(no subject)
Fandom.
You know, it's been so long since I really got into a new fandom that I'd forgotten how terrifying it is. Bleach is awesome, it really is, especially because - as long as you stay away from the Ichigo/Orihime = canon | Rukia/Ichigo = canon debate - there seems to be a very relaxed atmosphere when it comes to who you ship. I have yet to encounter flamewars about that, while in my other main fandom - wrestling - that happened a lot more frequently than I'd like it to.
However, finding your way around is a bit intimidating as well. I know very few people - am working on that, though! - and I don't yet know the unofficial rules. Normally I love reviewing, but lately I've been very hesitant about reviewing in this fandom. I'm the type who is very frank about things and I almost always give concrit where I think it would help, but I'm not sure if that would be appreciated here. I have yet to see more than a handful comments that weren't completely filled with praise. (Which isn't to say I don't think those reviews should be given, it just means that I'm not sure if concrit is expected/appreciated in this fandom.)
I know that in the wrestling fandom you got a lot of shit for giving concrit, to the point where people would put 'no concrit, please' in their headers, so I was wondering what the deal is here. Is it appreciated, or is it likely to get me into trouble with the locals? XD
Thoughts?
~
Burimyu.
Bleach musical related pictures! *cheers* The first one's from Eiji's blog, where he mentions Bleach. I haven't bothered trying to translate it - seeing as I'm only on chapter three of my 'teach yourself Japanese' and could only embarrass myself - but just the mere mention of it and the related picture makes me a very happy bunny!
(I'm guessing he's talking about meeting up with some of his Burimyu colleagues, but I really don't know. *picks up study book again*)
The second is from Kuranuki-san's blog. ^^ Yay!
~
Meme.
1.
Give me a Bleach character and I will give you my:
+ OTP for them.
+ Runner-up pairing.
+ Honorable mention(s).
+ Crack pairing(s).
+ Ship everyone else seems to like, but I don't.
2.
Ask me my fannish Top Five [Whatevers]. Any top fives. Doesn't matter what, really! And I will answer them all in a new post. Possibly with pictures.
Courtesy of memeswhores.
~
Fic.
I need some input on my characterisation of Nanao. I've finished a chapter or two for the Zaraki/Nanao fic I'm working on - also due to yesterday's wordwar I did, which added 900+ words and finished a chapter - but I'm not sure yet if my Nanao voice works. Writing Zaraki is easy, but she's just a bit more...intricate.
Title: The Quiet Before The Storm - Chapter One
Author: silawen
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Leading up to Zaraki Kenpachi/Ise Nanao. Involves Matsumoto Rangiku.
Words: 3500
Warnings: None, so far.
Summary: The 11th Division has long been a messy one, but Yamamoto has finally decided to do something about. Enter Ise Nanao, who has turned paperwork into an artform. However, can she actually accomplish something when Zaraki Kenpachi is its captain?
~
“I told you that being so punctual was going to get you into trouble,” Matsumoto Rangiku said, leaning back in the chair she usually occupied when she visited the eight division. A chair which actually belonged to Captain Kyouraku, but was never used since it stood too close to his desk.
Ise Nanao, diligently cleaning up the mess Matsumoto had left her with - her friend had the annoying habit of saving up forms that required the signatures of both their divisions and then dumping them on her all at once - chose not to reply, even if she saw an annoying amount of logic in the woman’s statement. If she had listened to the drunken yammering, then she wouldn’t be in such an unpleasant situation. Then again, her entire division would be in shambles, but that almost sounded worth it in the long run. It wasn’t like her captain would mind.
Grabbing one of the many pieces of parchment, she eyed the familiar sake-stains with distaste, wondering how she’d ever managed to get close to two people with such similar hobbies. Maybe she was as much a masochist as Matsumoto sometimes said she was.
“It makes sense,” she murmured, putting the paper to the side in hopes of saving it later on with a well-executed kidou spell. “From what I’ve heard they do require assistance.”
Matsumoto yawned dramatically. “Of course they do, but they don’t want it. Can you really say you expect any of those brutes to so much as read something when it comes in?”
“You don’t either, unless Hitsugaya-taichou forces you.” Nanao snorted softly. “Besides, I’d figured Yumichika would at least keep that place afloat.”
“He does, which is why it took Yamamoto so long to do this. Really, though, Nanao? You of all people? You’re about as un-eleven as they get.”
Signing another form with a flourish, Nanao looked up for just a second and gave a weak shrug.
“He said that the eight Division has the best track-record when it comes to punctuality, so I was chosen.” She paused. “Granted, with me gone for a while that record isn’t going to hold up, but maybe it will nudge taichou into action.”
Matsumoto laughed. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up. The most he’s going to do is storm in there in a flash of pink and bring you back here the moment you get a papercut from scrapping with the eleventh.”
“I will not be scrapping with the eleventh. I’m just there to give some pointers on how they should handle their paperwork.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Are you including Zaraki-taichou in this? And Yachiru? I’d have to stop by the eleventh, if that is the case.”
The amusement that flickered in her friend’s eye sparked some annoyance in Nanao, but she’d long since learned to deal with it. As her friend slumped even further in her chair and threw her legs over the side, Nanao gathered the few remaining papers she’d finished before putting them away to be sent off later in the week.
“A division can’t be organized if its captain is not directly involved. Zaraki-taichou will have to be an integral part of it and set a good example. You know how important that is.”
A clatter of laughter left her friend just as Nanao had expected. Outside the clashing of swords sounded, drifting in through the open window and telling her that she was behind schedule. Matsumoto’s - though welcome - appearance usually had that effect. Sighing heavily, she adjusted her glasses and stretched her fingers. If she wanted to end the day happy, then she needed to pick up the pace. Glancing over at the prostrate form of her fellow vice-captain, she didn’t even have to say anything. Matsumoto looked over, nodded, and got up.
“I suppose if anyone can get things in order, then it’s you, Nanao.” The woman smiled. “Just know that we’re right next door if you’re in trouble.”
Nanao rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Now go, before Hitsugaya-taichou shows up and distracts me even further.”
With a cheery wave, Matsumoto swayed out the door. Nanao picked up her brush and smiled lightly. Today would be a good day.
~
Very few people in Soul Society enjoyed getting up at the break of dawn the way Nanao did. Ever since she’d been a young girl, she’d appreciated the quiet hours before the rest of the world awoke, and she’d get up especially early every day just to be one step ahead of everyone else.
The gentle light tracing the sky, a delightful prelude to the coming sun, cleared her mind and calmed her soul, just as morning’s chill caused her skin to tingle. Bustling about in her chambers, she prepared for another long day in silence, nothing distracting her from a hearty breakfast and a steaming cup of tea. To her the start of a day decided what the rest was going to be like.
Picking up her book - notes littering the pages in neat scrawls, most of which she knew she’d need - she glanced at the clock and noted the time. If she wanted to get something done, then she’d better start early.
The road to the eleventh division wasn’t long and Nanao rather enjoyed it. Though she could have flashstepped there, she instead chose to walk at a calm but steady gait. With her role as vice-captain, it didn’t happen too often that she had the time or inclination to wander around Soul Society and certainly not in the direction of the barracks for the eleventh.
Passing the tenth, she saw that all was empty. The courtyard remained bare and not even the division’s captain seemed in. Matsumoto certainly wouldn’t be in anytime soon, but Nanao was rather surprised at Hitsugaya’s absence. Maybe he’d been up all night correcting his vice-captain’s work, or worked with his zanpakutou until the late hours of the day. She didn’t put it past him.
Leaving the tenth behind her - and the thought of afternoons spent with a friend beside her - Nanao turned to the collection of barracks up ahead. The eleventh, usually a rowdy and loud conglomeration, looked no different from the others at first glance. Even - or maybe especially - the brash warriors of Zaraki’s squad were completely silent in the hour before sunrise. As the horizon brightened ever so slightly, they remained in their barracks and slumbered.
Though it seemed the very picture of an early morning in Soul Society, Nanao could immediately spy the tell-tale signs that she wasn’t in her own division. Two wooden swords, splintered and broken, lay discarded against the outer walls, the ground around them crushed to a pulp. Empty buckets, some still dripping with water and covered with blood-soaked rags, littered the courtyard and the one tree still standing - Nanao was convinced there’d been more once - had grown crooked in an unnatural way. Where the courtyard of the eight had neat pathways surrounded by grass, the eleventh’s ground was flat and dusty, interrupted only by the occasional tuft of died grass or hole in the ground.
Cracks lined the walls as she neared the main building. Some of the larger ones - gashes, running along the white plaster in disturbing patterns - had been filled hastily, their repairs inadequate in almost any other division, but the building still remained standing. Nanao was at a loss how, because she could see evidence of larger holes in more than one location.
Knocking firmly on the large, oak door, Nanao hoped that there was someone awake. Getting no response, she entertained the idea of letting her reiatsu flare as a sign that she was there, but abandoned it when she realized where she was. Most men in the eleventh were there because they favoured more brutal ways of finding out how strong someone was and she had little hope that they’d notice she was there, even if she went all out and made the ground shake. No, all that would do was bring down the walls - if she really tried - and cause her captain to come running. Which would be an amusing sight, but not worth the trouble.
At the third attempt of getting someone to open the door, Nanao sighed and gave up. Her bright idea of an early start had not been so bright after all. She should not have expected others to rise at dawn the way she did. Deciding to, instead, check out the other buildings on the compound, Nanao ducked around the first building and towards the back. She had to admit she was curious what else she’d find.
The barracks where most of the men slept - she could feel their reiatsu pulsing, even in their sleep - had been pushed against the far wall and were quite a way from her yet. In between her and them stood two more barracks, though these much more fancy than the others, and another courtyard, swamped in constructions of all sorts. She eyed them warily, especially the stuffed dolls that had been savagely cut into pieces. The training materials of the eleventh left quite a bit to be desired, but then Nanao knew that hacking and slashing was a skill they valued above all. Their ability to kill in a very gruesome and inefficient way was present in abundance, even if she thought that to be a shame.
Not feeling too keen about getting closer, Nanao instead focused her attention on the two remaining buildings. Though there was nothing indicating such, she knew they had to be for the captain, vice-captain and seated officers, even though most of them should have received offers of residences outside of the Gotei 13’s grounds. She knew the captain was in, however, because his reiatsu thundered through the air like lightning, crackling against her skin like nails raking down her back. It was a rather difficult sensation to ignore.
Her initial urge was to seek him out, as people tended to approach and greet the captain before they did anything else, but she was interrupted when she felt the familiar - though faint - tug of a person’s reiatsu brushing against hers.
“Who’s there?” she called, turning her head. At first nothing happened, but when she didn’t move away, someone stepped from the shadows behind one of the buildings. A lithe frame betrayed the person’s gender as a young woman stopped in front of her with a respectful bow.
“M-morning, Ise-fukutaichou.”
Nanao eyed the girl, taking in the disheveled uniform and messy hair. If it had been her division, she would have called her out on her lack of tidiness, but it didn’t seem her place.
“Good morning,” she replied, giving a curt bow back. “It is good to see someone up so early, I’d gotten worried everyone might still be asleep. Would you be able to show me to your offices?”
There was unease to the girl’s posture, hinting at something that Nanao couldn’t quite grasp. It seemed odd, for in all her time in Soul Society, she’d never met a member of the eleventh who wasn’t confident. Though perhaps she’d been a new arrival, already trying to get reassigned.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” the answer came, voice soft. Nanao raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
The girl’s hands were wringing uncomfortable, occasionally catching the long, flowing hem of her sleeves. They tugged at it repeatedly and her long fingers turned white at the pressure. Nanao frowned, unsure what to make of it.
“This is not my division, Ise-fukutaichou.”
As a vice-captain, Nanao knew all too well the strict code of conduct shinigami were supposed to adhere to. Rules, regulations, the moral fibers everything had been built on, they kept everything together and governed their lives. Inter-division relationships, while hardly frowned upon, were part of the unofficial regulations that existed. There were certain things one did not do, which was probably why the young lady in front of her had been sneaking around before people woke up.
“I see,” she mumbled, feeling the wind tug at her hair like the guilt had to tug at the girl. Division members were supposed to sleep in their own divisions, not the one their lover resided in. Even if that division happened to be the eleventh.
“I’ll just be off, then.” The girl gave her a wavering smile. Nanao didn’t return it.
“Indeed. Have a good day.”
The girl dashed off, not even bothering to hide the urgency in her step. Nanao watched her go, wondering not for the first time why people were so very different from her. Could they not see that rules were there for a reason and that they should only be broken when they clashed with someone’s moral compass? She thought back to her encounter with Yamamoto, loyal as she’d been in following her captain, and wondered if it’d been worth it. She figured it had been.
Continuing on her way, she stopped in front of the other barrack and knocked firmly.
~
As the sun crept further upwards, its path slow but steady, Nanao waited patiently in front of the locked door as rumblings filtered through it from inside. A crash here, a swearword there, and she could clearly hear two voices arguing about something. Eventually feet thudded towards her and the door was opened with a firm pull. Nanao didn’t move as a short, sleepy looking man gazed up at her.
“Good morning,” she greeted merrily, taking in the man’s appearance. It seemed all the inhabitants of the eleventh - whether they belonged there or not - were unkempt, for his haori had been fastened in a hurry and his hair was askew. Bits stood up in various directions, defying gravity itself, and sleek hair dangled in front of the man’s eyes. Nanao could just see them through the tangle of black hair.
“Eh?”
Raising an eyebrow at the almost drunken drawl - due to sleep or due to actual alcohol, Nanao couldn’t tell - she breathed in deeply and tried again, this time much firmer. The fact that he hadn’t taken notice of her vice-captain band and acted as if she was a mere novice had her somewhat annoyed. Early mornings should not be a reason to forget about standard protocol.
“Good morning.”
The man blinked, rubbing his eyes in an undignified manner before looking at her again. This time he seemed to recognize her, for his face flushed ever so slightly and he bowed stiffly.
“Ah, yes, good morning, fukutaichou.”
His sword hung so low it scraped the floor when he bent down. The screech of metal meeting stone caused Nanao to twitch, but the person in front of her didn’t seem to notice. Though she imagined his zanpakutou complaining, he undoubtedly couldn’t hear, for he just looked at her with expectant eyes.
“I’m here to improve your division’s paperwork.” Nanao straightened. “What is your name?”
The member of the eleventh finally seemed to realize that he should have introduced himself. It was common practice when one encountered a person of higher rank, but even that simple rule didn’t seem to be part of the moral etiquette that the eleventh obeyed. Their own set of rules often baffled Nanao, for she could see no logical pattern in it whatsoever.
Of course, she understood that they valued pride and swordsmanship. She had heard of members of the eleventh dying - or coming way too close to it - simply because they would not accept help or retreat when facing a more powerful foe. It made no sense to her, but she could understand their flawed reasoning. They’d been working under Zaraki and his barbaric lust for violence for too long to have any logic left, if their brains weren’t permanently concussed. As her captain had often said, the eleventh had trained everything but their brains.
“Okashima Daido, Ise-fukutaichou. I am the eight seat here.”
Noting the bit of information to be written down later, Nanao nodded before glancing over Okashima’s shoulder. The door was slightly ajar, but not enough light made it through to see what was inside. Only darkness, accompanied by the soft snoring of a person enjoying the comforts of sleep.
“Maybe you can assist me,” Nanao murmured, returning her attention to Okashima. “I was hoping to meet with the head of your office and perhaps have a look around. Who would that be and where could I find him?”
Okashima brightened at that, a smile along his lips. “That would be me, fukutaichou. Fifth seat Yumichika and I handle most of the paperwork, if we find the time.”
“Very well, then.” She grasped her notebook firmly, before motioning for Okashima to lead the way. “Show me your office.”
The eight seat seemed all too happy to comply and stepped outside. Before she had time to digest it, he hurried to the main building with surprising speed for someone who’d seemed almost dead on his feet minutes before. Following him at a comfortable pace, Nanao shook her head at his folly, but made no comment. She’d never thought the eleventh particularly bright anyway.
~
The office was nothing like Nanao had expected. Though a spacious enough room, it only held two desks - littered with paper upon paper, all lacking the signatures that they required - and one chair. There was nothing else, except for stacks and stacks of even more papers and a moldy couch that seemed to find frequent use. She wrinkled her nose at the thing, but was even more distressed by the lack of care with which all those forms had been treated. They had to be behind by several weeks at least, if not months. She had her work cut out for her.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing out a part of one of the desks that had been coated with a thick layer of ink, but also held a curious looking box. The wood had been soaked through and through in the black substance, about the only thing in the room that seemed to have come anywhere near it. It interested her, if only because it looked well-used.
“That’s…ehm, well…”
The tremble in his voice was obvious, so very different from the earlier relaxed confidence. As the two stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, Nanao waited with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s Zaraki-taichou’s signature,” Okashima eventually murmured, a look of resignation on his face. As Nanao blinked in confusion he grabbed the box.
“I do not follow, Okashima-san.”
Instead of explaining himself further, he handed her his prized possession, watching as she carefully opened it. Black smeared all over her fingers, from tips to palm, but she didn’t care. Her curiosity was much too great. Snapping open the lid, she finally saw what it held inside.
Grabbing the item that Okashima seemed so uncomfortable about, she held it up to the light. It was square in shape, with a nicely curved handle on the end, and Nanao recognized it immediately. It was a stamp. She owned several herself, but not quite for what the eleventh apparently used it for. Because, where with her the symbol of the 8th had been imprinted, on this stamp she saw the angry scrawls of what she assumed to be Zaraki’s signature. It caused her blood to boil.
“Okashima-san.” Her voice was soft and cold, but her glare colder.
“Y-yes?”
The stocky eight seat looked at his feet, for a second wavering under her glare. Neither spoke, but if anyone in the eleventh had been more adept at reading energy-signatures, they would have noticed the miniscule flicker in Nanao’s reiatsu. The man simply held out his hand and she returned the offending item, the ink on it still wet.
“You mean to say,” she hissed through gritted teeth, motioning at all the papers surrounding them, “That Zaraki-taichou never actually sees these?”
A lesser man would have trembled at the barely concealed fury in her voice, but having spent most of his life under Zaraki’s thundering gaze, Okashima showed no fear in the face of such terror. Though there was a certain twitch to his sword-hand that betrayed an urge to grab his zanpakutou, just in case.
“I’m afraid not, Ise-fukutaichou. He’s never been one for paperwork, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, and with Kusajishi-fukutaichou’s habit of drawing on the documents we’ve simply kept them away from the situation altogether. Yumichika-san usually gives his approval before I stamp them, however.”
Had Nanao been anyone other than her calm and reasonable self, she might have stamped her foot or hit the man over the head with something, but in reality only her captain received that particular treatment. Most of the times her glares sufficed.
“This place is run by idiots!” she growled, snatching some papers from the nearest pile and walking off. Though usually controlled, there was a quiver to her reiatsu and a force to her steps that truly betrayed her annoyance. Searching the area for the man they’d been talking about, she flash-stepped out of the building.
You know, it's been so long since I really got into a new fandom that I'd forgotten how terrifying it is. Bleach is awesome, it really is, especially because - as long as you stay away from the Ichigo/Orihime = canon | Rukia/Ichigo = canon debate - there seems to be a very relaxed atmosphere when it comes to who you ship. I have yet to encounter flamewars about that, while in my other main fandom - wrestling - that happened a lot more frequently than I'd like it to.
However, finding your way around is a bit intimidating as well. I know very few people - am working on that, though! - and I don't yet know the unofficial rules. Normally I love reviewing, but lately I've been very hesitant about reviewing in this fandom. I'm the type who is very frank about things and I almost always give concrit where I think it would help, but I'm not sure if that would be appreciated here. I have yet to see more than a handful comments that weren't completely filled with praise. (Which isn't to say I don't think those reviews should be given, it just means that I'm not sure if concrit is expected/appreciated in this fandom.)
I know that in the wrestling fandom you got a lot of shit for giving concrit, to the point where people would put 'no concrit, please' in their headers, so I was wondering what the deal is here. Is it appreciated, or is it likely to get me into trouble with the locals? XD
Thoughts?
~
Burimyu.
Bleach musical related pictures! *cheers* The first one's from Eiji's blog, where he mentions Bleach. I haven't bothered trying to translate it - seeing as I'm only on chapter three of my 'teach yourself Japanese' and could only embarrass myself - but just the mere mention of it and the related picture makes me a very happy bunny!
(I'm guessing he's talking about meeting up with some of his Burimyu colleagues, but I really don't know. *picks up study book again*)
The second is from Kuranuki-san's blog. ^^ Yay!
~
Meme.
1.
Give me a Bleach character and I will give you my:
+ OTP for them.
+ Runner-up pairing.
+ Honorable mention(s).
+ Crack pairing(s).
+ Ship everyone else seems to like, but I don't.
2.
Ask me my fannish Top Five [Whatevers]. Any top fives. Doesn't matter what, really! And I will answer them all in a new post. Possibly with pictures.
Courtesy of memeswhores.
~
Fic.
I need some input on my characterisation of Nanao. I've finished a chapter or two for the Zaraki/Nanao fic I'm working on - also due to yesterday's wordwar I did, which added 900+ words and finished a chapter - but I'm not sure yet if my Nanao voice works. Writing Zaraki is easy, but she's just a bit more...intricate.
Title: The Quiet Before The Storm - Chapter One
Author: silawen
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Leading up to Zaraki Kenpachi/Ise Nanao. Involves Matsumoto Rangiku.
Words: 3500
Warnings: None, so far.
Summary: The 11th Division has long been a messy one, but Yamamoto has finally decided to do something about. Enter Ise Nanao, who has turned paperwork into an artform. However, can she actually accomplish something when Zaraki Kenpachi is its captain?
~
“I told you that being so punctual was going to get you into trouble,” Matsumoto Rangiku said, leaning back in the chair she usually occupied when she visited the eight division. A chair which actually belonged to Captain Kyouraku, but was never used since it stood too close to his desk.
Ise Nanao, diligently cleaning up the mess Matsumoto had left her with - her friend had the annoying habit of saving up forms that required the signatures of both their divisions and then dumping them on her all at once - chose not to reply, even if she saw an annoying amount of logic in the woman’s statement. If she had listened to the drunken yammering, then she wouldn’t be in such an unpleasant situation. Then again, her entire division would be in shambles, but that almost sounded worth it in the long run. It wasn’t like her captain would mind.
Grabbing one of the many pieces of parchment, she eyed the familiar sake-stains with distaste, wondering how she’d ever managed to get close to two people with such similar hobbies. Maybe she was as much a masochist as Matsumoto sometimes said she was.
“It makes sense,” she murmured, putting the paper to the side in hopes of saving it later on with a well-executed kidou spell. “From what I’ve heard they do require assistance.”
Matsumoto yawned dramatically. “Of course they do, but they don’t want it. Can you really say you expect any of those brutes to so much as read something when it comes in?”
“You don’t either, unless Hitsugaya-taichou forces you.” Nanao snorted softly. “Besides, I’d figured Yumichika would at least keep that place afloat.”
“He does, which is why it took Yamamoto so long to do this. Really, though, Nanao? You of all people? You’re about as un-eleven as they get.”
Signing another form with a flourish, Nanao looked up for just a second and gave a weak shrug.
“He said that the eight Division has the best track-record when it comes to punctuality, so I was chosen.” She paused. “Granted, with me gone for a while that record isn’t going to hold up, but maybe it will nudge taichou into action.”
Matsumoto laughed. “I wouldn’t get my hopes up. The most he’s going to do is storm in there in a flash of pink and bring you back here the moment you get a papercut from scrapping with the eleventh.”
“I will not be scrapping with the eleventh. I’m just there to give some pointers on how they should handle their paperwork.”
“I can’t wait to see it. Are you including Zaraki-taichou in this? And Yachiru? I’d have to stop by the eleventh, if that is the case.”
The amusement that flickered in her friend’s eye sparked some annoyance in Nanao, but she’d long since learned to deal with it. As her friend slumped even further in her chair and threw her legs over the side, Nanao gathered the few remaining papers she’d finished before putting them away to be sent off later in the week.
“A division can’t be organized if its captain is not directly involved. Zaraki-taichou will have to be an integral part of it and set a good example. You know how important that is.”
A clatter of laughter left her friend just as Nanao had expected. Outside the clashing of swords sounded, drifting in through the open window and telling her that she was behind schedule. Matsumoto’s - though welcome - appearance usually had that effect. Sighing heavily, she adjusted her glasses and stretched her fingers. If she wanted to end the day happy, then she needed to pick up the pace. Glancing over at the prostrate form of her fellow vice-captain, she didn’t even have to say anything. Matsumoto looked over, nodded, and got up.
“I suppose if anyone can get things in order, then it’s you, Nanao.” The woman smiled. “Just know that we’re right next door if you’re in trouble.”
Nanao rolled her eyes. “I know, I know. Now go, before Hitsugaya-taichou shows up and distracts me even further.”
With a cheery wave, Matsumoto swayed out the door. Nanao picked up her brush and smiled lightly. Today would be a good day.
~
Very few people in Soul Society enjoyed getting up at the break of dawn the way Nanao did. Ever since she’d been a young girl, she’d appreciated the quiet hours before the rest of the world awoke, and she’d get up especially early every day just to be one step ahead of everyone else.
The gentle light tracing the sky, a delightful prelude to the coming sun, cleared her mind and calmed her soul, just as morning’s chill caused her skin to tingle. Bustling about in her chambers, she prepared for another long day in silence, nothing distracting her from a hearty breakfast and a steaming cup of tea. To her the start of a day decided what the rest was going to be like.
Picking up her book - notes littering the pages in neat scrawls, most of which she knew she’d need - she glanced at the clock and noted the time. If she wanted to get something done, then she’d better start early.
The road to the eleventh division wasn’t long and Nanao rather enjoyed it. Though she could have flashstepped there, she instead chose to walk at a calm but steady gait. With her role as vice-captain, it didn’t happen too often that she had the time or inclination to wander around Soul Society and certainly not in the direction of the barracks for the eleventh.
Passing the tenth, she saw that all was empty. The courtyard remained bare and not even the division’s captain seemed in. Matsumoto certainly wouldn’t be in anytime soon, but Nanao was rather surprised at Hitsugaya’s absence. Maybe he’d been up all night correcting his vice-captain’s work, or worked with his zanpakutou until the late hours of the day. She didn’t put it past him.
Leaving the tenth behind her - and the thought of afternoons spent with a friend beside her - Nanao turned to the collection of barracks up ahead. The eleventh, usually a rowdy and loud conglomeration, looked no different from the others at first glance. Even - or maybe especially - the brash warriors of Zaraki’s squad were completely silent in the hour before sunrise. As the horizon brightened ever so slightly, they remained in their barracks and slumbered.
Though it seemed the very picture of an early morning in Soul Society, Nanao could immediately spy the tell-tale signs that she wasn’t in her own division. Two wooden swords, splintered and broken, lay discarded against the outer walls, the ground around them crushed to a pulp. Empty buckets, some still dripping with water and covered with blood-soaked rags, littered the courtyard and the one tree still standing - Nanao was convinced there’d been more once - had grown crooked in an unnatural way. Where the courtyard of the eight had neat pathways surrounded by grass, the eleventh’s ground was flat and dusty, interrupted only by the occasional tuft of died grass or hole in the ground.
Cracks lined the walls as she neared the main building. Some of the larger ones - gashes, running along the white plaster in disturbing patterns - had been filled hastily, their repairs inadequate in almost any other division, but the building still remained standing. Nanao was at a loss how, because she could see evidence of larger holes in more than one location.
Knocking firmly on the large, oak door, Nanao hoped that there was someone awake. Getting no response, she entertained the idea of letting her reiatsu flare as a sign that she was there, but abandoned it when she realized where she was. Most men in the eleventh were there because they favoured more brutal ways of finding out how strong someone was and she had little hope that they’d notice she was there, even if she went all out and made the ground shake. No, all that would do was bring down the walls - if she really tried - and cause her captain to come running. Which would be an amusing sight, but not worth the trouble.
At the third attempt of getting someone to open the door, Nanao sighed and gave up. Her bright idea of an early start had not been so bright after all. She should not have expected others to rise at dawn the way she did. Deciding to, instead, check out the other buildings on the compound, Nanao ducked around the first building and towards the back. She had to admit she was curious what else she’d find.
The barracks where most of the men slept - she could feel their reiatsu pulsing, even in their sleep - had been pushed against the far wall and were quite a way from her yet. In between her and them stood two more barracks, though these much more fancy than the others, and another courtyard, swamped in constructions of all sorts. She eyed them warily, especially the stuffed dolls that had been savagely cut into pieces. The training materials of the eleventh left quite a bit to be desired, but then Nanao knew that hacking and slashing was a skill they valued above all. Their ability to kill in a very gruesome and inefficient way was present in abundance, even if she thought that to be a shame.
Not feeling too keen about getting closer, Nanao instead focused her attention on the two remaining buildings. Though there was nothing indicating such, she knew they had to be for the captain, vice-captain and seated officers, even though most of them should have received offers of residences outside of the Gotei 13’s grounds. She knew the captain was in, however, because his reiatsu thundered through the air like lightning, crackling against her skin like nails raking down her back. It was a rather difficult sensation to ignore.
Her initial urge was to seek him out, as people tended to approach and greet the captain before they did anything else, but she was interrupted when she felt the familiar - though faint - tug of a person’s reiatsu brushing against hers.
“Who’s there?” she called, turning her head. At first nothing happened, but when she didn’t move away, someone stepped from the shadows behind one of the buildings. A lithe frame betrayed the person’s gender as a young woman stopped in front of her with a respectful bow.
“M-morning, Ise-fukutaichou.”
Nanao eyed the girl, taking in the disheveled uniform and messy hair. If it had been her division, she would have called her out on her lack of tidiness, but it didn’t seem her place.
“Good morning,” she replied, giving a curt bow back. “It is good to see someone up so early, I’d gotten worried everyone might still be asleep. Would you be able to show me to your offices?”
There was unease to the girl’s posture, hinting at something that Nanao couldn’t quite grasp. It seemed odd, for in all her time in Soul Society, she’d never met a member of the eleventh who wasn’t confident. Though perhaps she’d been a new arrival, already trying to get reassigned.
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know,” the answer came, voice soft. Nanao raised an eyebrow.
“Oh?”
The girl’s hands were wringing uncomfortable, occasionally catching the long, flowing hem of her sleeves. They tugged at it repeatedly and her long fingers turned white at the pressure. Nanao frowned, unsure what to make of it.
“This is not my division, Ise-fukutaichou.”
As a vice-captain, Nanao knew all too well the strict code of conduct shinigami were supposed to adhere to. Rules, regulations, the moral fibers everything had been built on, they kept everything together and governed their lives. Inter-division relationships, while hardly frowned upon, were part of the unofficial regulations that existed. There were certain things one did not do, which was probably why the young lady in front of her had been sneaking around before people woke up.
“I see,” she mumbled, feeling the wind tug at her hair like the guilt had to tug at the girl. Division members were supposed to sleep in their own divisions, not the one their lover resided in. Even if that division happened to be the eleventh.
“I’ll just be off, then.” The girl gave her a wavering smile. Nanao didn’t return it.
“Indeed. Have a good day.”
The girl dashed off, not even bothering to hide the urgency in her step. Nanao watched her go, wondering not for the first time why people were so very different from her. Could they not see that rules were there for a reason and that they should only be broken when they clashed with someone’s moral compass? She thought back to her encounter with Yamamoto, loyal as she’d been in following her captain, and wondered if it’d been worth it. She figured it had been.
Continuing on her way, she stopped in front of the other barrack and knocked firmly.
~
As the sun crept further upwards, its path slow but steady, Nanao waited patiently in front of the locked door as rumblings filtered through it from inside. A crash here, a swearword there, and she could clearly hear two voices arguing about something. Eventually feet thudded towards her and the door was opened with a firm pull. Nanao didn’t move as a short, sleepy looking man gazed up at her.
“Good morning,” she greeted merrily, taking in the man’s appearance. It seemed all the inhabitants of the eleventh - whether they belonged there or not - were unkempt, for his haori had been fastened in a hurry and his hair was askew. Bits stood up in various directions, defying gravity itself, and sleek hair dangled in front of the man’s eyes. Nanao could just see them through the tangle of black hair.
“Eh?”
Raising an eyebrow at the almost drunken drawl - due to sleep or due to actual alcohol, Nanao couldn’t tell - she breathed in deeply and tried again, this time much firmer. The fact that he hadn’t taken notice of her vice-captain band and acted as if she was a mere novice had her somewhat annoyed. Early mornings should not be a reason to forget about standard protocol.
“Good morning.”
The man blinked, rubbing his eyes in an undignified manner before looking at her again. This time he seemed to recognize her, for his face flushed ever so slightly and he bowed stiffly.
“Ah, yes, good morning, fukutaichou.”
His sword hung so low it scraped the floor when he bent down. The screech of metal meeting stone caused Nanao to twitch, but the person in front of her didn’t seem to notice. Though she imagined his zanpakutou complaining, he undoubtedly couldn’t hear, for he just looked at her with expectant eyes.
“I’m here to improve your division’s paperwork.” Nanao straightened. “What is your name?”
The member of the eleventh finally seemed to realize that he should have introduced himself. It was common practice when one encountered a person of higher rank, but even that simple rule didn’t seem to be part of the moral etiquette that the eleventh obeyed. Their own set of rules often baffled Nanao, for she could see no logical pattern in it whatsoever.
Of course, she understood that they valued pride and swordsmanship. She had heard of members of the eleventh dying - or coming way too close to it - simply because they would not accept help or retreat when facing a more powerful foe. It made no sense to her, but she could understand their flawed reasoning. They’d been working under Zaraki and his barbaric lust for violence for too long to have any logic left, if their brains weren’t permanently concussed. As her captain had often said, the eleventh had trained everything but their brains.
“Okashima Daido, Ise-fukutaichou. I am the eight seat here.”
Noting the bit of information to be written down later, Nanao nodded before glancing over Okashima’s shoulder. The door was slightly ajar, but not enough light made it through to see what was inside. Only darkness, accompanied by the soft snoring of a person enjoying the comforts of sleep.
“Maybe you can assist me,” Nanao murmured, returning her attention to Okashima. “I was hoping to meet with the head of your office and perhaps have a look around. Who would that be and where could I find him?”
Okashima brightened at that, a smile along his lips. “That would be me, fukutaichou. Fifth seat Yumichika and I handle most of the paperwork, if we find the time.”
“Very well, then.” She grasped her notebook firmly, before motioning for Okashima to lead the way. “Show me your office.”
The eight seat seemed all too happy to comply and stepped outside. Before she had time to digest it, he hurried to the main building with surprising speed for someone who’d seemed almost dead on his feet minutes before. Following him at a comfortable pace, Nanao shook her head at his folly, but made no comment. She’d never thought the eleventh particularly bright anyway.
~
The office was nothing like Nanao had expected. Though a spacious enough room, it only held two desks - littered with paper upon paper, all lacking the signatures that they required - and one chair. There was nothing else, except for stacks and stacks of even more papers and a moldy couch that seemed to find frequent use. She wrinkled her nose at the thing, but was even more distressed by the lack of care with which all those forms had been treated. They had to be behind by several weeks at least, if not months. She had her work cut out for her.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing out a part of one of the desks that had been coated with a thick layer of ink, but also held a curious looking box. The wood had been soaked through and through in the black substance, about the only thing in the room that seemed to have come anywhere near it. It interested her, if only because it looked well-used.
“That’s…ehm, well…”
The tremble in his voice was obvious, so very different from the earlier relaxed confidence. As the two stood awkwardly in the centre of the room, Nanao waited with a raised eyebrow.
“It’s Zaraki-taichou’s signature,” Okashima eventually murmured, a look of resignation on his face. As Nanao blinked in confusion he grabbed the box.
“I do not follow, Okashima-san.”
Instead of explaining himself further, he handed her his prized possession, watching as she carefully opened it. Black smeared all over her fingers, from tips to palm, but she didn’t care. Her curiosity was much too great. Snapping open the lid, she finally saw what it held inside.
Grabbing the item that Okashima seemed so uncomfortable about, she held it up to the light. It was square in shape, with a nicely curved handle on the end, and Nanao recognized it immediately. It was a stamp. She owned several herself, but not quite for what the eleventh apparently used it for. Because, where with her the symbol of the 8th had been imprinted, on this stamp she saw the angry scrawls of what she assumed to be Zaraki’s signature. It caused her blood to boil.
“Okashima-san.” Her voice was soft and cold, but her glare colder.
“Y-yes?”
The stocky eight seat looked at his feet, for a second wavering under her glare. Neither spoke, but if anyone in the eleventh had been more adept at reading energy-signatures, they would have noticed the miniscule flicker in Nanao’s reiatsu. The man simply held out his hand and she returned the offending item, the ink on it still wet.
“You mean to say,” she hissed through gritted teeth, motioning at all the papers surrounding them, “That Zaraki-taichou never actually sees these?”
A lesser man would have trembled at the barely concealed fury in her voice, but having spent most of his life under Zaraki’s thundering gaze, Okashima showed no fear in the face of such terror. Though there was a certain twitch to his sword-hand that betrayed an urge to grab his zanpakutou, just in case.
“I’m afraid not, Ise-fukutaichou. He’s never been one for paperwork, as I’m sure you’ve gathered, and with Kusajishi-fukutaichou’s habit of drawing on the documents we’ve simply kept them away from the situation altogether. Yumichika-san usually gives his approval before I stamp them, however.”
Had Nanao been anyone other than her calm and reasonable self, she might have stamped her foot or hit the man over the head with something, but in reality only her captain received that particular treatment. Most of the times her glares sufficed.
“This place is run by idiots!” she growled, snatching some papers from the nearest pile and walking off. Though usually controlled, there was a quiver to her reiatsu and a force to her steps that truly betrayed her annoyance. Searching the area for the man they’d been talking about, she flash-stepped out of the building.