servant shoved the things at me. How he managed to carry that many decorations I don't know, but I figured it'd be nice to start a new year with a good deed, right?" Made a good excuse to get out of the bustle of people, too, but it probably wouldn't have gone over well if I'd said that too.
"What's the point?" Shinji asked, peering at the shougi board spread across the blissfully omnipresent kotatsu. "Hey, there's a move y'can make there." He tapped a square and had his hand slapped away by Nanase.
"Don't mess it up! Besides, you'll ruin his victory if he gets it only because you tell him what to do!" Nanase protested. He grinned, surveying the board. "I mean, not that that's likely, but still. Thank you, Fujikage-sensei!"
"When break's over, you'll have ta give her a kiss ta thank her," Minoru joked. "I'm movin' my foot soldier." He nudged a piece forwards.
Shinji's glare was absolutely filthy. "Like hell! I met her first!"
Time to end this silliness. "No, you didn't," I pointed out, scuffing my slippers on the floor. "She met me, then Minoru-kun. You were second-to-last."
"Third-to-last," Aizen said from where he leaned against a wall reading. Kid seemed allergic to sitting still, or at least down. "I met her after Shinji-san."
"Whatever!" Shinji said, flapping a hand at his roommate. "Junko-chan's still mine!"
"She's my roommate," I said, entering the room fully, "and she isn't dating you. If anything, Fujikage-chan's mine."
Minoru raised an eyebrow. "Something you'd like ta tell us all, Nariko-san?"
I shrugged, donning my silly smile. "Fujikage-chan's cute, what can I say? Not my type, though. Shinji can have her. Now, is anyone going to help me with this?"
To my surprise, Aizen nodded, rolling up his scroll. "I'll come with you. I need to stretch my legs."
I nodded, fixing a polite smile on my face. I'd been hoping to officially patch things up with Minoru, but that was an unreasonable expectation from the beginning, given his preoccupation. Aizen would work just fine. "Alright. You mind grabbing this one?"
"Not at all."
Ah, winter. Good for childish fantasies of being a dragon if nothing else. I drew in a deep breath and exhaled, sparing a moment to appreciate the resulting cloud before walking right through it. Sorry, cloud, but my fingers and toes would be a lot happier by a fire. Speaking of those, why wasn't Aizen freezing by now? He hadn't even been near the kotatsu.
"Aren't you cold?" I asked, sidestepping a patch of ice.
Aizen shrugged. I couldn't see his expression from where he walked in front of me, but I imagined it to be the same calm, slightly sheepish one he wore the rest of the time. Maybe I should look into his emotional stability. "Yes."
"You know there's a kotatsu in that room, right? Minoru-kun, Nanase-kun, and my idiot brother are using it, but it's got four sides," I pointed out as we trudged along. A burst of wind threw snow in my face. I spluttered, stopping to shake it away before I continued, "You don't have to sit out in the cold."
Aizen stopped as well, giving me his usual sidelong glance. The cloak Shinji had mentioned him arriving in had made its reappearance, presently shielding him from winter's bite. "I prefer layers. Fire and I... don't get along."
I shivered, trotting over to catch up with him. "That makes two of us, but even I have to avoid hypothermia."
A smile played over Aizen's lips as he waited for me to come up alongside him. "'Even you'? And you're so self-deprecating around Shinji-san and your family, too. I never would've guessed at that sort of hubris."
I tilted my head at him. "What do you mean? I haven't really said much when we've been around them."
"No," Aizen agreed as we continued down the icy path, "but that was a clue. You aren't the heir, correct?"
I nodded, pretending to find the wizened tree by the path fascinating so he couldn't see the way my lips pursed. "That's right. I'm second in line to Shinji, even though I'm older." The laughter that spilled out of me was almost genuine, memories of Aizen's final form flickering through my mind's eye. "Always someone better, you know."
"And your parents think Shinji's better," Aizen said. "It's clear, from the way they stand and talk."
I bit my lip. Way to rub it in, asshole. "Yes. They've never been shy about that. They're right, but even before it was clear that Shinji's reiryoku was going to be stronger than mine, they treated him as better because he was born to be the heir."
Aizen's forehead wrinkled. "But can't the Hirako change the succession?"
I hummed the singsong tune of 'yes, but no.' "If the clan elders give permission, yes. But they need good reason to do it. Uncle Haru was kicked out because the man was screwing a different woman every night and didn't even try to balance drinking and managing the clan affairs. I can't get mad at Shinji for being the heir. Captain-class reiryoku, silver tongue, good swordsmanship, brains to spare even when he doesn't study..." I tilted my head back, squinting through snow-covered lashes at the sky. Clouds didn't look too heavy. "He's got all they want." And I don't, was left unsaid. I hoped I wouldn't have to spell it out. Besides, I didn't begrudge him the position much.
Aizen huffed. "You could have most of those if you wanted, Nariko-san."
I scowled, putting on a squeaky falsetto that sounded nothing like my Zanjutsu teacher's hoarse tenor. "Not you too. 'Hirako, laziness is no excuse! We can see the evidence of your training on that sword rack. You should be fighting better than this!' "Besides, a silver tongue? No. I don't like that kind of people."
"You like Shinji-san," Aizen pointed out in that soft way of his that I couldn't bring myself to be mad at. "And the rest of your family, I assume. I'd like to think you don't outright hate me, too."
I snorted. "I have to like Shinji and my family. And who says you're silver-tongued?" Not that you aren't, but you haven't shown it yet, I amended.
Aizen raised an eyebrow. "I've persuaded you to talk about yourself in a place where you're used to giving your brother the spotlight," he said. "A mark in my favor, I would think. But back to my point. I think you could make your words weapons. You are smart enough to do so."
I blushed despite myself. I shouldn't have been taking compliments from a maniac, but it was kinda nice to hear that anyway. "I doubt it. People are confusing."
"That's true," Aizen conceded. "I'll admit to having felt the same way once myself. It gets easier when you keep in mind a few things, though. People have individual agendas that differ from person to person. The only constant is that everyone wants at their core to survive another day. All you have to do is discover the former and play on both." He leaned towards me like an onmitsu reporting hard-won secrets. "Please don't misunderstand this, but you strike me as the sort of person who would excel at that." His reiatsu, usually ethereal and intangible even to me, prickled on my skin like needles, testing how I reacted. My stomach clenched, the fear that had chilled my blood against Oshiro making its icy presence known again. You played him for all he was worth, you bitch, it whispered.
Externally, I kept my chapped face unreadable, swallowing back the tang of blood and metal. Internally, I was frantically taking notes. Those few sentences were a veritable goldmine for information about Aizen. Assuming he wasn't lying. Which he might be, if he was trying to get rid of me as a potential obstacle. I mentally frowned and stopped taking notes. "So if everyone has an agenda, what's yours?" I asked, ignoring the quasi-compliments. He wouldn't answer, but hey, worth a shot.
Aizen's infuriatingly gentle smile reappeared as he looked and pulled away. "Didn't I just tell you? I want to survive."
"You just told me that everyone wants to survive," I complained. "C'mon, be honest with me."
His eyes traced the geta tracks no doubt left by some nutjob who thought a walk was worth frozen toes. "I can't do that, Nariko-san. But I suppose I'll tell you my 'agenda,' if you're going to be so insistent. I want to make the world a better place to live in. Simple as that."
I stared at him. Aizen, where did you go wrong? "You should already have Shikai, then," I said, forcing my voice to be light. Please don't mean anything bad, please don't mean anything bad...
Aizen still refused to look at me. "Motivation is one of many facets of a soul," he said, gentle tone shifting to one that fit Aizen-from-Before much better. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold ran up my spine.
We were nearing the gate at that point. "Alright," I said, "let's get this taken care of. You put yours near that post and I'll put mine near this one." I jerked my chin at the respective posts and we went our separate ways. When I set my ornament by the pole I'd chosen, it shed a small shower of needles, as though indignant that I was leaving it in the snow.
As I straightened, panting, I found Aizen leaning against the gate, cleaning his glasses. Evidently despite his scrawniness he was stronger than me. Had I lifted with my back and he'd used his legs? Was that it? Whatever. The snot presently freezing onto my face was a higher priority right now. I swiped it off and took the rare glasses-free moment to observe him. If I squinted, I could see how this kid who would've made a perfect movie nerd could eventually become the object of a million fangirls' lust. A little effort could bring much-needed order to his mop of wavy brown hair. He had no baby fat to be lost, but age and training could—and would, I was sure—add muscle to give Aizen some presence. He was already a few inches taller than me. Let puberty do its thing and there was no reason why the ugly duckling in front of me couldn't be a swan. Hell, even his eyes, silver in the lantern light, could reach bedroom-eyes status if they weren't panicky-wide all the time.
Aizen slipped the glasses back into place and the effect ended. The future attempted god-king of the worlds was only my brother's roommate. Looking at him shivering in an oversized cloak in the snow, I felt small and silly. My knowledge of a series I hadn't been a part of insisted that Aizen was pure evil. The rest of me, the part freezing and learning and growing alongside him... I couldn't believe it. That idea was ridiculous. I didn't know what Aizen had gone through in canon. Maybe the loneliness Ichigo had sensed from him had begun here, in his childhood. Everyone had shut him out and Aizen-from-Before had been left to fester in his rage and pain until he'd resolved to destroy the world that had made him that way. Could I have changed that?
No! My knees buckled as lightning blazed and a tsunami crashed in my inner world, steadying myself with a hand on the gate as the world swam in front of my eyes. No, daoshi! He's the flaw we're supposed to correct! He can't have changed, not from a minor kindness. Lying is what he does. We've seen what he did to the fire-tree, what he did to the sun-from-Before. Unforgivable. We should just electrocute him now.
His future self did that, I argued, and are you insane? Aizen needs to be left alive if he really is evil so we can ensure the Visoreds and Ichigo. And I don't even know what happened back then. How do you know I haven't changed him, even accidentally?
It's too much of a risk! Arashi yelled, voice a thunderclap. We can't trust him!
That's what future-Shinji thought! I shouted back. And look where it got him! Look, maybe we have to rethink things. Maybe-
Aizen, wheezing, sank to the ground. His hood blew back, revealing a face paler than the snow. Arashi could wait. I lunged forward, not caring about the snow melting into my kimono as I knelt in front of him.
"Aizen-san!" I blurted, reiryoku leaping to my hands as I reached for him. Dammit, I hadn't thought I'd need Kidou so soon! "What-"
His hand clamped around my wrist, knuckles white. "N-Nariko. G-get away from me. Need space or-" He broke off into a coughing fit, releasing my wrist to cover his mouth. I scooted back. Breathing room, Nariko, I told myself. Give him breathing room.
When his coughing sounded less like an attempt to puke up his lungs and Aizen's body stopped spasming, I dared to speak. "You okay?"
Aizen shoved his glasses back up his nose. "I think so. My apologies for the rudeness. When attacks come out of the blue I tend to forget my place." His smile, though shaky, was his usual sheepish one. My worries eased.
"It's fine," I assured him, filing away the information. Aizen's definitely sick and knows it. Cough and faintness like Ukitake. Anything else? "As long as you're okay, you don't have to apologize to me. Want help up?" I stood, holding out a hand to him.
Aizen shook his head, taking advantage of the gatepost's support as he climbed to his feet. "Such courtesy. Truly, you're a diamond in the noble coal mine."
Dammit. For the second time that night, he'd made me blush. I glanced away as heat stained my cheeks. "Hey, there are a fair few nobles who'd object to that. And some others who actually don't deserve it. Are you sure you're fine? Anything I can do to help?"
"No," Aizen said, straightening fully. "I'll take care of it myself."
I bit my lip as we started back towards the house. "You don't have to, though. We're all more than willing to lend you a hand."
"If I didn't know better," Aizen said, voice soft, "I'd say you'd taken my words to heart. You're very quick to offer someone of no family a place in yours."
How did I respond to that? Offense? Pride? Embarrassment at him being closer to the truth than I would've liked? I went with a joke. "What, you hate us all that much? Have the Hirako been so inhospitable? Clearly I'm going to have to drag you to tonight's toast kicking and screaming."
Aizen seemed willing to go with my change in subject. "I don't drink," he said, "but I assure you that I'm not such an ungrateful guest. What all goes on then?"
I shrugged. Unencumbered by the ornaments, we were making good time. The rising moon had even begun to peek through the veil of clouds. "I dunno. People eat a lot and make good wishes to each other for the new year. There's a lot of collaborative poetry. Some of it gets absolutely filthy, depending on how drunk people are. Honoka-obaasan tries to predict relationships and doom for everyone she sees, so you can expect to be thrown together with someone you've never met and have her declare that you'll have a prosperous marriage and a fiery death."
A gust of wind rattled iced-over branches and nearly drowned out Aizen's breathless laughter. "So I can expect that Shinji-san and I will end up at her table? His hair's so long that I'd imagine he's been thrown together with men a few times."
I grinned. "Every year."
"Young master," Honoka bawled, lacquered claws digging into Shinji's palm, "you'll fall in love with a beautiful maiden clad in pearls and have a long an' happy courtship with her. But before y'can achieve it, a great disaster will lay ya ta rest in the desert king's grave an' a Hollow take the blushin' bride."
"Told you," I whispered to Aizen as we watched Shinji and Hiyori squirm in front of my who-knew-how-many-times-great-aunt. Her formal kimono, Shinigami-black with gaudy orange poppies splashed across the shoulders and our clan's camellia crest, made my fingers itch to pull it off of her and exchange it for something even slightly more appropriate. Her sagging skin probably contained the secrets to the universe in its folds. Neither stopped her from having a keen eye for who would be easily embarrassed. "She usually gets a couple to go up, though. Maybe it's because Shinji's true love isn't here?"
"If you think he's destined to marry Fujikage-san, yes," Aizen whispered back. Like me, he made no mention of my great-aunt's filthy language. Civilians didn't talk about Hollows unless they were ripping someone a new one. "Thank goodness Fugai-san took himself out of the pool of contestants." He nodded over towards where our friend dozed in happy, drunken warmth. Poor kid could hold his liquor better than I'd expected, but not nearly as well as he'd expected. At least everyone around here was an expert at handling alcohol poisoning in themselves and others. Nanase had long since fled, citing the fact that he knew he couldn't hold his liquor and didn't want to have one of our relatives force him to try.
I snickered. "Hey, it's Sarugaki-kun's turn. She's the cousin my mother introduced me to."
"What's she like?" Aizen asked, nibbling on dango. The evening had revealed that he could really put food away. Maybe the growth spurt I'd expected would come soon.
"Mean, but I think she's just mad because when I switched to Shin'ou she lost her position as my future bodyguard. Security's highly prized in the branch clans. I think I told you all that she'll be returning to Shin'ou with us, right?" I rushed my words, just in case Honoka finished her palm-reading of Hiyori. Hard to say whether her ancient eyes were even looking at my apparent cousin. "Anyway, she'll grow up. Plenty of reiryoku to spare, too."
"Not similar to Shinji's, I hope?" Aizen said as Hiyori yelped, Honoka presumably having tightened her grip.
"Closer to my level, actually," I replied, scooting closer to him as someone left the hall and the heat of the crowd was undercut by frigid air. "What do you wanna bet we'll be rivals?"
"I-" Aizen began.
"A liar!" Honoka screeched, releasing Hiyori and flinging out her bony arms. Partygoers, entirely used to her by now, didn't even glance over to make sure she hadn't just suffered a heart attack. "Ya must draw close ta the pair of liars an' beware the snake! Oh, it'll come fer ya, darlin', an' take ya too. Sink its fangs inta yer heart, but its remorse will turn aside the falcon's claws and leash the jackal with its teeth at your throat. Yer only bright spot is the liar whose love fer ya will burn eternally in his breast. The second will be cast aside as gilt trash, a sword no longer worthy ta protect ya."
I choked on breathless laughter. Granny'd gone off her rocker tonight. That wasn't even fortune-telling, just a bunch of pseudo-poetry gibberish. "Pretty doom-heavy," I gasped to Aizen between bursts of giggles. "I should leave before she tries to-"
"Off with ya!" Honoka shouted, flapping her hands at Shinji and Hiyori to shoo them away. "Nariko-hime! Get yer inked-up ass over here, an' that boy you're with too!"
Fuuuuuuuuuck. Time to leave. I stood, tugging Aizen up by his sleeve. "You know some flash-step, right? Let's- Oof!" Someone, crowing with laughter, had taken it upon themselves to shove us forward, out of the crowd. When Aizen and I regained our balance, Honoka was glaring right at us. And seriously, how had she seen the tattoos?
"C'mon, girlie! I'm old! I don't have all night! I might not even have the next hour!" She hacked theatrically. "C'mon! Let yer old auntie trace yer fate an' find ya love!"
"Just humor her, Nariko-san," Aizen murmured. "She can't be that bad."
Well, what was I going to do now? Disappoint my friend and my borderline-senile aunt? "Fine," I grumbled as we picked our way over to her table. "I blame you if we die horribly."
Honoka's hands snared our palms before we'd even sat down. "Love!" she howled, the ornaments holding up her pile of white hair rattling as she threw her head back. Something that bore a suspicious resemblance to one of our missing ink brushes clattered to the ground. "Sweet, tender love, like a maiden's blush! But when the sky's cup is full, it'll bear witness to a turn to limitless passion. Great tragedy born of threefold treachery will smite ya both and part ya like the world barrier. The hands of one shall forge the sword that slays the other and brings the final outpouring of ardor."
The thunk that followed could've come from our released hands hitting the table or our jaws dropping.
"B-but I'm not a blacksmith!" I stammered, choosing to focus on the part of the rant that wasn't insanity given voice. Love? With Aizen? The roar of laughter around us only served to deepen my blush as I curled in on myself.
"I-I would never hurt Nariko-san!" Aizen blurted, face paler than it had been during his coughing fit. His hands balled into fists, Aizen surged to his feet. His ethereal reiatsu twisted, near-tangible rage souring the air. "I would never! Take that back! Take it the fuck back!"
"Ya wanna defy fate, boy?" Honoka struggled to her feet, planting her cane on the ground. "No amount of cursin' is gonna help ya! Love is love and death is death! I ain't the source, jus' the messenger! Ungrateful brats!" She turned and hobbled off at a truly impressive clip.
I tugged at Aizen's sleeve. "Let's go," I whispered. Eyes were turning our way. A few men, well into their cups from the look of it, looked like if I wasn't the clan head's daughter they would've broken their sake flasks over my head. "I think everyone needs some time to calm down." Especially you, if you're cursing, I added silently.
Aizen was rooted to the ground, an iron statue unfazed by merely human efforts. "No," he hissed, lips pulled back in a very un-Aizenlike grimace. His sword hand gripped his Zanpakutou with white-knuckled fingers. "That hag needs-"
"You need to calm down," I hissed back, yanking on his sleeve. "Losing your temper isn't an excuse for threatening an old woman."
Aizen stumbled into me, resistance evaporating. "My temper," he mumbled as we wove our way through the mob of people. "Yes, better not to lose that..."
The freezing air outside hit me like a slap in the face. I bit my lip to avoid cursing, but a little ice had to be good to cool Aizen's head. I marched him away from the house, over to a pavilion in the center of the courtyard. In the summer we would've used it for moon-viewing. Tonight was too cold for such an occasion, but the moon blazed full in the sky, so bright that its silvery surface was paler than the snow it shone on.
I gave Aizen a few seconds to compose himself, pretending to be looking at the moon while I waited. The conversation would go a lot more smoothly if he wasn't ready to lash out at me too. Which... worried me, really. From the moment I'd met him, Aizen had been all calm words and soft suggestions. Just as I'd begun to get used to this idea of a gentle, sweet future world-conqueror, the ugly, mad Aizen that Ichigo'd dethroned had reared his head.
"Please don't be mad," I said, tucking in my chin as a chill breeze tried to stick its icy fingers down my top. "Honoka-obaasan's just like that. She predicts all this ridiculous stuff every year, I told you. She doesn't mean anything by it—it's hard to tell if she- if she's really all here, to be honest."
Aizen stuck out his chin. His hold on his Zanapakutou hadn't loosened in the slightest. "It's not that easy," he choked out, each word strangled by that nameless emotion that could sour into despair or fury. My arms ached to wrap around Aizen before he could cry, while my legs trembled, ready to flee before he could yell.
"No, I know it's not," I soothed, forcing my uncooperative body to shuffle closer to him. "It's hard to control what you're feeling. But please, don't get mad at her. Everyone knows you wouldn't hurt anyone."
"They don't know anything," Aizen whispered. My legs steadied. That was definitely a crying voice. I inched closer. Our shoulders were touching now.
Silence hung between us. The tail end of a line of obscene poetry drifted over from the house. I cringed, trying to cobble together a sentence that would cut to the heart of the matter.
"I meant what I said earlier," I said, glad that the dark hid the fact that I had no idea what I was doing. "You don't have to do things alone. We're friends."
"No one shares everything," Aizen said. He made no effort to push me away, which I took as a good sign. His shoulders shook like a bird shuffling its wings. "You keep secrets, don't you?"
"Of course I do," I replied, wiggling my fingers to get some feeling back into them. I had to turn this situation around. The depression that might've-maybe-who-knew led to Aizen's defection shouldn't be encouraged, but the idea of exposing my weak points to him set my teeth on edge. "Everyone does. But friendship doesn't mean not having secrets. It means... understanding that there are people you can trust with those secrets if you want to." There it was, that spark of this is all I need to say, that thrill of condensing a million thoughts into ten words. But concision meant nothing if Aizen didn't want to listen.
Aizen finally turned to look at me, eyes shining wetly from behind dark lenses. I swallowed the burst of laughter that bubbled up in me at the bizarre mental image of Aizen falling flat on his face, half-blind in the darkness. Bad time. "You know how I said you could succeed with manipulation, Nariko-san? I told the truth. You have this way about you. This... efficiency that lets you treat even people like objectives. Like when you killed Oshiro."
"I didn't want to," I whispered before he could get any further. Nonono stop you have no right- Guilt, and anger for feeling guilty in the first place, sank their talons into me. "I didn't want to. It's wrong, and I know it, but Himura-sensei says I was right and it wasn't-"
"Himura-sensei is right," Aizen interrupted. "Anyone would rather have you than a crazy monster." His shoulders hunched again. Damn the dark. Being so close to him and near-blind made my skin crawl with worry, both for him and for me. Arashi wanted me to learn to read people? Not happening when I couldn't freaking see. Couldn't see the lines of his body telling me what buttons not to push. Couldn't see hands forming seals for Hadou I couldn't block.
Back on topic, Nariko, I reminded myself. You can whine later. I opened my mouth to respond, but Aizen continued.
"I-I like you, Nariko-san. I do. But I can't help wondering how safe it is to give you a window into- into me. You might not like what you see." He swallowed hard, though his arm, no longer clutching his sword, wasn't a barrier between us anymore. Good sign. "You might not want to see it anymore."
Ah. There it was, the teenage desire for acceptance. I felt old just thinking it, but Aizen had said it himself. I dragged my brain, fed up with all this sentimental nonsense, back to the present. Tuning out Aizen's pain because I was bored would be rude.
"Hey," I said, switching tacks. If the pithy, understanding Nariko who was at home in the night hadn't worked, maybe the fiercely lighthearted, clever one would. "You think I don't have skeletons in my closet? Yeah, right. Everybody does. Doesn't mean we should all go be hermits until we're good enough for each other." I bumped shoulders with him. "If you wait until you're good enough to open up and be friends with people, you'll never get there at all, you know?" Ah, now Shinju had me doing it too. Moving on. "So don't worry about me approving of you and whatever secrets you have. That's your business. Just know that I wouldn't hang around you if I didn't like you."
Silence, made all the more nerve-wracking by the groan of the pavilion as a blast of wind rattled it. I fucked up. Oh yeah, I fucked up big time. Time to dig a grave. Yep.
Aizen's sleeve brushed my wrist. I froze. What the-? The part of me that knew what was coming rushed hot blood to my cheeks. Calloused fingers neared calloused fingers and-
"Hey! Lovebirds! The clan head's about ta give a toast! Ya wanna look respectable or not?" Hiyori bawled. Common sense and instinctive shame fought, the latter winning out as Aizen and I jumped apart.
"W-we weren't d-d-d-doing anythin'!" Aizen stammered. In between blurting out similarly flustered reprimands and murmuring assent, I noted the way a Rukongai accent clipped the end of his sentence. Aizen never had said where he was from, but his accent usually fell much nearer to Shinju's than Minoru's. Another note to put in my scroll.
Hiyori snorted. "Like I give a shit. C'mon." She slid the door open and disappeared inside.
I shrugged at Aizen. "Might as well go see if Minoru's awake, right? C'mon."
Yeah, he was drunk. Or hungover at least. Hard to tell.
'He' in this case was dear old Dad, slumped over his desk. Idiot must've had too much last night, even for him. I couldn't bring myself to be sympathetic. Still, I tried to step lightly as I entered his study. No need to put him in a bad mood before we had whatever conversation he'd called me here for. He and Mom, who looked slightly less hungover but made even less of an attempt to sit properly beside him, wore looks that would've been alarmingly serious if they hadn't been so bleary-eyed.
"Na'iko," he slurred, "shuh the door. This ain't a, a whaddyacallit, a conversation fer anyone ta hear."
I did as he asked, folding myself into seiza when I reached them. What were they going to do, talk to me about Oshiro? I breathed deep, trying to ignore the smell of sweaty partygoer as I schooled my expression to something that hopefully looked calm and open and very much not nervous.
To my surprise, my parents straightened, booze-fogged eyes hardening clear and sharp. Half-hidden by stained silk, their frames were tense in a wholly different way from Himura, poised to strike rather than tensed to block. Bad time to remember that they're technically 'knives,' isn't it? I thought, torn between wanting to laugh and run for the hills. I knew my father the sake-brewer and paper-pusher. In front of me knelt Hirako Kenji, spymaster and Shifting Moon Headmaster. I knew my mother the cloth-dyer and nag. The woman coiled beside Kenji was Matsumura Makoto, who had never deigned to match her naginatajutsu against mine and always had had a knack for sneaking up behind me even when I listened for her steps.
"Yes?" I said, scrabbling for some control over the conversation. Had to get in the first word, even if they'd have the last.
"I'm told ya pick up details other people don't notice," Kenji said. His eyes locked on mine. So that was how it was going to be. A nice little unspoken 'screw you,' seeing who would slip up in the game of indirect talking first.
"An' anyone can see that ya grew up real fast," Makoto followed up, in case I'd hoped we could avoid that topic. Her eyes met mine as well, the same cool brown as Shinji's. Didn't one of my parents share my eye color? It was a bizarre thought, but I needed bizarre thoughts right now, not serious discussions with my parents. The Talk had been awkward enough.
"Are you?" I said, pure Shifting Moon. See how the battle stands and react later.
"Fact is, the Court's lady healer got her eye on ya," Kenji continued, drawl thick. He tucked a lock of golden hair behind his ear. "Y'know, I expected that Shinji'd run with a bad crowd and get himself inked up," he said, casual as if he was changing the subject.
When in Rome, do as the Romans do. "Well, Shinji's too young to try attracting women that way. No need," I replied, wondering which one of us would make the first move. "You know, my Hakuda teacher has tattoos. Wonder what they do? Anyway, he's a real tough guy—Himura Kyou is his name. Nothing like my teacher for Introduction to Zanpakutou, the first one. We had to have a new one for finishing up the class since the first one had an accident. They should really make sure teachers are in good health, but he did hold out for several years."
"I heard tell that the classes force ya ta mature just ta keep up," Makoto said, fingering a knickknack that had fallen off of Kenji's desk. "Would ya say that's true?"
I hummed, wobbling my hand back and forth. "I suppose so. I've had to be more active in learning, certainly. I was banned from the library briefly, actually." I grinned, both to maintain the pretense that this was a casual conversation and because it was actually pretty funny in retrospect. What kind of teacher tried to stop kids learning?
An icy vise gripped my stomach. The kind that wants to murder and eat you. It was warm enough now that the grasses that carpeted the estate only had a thin layer of frost, but I shivered. My hand trailed to Arashi's hilt. Her smooth silk called up the usual whisper of water and crackle of electricity, which left the chill inside untouched.
"I'm not supposed to talk about them," I blurted out, hands flitting to my face. The cluttered, secluded study pressed in around me like a prison. I swallowed hard, focusing on the pulse of my reiryoku within. Breathe in and lightning gathered. Breathe out and waves crashed, soothing away some of the heat that burned in my cheeks. Defeated, like always. "Captain Unohana said so."
Makoto's face was caught briefly between a smirk and her pity-pout. Really, my mother was prettier when she was smiling. Her expression smoothed. "Captain Unohana's power doesn't extend ta Hirako clan affairs."
"Captain Unohana knows what she's doing," I argued, ducking my head so I couldn't look at her and lose my nerve. Focus on this argument. This is here and now. "She wouldn't take action if it was a clan matter."
"Clearly she did," my father drawled. "Ya ain't yet a Shinigami, Zanpakutou or not. You're our problem alone until ya graduate."
I gritted my teeth. I am not the fucking problem child. I have never been the problem child. "So," I began, "what did you-"
"Ta congratulate ya," he interrupted, drumming his fingers on the desk's smooth blond wood. "Yer mom an' I, we think ya got a lot more goin' fer ya than we ever woulda guessed. Makes me shake ta think how good ya woulda done as an onmitsu."
My face, damn its stupid betraying inked-up self, broke out into a grin. I moderated it quickly to a shaky closed-lipped smile. "Th-thanks. I- uh, yeah. Thanks."
Kenji looked at me for a few long seconds, waiting for me to stop falling all over myself. He continued on, as I'd known he would. My heart sank. Couldn't they just let me have this moment? "Course, ya ain't some Kuchiki flowerlet ta show all yer riches and be content with 'em. Ya gotta learn ta temper it, Nariko. Pick an' choose what ya show."
Makoto bobbed her head. "That's right. We haven't raised ya ta show all yer cards. Ya really gotta bide yer time, Nariko, wait 'til the time's right."
I blinked. What? That wasn't right. Shinji was flashy as all hell. Shinji straight-up announced when he wanted to kick people's asses. Everyone knew Shinji was the heir and what power that gave him. Shinji-
Shinji. Fear and joy died together as realization set in. It's about Shinji again. Big fucking shock. How could you? How could you, how could you, how could you, you- why? "What?" I whispered. I wasn't even an onmitsu. They had no right to act as though I was. Except they did, because they were my parents. I let my long sleeves fall over my hands to disguise the clenched-white fists they'd formed. I couldn't talk. Couldn't move. Couldn't act. They'd given me everything, far more than Minoru and Nanase and Aizen had likely grown up with. It was the least I could do to listen and obey.
Makoto continued on as though she hadn't heard me. Probably hadn't. Volume was what you needed around here. The only things that were quiet were other people's secrets. "Great that you've gotten so far, darlin'. Really. So young an' so skilled. A piece of advice, Nariko: power's what ya make of it. Ya think this clan got where it is by chargin' in and releasin' all its knowledge in some great flood? Hah. The key ta power is usin' it in small doses, ya see? Little bits here an' there. You'll take after the clan that way, I think. No huge walloping load of power, somethin' discreet." She pursed her improbably perfect pink lips. "Sorry ta be that voice of reason, but ya ain't never gonna be some titan like the Captain-Commander, if'n ya were hopin' fer that." Her laugh, normally an almost braying sound that made you want to start laughing too, sounded like someone was punching her in the stomach. "Yer father an' I were wrong about ya not bein' able ta survive that way, but ya ain't no earth-shaker."
"Shinji says I could be a lieutenant." The words tore free from my lips before I could bite them back. I dropped my gaze to the floor, sticky heat rushing up under my collar. Idiot, don't be rude, I scolded myself. That wouldn't help me at all.
Kenji frowned at me. "Nariko, darlin', please don't take this the wrong way. I'm just tryin' ta make sure ya don't get yer hopes up for nothin', it bein' such a competitive job an' all. But Shinji ain't even old enough ta know that girls his age ain't fond of gettin' their hair pulled no more. Hell, he doesn't even have his Shikai yet. Which I was hopin' ta talk ta ya about."
I nodded, trying to inconspicuously stop my nose from running and giving me away.
"When ya came ta me talkin' about goin' off ta Shin'ou, we talked about how Shinji's got more raw power than you," he said. "Which brings me ta an interestin' problem. Ya already honed yer power into somethin' that might be usable, given some work. Shinji, well, he ain't reached that level yet. He's got lotsa power, but his reiatsu ain't got more of an edge than the classmates y'all brought back. I'd compare ya ta an arrow, bein' precise an' effective but useless without trainin' and good circumstances. Shinji I'd call a warhammer. Kid ain't got subtlety, can be seen a mile away an' dodged easily, but he's got a lot goin' for him with a little discipline."
No. They weren't asking that. They weren't turning this to Shinji again. No. Please, Kannon, make him say something evil so I can hate him.
"So, yer mom an' I were thinkin' that maybe ya could show him a thing or two, hurry him along. It's important that Shinji demonstrates his power early so he can climb the ladder before all my hairs turn grey." He grinned, tugging at his mane unscathed by old age even after centuries. I had to smile at the sheer resemblance he had to Shinji with that expression.
We sat there in silence for a few seconds before I worked up the nerve to make a final attempt at making the conversation the self-centered one it should've been. The acid-fire of jealousy ate away at my core like I'd drunk lye. Maybe I should've brought some along to put myself out of my misery.
"Did you have anything you wanted to say about my perceptive abilities?" I tapped my cheek beneath my right eye. "I think you mentioned something about those."
Makoto perked up. Shut your mouth, I growled in my head. At least I can stand to hear Dad's voice chew me out. "Well, I had a couple of thoughts on 'em."
I steeled myself and choked out the words she wanted to hear. "Oh, what were those?"
Makoto beamed as winter wind whistled above our heads. I was absurdly thankful for the tiled roofs instead of the thatched ones I'd seen on my way here. "Well, ya see, them bein' so new an' all, it's understandable that ya might not be able ta use 'em ta their full potential yet. A bit of practice might do ya some good, if ya can avoid gettin' caught. I'm sure that if ya found the chance someday, the clan would welcome some discreetly gathered news."
I focused in on the sentence that I could hear without wanting to throw Kenji's damned paperweights at Makoto's head. "Yeah, I was already planning to experiment with them when I got the chance. Thanks anyway." I let my face go slack, staring past them as though I'd forgotten something important. "Ack! I'm so sorry! I've got to go get ready. Shinji and our friends and I were going to go practice Zanjutsu. Mind if I do? Keep my strength up as a good Shinigami and all?" I plastered wide eyes and a sheepish-but-content smile on my face, a perfect whimsical mask. Might as well keep putting my plans of acting in place. I could use the happiness, too, fake or not.
They shook their heads in unison, lines of their bodies drooping back into my parents' forms, hungover partygoers like they were supposed to be. I wondered idly if I'd ever get that in sync with someone.
"Go easy on yer brother!" Makoto called as I backed out of the room.
"Go on ahead, darlin'," Kenji said, smiling tiredly. "Have fun."
Go sleep and get rid of the heaviness in here, my body murmured.
Go to that training session, my brain whispered, sounding the least eager of them all.
"Sex!"
"Eh?"
The speakers were Shinji and Minoru respectively. At Minoru's insistence, we'd followed the rules of kendo and only awarded points for strikes made with kiai. Shinji'd complained for easily ten minutes about Minoru only wanting to follow the rules to avoid getting creamed, but when he'd gotten into it he'd proved to be creative about which words he used.
"Banned!" I called out, panting on the sidelines. Shinji'd trounced me, as expected, though I'd done better than I'd hoped. "That's just silly, Shin."
Nanase, laughing his ass off, piped up as soon as he found his breath, "No! Let that stay! That's the best one yet!"
I glared at him in mock fury, inspired by my impression of Himura. "No way! That's- that's obscene!"
The handful of people who'd gathered to watch tittered. Some of them, if their outfits were anything to judge by, would beg to differ. Didn't these people know it was winter? At least they left the judging to us.
I cast a pleading glance at Aizen. The polite friendliness between us had fallen back into place, but it didn't fit right, like a new board squeezed into place in old flooring. Something else belonged there, but fuck if I could figure out what. The potential of a threat shimmered too strongly around him for me to consider close friendship for now, but distance was achingly wrong. Honoka's rambling was laughable. I wasn't left with any real options but to continue on like nothing had happened. "Guess you're the tiebreaker, huh?" I chirped, donning the whimsical mask for the second time that day. "Quick! Stop the advance of these perverts!"
He looked at me for a second, expressionless, before his own mask appeared, faintly-crinkled eyes and faintly-smiling mouth and faintly-there presence. Had he recognized my pretense for what it was? "I'm afraid I have to agree with Nariko-san," he said with that half-apologetic tone he always used. "The point is to hit an opponent's physical weak points, not their mental ones."
Minoru could've passed for a plum from one of our trees, bearing fruit early. "A-Aizen-san! I am not- well, you know. I'm not!" he squawked.
Aizen folded his hands in his lap, curling his legs around the bench we huddled on. "I'm afraid I don't know, Fugai-san," he replied. "That could mean any number of things." Only the curl of his mouth in a slier smile than normal said his words held no malice.
Minoru raised his bokken in a mock-threat. "See if I don't put you in your place!"
I jerked as Aizen surged to his feet. The bony angles of his body smoothed as muscles I hadn't even known rippled under pale skin. Nanase and I were on our feet in a second. My eyes flicked around the field. Gravel, trees, grass, winter sky reiatsu pressing the air from my lungs. Dammit, what'd he-
Nothing. I—and half the other people here—had glanced around, looking for a Hollow or bandits or whatever. People here had a weird way of going about life, complacent and ordinary except for the ability to be ready to take it to the wall in a heartbeat. Hell, some of the dainty maidens, as much as any of my cousins were dainty or maidens, had drawn daggers out of nowhere. Minoru had whirled, brandishing his bokken.
Shinji stood stock still, staring at Aizen like he knew where the real threat was.
"Guys, guys," Nanase said, startling everyone out of their daze, "it's fine. No worries." He swept his sunny smile over the gathered watchers. Sure enough, their frozen forms melted into your usual chattering group of nobles, if a slightly shaken one. Shinji slid back into his kendo stance. Minoru mirrored him a second later, as though convinced that some beastie really was about to pop up.
I shook the lightning-pain of shock away. Arashi's eager crack of thunder faded into a murmur of rain as I took my seat again. No alarm. So why had he-
Shinji beat me to it. "Hey, dickhead! Don't worry everybody like that!" he snapped, blond ponytail whipping like a striking snake as he shook his head violently. "Ya wanna be a Shinigami, don't ya? Ya can't be jumpin' at nothing!"
Aizen's head snapped around. His eyes, so wide they looked about to fall out of his head, narrowed to hawklike slits. For an instant the air burned between them, sour-dark around Aizen and clear-light around Shinji. Oh fuck. Fuckfuckfuck where's Shinju when I need her? Not a threat that had made Aizen stand up. His dark side rearing its head again.
"Hey!" I blurted. The cogs of my brain turned at lightning speed. Where was I going with that outburst? Wise? Funny? I went with carefree, pulling the smiling mask up again. "C'mon, it's all good, right?" I tapped the tips of my index fingers together for the cutesy effect. "We've got time until we're Shinigami, don't we? I hope so, or I'm screwed." A huff of a laugh escaped my throat. "And besides, the Fourth isn't the worst if you're jumpy. Bet I'll be a sewer cleaner. Wanna help me, Nanase-kun?" I shot him a pointed look, still smiling.
He took the hint, releasing a giggle that sounded surprisingly natural. Good on you, Nanase. "Yeah, sure! Shinji-kun can boost morale an' Aizen-san can tell stories so we don't get bored an'- and Fugai-kun can help us 'cause he keeps his stuff so neat anyway and Fujikage-chan can pretty up the place," he chattered.
Shinji stayed tense for a second, eyes bright as his hair with some dangerous emotion. Then his straight tall sharp gold lines dulled and drooped back into my brother's slouching form. "Hey! That's my sister right there! Ya sayin' she ain't pretty?"
"Shinji!" I screeched, flapping my hands at him because a hyped-up Hirako would do that. "You can't just say that! After all, it's not my fault Fujikage-chan's only pretty compared to my great beauty." I ran cold-reddened fingers through my hair and tossed my head for good measure.
There. The social wires that stretched taut between us slackened. Aizen's shoulders lifted in a deep inhale, hunched in a foggy exhale worthy of a dragon. He plopped back down on the bench. The glasses, nearing the end of his nose during the argument, resumed their normal place jammed up the bridge of his nose. Minoru and Shinji took their stances again, raising their bokken like they were prepared to end this day bleeding out on the field together.
Boys.
"We gotta walk back? What kinda bullshit is that?"
"How else ya wanna do it, huh? We ain't got horses or carriages or shit. The Hirako aren't lazy."
"I ain't lazy! I ain't even askin' ta go back another way, ya idiot! You're the one who suggested that!"
"Ya complainin' because yer legs are too short ta- Bitch!"
Thank you, Takaokami, for the cold weather. My face was too frozen-stiff to scowl at Shinji and Hiyori's antics. They'd been bickering since we'd started packing. How did people get off on the wrong foot that quick? Speaking of which, Hiyori was trying to stomp on Shinji's again.
"Hey, you two, can you maybe save the fighting for when we've got teachers around to pull you apart? I don't think anyone here's keen on getting caught in the crossfire." I gestured around our group. Minoru, Aizen, and Nanase had all proven to have the good sense to keep their eyes on Shinji and Hiyori, but if Hiyori started throwing things who knew if vigilance would protect us.
"He started it!" they blurted in unison. I face-palmed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Three, two, one-
Hiyori's face flushed red. "Hey! Ya asshole! I'll strip right here, see if I don't! I'm a girl!"
Shinji made a show of raising an eyebrow as high as it could go. "What? Really? Oh, my greatest apologies, madam."
"Hey, the slapstick's gone on long enough," my father drawled, deep voice cutting off the yowl growing in Hiyori's throat. "Makoto an' I'd like ta see y'all off before we're old an' grey."
We made the usual goodbyes and see you soons and be safes. Dad dragged it out a little longer to give Nanase a seafoam yukata that he swore would travel well, but otherwise they let us go on our way with surprisingly little fuss. That was the Hirako clan for you. Leave the house and they trusted you'd made that choice because you could handle yourself.
As we tromped off down the ice-encrusted path, I couldn't help but wonder if I was the exception to that rule.
Notes:
I'd just like to say that the Accent Association is probably the stupidest name I could think of for Nariko's friend group. But almost all speak a non-Tokyo dialect, which I choose to translate as an accent. The Cohort was the first name for them, but Romans are about as Western as you can get.
Fan-art! Some of (most of it) is done by me, because I found that Internet doll makers are really good to get a better image of characters. https://www.flickr.com/photos/129007407@N02/ Here we have the core cast and Akane. Why Akane? Because I could. Most of the characters' identities should be obvious, but just in case, Minoru is the boy with brown eyes and Nanase is the one with blue eyes. The latter's eyes are darker in my mind, but I can only do so much with the tools I'm given.
From a reader/my senpai: http://triggyj.deviantart.com/art/Hiyori-at-New-Year-498341683. Hiyori in her New Year's clothing! Isn't she cute?
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone