iesada

Claiming Exemptions

2008-04-27T02:11:20Z

     It had taken time for Matsuhiro to finally decide upon a course of action. His initial impulse, of course, had been to report the incident with Antoku for what good it might have done, but uncertainty had kept him from taking the final step. But now, faced with the inevitable problem of kidou class, he was forced to finally make his choice. So here he was, hovering outside Iesada-san's office door, fists clenched unhappily in his hakama. The last thing he wanted was to speak to Iesada-san now...
     Or ever.
     Finally, though, scolding himself for acting like a child, he reached up to knock lightly on the door. All he could do now was hope for the best... Or at least hope to come out of the office alive. "Iesada-san, may I come in?"

     "Only if you don't plan on wasting my time," was the reply from inside the office. She couldn't say she was surprised; since Iki's report she'd been wondering what course of action the boy would get the nerve to take. It hadn't been something that required a summons -- she'd let well enough alone, at least this time.
     Satsue was behind her desk -- a desk, really, since hers was still in her office, thankfully unbroken as of yet, but given that the woman had a constant territorial air about her, it was unsurprising that the desk defaulted as "hers" for now. She had a stack of folders beside her, one open in front of her, a hand lifting and leafing through the bound papers inside the cover. "Get in here already, Uemiya."

     "Yes, ma'am!" The door opened quickly to admit Matsuhiro, who looked only the slightest bit more calm than he'd sounded. He had stopped tending to his scar, mostly out of stubborn frustration and it still looked red and angry, despite the fact that it'd had more than enough time, given proper tending, to have faded quite a bit. He offered a low bow, remaining bent for perhaps a few seconds longer than was necessary before gently closing the door and stepping forward.
     "I realize it may be a bad time, but there is a matter that requires your attention." He chose his words carefully, not wanting to provoke Iesada-san's anger again. No doubt she'd become furious when she heard what he had to say.

     "It's fine." She gave him a cursory glance, regarding the scar for no longer than it took to blink before she closed her folders, steepling fingers together, her elbows resting on top of the folder in front of her. She'd spent the whole morning awake, puzzling over Antoku and what to do about him... and while she'd come to several very clear decisions, the overall mystery was still mostly unsolved. It was like wandering in a maze blindfolded, but the most important issue -- namely, his lack of empathy -- was on the top of her list, and thank God, hopefully the one most easily solved, even if the solution, given the circumstances, wouldn't be a quick one.
     For the moment, his statement was ignored. "How are you faring with Rikichi-san."

     Hadn't he just said there was a matter that required her attention? Wasn't she concerned about the very obvious scar? Had she even looked at it?!
     It took a great deal of patience in order to keep his temper in check. Instead he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for the moment it took to calm himself. When they opened again, his expression was as indifferent as the face he often showed his less than impressive classmates. "Thinks are fine with Rikichi-san." His answer was as non-specific as could be in hopes to hide the fact that he hadn't met with Rikichi for training in quite some time. Their last meeting couldn't be called very productive, either...

     ".. I see," was all she said, but whether she saw it for the lie it was or not was left unsaid. "Still easily frustrated, I also see. Alright then, spit it out," she said, leaning back in her chair and waving a hand vaguely. "I don't need you going into a seizure on me."

     A slight tension in his jaw was the only sign of his remaining frustration, but he knew better than to whine in front of this woman.... or complain about what she must have considered to be very funny. Seizure... honestly!
     "I've come to talk to you about the upcoming kidou classes." He made sure to keep his tone level and his words polite. He would need every ounce of help he could get. "I need your permission to, ah... miss the class. I cannot... participate."

     Her head tilted to the side, grey eyes expressionless while she scrutinized his newly-earned scar. She knew the source -- known it the moment Iki described the problem -- but she was curious to see how much Matsuhiro was willing to admit. After all, she dealt in the exchange of information... and she never offered answers for free. "And why is that."

     The question had been inevitable. Really, it had been foolish to hope that she would simply accept his request and grant him an exemption. Fists clenched tightly for another moment before a single finger rose, rubbing a bit roughly at his scarred cheek.
     He was quiet for some time and it was only when the dull pain in his cheek grew sharper and more distinct that he finally found the appropriate answer. "For the same reason Sadakata-sempai would need an exemption."

     "That's very vague," she commented, dropping a hand to pick up a pen (no patience for brushes for simple correspondence), a clean sheet of paper retrieved from one of the desk drawers. She began writing. "Since you're so intent on avoiding spitting your problem out, I'll return the favor by asking questions until you find your tongue again. I take this to mean you've been spending time with Sadakata?"

     "Not by any wish of mine." The words escaped before Matsuhiro had any thought of censoring himself. He had wanted to avoid the trouble that would no doubt come when Iesada-san found out he'd broken the rules about staying away from Sadakata... even if it had been only an accident. Yet now that he'd begun, he found it more easy than he expected to begin spitting out the entire story. "I bumped into him in one of the dojos and made every attempt to follow your orders and leave him be." So maybe he hadn't made every attempt, but in his own mind, he'd put in an admirable effort!
     The finger that rested against his scarred cheek began to press harder against the red flesh and tiny pinpricks of pain blossomed under his fingertip. "He cut me."

     "I'm not blind." The curt reply was accompanied by a glance upward, and the pen paused, if just for a moment. "I also recall telling you not to provoke him, as you so conveniently mentioned. Moreover, I clearly also recall telling you to ignore him if he provoked you. Don't--" she pointed her pen at him-- "even think for one minute that you can sit there, look me in the eye, and tell me you didn't either provoke him or respond to his provocation. Save your breath for a better argument, your own temper speaks for itself. One way or another, you /will/ learn to control yourself, for the sake of your future teammates' safety. Your own personal feelings are never prioritized above any shinigami working with you or under your command. Understand?"

     If there was one thing Matsuhiro had learned, it was not to argue with Satsue. No matter how he wanted to, no matter how certain he was that he'd done no wrong, he bit his tongue and said nothing. How unfair that she allowed him no explanation! How unfair that she refused to hear his side of it! His hand finally dropped away from his cheek and he forced his tone to remain level. "I understand."

     "If you keep making that face, your expression is going to stick that way," she offered offhandedly, going back to whatever it was that she was writing. She knew he was upset -- he was so painfully obvious about it, sometimes -- and she knew the reason, because it was a typical child's reaction. Unfair, unfair. When were they going to realize they weren't children anymore?
     "What does getting cut on the face have to do with being unable to attend your kidou classes."

     She stared at him hard for longer than was necessary, thoughts click-click-clicking gears, grinding together the way she ground her teeth audibly when she was losing patience. Eventually she stared past him, considering, and when it began to look like she wouldn't answer at all, she refocused. "Tell me what you know of Sadakata's zanpakutou."

     Though he was able to keep himself from any embarrassing squirming while under the scrutiny of her gaze, Matsuhiro was becoming increasingly uncomfortable by the second. The question, though, came as something of a surprise. In an instant thoughts shifted from how unfair the world was to how he could best turn this situation to his own advantage. He had information she wanted, information he could bargain with. But...
     He considered her for a moment then came to the conclusion that no, he wouldn't be attempting to play any games with this woman. He would lose.
     Yet he was also forced to weigh his loyalty to her against his loyalty to Antoku, both of which were close to nothing. "You'll have to be more specific, Iesada-san. There's not much I know. Not for a certainty, at least."

     Her eyes narrowed at his hesitation -- of a surety, if he tried to toy around, she was far from disinclined about ripping the ground out from under his feet. Matsuhiro was an intelligent boy; the future would tell if he was wise enough to pick his battles correctly and control his pride. ... but it seemed he had a little wisdom, at least. Today. She let her pen drop from her fingers, leaning back in her chair. She could see it.. sometimes. It was never definite, but she heard it, no mistaking /that/ for tricks of the light, and if his cut was mirroring the effects.. she could only imagine.
     "I'll tell you a secret. When Ishamoto reported your injury to me, I knew who cut you despite never receiving the name. Things I don't know, I'm capable of piecing together enough to safely assume; now I'm going to assume you want an excuse from kidou classes because the cut on your cheek causes the same nulling and rebound effects as Yoro, although why you're incapable of spitting that out directly is beyond me, unless you wish to play games with me. However, given /that/ assumption, I can then assume there is a connection of some sort, either residual or permanent -- that would have to be determined by time only." She leaned forward again, eyes narrowing once more. "That said, I'm going to assume you can see it and hear it because of that. Am I wrong, Uemiya?"

     Slowly but surely as she voiced her assumptions, the confidence in Matsuhiro's expression began to fade. Really, she had no idea how badly he wanted to spill everything and hope that she could find a way to fix this. Yet there were things that prevented him from giving away all he knew. Promises, both good and bad that scared him away from being completely honest.
     "Everything you said is correct..." That was a good place to begin. He couldn't be faulted for giving up information she already knew. "I have seen it. But only when he's nearby."

     .. well, that at least confirmed her assumptions. She tilted her head back, glancing up at the ceiling, although this one wasn't nearly split asunder like the one down the hall where her office stood. Back to weighing options, her lips thinned. "What do you see."

     What harm would it do to answer? Certainly Antoku couldn't expect him to protect all his secrets, especially when he'd done this without Matsuhiro's consent! "It's like... spider webs. No, that's not exactly right..." How could he be expected to describe something like this? "Like threads... connected to things." Yes, he knew this wasn't the best explanation ever, and for once he managed to loose his prideful expression in favor of something a bit more confused.

     "Connected to things." She couldn't help repeating it, and if her company had been different, she might have actually given into showing the bizarre expression she felt. That was a new twist. Threads? The thought tasted strange in her head, but it fit, she supposed. It was different from her first assumption, in the clinic. "... that is--nevermind. What else?"

     "Well connected to him, mostly..." Matsuhiro was eyeing her with uncertainty, unsure of what exactly she was looking for. There wasn't much else to say! Unless she wanted to hear about Yoro, which he very much doubted. "But that's... well, there is nothing else. Just those threads... and only within a certain radius of him." It wasn't as if he'd been hanging out with Antoku at length!

     "How do they connect?" she asked, shoving aside impatience at her lack of information. Every time she learned something about the damn thing, ten more questions popped up with their ugly little heads. "... also, is that all you see? Threads?"

     He took a step back, almost as if he were on the verge of giving up his note to miss kidou class. Perhaps he was. It couldn't be worth the interrogation he was getting! "I don't know, they just do." What the hell kind of question was that, anyway? "I'm sorry, I don't know what you want me to say. I see the threads and Yoro, that's all!"

     Satsue sighed. She picked up the pen again, looking down at what she'd been writing. Well, then. So be it. If she had to piece it together with crumbs, fine. She'd figure it out eventually. 'I almost envy you,' she was inclined to say -- it was the jealousy of an engineer being unable to put its hands on a new toy -- but instead she said, "Very well. Uemiya?" she continued, while she resumed writing.

     Having nearly lost his calm, Matsuhiro took a moment to breathe deeply and regain his control. Eyes shifted away from the desk, focused on the walls, the floor, anything but Satsue. He did not even look up when his name was called. "Yes?"

     "The only one that can hurt your pride is you." He could take that however he liked, but she held out the paper she'd been writing on after blowing on the ink to make sure it'd dried, and folding the paper itself crisply in half. It was offered, balanced between two fingers. "Your note."

     Relief washed over his features before he had a chance to school them into something more neutral as he stepped forward to accept the note. "Thank you, Iesada-san." One disaster averted.
     He hesitated for a moment, uncertain of how to proceed, clutching his note tightly in one hand. Then he stepped forward, moving even closer to the desk than he might have dared a moment ago. "Can I ask you a question now?"

     She bit down another sigh. "What is it."

     He couldn't back down now. Perhaps this would have been a question better posed to another member of staff... one of the senseis... but no. If anyone knew the answer, it should be Satsue, right? Steeling himself against any potential rage, Matsuhiro's back grew rigid. "If a Shinigami is... forced to deal with a shikai that is not meant for him, will he go insane?"
     "Ah... hypothetically, of course."

     She blinked once, twice. Three times. Honestly? There was no precedent. "I would not imagine that would be so, unless that were the sole purpose and intent of the shikai, which I highly doubt in this case. I don't see how it would affect you mentally, beyond being a minor inconvenience, unless you intend to drive yourself insane, which I would not advise." That last part could have almost been humor.

     Matsuhiro wanted to feel relief, but he simply couldn't allow it. Perhaps to a degree his fear had been lessened but there was no way to know for certain, especially when Antoku had said the opposite. And then there were even worse concerns than that... "But what about my own shikai? Will I still be able to learn it? What if Yoro scares it off or... or what if I simply can't do it?"

     ".. Uemiya." She felt for the first time, in a very long time, like she'd suddenly been shoved into some fairytale story about monsters under beds, in closests, waiting to devour children. What on earth had gotten into this child, that he would turn to her, of all people, for consolation? Was she suddenly giving off parental vibes when she wasn't looking? The past few days sickened her when she thought too much about them. She hadn't been put in this world for these things; they were not her forte. "Look at me. Fear is a dangerous thing. Too much or too little and you'll be dead on your first mission. Your zanpakutou is as much a part of you as your bones and blood are. It /is/ you. No one can take that away from you, except you." .. and no one can take away your dignity and pride, except you. Would he remember that?

     Oddly enough, those words did give him comfort, as much as he hated to admit to being comforted by any words of Satsue's. In fact, he nearly smiled, an expression that softened the often too hard lines and angles of his face. He stepped back, placing a more comfortable distance between them before bowing slowly and deeply. "Thank you, Iesada-san. I will remember."

     The look that crossed her face could be called nothing short of irritable, and she shooed him with a hand. "I suppose I have to keep /this/ from your father, too. Out. I have work to do. No more foolish questions." She had to get rid of him before he started looking at her with cow eyes. She /hated/ that.

     For an instant he actually /did/ smile, but a quick bite of his lip hid it before it could get out of hand. "Thank you, Iesada-san." He offered another brief bow before pulling open the door and stepping into the hallway, clutching tightly to the note that was going to save him from kidou class.

Participants: Satsue, Matsuhiro
Notes: Matsuhiro has a request for the Dean's Assistant.
Status: Complete.

Idle Conversation

2008-04-27T01:21:20Z

     Her back is less intimidating, and he watched it move away from him the way it has since the beginning. Antoku smiled to himself when he finally looked away, lowering his head and running his scarred fingers backwards through his tangled hair. Her blood was rolling down his cheek when he looked back at Satsue and confessed sheepishly, "I remember why I loved her." But the room was unsteady at the corners of his eyes, so maybe it was just the light-headedness getting to him, trying to convince him that there was an excuse for letting Nozomi walk away. Again.

     "I wouldn't know," she replied flatly, but the anger wasn't in it. She briefly considered that she'd been born defunct, without some proper portion of her brain that dealt with such things, but she dismissed the thought just as easily. "Love is for other people." She dragged her fingertips along the desk, picking up her stubbed cigarette and smoothing it out with her fingers as best she could, flattening it -- instead of lighting it, she tucked it behind an ear, and then headed back to him, leaning down enough to check the dilation in his eyes.

     "Who are they?" he wondered, looking the way Nozomi had gone. It was hard to say how he might have reacted if he'd been sober. He might have been significantly more volatile in response to her provocation, or completely remote and removed from the situation. But in either case, the first swing Yoro had taken at Nozomi would not have missed.

     "Not me," she said calmly, then bent down and swept him up over her shoulder. She might have left him to walk on his own back to the clinic, but he was too out of it to warrant her leaving him, and she didn't want to come out of her office in an hour and find him out cold on the floor in the middle of the hallway or two steps outside her door. "Up you go."

     "Not us," Antoku corrected.
     His limbs were as loose as a ragdoll's and he folded over her shoulder without resistance. The braided cord that his zanpakutou hung from slipped over his head when she picked him up, but one of his hands snapped out with snake-like precision and caught the leather-wrapped sappara as it fell. "... I can walk," he protested, much later than he should have. "I can walk on my own."

     "So we still have something in common? How droll." She shut her office door with her free hand.
     "Exactly why it took you a full minute to complain, I'm sure," was her blank reply as she started down the hall. It wasn't a long walk, all things considered -- just around the corner and down the next hall in one of the West Wing's many hallways. Iki's office was empty when she arrived -- the man either on his way to a class, in one, or elsewhere -- so she let herself in, flicking lights on enough to see, and then onto the back room where the beds were lined up. She turned just enough so he could catch a view from his vantage. "Which one."

     "I can see," he said, annoyance in his voice. She didn't have to turn this way and that. He could see, better than she ever had. "By the...table. In the corner." Away from the windows, away from the doors, and away from the beds by the windows where other students were most likely to be put if any were brought.
     Antoku looked down at the zanpakutou dangling from his hand, with its permanent sheath and its tote strap dragging haphazardly on the floor at Satsue's heels. Yoro had been silent thus far on the subject of Nozomi. He wondered why. "Do I live here now?"

     She glanced down and back, noticing the snake tail of strap at her heels. "..." 'You're going to die if you don't learn to control it,' she wanted to say, but instead she said nothing. Three, four, five steps forward, enough to take her to the bed he indicated and set him down in it. Either out of generosity or his pure good luck, she didn't simply toss him. "No. Why would you."

     The way he sank back on the thin hospital mattress said much. "Why would you do any of the things you people do to me?" he asked in turn. Most of it didn't make sense to him. The rest of it seemed disproportionately forceful. Antoku wearily wrapped Yoro's cord around his neck and shoulder, twice around his forearm, then stuck the sword itself half under himself, as if to prevent someone from stealing it away in his sleep.

     "..." She was silent for a moment, considering. Sixteen years ago he'd merely been a job the Kidoushuu had dumped on her. Then he'd been a frustrating challenge. He was still a frustrating challenge, but after sixteen years... she'd gotten used to him being around. What /that/ said, she had no idea. "Have you ever considered that one of these days, if you don't learn to control your zanpakutou, you're not going to be able to keep up? It will suck you dry, and then what?" She slitted her eyes, weighing her thoughts. "I'll tell you a secret."

     "Weren't you supposed to say the thing about telling me the secret before the secret?" Antoku drawled. After the shock of dealing with Nozomi, what remained was just a gentle decline of adrenaline leaving his system. He struggled to sit up, and then began the awkward task of un-pinning and removing his tabi socks. Antoku had never liked wearing tabi.

     It was hard to tell what she was thinking. "You're the reason I never had kids." That could have easily been a joke.

     "You're the reason I hate women," he returned, just before stooping to bite the ankle hem of his tabi sock and pry the tabs loose with his teeth.

     ".. I get that one a lot," she replied agreeably enough. She took the cigarette down from her ear, realized almost simultaneously she'd left the matches in her office, and turned back that way on the heel of the thoughts following after. "Anything else?" A glance over her shoulder, gesturing generally.

     "I have a riddle." He was pulling off his sock with just the tips of his unsteady fingers and intense concentration. "Have you ever considered that if none of you 'teachers' don't learn how I can control my zanpakutou, chances are some dumb kid isn't going to be able to keep up?"

     "You don't tell us enough for us to learn anything. If you don't give us anything to work with, we can't give anything in return." She rolled the cigarette back and forth between her fingers idly, turning back again briefly. "And don't tell me you've got nothing to hide and that you've been fully cooperative, because I know otherwise."

     Antoku dropped a sock on Iki's clean floor. "Prove it."

     "I know for a fact what you did to my floor was conscious, something you've lied about being able to do for years."

     "I've never been that angry at your floor before," he quipped, wriggling his newly-freed toes. Even those were cross-hatched in scars.

     ... she brought her hand up to her mouth, cigarette tucked between her fingers, and rubbed. It was quite possibly she was trying to erase a smile. Higher than a goddamn kite, was her first thought. Out loud, she said, "What'd my floor ever do to you?"
     "For that matter, my entire office?"

     "Lied to me," he said, struggling intently with his stubborn sock. "Liars...I've found...fall to pieces under pressure."

     "Ah." She nodded, as if this made perfect sense. "What did it lie about. Didn't say it would date you and then stood you up, did it?"

     "Don't be stupid. It's a floor." His tabi were far more virtuous than Satsue's delicate valuables had been, apparently, or he'd have won his fight already. "Just...for a while...it made me think it wasn't just squeezing me for information and a free career boost...like everyone else."

     "..." She'd known that was coming, in some form or other, and for a moment she simply stood there, before she exhaled loudly and pulled up a chair, sitting down beside his bed. A piece of braid around her crown came loose, wisping along her temple. This was not her forte, but he deserved an attempt. "That's ridiculous. Why would I use you for a career boost?" She had everything she needed already. "You were a job, true. They gave you to me and told me to fix it, but.. it's been a long, long time since I've worried about fixing you for them." She went to inhale her cigarette, realized it wasn't lit, and made a 'tch' sound, tossing it on the bedside table. It seemed her hands had already fell into old habits and left her brain behind. She leaned back in the chair. "I keep hoping one of these days you'll figure out how to control it and be a person instead of a tool."

     Antoku reached out while she was still talking and picked up the cigarette she'd thrown aside. His fingers looked twice as dark jutting out from the gauze wrapped around his hands, and he held the cigarette awkwardly between them. If she had wrapped it herself, he judged, she was cheating herself on tobacco. "I was a person before I came here. You people made me a tool."

     She inclined her head, acknowledging the truth in that, and watched him take the cigarette. She could've argued the 'you people' part in that, but it would've been a worthless attempt. "Let me help."

     Antoku looked at the cigarette quietly, one of his knees half drawn up. The soft, earthy look that had molded itself around his eyes was certainly there only because of the drugs, the exhaustion, the kind of gentle reflection he hid in any kind of light. There was too much truth in it-- it made him look old. "...don't you ever think ahead?" he asked at last. "Everytime you send me somewhere else...it's worse. Every room is smaller, every new place is worse. What happens to me when I'm useful?"

     She blinked quietly, then tilted her head back to stare up at the ceiling in thought. "Half the time I don't know what to think concerning you, either ahead or behind." She started picking out cracks in the plaster as an afterthought, counting them in reflex. At least when it came to math, there were rarely questions. It was absolute. "That's the point you gain the leverage to pick your own place. Being useful is like a bargaining chip. It helps if you're useful in something no one else can do." She raised a hand, pointing at him briefly. 'Like you,' it said. She let it drop again. "Then you really have leverage." It was simple, to her.

     "I'll never have enough leverage to get my life back, you stupid little girl." There was no anger in his voice, only weariness.
     Antoku leaned sideways in his bed and watched the air the way one often does when attempting to track the flight of a mosquito. It took him a second to locate it, but when he did, he leaned out even further. Very deliberately, he extended his arm and pressed the end of her cigarette against something that wasn't there. Its tip crumpled gently on the unseen obstacle, blackened, and then flared with a brief, dark flame.
     He shook the fire out and, with an intensely miserable look in his eyes, held Satsue's smoking cigarette out for her to take. Eventually, he knew, she'd sell him for that, and for all of the other things she'd seen.

     "Pessimist," she said, but it was a case of pot and kettle, head tilting down again when he moved. She watched him impassively, eyelashes flickering, then her head canting to the side as she watched the cigarette flare against nothing but air. Pessimism was the reason she did not say cliche things about life, lemons, and lemonade -- a phrase she'd heard elsewhere, the speaker given a flat, humorless stare -- and her own social ineptitude kept her from commiserating. It was her honesty that kept her from offering empty reassurances.
     She took the cigarette, but didn't lean back immediately, instead pausing to watch it burn for a moment. "..." ... whatever she'd planned on saying, it was put aside in favor for bringing the cigarette to her lips and inhaling. An exhale. ... she offered it back. "I left my pack in the office." It was not what she'd intending on saying, but this entire conversation was awkward at best, and not something she was accustomed to.

     "I have my own," he said dully by way of refusing the cigarette. He probably did, too. An institution had not yet been invented that could prevent Antoku from smuggling cigarettes in. ...and apparently he had not needed to buy matches for those cigarettes for quite some time.
     He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably beneath the white hospital shirt and leaned forward, arms folded over his half-raised knees. "It's geometry...I think," he muttered at last, chin sinking down to rest atop one knee. "A kind of...geometry. There's...shapes." He was high, but he was still leery of discussing it. He knew damn well he sounded like a madman talking about the elephants on the ceiling.

     "Shapes," she repeated after more smoke pooled in the air from her nose, but it was not a tone that said she thought it was ludicrous. She briefly toyed with the fact that he could've been lying, but he was flying so high it was a wonder he hadn't realized he was falling without a parachute just yet. "... from those..." she waved the cigarette, looking for the right word. "Glimmers." It fell flat, because that wasn't what she was looking for, but she couldn't find the right word. "Like catching a spiderweb in sunlight." She wondered if, when Iki returned, he would notice the smell of smoke immediately.

     "They aren't glimmers, that's stupid," he muttered, voice muffled against his own arm. "They're the sides. Of the shapes."

     ........
     "They're usually really big."

     She ignored the comment about it being stupid. "How big?" She spread her free hand in the air, fingers splaying. "Hand-sized? Bigger?"

     Feeling a little bit like he was being made fun of, Antoku grudgingly lifted one of his hands and traced a seven-sided shape in the air. "Door-ish. Bigger. Sometimes...sometimes small...really small...."

     .... she thought about that for a minute, trying to grasp a concept that was, for all intents and purposes, perfectly alien to her. She tried to find the closest metaphorical equivalent. "Sort of like a large, shattered mirror?" She needed some kind of vague imagery. "... do they connect end to end or do they overlap?"

     He was growing more reluctant by the moment. His shoulders shrugged again, he scraped a fingernail at the hem in his pants, shut his eyes.... "They can overlap if...I...there's circumstances...depends on the angle...." Antoku trailed off.
     "....maybe you should ask Matsuhiro."

     "......." Her expression was completely blank.

     ...............
     "...it's new to him, he'll be able to explain it from the point of view of a stupid blonde." Pause. "Like you."

     Another exhale of smoke while she looked for a place to put her cigarette out. Finding none, she licked her fingertips and put it out between them. "Good morning, sunshine. Did the drugs wear off or have you finally gone out the other side and come 'round again?"

     Antoku scrubbed his forehead with the back of his fingers in frustration and muttered, "Am I really flying that high?"

     "You're soaring," she replied, flicking the extinguished cigarette into one of the nearby trashcans. "Theoretically speaking there's no reason you should even be awake still, you're so jacked."

     "I've done a lot of hashish since I've been here," he acknowledged dolefully. "I guess I...I guess I'll just lay down until Doctor Frankenstein gets back with his pin cushions and poisons....you...probably need to run off to the Kidoushuu for a raise or a husband or...whatever they give you these days." Against all reason, he propped Yoro-Ritsuryo on top of his pillow before lying down.

     "You're also full of shit, as usual." She got up, putting the chair back. A pause, hands on the back of the chair. "... I hate the Kidoushuu." It was bluntly honest, the norm for her. But it was the first time she'd admitted to personal feelings on the matter -- she didn't talk about her own personal dealings, ever. But she was heading for the door already, because she judged he didn't have longer than five minutes before he lost consciousness entirely.

     "If that's a race...I already have the gold medal." Antoku got his blanket twisted around the general vicinity of his torso before he gave up in a heap of defeated medical whites.

Participants: Satsue, Antoku
Notes: Satsue takes Antoku back to the infirmary and have what passes for friendly conversation.
Status: Continuation from previous log with Nozomi and Antoku, split into a second log for ease of reading and reference.

Bitter Reunions

2008-04-27T01:07:51Z

     Her office had been cleared away of debris and other broken objects that could be easily moved; all of the splintered wood and shattered glass had been cleared from the floor, and the small rug in front of her desk had been removed to have the bloodstains cleaned from it. All of the plants were missing, their pots having shattered, and one bookcase was missing, its former residents stacked neatly on top of one of the filing cabinets, awaiting a new home.
     Her desk had been cleared, though the blood and ink stains remained sunken into the varnish and would likely have to be sanded out. She considered getting a new desk entirely, hand smoothing over the surface, before she glanced up at the ceiling. All of the plaster from that had been swept away as much as possible, but a fine dusting of white stuck to corners and in some crevices of the carved woodwork of her chair and desk. The window hadn't been repaired yet; she'd smashed out the rest of the glass herself and left it nothing but an empty space out into the world, overlooking the grounds. The background noise of students chattering and every other normal, every day sound of the school filtered in. She ignored it, lighting a fresh cigarette. The floors would need to be refinished, too. That could wait, she had more serious matters to attend to, now that her office was more respectable. "Shiori," she spoke to the girl standing in front of her desk with a stack of papers, "Please locate Masayume-san and have her report to my office. Immediately."

     The secretary's trip will be short indeed, provided she thinks to check next door first. Masayume has been cloistered in the office belonging to all of the sensei since the morning, working angrily on her lesson plans. She'd heard a rumor about terrible noises coming from Satsue-dono's office the day before, but she didn't bother to ask for more details and no one bothered to inform her.
     Her classes would soon begin, and Nozomi was determined to be prepared, as always. However, addressing her roster, one poisonously familiar name shot out like a snake poised to sink its teeth into her throat. "...Antoku. How dare you show your face here?" A trip down memory lane, a couple of cigarettes, and a veil of white-hot anger later, and finally she is calm again; her unconcerned mask in place. Her thoughts remain in Rukongai, but her brush keeps moving, steadfastly working. Her strokes give away her remaining anger in their brusque firmness. She is too quiet, too quick; sooner or later that anger is bound to burst.
As if on cue, Shiori fetches Nozomi then, and the first division Shinigami forces down the episodes of her past still further as she follows the secretary back to Satsue-dono's office. Having been sent for, she merely allows Shiori to announce her presence and steps inside. "Forgive me for intruding," she says politely, eyeing the remnants of the mess. "What may I do for you, Satsue-dono?"

     It was more an emptiness than a mess anymore; truly, if anything, the office was... shockingly stark, compared to its previous ordered use of every space possible. Satsue looked up when Nozomi entered, a smoke ring escaping before she exhaled a stream of white smoke. The room still smelled of spice, but it was subdued by all the dust that had fallen, and the windowless hole letting in sunlight and fresh air, until it was more like an afterthought of cinnamon and cloves lingering stubbornly.
     "Shiori, don't go just yet--" she glanced at her watch-- "Please notify Kondo-san that he will be taking Masayume's next class as well as his own. This could take a while." The shinigami bowed and left again, no more than a ghost of a girl, perfectly discreet -- and always useful.
     "I would offer you a seat, Nozomi, but I fear replacing the one that was broken yesterday was the last thing on my mind. Forgive me." She lowered her cigarette for a moment. "Tell me, do you know a boy named Sadakata Antoku?"

     It's like fate's wicked hand. After just learning of his presence hours ago, it's almost an ironic lack of surprise that he should come up in conversation already. Nozomi gazes emotionlessly at her mentor for a few seconds, attempting to gauge the reason for the question before needing to be told. Failing, she keeps her response casual. After all, her past relationship has nothing to do with anything, right?
     "I do recall noting his name on my roster this morning. By the way, Satsue-dono...what exactly happened in here?" For some reason, the younger woman has little doubt that she's really veering very far off subject.

     "Redecorating," she answered blithely, bringing her cigarette up to her lips again between her fingertips. An exhale of smoke. "No, I'm afraid I had quite an argument with someone, but that is neither here nor there." She shifted in her chair, regarding the shinigami in front of her desk, head canting to the side just so. Grey eyes remained impassive, which was not strange at all for Satsue. "I have a few tasks I need for you to carry out and fulfill. They are very important tasks, and given their significance I am required to ask: on your honor and oath to me, would you follow my orders unquestioningly, without hesitation, to the letter?"

     Stiffening visibly, Nozomi's anger renews as her loyalties are pulled into sharp focus. "I can only deduce that your request has something to do with Sadakata. You wouldn't have brought him up for no reason," she observes quietly. Taking a moment to consider each option carefully, she finally replies as honestly and respectfully as possible. "Satsue-dono is aware of my unending loyalty. Under any other circumstance I would carry out any task you asked of me without question, and follow any order with all speed. ...However, if this does involve that particular student, I must beg you to allow me to know the tasks first, and give my answer afterward, so that I may not accidentally lie to my beloved mentor by making a promise I may not be able to keep."
     Though she knows full well Satsue isn't going to like what she's said, Nozomi feels she owes it to her to be as honest as possible, without rambling and crying about her ridiculous breakup so many years ago. Masayume has no desire to speak of it, and Iesada certainly would never have any desire to hear of it.

     "I'm afraid you have no choice," was all she said on the matter of Nozomi's long-winded reply. "Tell me, what is your relationship with that boy?" her eyes slitted in the white smoke as she exhaled again.

     Or maybe she would. But still Nozomi doesn't see any point in delving into that embarrassing subject with the woman she admires the most. So she gives her a version of the truth. "...I have no relationship with him." It's true in a way because she hasn't seen him in sixteen years. "So very well. As I am given no choice, then it is only on polite form that I stand to agree to your tasks, Satsue-dono."

     "I assume you mean presently, Nozomi. Please stop hedging the truth, I find it exhausting. Do you deny knowing him previously?"

     How could she...? But of course. The mystery of the office-trashing argument solves itself. The reason Satsue already knows about her past is because Antoku told her himself. Apparently while demolishing her office. It seems he still harbors some animosity toward her for that incident. Pity.
     "...Very well. Since you've already been burdened with such useless knowledge, I must apologize for attempting to keep such trivial knowledge from you. I do not deny knowing him. We met in Rukongai and for a short period of time were involved in a romantic relationship." It's embarrassing to speak of such things to Satsue-dono. She hasn't had a relationship since; she's considered them burdening and weakening.

     Satsue inclined her head, cataloguing that information impassively. "Very well." Smoke curled up from her cigarette as she lowered her hand again, forearm resting on the arm of the chair.
     "These are my standing orders, then. As you've seen on your roster, Antoku will be in your kidou class. You will not harass him to participate. You will not speak to him outside of class, and in class you will only acknowledge him as necessary. Most importantly, you will not touch him under any circumstances," the last words were deliberate and slow. "Am I understood?"

     Tension releases suddenly in the form of a low chuckle. "I will be more than pleased to obey these orders, Satsue-dono. There's nothing I'd like more than to pretend Antoku simply doesn't exist."

     Another nod of acknowledgement, before her eyes slid sideways and her hand lifted, beckoning Shiori closer as the slight girl appeared as a shadow in the doorway. "One last errand, Shiori, forgive me from running you ragged today. Please fetch Antoku. Thank you."
     She inspected her cigarette, judging what was left of it, and then lifted it for one last, cancerous inhale. By all rights, if she were human, she would've been dead with blackened lungs by now. "A romantic relationship, you said?"

     The errand given to the shadow of a girl makes Nozomi uncomfortable. "Yes," she idly confirms, as if it were a topic of little importance. "Are you sure I should remain here, Satsue-dono? One might say that relationship ended on a sour note."

     "I see," was all she said, stubbing out the cigarette in a newly acquired ashtray. Here was hoping this one's lifespan managed to continue past this afternoon. "I'm quite sure. That is the reason you're here, after all."

     He took much longer to get there than the short walk from Ishamoto-sensei's clinic warranted. Yoro-Ritsuryo got there before him, with a high sound like a finger on the lip of a crystal cup that circled through the air abrasively as it faded. Nothing broke, because there was nothing left to break. After the noise had sighed away, there was a long ugly minute of silence before the door opened.
     Antoku's arm had been raised to elbow it open because the white gauze wrapping his hands like fingerless boxing gloves kept him from gripping the doorknob, but he stopped on the threshold and stood motionless long after the door's inertia had carried it away from his arm. Eventually, either because the doorknob had fallen off or behind his limb needed blood, he lowered his hand and--finally--jerked his stare to Satsue and away from...that other. "...your...that girl...didn't want to come with." The small scar on his lip kept twitching, so he put up his hand and rubbed the knuckles against his mouth to hide it.

     Puzzled by her mentor's cryptic reply, Nozomi is just about to open her mouth to demand an explanation for this plot when a familiar sound brings her up short. A mixture of dread and curiosity shoots through her brain all at once as she turns her head to look over her shoulder at the door.
     ...He's grown. But then again, so has she. It's probably a small blessing that Satsue-dono ordered her not to speak to him outside of classes, because she honestly has no idea what to say to him. Turning her face away before he stops looking at her, she waits for the older woman to assert her purpose.

     Satsue, for her part, twitched faintly at the brief keening sound that broke through her peace of mind, but before it could become a true nuisance, it was gone. She checked the ashtray reflexively. Then she swung her gaze back around, taking in Antoku's state. "... that's fine," she replied patiently, unconcerned. "Lean against one of the filing cabinets if you plan on keeling over on me, but at least get out of the doorway and shut the door."
     She drummed her fingernails on the arm of the chair briefly, taking in the pair of them for a span, a clock ticking laboriously onward in the next room, loud in the silence. "Whatever love is lost between you two -- pardon the phrase -- will be settled here. Quite frankly, you will get over it, because I do not have the time to mediate any attempts you choose to make on each other's lives. You will either spit it out now or you will keep your mouths shut and act like nothing happened. Antoku, you are still required to attend Masayume's class. She is not to harass you, and I expect the same from you."

     He was uncomfortable in the white pants, tabi and haori Iki had given him, as if he was just as aware of their view of him as they were. The only color he wore was soaked through the palms of his gauze-wrapped hands, through the apples of his cheekbones, so he was grateful for the excuse to turn and open the door wider, pushing it back until it thumped the wall. There. Now he had an escape route.
     While Satsue spoke, he stood with the fingertips of both hands just touching the door and his back to them both, listening so hard that it was almost a sound in itself. And when she finished, he turned his head to the side a little, hesitating while he thought the orders over.
     "...no." Hadn't...they already discussed this? He'd been /so clear/ about it last time. "If that's all, I'll just...." Iki was probably waiting for him with more of that mule-flavored oatmeal.

     "Wait."
     If this is her only chance to bring this up, then by god, she will. She addresses Antoku's back, saying, "You once said they'd have to drag you kicking and screaming to this place. I thought it the one place I could be where I'd never see you again. After all the fighting...after--" Her eyes move reflexively to his shoulder, "--everything..." So much time has passed, it seems, since then.
     "Why the hell are you here?"

     Antoku put his foot back on the floor. He'd hardly gotten half a step before-
     He was silent longer than he wanted to be. It'd be a shame to give either of them the false impression that he was afraid of Nozomi. He wasn't. The worst was long over. It was hearing her voice that bothered him. Only after he was sure that Satsue wasn't going to speak up did he work his jaw, drop his head, and mutter, "Well. I was right." She could gloat about it with Satsue after he was gone, now.

     Oh no. He's not going to just walk out on this one. Her biggest and only regret stands in this room and it's only her own anger that makes it difficult for Nozomi to decide whether she wants to take the trouble to resolve it or not. A whole lot of trouble it would be, too. He made it all too easy back then; he came to her. She'd have to take the time to learn how to approach him, humble herself enough to apologize for her wrongs, and the worst of all, she'd have to forgive him for his. She just doesn't know if it's all worth it right now.
     But one thing is for certain. This question means something to her, and she simply can't allow this person to walk out on her without giving her an answer she can find some kind of satisfaction with.
     "Antoku. Answer me." As if he'll respond to that with anything but rebellion. From what she knows of him and his temper, she'll have to give him something in return. "...And I will answer one question in exchange. Anything you want." It's a large risk for her, especially with Satsue-dono present. But it just proves how important her own question is to her.

     "I ANSWERED YOU," he roared, half-turning. With one foot in the room and one foot out, he swayed unsteadily and put out a hand to catch himself on the doorframe. It was a testament to the skill with which Iki picked his drugs that Antoku felt nothing in his hand but remained standing at the same time. "I answered you. What the hell do you want? Marrow from my bones?" He jabbed two fingers at Satsue and snarled, "I want an answer from her." He wanted /nothing/ from Nozomi.

     She'd been regarding them both blank-faced, grey eyes as empty as Antoku claimed her soul to be. There was a large possbility he'd be repeating it as a mantra after this ordeal was over. "What would you have me do, Antoku? Kill her myself, right here, right now?"

     Crossing her arms in a gesture of forced patience, Nozomi regards Antoku's outburst silently. Rather than yelling back, as she might have done in the past, she takes two carefully measured steps toward him and then stops. Satsue's response gives the impression that his request has not been received favorably and though Nozomi doesn't exactly appreciate the way her retort is phrased, she doesn't argue with her superior. Rather, she lowers her voice to a serious, gravelly tone as she continues to address Antoku.
     "So then. Do you really think you understand everything? Is there really nothing you would have me explain to you? Antoku. Your anger points to only one conclusion: About that time.../you understand nothing./"

     So she really had taken a side, then. The nod Antoku gave Satsue was almost imperceptible, nothing more than a faint acknowledgment of the change in their relationship. Sixteen years here had cajoled him into forgetting who his friends were.
     Then his eyes slid sideways to Nozomi and he warned softly, "If you come near me, I will kill you." Her second step had already coaxed a slow backwards step out the doorway from him. A little more and he would be out of Satsue's line of sight entirely. "She made me come here...I didn't come because I was curious."

     ... she observed the faint nod in silence, lips thinning. It was a pure delight to know he assumed she had all the luxury in the world to interfere in his personal affairs. She was beginning to remember why she'd never borne any children of her own. Why'd she even give a good goddamn, besides?
     Satsue grabbed the pack of cigarettes off her desk, tap-tap-taping one out methodically, bringing it to her lips to light. The match and the pack were tossed aside, and she pulled smoke into her lungs, attempting to rid herself of the bitter taste in her mouth. So be it. Avoid it as she might, stalling was no longer an option. She stood up, leaning over her desk. "Grow up and deal with it," she snarled. "You don't get another choice."
     If that's the way he wanted it to be, that's the way he could have it.

     With Satsue-dono at least appearing to be on her side, Nozomi feels more justified in snubbing the thick-headed numbskull. She knew it would take more than this, anyway. But her own anger has not yet been sated. "So, you are satisfied to continue on in ignorance," she observes, while Satsue's rage settles around them like a coiling serpent. Nozomi turns on a heel and lets her back face Antoku completely for no other reason than to taunt and anger him. If he wants to kill her so much, such a tempting sight must be a torment here in front of Satsue, where Nozomi knows full well he wouldn't dare make a move against her.
     "I can only hope you won't adopt such an outlook in my class."

     Was she out of her goddamned mind? However many years she spent in this Academy, they hadn't been nearly enough. Turning her back on someone who had a clear and obvious reason to strike her down was sheer idiocy. Or maybe time had so colored her memory of him that she thought he was too good, too kind to kill from behind, or too poised, too noble to kill in front of a witness. Out of her god. Damned. Mind.
     He didn't do it, though. His eyesight was unfocused and his feet were unsteady. They'd found and taken all of his daggers and even his clothes on the shockingly wise presumption that they could have over-looked something. He was tired, too. Tired from the drugs, tired from his argument with Satsue a day ago, tired of this place, /tired./ But none of it stopped him from hating her.
     Sure, he had a question. With his hands in their white gauze gloves hanging at his sides, he wondered, "Does it still cost four mon to fuck you, or has the price gone down with age?"

     Out of her mind? No. Taking a risk? Certainly. But for the delight of knowing how tempted he must be, Nozomi allows him to underestimate her. She even revels in the underlying bitterness of the jab he gives her in the form of the question. Naturally, it offends her, as he probably intended it to. And she likely reveals a little too much indignance with the beginning of her promised reply.
     "Not even forty thousand would be enough. And yet..." A smirk comes to her lips as she turns her head, gazing at him shrewdly over her shoulder. "The price /you/ paid was much higher. Wasn't it?"

     It was amazing to see how fast the woman could move. The cigarette was stubbed out in one simple smooth motion, and the moment Nozomi turned her head, Satsue's fist came up, and was already coming back around again.
     The sound of bone on bone was sickening; the ring on Satsue's hand left a perfect, biting indent where the back of her fist slammed into the girl's cheekbone. Her expression was cold. "That's /enough/," she ground out. She wasn't going to risk Antoku losing control again, drugged or /not/. She'd had quite enough of this. "Get out, and don't you dare show your face to me until you remember how to follow orders again." She'd given those orders for a goddamn reason.

     She was faster than Yoro. Satsue had already struck when four gouges split the floorboards at their feet. Antoku stared up at both women from the place where he crouched just inside the doorway, fingertips just touching the doorframe. The long pieces of his uncut hair fell around his face, catching up with inertia a second after he'd already stopped. Although the little white scar on his lower lip was twitching spastically, he said nothing, moved not a breath further.

     To say that the hit is a surprise would be an understatement. As far as Nozomi is concerned, sure she pushed a button, but what she'd actually /said/ was far better than the gross insult Antoku had slandered her with. Perhaps Satsue-dono has chosen no sides after all.
     Lack of readiness mixed with the sheer force of the blow sends her reeling sideways. Catching herself on her hands and knees, Nozomi opens her eyes to a lovely splatter of blood on the floor and across one hand. Gnashing her teeth in anger, she immediately pushes herself back to her feet and faces Satsue, her expression a mixture of disbelief, betrayal, and the first hint of impudence she's ever shown the other woman.
     Lifting her hand, she touches the place on her cheek that both aches as well as stings and feels sticky moisture. Bringing her fingers out in order to make certain visually, the bright red confirms the injury done to her by her respected mentor.
     As new trickles of blood run down her cheek, Nozomi stares at her bloody fingers while she replies. "Forgive me, Satsue-dono. I must not have been listening when you gave me the order to withstand in silence being called a whore. Certainly, I'll know better for future reference. I will no longer burden you with my presence, as you so desire."
     Without another word, she moves to the doorway, stepping over Antoku as necessary but otherwise completely ignoring him, and continues to tend to her cheek in order to prevent scarring.

     Antoku rose up from the floor to block her path in one seamless motion, the heels of his palms braced in the doorframe to either side. He was surprised to find how much taller he had gotten. Or maybe it was because he had never seen her after he'd let her come down from that pedestal. She didn't even smell the same. Her hair...it wasn't styled in any of the ways he was used to seeing it. It was matronly, by comparison. The shihakushou hardly suited her, either. He realised all this and more in a blur when he leaned forward.
     Her blood felt cold smearing on his cheek when he murmured in her ear, "I don't like seeing girls get hit so...the next time you want to gloat about what you did to me...come see me in private. And...do us both a favor. Stay out of my way in public. Okay, baby?"

     Anticipating that he wanted her gone more than Satsue did, Nozomi doesn't realize the moment when Antoku begins to stand. As a result, she needs to take a step back from his blockade and even then she still feels uncomfortably close to him. Inhaling with a sharp hiss when he rubs his cheek against her would, she doesn't pull away, out of nothing but curiosity.
     His words are puzzling, yet familiar. Perhaps watching Satsue inflict such savage violence upon her was cathartic for him in a way and drained him of some of his anger. Anger, but not hatred.
     "Alright," she whispers in reply, "But /she/ can't know of any such visit. And in return for staying out of your way, I ask that you do and say nothing to make my other students lose respect for me - whether you think I deserve it or not." With that, she leans back and crosses her arms again.
     "And don't call me baby."

     "I won't lie for you." He's said that before, so long ago he can't remember why it was said. "And I'm going to tell my own what you are." What, and not who. 'My own,' but no names.

     Furrowing her eyebrows, Nozomi simply frowns at Antoku in a cross between anger and disappointment. "How can you tell them what you yourself don't even know?" she questions with a hint of frustration. A pause, and her voice is dry with sarcasm, "I'm so grateful for your efforts on my behalf. Perhaps my efforts for you should mirror your own enthusiasm." Sighing with frustration, she just shakes her head. "Please let me pass."

     "Only what I do know," he promised softly. The sound of how she'd crowed about leaving him fresh in his ears, he stepped aside with an inviting stretch of his arm. Even this close, he still wouldn't meet her eyes, and lowered his own so that she might leave.

     The expression Nozomi faced when she whipped around was apathetic. There were few things Satsue condoned, and insubordination was not one of them, regardless of the source. She'd raised Nozomi as her protege during her time as a student, and then three more years again when the girl became a teacher under her wing -- if Nozomi had learned nothing at all in that time, then she'd either failed the girl, or the girl had failed her. It was a disappointment, regardless of which way you looked at it. Nozomi wasn't a girl anymore -- she was not going to be treated as one.
     ... she did not look down at the floor until Nozomi turned away, following the gouges in the wood until her gaze reached Antoku's feet, dragging it upwards as he in turn stood. That had been a very narrow miss. Perhaps she might have said something, if Antoku hadn't stopped Nozomi; as it was she watched them both with an unreadable face.

     Up til now, Nozomi might have been considered the perfect protege. Going above and beyond simply to gain her mentor's favor, taking those extra steps merely to please her. Nothing like disobedience had ever graced her pristine record. Up til now. Whether it means either of them have failed, or that this landmark in her past is a speedbump she hasn't gotten over, only time will tell if Nozomi's attitude is irreparably bent for the negative.
     Unlike Antoku, Nozomi has no trouble looking directly into his face. As he gives this last answer, she stares hard at his lowered eyes for several seconds, then decides against any form of retort. Rather, she accepts the response to her request for freedom and exits the office, taking a deep breath of clean air once she's halfway down the hall.

Participants: Satsue, Nozomi, Antoku
Notes: Antoku and Nozomi see each other for the first time in years; love abounds.
Status: Complete.

Visiting Rights

2008-04-20T09:58:16Z

     It was fairly unorthodox for Satsue to come calling on a student at their dorm room; she could count the times she'd had to on her fingers, if not simply one hand. But given the state of affairs in her office, she had no choice.
     She'd cleaned up and groomed before arriving, taking the time after Masa's dismissal to clean all the dust and plaster off her skin and out of her hair, put a new uniform on, and rebraid her hair. It was still damp, the tail end of the braid coiling slickly over her shoulder when she knocked. It was the only indication that she'd been somewhat hasty. "Chihara."

     Katoji had been studying, or at least that was the plan. It never failed, as soon as he got through about a page of notes he found himself nodding off, jerking his head up once he caught himself in order to glare once more at the squiggly lines of kana in vain attempt to try and get something done. He sat huddled in his corner of the room, back against the wall, knees drawn up to trap the writing board between his legs and his chest. His forehead had come close to thonking against the board when he heard his name spoken from out in the hall. In response to Satsue came a thunk from within the room as the boy jerked his head up sharply- too far back that it hit the wall. "-ow...!" he hissed, dropping his notes to clamp his hands over the back of his head with a wince. Wait, that voice was...
     "...!" Katoji scrambled to his feet, his notes going everywhere, but at the moment he didn't care since he knew better than to leave the dean's assistant waiting. "H-hai! Coming!" he stammered, jogging towards the door and opening it just as quickly. "...Iesada-san?" It wasn't that he hadn't been sure of who it was, but the questioning tone indicated more his curiosity as to why she was there. Was it because of Antoku? It was the first reason he could think of, because he was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to bring attention to himself otherwise.
     ...unless someone babbled about the koi pond fiasco.

     Her expression failed to change at the sounds coming from within, but when the boy opened the door, one brow arched faintly. "May I come in?" was the prompt request biting at the heels of his inquisitory tone. She tried to remind herself why she was here in the first place, but she found it a job in and of itself to remain pleasant; schooling her expression into what she figured was an open face instead of a blank, apathetic one was a conscious effort. ... Masa was better with kids for these kinds of things, if the situation hadn't required that it be her who came calling, she would have gladly sent him.

     ...who was this woman and what did she do with the real Satsue Iesada..?! For a second or two, Katoji blinked at the woman, wondering if perhaps he would have been more correct to direct his last words as the question of who it was after all. His jaw finally snapped shut and he gave an abrupt nod before backing into his room again to admit the woman.
     "Um... is... is there a problem... Iesada-san..?" he asked, his words coming out hesitantly, but finally released with a bit of effort. While she hadn't said all that much thus far, just her demeanor and tone alone was a far cry from the Iesada he had experienced in the library a month past.

     "Stand there gawking much more, boy, and I might think you've lost your wits entirely." She ignored his question, moving inside the room and shutting the door for him with a level look that demanded no arguments. Satsue wasn't a woman inclined to explain herself, and she wasn't going to start now.
     "I have a question," she stated very deliberately, surveying the room with disinterest before looking back to Katoji. "Do you like Antoku?" A heartbeat to let it sink in, then she arched a brow, holding up a hand. "Answer honestly, regardless of what the answer is. I did not come here to carve out your heart and eat it, or whatever the rumors are saying these days."

     That sounded more like the Iesada-san he was more familiar with. It was a bit disconcerting to hear that door get shut behind her as Katoji obligingly moved further into the room to allow the woman her space. He didn't push his question upon seeing it be brushed off, and perhaps hadn't even been expecting an answer. When Satsue did speak again, Katoji at least received somewhat of an explanation as to why she was there to begin with. The question following her statement almost had him nod- not in response to the question itself but as to his earlier thoughts for reasons as to the secretary's sudden visitation. The question itself got a bit of an odd look, one that twitched into a disturbed look at Satsue's continued explanations. He forced an uneasy smile as if to reassure the woman that he hadn't heard any such rumors, although to hear such things from her just sounded all the more troubling.
     "....Antoku...?" Did he like him? What, was she coming to verify this herself after the odd conversation in the library? Katoji curled his fingers towards his palms in order to keep himself from fidgeting with his hands as he considered Satsue's inquiry. "...well... would you find it odd of me if I said yes...?" Despite her words of reassurance, he couldn't help but be hesitant in what he said, although to his credit it was also due to him not really knowing what he would have said to such a question until now. With that much spoken, Katoji gave the question more thought, and he nodded slowly as if to urge himself on. After all, you didn't fumble words with the dean's secretary when she asked questions, no matter how scary she could be!
     "...Anto.... Sadakata-san hasn't done anything to me that's given me any reason not to like him... He may be a little harsh and kinda blunt sometimes with what he says, but....yeah..." He nodded again, this time to Satsue. "I like him." He bit down the urge to ask why he was being asked this.

     She simply nodded curtly, perhaps with satisfaction. That established, there was a space of breath where she scrutinized him up and down thoughtfully, and then she looked him directly in the eye again. She had to make this situation with Antoku work, and she would pull every string she had to to ensure it did.
     "I am told I gave you quite a scare in the library."

     "....." Did he say something wrong? Did he say too much, or too little? Maybe he shouldn't have said anything at all- oh, who was he kidding, this was Satsue. When she asked for an answer, you gave her an answer. Katoji gulped, but he forced himself to meet the woman's eyes. At least his knees weren't knocking- he wasn't -that- nervous.
     "...oh... eheheh... that...." the boy said, scratching the back of his head. "Um... well... yeah, a little..." he admitted, amber eyes trailing towards the floor before he snapped them back to Satsue again as if catching himself.

     "..."
     She was craving another cigarette; ever since they'd dragged Antoku back to her she'd picked up the vice again worse than before, chainsmoking enough that if she'd been human she was sure her lungs would be black by the end of the month. "There are two kinds of people in this world," she said after some time. "There are those, who when given an order, follow it unquestioningly. And there are those who are capable of seeing alternative routes that stray from the orders they are given." She tilted her head.
     "It's the difference between being mere battle fodder and a person capable of offering something valuable to the ranks. Leaders, trusted followers, instead of just nameless, faceless soldiers who die for the ideals of others. Do you understand?"
     She pointed at him. "I'm hoping you're the leader, in this situation, given that I'm fully aware you've been breaking my orders not to aid Antoku since the day I gave them." Despite the words themselves, she did not sound angry.

     "......." He listened carefully, and although it sounded like a lot to take in, it was something he found himself understanding, given the context of their conversation so far. Katoji said nothing, but he found it easier to meet that gaze that was still directed at him, knowing that he wasn't being scolded. Slowly, the boy nodded his head, but he couldn't stop the slight quirk of a guilty expression from touching his lips as Satsue called him on his crime. He wanted desperately to sigh in relief, but was afraid to upset the careful mood that had been established thus far by such a simple thing. He let his breath out slowly through his nostrils, and when enough had been let out for him to be certain there wouldn't be a great excess of air released when he opened his mouth again, he nodded his head once more before he spoke.
     "I understand, Iesada-san."

     A brisk nod, finally satisfied. "Good. Antoku is in the infirmary. I've already given orders that you are to be allowed in to see him at any time; if anyone denies you access to see him, report it to me immediately and I'll deal with it accordingly." She glanced out the window, and then turned towards the door.
     The woman was a calculator of lives, measuring values -- adding and subtracting, dividing, relocating, all to maximize efficiency. Even those words were a test, and he had one chance before her hand touched the knob to pass it.

     In reaction to this news, there was a blink, and perhaps enough time for Satsue to turn and begin to make way towards the door before Katoji spoke up again. "Wait- infirmary?! What happened to him?" he asked, frowning as he took a step forward after her. The concern was clear in his tone, overriding his earlier anxiety in just trying to make sure he didn't overstep his bounds. "..is he all right?"

     She glanced over a shoulder, braid trailing off and sliding down her back. "He'll be fine. He overtaxed himself. He just needs rest." She wasn't a trafficker of lies; she only found value in information and honesty.

     His mouth opened, then shut at the response. That was it? Katoji doubted it. He didn't know just how much he should push for a better explanation though. Swallowing further questions, the boy said nothing more for the time being. Already he suspected that whatever had happened to Antoku was what prompted Satsue to come pay him a visit. At the very least he could take comfort in knowing that the delinquent student was all right for now. Katoji would certainly make good of his visitation rights.
     ....no. No, no no. If he was going to find out, he had to ask now. After all, who knew when Satsue would be in such an indulgent mood again? "...overtaxed... how?" What did that mean anyway? Katoji shook his head- that wasn't the important question. "Really.... what happened to him, Iesada-san? Please...?" Coming there to tell him all that and then leaving was like dangling a piece of bread in front of some poor starving child's face and then pulling it away. "If you wanted to talk to me about Sadakata-san then it could have been at any time before this, but with him put in the infirmary and you coming to ask me questions like this now..."

     Satsue regarded him, perfectly silent. It wasn't quite what she expected -- or what she would have looked for, rather, in a promising student -- but it was close. She let her hand drop from the doorknob, half-turning. "There's another question you're looking for, and if you can figure out what it is, I'll tell you."

     There was? Katoji hadn't been aware that there was a set amount of questions for him to have. He suddenly had the impression that he was being given a test for something he wasn't informed he should study for. Those were the worst.
     His brow bunched up in confusion, or maybe frustration was the more appropriate term. Did everyone like giving him more questions than answers around here? "...why me....?" he finally did sigh.

     "That's the most obvious question anyone could think of, and not worth wasting my breath in reply." She twisted the doorknob and opened the door, moving out into the hallway.

     Gah, that wasn't supposed to count for his question! Katoji all but flailed as he jerked to a start after Satsue again. "Iesada-san, wait..!" he sputtered, practically stumbling out after her. He managed not to sprawling on his face by catching a hold of the doorframe. "I... I'm no good at stuff like this. It's like everytime I ask a question all I get are a dozen more in response rather than any straight answers!" He sighed exasperatedly. Pulling himself back upright, Katoji let himself slump against the doorway. No, he didn't forget who he was talking to, but he was desperate enough to get something clarified that he was able to loose his previously tied tongue. "Wasn't there anyone else that cared about him that you could have talked to?" If there wasn't, then refusing to tell him anything else about Antoku's condition was just plain mean!

     She did not teach new students because she did not have the patience for them. It required a different mindset (a different kind of even temper than she was equipped with) than teaching a student who already had a grasp, was already learning to ask the right questions, and picked things up faster.
     "You're going about it all wrong," she said curtly, but she did not dissuade him from following. "That's not even a valid question -- you should know that answer already -- but if it was in this situation, you'd still be asking it in the wrong order. So."
     She turned on her heel to face him again. "Answer me this: why did I come here, to you, instead of having you come to me?"

     He was about to step away from the door, but with Satsue rounding on him again it was just as well that his back was yet against the edge or he would have surely fallen over. Order? What did order matter any when it came to things like this- everything held the possibility of being rearranged in the face of concern.
     "I..." His brow furrowed again, and he blinked as he decided that this was a very good question indeed. "...um... actually... why -did- you come in person...?" he asked, now that his thoughts were reset.

     "It's an important question, isn't it?" she agreed. One step, two step, three steps had her back in front of him again, and she leaned down to where they were eye level. "It's the question your eyes asked when you opened the door, because your instinct knows the right things to ask. But you didn't listen to instinct, you listened to your brain, and your brain tried to overcomplicate things and ran around in circles until you could barely put your thoughts together at all." Their faces were very close, and as she spoke, she kept her tone very level, deliberate, and measured.
     "Always listen to your gut first. If you had listened to your gut instead of shuffling your feet and wringing your hands like a nervous school girl getting asked on a date, too embarrassed to think, you would have been able to consider these things: a, you know who I am, b, therefore you know I am a busy woman, and c, that I will never waste my time hunting down a student or visiting them when I have people to do those errands for me. You could have safely assumed all of these, and realizing these things, been able to draw the conclusion that something must not be right, and that your first question should very clearly be 'Why is the Assistant of the Dean knocking on my door when she could have simply summoned me to her office?' If you had asked that question," she poked him in the chest, "All your following questions would have been answered."
     She straightened, then. "And the answer to that question is 'because your little thieving friend destroyed my office,' which would explain why he is exhausted, and why he is now in the infirmary."

     Muuuh.... she was coming closer, and whatever didn't seem like Satsue back in the room was now filtering back as she faced him and explained. Katoji felt himself shrinking as she neared him, but then that was probably because he was nearly sliding down the wall. "........." While it wasn't quite the frigid woman that had been in the library, the fact that he was the sole receiver of her attention at this time was still unsettling.
     Gulping, the boy nodded his head almost mechanically, while in the back of his mind he half expected his sternum to cave in from Satsue's poke. And then she allowed him his breathing space again, along with an answer, although not much more of one than he was given earlier. "But-" Why? He stopped himself from saying it, but the unspoken question remained obvious in his eyes.

     "Why?" she asked for him, impatiently. "I'm afraid that is not my answer to give." It was Antoku's, and she would not violate what little of a truce they had. On that note...
     She stared at him for a long moment.
     Another long moment passed.
     ................ "I am sorry for scaring you in the library."

     Now that answer Katoji felt he could accept, and slowly his chin dips in a nod of understanding. He eventually managed to straighten and stand without the support of the wall behind him, holding his tongue as Satsue continued to stare at him long after she finished speaking. Again that feeling of unease began creeping up his spine, and he had felt less exposed when he was with his back against the wall.
     The silence that seemed it would be unending was broken. Amber eyes blinked as he looked at Satsue if she'd just spoken to him in some alien language. The more survival-inclined portion of his brain kicked into gear, and stiffly, he managed another nod, and a very careful smile tugged its way across his lips. Unexpected as it was, the apology was appreciated. Much appreciated, considering who it was coming from.

     ... she inhaled through her nostrils slowly, then turned on her heel and walked away. "He will be asleep most of the day and a good portion of tomorrow, but visit him when you can nonetheless."

     Katoji watched as Satsue turned again to walk off, and this time he didn't try to stop her. He'd gotten about all he could possibly have expected- no, more than that, and he wasn't about to spoil it. With her last words, he felt he should at least say something in acknowledgement to them, a stammered, "H-hai!" followed by a sigh of relief once the dean's assistance was well down the hall. And then once again he stepped back to slump against the wall, this time all the way down to sit on the floor there.
     ....-what- was -that-....? Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt back, and there he remained for a minute or two before he finally moved to crawl back into his dormroom. With the quiet that had once again settled and the chance to calm his nerves, he thought back on the conversation he'd just had with Satsue. And he smiled faintly.

Participants: Satsue, Katoji
Notes: Events set in motion by the Nozomi logs; Satsue visits Katoji unexpectedly.
Status: Complete.

The Knowing of Nozomi II

2008-04-20T09:56:06Z

     Having seen many things in his life, one could imagine his surprise when he looked up to see a flying piece of furniture in the midst of sparkling broken shards of glass. If it had not been for the loud shattering of a window from above, he surely would have missed it. What luck! However, because the inevitable force of gravity, he did not have time to dodge effectively. His strong, sleeveless arms came up to receive the chair, but the chair was not so friendly. With a groan, the awkward shape of the chair sent Masa backwards momentarily.
     "What are th' odds of that...?" Masa pondered to himself, lying on his back pinned to the ground. The chair had luckly shielded him from any stray shards of glass that came crashing. After a few moments, he had enough sense to look up towards that shattered window that the chair had drammatically fallen through. He squinted, and continued to talk to himself. "Ain't that Iesada-san's office...?" Something felt way off, of course. Not only because of the chair, the more obvious of clues, but because he was feeling a trace of reiatsu. Masa's own reiatsu nature was heating up a little in response. This was something that needed to be checked out, obviously!
     Despite being nearly taken out by a chair, Masa nimbly made it to his feet, ignoring broken glass and chair tucked under one arm, and ran into the building towards Satsue's office. Why he decided to retrieve the chair? It was not a conscious decision.
     He was making double time, but a second explosion delayed his progess. A vase and table in the hallway leading to Satsue's office exploded quite suddenly, the force of it sending Masa into the opposite wall. He, being the tough individual he was, was still conscious, but DAMN that hurt something good! Having dropped the chair (which was further damaged, beyond repair now) and fallen to his knees, he looked down to check his person. Some scratches from splinters and glass. He was still alive. His head hurt more than anything. Dusting himself off, leapt off towards Satsue's office again -- shortly after hooking his arm around the dilapidated chair again.
     He came rushing, no, sliding into the office in a rather dramatic way, his shinigami robes disheveled and turned grey with dust and debris, and his mess of hair a little more askew than usual. "Iesada-san!" He announced himself. "This came flying at me outside--" What he saw in the office finally had a chance to process. He immediately shut up and ... tried to make sense of the chaos.
     "...I /really/ didn't do it this time--!"

     When Masa came careening into the office, Satsue was still standing facing the filing cabinet, one hand up on the wall to brace herself, forehead bent to the cool metal. The cigarette she'd been smoking dangled at her side in her other hand, smoke curling.
     She'd heard and felt Antoku lose consciousness, heard the way he slumped and hit the floor in a pile, but it wasn't until Masa came in that she lifted her head, glancing over a shoulder. "Masa."
It was the first time in a long time she'd addressed him by his first name, but she straightened as she said it, hand dropping from the wall, shaking her head briefly to dislodge the plaster sticking to her hair. A bad move, because it started a fight of coughing, forcing her to delay her next words. She brought a fist to her mouth, coughing the rest of the plaster out of her mouth and lungs, then swore quietly and dropped the cigarette in her other hand as it burned too close to fingers, shaking her hand to try and get rid of the sting. "I need you to get Ishamoto immediately."

     He had been staring at the unconscious kid on the floor when he heard his name, reacting almost in shock. Shit. This wasn't good at all. Seeing that Satsue was in quite the fragile condition, he dropped the chair and took steps towards her, wondering if he could be a help to her somehow. The air was heavy with plaster and dust, and even Masa cringed a little. What had caused this destruction? He couldn't do this much without a lot of effort! ...The kid had to be involved, but he didn't want to jump to conclusions.
     He jumped almost when she dropped the cigarette, but quickly regained his composure. "Yeah I'll get 'im, but you gonna be okay here alone...?" He shot a glance over his shoulder at the kid, and the blood ... It was entirely possible that he was asking the wrong person.

     She drew herself up coldly at his last question, eyes narrowing. "I'm fine," she said flatly.
     If anyone could make a complete wreckage look like a minor inconvenience, it was Satsue. She ground her teeth together after taking a full survey of the room, no longer having to worry about keeping an eye on Antoku, then curled her lip faintly. "Tch. Tell him to bring heavy tranquilizers, salve, and a pair of tweezers, at the very least. Out." If he lingered any more she'd forcefully remove him to help him on his way.

     Masa had a knack for being able to sense Satsue's animosity. His attentions were drawn back to her -- the explanations would have to come later. She really must have trusted him to remember a list, so he was going to do his damndest to remember. Taking one final glance at the destruction, Masa's eyes lowered and he did his best to bow. It wasn't one of his strong suits but he did try. "On my way."
     Out the door he went, hopping over some of the debris so as not to trip. Iki would not be hard to find, not for him.

     She at least inclined her head at the bow, albeit stiffly. When he was gone, she rubbed her burnt fingers together, clenching her fist and unclenching it again, before she stepped past Antoku and back around her desk again, plucking a paper off of a now scattered stack by the corner. She held it up. It dripped a gruesome mixture of blood and black ink onto the desk, and then she dropped it wetly back into the pile again. Ruined. What she didn't have copies of, she'd have to rewrite. What a pain in the ass.
     She retrieved the pack of cigarettes from the soggy mess, pulling out an ink-and-blood stained cigarette and bringing it to her lips to light while she waited for Masa to return. It probably wasn't the healthiest thing to do. She didn't look like she gave a damn.

     The quiet of Iki's infirmary had not been disturbed all day and he'd been very much enjoying what was a rare opportunity to catch up on work. There were exams to be graded and lessons to prepare, but the sudden appearance of his friend, who seemed in an unusual state of worry, pushed aside all thoughts of making up work.
     When he appeared in the doorway, Iki's expression turned to shock and he surveyed the disaster that had once been an office. Certainly they had all thought at one time or another of throttling Antoku within an inch of his life, but he'd never imagined anyone would go so far! Though if anyone would be the likely culprit, he was looking at her. "My God... What happened here?"
     Once shock had faded, Iki pushed his way past the door, picking his way carefully through the mess, stopping first at Antoku's side. He had brought a bag along with him filled with nearly every scrap of first aid he could have gathered. Masa had done well to give him the list of requested items, but it was never a bad idea to assume he'd forgotten something.

     It was not all that uncommon for Masa to appear at Iki's door looking a little banged up from time to time, but Masa was never the type to worry all that much. It was a good thing that his emotions were easy to read. He was a little proud that he managed to remember everything, and was even going to grab whatever he could lie his hands on before he saw that Aibou had gone on ahead, and decided that it was better to leave the medical stuff to him.
     Arriving just a few seconds after Iki, his eyes fell upon his companion at the kid's side. He watched him work for just a few seconds, but then concern fell upon Satsue once more. The thought that she had created this mess and hurt the kid had crossed his mind, but only for a moment. He wouldn't believe it, really. She was a tough broad, yes, but she was /clean/. ... No really, she wouldn't have done something like this!
     Seeing that her cigarette was, well... a little nasty to say the least, Masa fumbled for his own pack and eventually drew one out for her. He'd get to his own after this mess was over probably. Holding it between the second knuckles of his pointer and middle finger, he spoke a little absentmindedly but appropriately.
     "...Mind tellin' us what happened? Th' long or th' short of it?"

     She was still standing behind her desk when Iki arrived, only giving him a cursory glance upward before she resumed checking to see what she could salvage in her drawers, stained cigarette still between two fingers. "I tied off his arms to stop the blood flow," was her greeting, followed by a nod of her head to the top of the desk, where all of the blood-stained ceramic and glass was. "Enjoy your treasure hunt." She could only guess at how deep the glass had gone into his palms and fingers.
     When Masa offered a fresh, clean cigarette, she eyed it flatly for a few moments before stubbing out the one in her fingers and plucking it free from his fingers. "He lost his temper."
     Once the newer cigarette was lit and she'd had a chance to drag the smoke out of it, inhaling deeply, she came back around the desk to join them, leaving her drawers behind for now. "Ishamoto, I need you to sedate him enough to keep him down and out for a day," she began, her shock long since faded in the face of emptiness. Her whole expression was empty. "And then I need you to keep him drugged and in bed for at least a day or two after that, so he can cool his heels. He literally taxed himself into a blackout." She indicated the ceiling and the rest of the room with a wave of the hand holding her cigarette, smoke trailing the motions. "I will not risk him flying into another rage until I can get this ordeal sorted out." She glanced to Masa. "That said, I'm also placing him in your care. You're the best equipped to deal with him should he get out of hand again, and I'm going to need your help."

     Iki's only initial response was a subdued shake of his head. The poor kid. Even his annoyance at Antoku's antics was not enough for him to wish this kind of harm on the boy. The bag was pulled open and as he rummaged through the unnecessary supplies, he continued to offer a nod here and there in acknowledgement of Iesada's orders. Of course, most of his focus was for his patient. "I understand."
     Finally, with a soft breath of relief, the tranquilizers emerged from the bag. First things first. Even the slightest risk of the boy waking during treatment was too much and so the first order of business was to very carefully inject just enough to keep him down at least until they could transport him. If only he could use Kawagiri...
     With tranquilizers administered, Iki ventured his first glance at Iesada-san, brows creased in concern. "And what about you? Are you injured?"

     He withdrew a little when Satsue took the cigarette and responded. Temper caused this? Taking another glance around the room, he only had to wonder what kind of temper could have caused this? He also began to wonder what would have happened if he had made it in the room any sooner. Dark eyes dropped a little, his gaze falling onto Iki and Antoku as he administered treatment.
     That kid looked absolutely torn up. He had blown up and done that to himself? Why would he do such a thing? Masa had a tendency to flare in anger from time to time, but this was just ridiculous. What had set him off that badly...?
     Well, it seemed like he'd get his chance to find out. Masa looked up when Satsue regarded him, his face bearing an expression of mild surprise. The best equipped to deal with him? ... He could only think of a few reasons why she worded it like that. Satsue needed his help, at any rate. Masa had gained her trust, and he was going to return it tenfold. That's how Masa rolled. "...Alright, if that's what ya think's best, Iesada-san."

     "No," was her very flat reply to Iki. Further concern was dismissed, and her tone said she wouldn't tolerate further questions on the matter. "If you plan on treating him back at your clinic instead of here, take him now. I don't want him waking up for twenty four hours at the very least, do you understand? You're dismissed." She shot a look at Masa. "You, stay. I need to discuss something with you."

     Attention shifted from his patient for only a moment in which he eyed Iesada with a look that clearly spoke of his disapproval. It seemed she was ready for him to be gone and intended on keeping Masa for herself. Iki had been counting on his aibou to help get the boy back to the clinic. "All right. I'll take him. Give me a moment, then."
     The syringe was placed back into the bag and a second brief examination at least cleared the boy for transport. Then, after casting a brief frown at both Iesada-san and Masa, he carefully lifted Antoku's limp and surprisingly light form into his arms. "I'll keep you informed of his progress." Then, offering a brief bow of his head, he set off for the clinic on his own.

     Of course he would have been willing to help move the kid but Satsue still needed him. He watched Iki leave, even noticed that little hint of defiance that managed to make him grin in certain situations. This wasn't one of them, of course. After Aibou had left, his eyes trailed along a rather impressive crack in the ceiling all the way to Satsue. He'd hate to have something similar in his skull.
     "So you're absolutely sure I'm th' guy for this job, huh?" It wasn't really a question to her, more like a confirmation to himself.

     Satsue blew a smoke ring, watching Iki leave with slitted eyes before she walked to the door and shut it. She looked down at the doorknob, briefly remembering the one Antoku had unscrewed with naught but a look. Tch.
"He flew into a seething rage when I told him that Masayume Nozomi was one of our new kidou teachers," she explained, flicking ash from her cigarette directly onto the floor. There was no salvaging it now, it'd have to be refinished no matter what. She walked back to her desk. "It seems the two have a history, and inbetween him bringing Armageddon down on my office, I found out why," she continued dryly. It was almost close to humor, if graveyards had humor. Another drag of her cigarette, one arm folding on her stomach, while she rested the elbow of the hand holding her cigarette on the folded arm. "I was aware he had a ridiculously huge scar on his back from the accident that resulted in part of his zanpakutou becoming lodged in his chest -- you know about that, of course. I was unaware Nozomi was the cause." She glanced at Masa meaningfully.
     Sixteen years of aggravation, thanks to her protege. She was not pleased.

     Masa found a hunk of something to lean back on. It could have been a lot of things, but it was the only sturdy thing for him to lean on. Crossing his arms, he listened to Satsue make the run down of the situation. He had a faint desire to smoke a cigarette, but decided it'd probably be better to wait and enjoy it later.
     He was used to her manner of speaking by then, making it a lot easier for him to take in what she was saying. He had been kind of briefed on this Antoku situation, but never imagined that he'd be put right in the middle of it. He'd only seen Nozomi a few times but knew very well that she was Satsue's go-to gal, so to speak. But to think, a little lady like that causing such a nasty injury... Masa scratched at his neck idly.
     "I could understand why he'd be upset then, I'd be pretty pissed. I'm guessin' it wasn't no accident? Not with th' way he reacted..." He looked around the room again, just as a reminder. His arms folded again and he sighed, which was kind of uncharacteristic. "...So, I guess my question is this -- why I'm th' one t' be lookin' after 'im now? I'll do it, but... if I know th' reasons, it might help in th' long run."

     She gestured vaguely with the cigarette, before leaning back enough to rest her hips on the edge of her desk -- obviously, worrying about blood and ink stains was ridiculous at this point. "We'll have to assume it wasn't an accident," was all she said in regards to /that/ business.
     "You can smoke," she added, glancing to her side at all of the ruined paperwork. The look was calculating. The Kidoushuu had never told her what hell pit they'd dragged the boy from... "... because you know how to handle yourself in a close combat fight and you can disable his limbs if needbe," she said slowly, mind still clicking gears, "... but watch your wrists," she added, bringing her hands up to tap one of her wrists with fingertips. "When the Kidoushuu brought him to me, three soldiers had broken hands and wrists," she indicated, putting the heel of one hand to her opposite palm and imitating the motion of shoving backwards, snapping bone. Another drag of her cigarette, and she pushed off the desk, moving towards him and gesturing aside to have him move off the filing cabinet. "I'm going to need you to check him for weapons, as well... he had a dagger strapped to his back, there's probably more."

     He had almost hoped that his brawn would not come into play here, but once he thought about it, he was probably the most physically able on staff. Ah well, at least he could smoke around Antoku. He was a little impressed that a skinny kid like that could manage to break grown men's wrists like that, as well. He'd have to keep that in mind if he ever needed to restrain him.
     It would have been uncharacteristic of Masa not to make some kind of observatory comment. "Does he really have th' intent o' hurtin' someone? Killin'?" His eyes lowered a little and darted a little as he continued to ponder the thought. It almost seemed like he had not noticed Satsue moving towards him at all, but he stood up straight and moved away a little from the filing cabinet nonetheless. "... Ya think it's too much for me t' try and talk t' him? He shouldn't have t' carry those weapons at all."

     She pursed her lips, deep in thought for a moment, almost as if she hadn't heard hi-- "I'm sorry, what? Too much to.. hold that thought." She took one last inhale of her dying cigarette, then dropped it and stubbed it out with her foot on the floor amidst the crunching of splintered wood and broken glass. She didn't smoke when handling her files.
     The massive drawer was pulled open with a weighty groan after she unlocked it with one of the keys around her neck -- previously concealed beneath her uniform -- but after the initial complaint, the drawer came out easily. She began walking her fingertips through the folders. "No. Beyond struggling with the Kidoushuu, he's never harmed anyone in sixteen years... here, at least. No killing. He cut Uemiya recently, but I'm willing to believe it was provoked, and I specifically ordered Uemiya to keep his cool. It's not my problem if he insists on learning the hard way."
     Fingers paused, then pulled out the file in question. "No other incidents beyond that. As for the talking..." she glanced up. "That's the other thing I require of you."

     Spinning around slowly to idly watch her go through files, he took in what she had to say concerning his violence issues. It was a little comforting to know that he had not actually done any serious harm to anyone -- as for Uemiya, Masa just knew that kid to be a little cold. That scar of his, one that had been recently made, must have been the result of their encounter.
     Masa did not really pay attention to what she was looking for, and any curiousity that he might have had for the filing cabinet was redirected at Satsue's last comment. His eyes rose towards her face, and his arms dropped to his side. Hey, so he wasn't just some muscle after all. Tilting his head a little, a bit of a grin began to curl at the right corner of his lip. "So that, too, huh?" The grin fell away a little, but traces of it lingered as he shifted his weight to the opposite side and cocked his head a little. "Tell me what yer hopes are, and I'll see what I can do. I really hope I don't say somethin' wrong n' blow up a wing or somethin' like that."

     She flipped the file open, skimming briefly. "Doubtful. People are your forte, not mine, you know that. ... North District 68, how far is that from where you grew up?"

     He looked a little shocked by the question, his eyes widening a bit. But, after a moment, he was able to answer with a bit of curiosity shining in his eyes. "...I grew up in West District 78. Was that where Antoku was from?" This perked his interests even more. Nostalgic of his days with Oyabun and everyone, those who grew up in the desolate and harsh environments were, of course, of great interest to Masa.

     "I was never informed of where they found him, and there's no guarantee that where they found him was where he resided, either way. However..." she closed Nozomi's file, putting it back where it belonged. "If that is where Masayume is from, there's a good chance he's from the same area." She pushed, and the drawer slid back on oiled supports, sinking back into the cabinet with a heavy thud. "Try to make friends with him."

     His pierced left brow lifted a little in surprised. That's where Nozomi was from? A little demure thing? Well, it certainly was interesting, and not impossible, he supposed. Masa never would have guessed. As for Satsue's request, Masa nodded lowly once in acknowledgment. "Got it, Iesada-san." He chuckled a little then, thinking of something amusing. "I just hope I ain't gettin' too old for this." He had not changed much since the day that he arrived at the Academy, but he was fully aware that kids might think of him as being out of touch with young folk problems.

     "Please, spare me," she muttered dryly, before waving a hand in his direction dismissively. "Out, I won't keep you from Ishamoto much longer. I have to deal with his constant menstruation enough as it is. And Masa... none of this information leaves this room, understand? You may relay what you will to Ishamoto, sans the last about the districts, but no one else. That is my business to deal with."

     Of course all of his good humor was wasted on Satsue, but it was not like he was disappointed. It was to be expected, really. Lowering himself into a slight bow, he grinned a little, hoping that he could remember what not to tell to Iki. He could be trusted, however -- Satsue's words were sacred to him. "Yes, Iesada-san. I'll do my best, you have my word." And Masa's words, as she would know, were also something to trust.
     Having permission to leave, Masa turned sharply and made his way out, his legs moving double time towards Iki's clinic, and his eyes focused straight ahead.

     She didn't waste time after Masa left. The necessary, immediate tasks taken care of, she rummaged through her desk, salvaging what paperwork she could from the tea and ink. At least everything in her drawers appeared to still be dry; she stacked all of it on top one of the filing cabinets after shoving what was left of an intricately blown glass vase (now nothing but hundreds of pieces) off onto the floor with her forearm.
     A brief excursion down the hall and she found Shiori in the library, beckoning the girl to leave off her work for now. "Record a list of the letters with senders and topic and each record that was on my desk that were ruined," she directed when they got back to her office, picking plaster out of her shihakushou. The letters, she'd have to request to be resent again. The records, she at least already had backups of, but it was still necessary to notate which ones would need fresh copies. "Move everything on top of the filing cabinets into the spare office down the hall," she added, indicating what she'd salvaged from her desk. "Take the rest of the afternoon for yourself after that."%r%tShe left, then, after one last look at the wreckage. Things were going to have to change... immediately.

Participants: Satsue, Masa, Iki
Notes: Masa arrives to find Antoku unconscious in Satsue's office, Iki is fetched, and Satsue gives Masa a task regarding Antoku.
Status: Complete. Scene continued from previous log with Antoku.

The Knowing of Nozomi

2008-04-20T09:40:15Z

     He knocked by clunking his knuckles against the door even as he pushed it open. Although he was late on principle, although she'd no reason to expect anyone else, Antoku's lazy voice called, "Hey, Saachan, I'm coming in,"while he waved bye-bye to the secretary's secretary and her frantic attempts to get him to sit down and wait to be called in.
     Coming from some rough, nameless place on Earth where the sand dunes and mountains out-numbered the human inhabitants ten to one, Antoku was dusky and long-limbed by nature. His increasing lethargy since coming to the Academy had done much to thin away his body mass, layer by layer, so it was particularly interesting that he'd come to Satsue slick and bright with sweat, dust smeared on his chin and across his forearms. His Academy gi he'd left behind, although he had the hakama on over his own dark, faded shirt, neither exactly Japanese nor exactly Chinese in origin. It was mostly likely that he wore it because it had a high, secured collar...it would keep other students from being too frightened of him.
     Under the flush exercise had given him, the skin around his eyes looked pallid and wan, and when he'd thrown himself into a chair in front of the desk, he was more than well-winded. Naturally, he began searching beneath his belt for a cigarette almost immediately. "If this is about the thing with the eel, I skipped that class. ...you got a light?"

     By the time he entered the office it was wreathed in a thick, white smoke, reminiscent of the old Western tales of dragons that breathed fire -- the cigarette flared a bright, burning color briefly -- in dark mountain caves. She exhaled a fresh stream, eyes slitted.. but despite all appearances, the beast was asleep, the normal lurking presence surrounding her subdued beneath the heavy scent of spice and coffee that never left the room. Perhaps it was merely waiting patiently. Nonetheless, she waved the secretary's protests away with her free hand, setting down the cigarette in her other. It was the fifth one since she'd sent for him.
     For the most part his idle chatter was ignored while she regarded the state of him, one brow rising carefully. "Turn your head." She'd been reclined in her chair, paperwork abandoned for the time-being, but now she straightened, leaning across the desk enough with her ring hand to gesture him closer. When her head tilted enough just so towards the desktop, it was to indicate the matches there in passing, but the flat, intent expression in her eyes indicated that she wasn't going to wait for him to comply with her order, regardless of offering them.

     Another naughty photoshoot? Or was it just a comment on his looks? "I hear I've gained a certain refined ruggedness since we've met," he stated, looking to his right obediently. Almost immediately he slouched forward, hand out, with his eyes on the match sticks. "If I hadn't swallowed that revolver I'd be a fetching young fifty year old by now, just about your speed." He hoped that by the time he reached the human equivalent of fifty he still had his hair, or she'd never respect him.
     Antoku took three more matches than necessary. "If this isn't about the eel, then...?"

     "Why would I give a damn about an eel?" she asked, but it was a distracted reply, because her dark eyes were currently narrowed on the haphazardly sewn gash in his skull. She'd withdrawn her hand when he complied; short of getting up and walking around the desk itself, he wasn't actually in reach and she wasn't actually interested in touching it. Just seeing it.
     The look she slid sideways toward him out of the corners of her eyes while she retrieved her cigarette said several things, the chiefest being 'you're hopeless', but the thought she vocalized was: "Were you drunk when you attempted to sew that, or did you just think it might be funny to sew it shut blindfolded? It looks as poorly done up as the rest of you." .. which honestly wasn't that much different from 'you're hopeless.'

     "No one told me I had a beauty contest to win," answered Antoku as he slouched back in his own chair. He paused to strike a match on the back of his own teeth and light the half-smoked cigarette he'd saved and hidden on his person. When he settled into the cool relief of nicotine, he rubbed his fingers against his forehead and wondered, "Are you trying to tell me you would have done a better job in a mirror, by candle light? Don't worry about it, I won't die." He most likely used mouth wash as an antiseptic rinse. There was no logical explanation for why he hadn't died in Rukongai years before.
     "Hey, since I'm here, I've got a bone to pick with you. What the hell did you go and scare Mitzy like that for? Shit, why not run into his room every night with your hair on fire and beat him with sticks?"

     "It's not my fault if you choose to keep the company of someone with a weak heart." She flicked ashes into the tray nearby, then stubbed the finished cigarette out completely after a calculating glance determined it wasn't worth a last inhale unless she wanted to burn her fingertips. "But since we're bringing up items of dissatisfaction..."
     Lacquer-nailed fingertips came to press firmly on the matchbook before sliding it back to her side of the desk. They were green today, the deep color of a good, dark jade, the seal of the 1st Gotei etched carefully in gold filigree on the index fingernail of both hands. "You need to find a way to pass your kidou classes this year."

     "'Need,' she says," Antoku guffawed and then yawned while cigarette smoke rolled off of his tongue and over the places where molars had once been. He might have been more inclined to take her statement seriously if she had apologized about Katoji, or even made some statement that humanized the kid. Bless her for not making Antoku change his ways for the sake of another person.
     "Why don't you propose a plan for how I'll do that? I know! I can just ask Yoro to drop shikai." He drew a line across his own neck with two fingers and then brought the cigarette to his mouth again. "What's 'alliteration,' by the way?"

     "You're offended." It was a statement, not a question, another rolled cigarette retrieved from the drawer in her desk while she settled into her chair again. It was tucked between her lips so she could strike a match, and then hands cupped long enough to ensure it burned properly before she shook the match out, discarding it in the ashtray. "And here I almost thought you were lying when you said you liked him."
     'Idle' comments aside, she inhaled for a moment, holding the broiling smoke an even longer moment before exhaling through her nostrils. "'Terribly tongue-tied, too terrified to talk,'" she offered humorlessly in regards to his last question.

     Beneath his black eyelashes, Antoku's dark copper-coloured eyes watched electric spider webs flash and fade across the walls, the surface of the desk, the back of Satsue's fingers. No matter how long he watched, they would never turn the blue-green they turned for Katoji. The tight, hard white scar that split the edge of his lower lip twitched. All he said was, "I doubt I know how to do that," and then narrowed his eyes, sucked at his cigarette, looking off to the side at the things only he saw. It was a look that meant, with brick-wall finality, he would not let another word on the topic get past his tongue.
     "Stupid to have a word for that," was his judgement on alliteration. Shifting so that he could dangle a leg over the arm of the chair, he complained, "I can't do goddamn kidou and you can. Why don't you all-knowing motherfuckers tell ME how to pass the classes? You're supposed to teach me, not the other way around. ...no matter how much you'd like it that way."

     She watched him for a time, the steady streams of inhales and exhales they both shared the only break in the momentary silence -- no low, oscillating sounds at the edge of her hearing to slowly peel away at her nerve endings, for which she might've been grateful if she'd noticed. She was too preoccupied with the puzzle that was Antoku: the exhausting, exasperating puzzle of a boy sinewy and stretched out, too thin for his own frame. He seemed to make up for the imbalance of weight by tipping the scales with an overabundant source of aggravation, most days... but today was a calm day. She still had patience.
     "You've traumatized and alienated every kidou teacher to date, and you sit there complaining? You never even gave them a chance to help you, because you decided it was pointless from the start. You accepted your own defeat." A flick of fingers, more ashes collecting in a funeral mound inside the ashtray. "Regardless, we have a new teacher, and I'd appreciate it if you'd at least try to work with Masayume before deciding ahead of time that you're going to spend the entire semester sleeping."

     "Don't you mean 'your defeat'?" he muttered beneath his breath, watching the paper turn grey and slowly curl at the end of his cigarette as it dangled from his fingers. All the same, his eyes had moved to meet Satsue's stern face at last. Other than a sharply-arched eyebrow, he remained otherwise still. After a wordless, pregnant pause, he suggested, "Maybe you'd be better off shipping that one back to the factory. It'll be a cold day in Hell before I get along with some ass named 'Masayume.' Fuck, I'll punch his ticket through the gates for him." An amazingly helpful offer, considering the speaker.

     She ignored his first comment if she heard it, arching a brow in turn as she lowered the hand holding her cigarette, letting it spiral smoke in the air idly as she rested her forearm on the arm of her chair. "Masayume Nozomi is not a man, you'll be pleased to hear."

     The hair-thin scar on Antoku's lower lip twitched.
     A few small pieces of plaster and a brief rain of dust pattered down across the desk in the long silence that followed. His hooded eyes drifted slowly away from Satsue while his mind burned through a handful of items feverishly, and, having arrived at a conclusion, he swung his feet down to the floor and stood. Two fingers raised towards Satsue in a gesture that seemed to ask her for just a few more seconds to express his stance on her request.
Antoku turned and gripped the arms of the chair he'd been sitting in, cigarette drooping between his lips. He jerked it up off of the ground and over his head.
     As tired as he'd been when he'd come to her office, it was almost heartening to see how easily he spun and sent the chair hurtling towards a window. As glass and splinters exploded outwards. "That was about the same thing as 'Shou Number 1,' right?" he said, lowering his hands. "Giving me a passing score in kidou for that, if you want. I quit either way."

     Several things happened at once. The ceiling ripped asunder, the ashtray split neatly in two with a tinkly *crack*, spilling ashes, and the tea set at the corner of the desk yielded as if under a sledgehammer, bursting into nothing but broken pieces. Tea seeped into the woodwork and dripped over the side of the desk onto the floor, while every other piece of glassware or pottery in the room suffered the same fate.
     It was a symphony of violence accompanied by a thick, roiling sound, and it lasted no more than the span of a heartbeat. She sat very still in her seat while it happened, grey eyes watching the too-thin boy in aggravation--until he picked up the chair, and then eyes widened in one of the rarest expressions ever to cross Satsue's face: shock. She ducked smoothly as it went flying overhead, the cigarette lost and forgotten as it fell from her fingers to the floor. When it'd passed and took more than half her window with it, she swore and stood, stamping the cigarette out in the floorboards with a heel before whipping her head back around to give him a black look. She was very close to yelling, but she mirrored his motion of holding up a finger, inhaling very slowly through her nostrils. Count to ten. Exhale, then begin. Tendons trembled with the restraint it took to speak in a normal voice.
     "Given that you clearly know Masayume -- I can only guess -- please tell me what in the hell happened between you that simply mentioning her name would prompt you to destroy half of my office out of reflex."

     "You have two choices," said Antoku. He was looking at the open palm of his left hand, clutching a fistful of his own shirt with his right, as if his chest hurt, and still had not turned to face her again. Strain made his voice sound strange and breathless, but he spoke in short hissing bursts anyway. "Throw that fucking slut out, or fucking let me leave. Through the door or in a bag. I don't care. I don't care. I won't put up with it. You fucking tell Them I said that. Tell them I will fucking kill these kids if I have to. Her, or me. PICK NOW."
     Slouching against the wall, the bookshelf groaned, its ribs sagging under pressure.

     Her jaw worked silently, sinew creaking against bone while she stood, absolutely baffled, trying to force her teeth to stop grinding and unsnap the constricted muscles in the lower half of her face. The pressure was making her face ache.
     She was at a loss for words, for once; both hands met each other, palms together in front of her mouth (almost as if praying) while she focused on on trying to keep her composure. The fact that it was a physically open display spoke volumes of her distress -- her usually carefully constructed mask was long gone with no chance of coming back anytime soon. Lips thinned, pursed, thinned again.
     "Tell me what happened. I need to know, or I can't do anything."

     One of the shelves collapsed, spilling a shoal of books onto the floor.

     She wanted to know what happened. She wanted to know. She wanted to know. A weak voice in the back of his mind tried to remind Antoku that Satsue didn't know, obviously she didn't know, and if he'd pay attention he'd realize she was trying do to the right thing. It was a hard thing to hear over the black-red rage ripping through his veins, a very hard thing.
     He put a hand over his shoulder, as far as he could reach, and gripped his shirt. Somehow, the fabric didn't tear as he jerked it up, dragged it over his head until his shoulders were bare. The ugly brown-and-white scar was free to twist and gouge its way through his muscle out in the bright light of day, a place it never belonged. He was wearing a dagger strapped flat against the small of his back, just above a small tattoo of some black bird, and was clearly reckless enough not to care that she knew. There was no explanation, not even a sign that he was willing to turn and face her. Look at it, his silence said. Look at it and know; let me out.

     Satsue stared for a long time. She noted the dagger and the bird. Noted every twist of ruined skin. It was deadly quiet; the tension could have broken bones the way it weighed in heavy on the room, crushing out the oxygen and making it hard to breathe. One hand had dropped, the other hand was covering the lower half of her face and mouth with what could have been easily been horror, if her face had carried any expression at all. Not horror at the scarring itself.. although granted, it was /bad/. They'd told her about it, but seeing it.. no, the fact that was sinking into the pit of her stomach, dripping down the curve of her spine to settle like lead, was the implication of everything that scar said. It left her feeling stunned, tongue thick in her mouth.
     The silence broke when she finally exhaled through her nostrils loudly, hand rubbing her mouth before dragging down along her face, dropping entirely. She sunk back into her chair, dropping like a rock, face in her hand.
     She felt old, older than dirt, for the first time in a long time.
     "I need a cigarette," she finally muttered hoarsely, for lack of anything better to say just then, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, scrubbing her face with both hands. Tired and old.
     She looked.. human, for the first time in centuries.

     The scar bit into his shoulder while he pulled his shirt back on, turning as he did it. There was a brief view of the front of his torso, with its immense white scar, so laced with scars left by stitches that it resembled a zipper more than the place where they had opened him up and split his ribs in half, of the funny dragging brown scar that had actually removed one of his nipples, of the bird foot-tracks of handfuls of other minor, less noteworthy mistakes. And then there was just his face, severe and ghoulish above his black collar, more judgmental, more hateful, more cold than it had been the first time they'd met. He yanked at his hem, straightened his shirt, leaned forward.
     Antoku put his palms down flat on her desk, in the broken glass and shattered porcelain. It crunched, grinding under his weight. He demanded, "Let me go, or let me cut her throat." And he would do it, too. In that moment, nothing was more certain.

     She regained her composure bit by bit, picking up the pieces off the floor of her thoughts, watching him redress before she dropped her hands from her mouth and reached into her drawer, pulling out the pack of cigarettes there while she regarded him. Tap, tap, tap. She grabbed the one that slid out in her lips, tossing the pack carelessly aside, grabbing the matches. She lit up, smoke streaming out of the corner of her mouth when she exhaled, tossing the match aside too.
     "You leave, they'll hunt you down like a dog, no matter how many years it takes. You mean too much to them. How many years before you find yourself in chains? You think you're trapped now, you're not going to like it if they think their only resort is putting a twenty-four hour guard on you and keeping you in line with the flat of a sword and an empty cell. And that's provided they still consider you worth the trouble and don't execute you as a threat to Seireitei." She held up her hand, trying to forestall his anger. "You kill her, you'll be executed, no hesitation." She inhaled smoke slowly, sighing it out again and waiting for the nicotine to calm her nerves. "If you do either of those, it's your own suicide."

     He was far too furious to be casual, but he spoke with unsettling authority on the subject nonetheless. "I'll hack the body to pieces and sink them in wells and rivers. The head is the hardest part, you have to destroy the teeth and chopping through the neck is hard. There won't be a drop of blood on your campus." There was blood on her desk now, welling up around his hands, faster as he leaned further in. "Let me kill her, or get rid of her yourself. I'm not fucking around. Test me if you think I'm fucking around, if this sounds like some fucking prank. If you think you're going to put that lying whore in a room with me and give her authority, you are not in possession of the facts. And just you wait until one of those kids takes a tone with her she doesn't like. If you object to coffins, I suggest you settle for one before you have a dozen." From Antoku, it was an unheard-of amount of information in one breath.

     All things considered she took his barrage of words and emotions with an amazing amount of serenity; now that she was reclaiming herself and settling firmly back into the autonomous, perfect existence of a woman who'd seen enough years that seeing a thousand more had nothing more to offer, she could return to business. It was the blood she noticed before she could reply, the beast stirring in the depths, long since awakened and merely biding its time. She could feel it inquiring, reaching out -- yes? it asked -- curious at the destruction, eager to return the favor. She shoved it aside. "Antoku, you're bleeding all over my desk, and if you don't quit shoving your hands down on all that broken glass, you're going to scar so badly your hands won't be able to function properly. There's bandages in the drawer." She pointed to one of the filing cabinets.

     He ignored that, ignored the plaster sand and dust sifting down from the ceiling, powdering his shoulders, the desk, her hair. "Make a goddamn choice, make it now. She's already here, isn't she? I'm not sleeping under the same roof, I will-fucking-not do it. You fucking get rid of her or you fucking let me out of here." He was looking grey and ashy around the eyes, beneath the natural ruddy pigment of his skin, giving the fanaticism of his hatred an even more unstable edge. "You get rid of her or I'll tear this entire institution to the ground." Something in the hallway died with explosive an explosive crash, but Antoku was focused only on her.

     .. surely he couldn't still.. her eyebrow twitched faintly at the sound of more wreckage in the hallway, as if the damage done already -- to everything, not just her office -- wasn't bad enough. Her hostility was beginning to flood back, digging fingers into the line across her shoulders, knotting them uncomfortably. She lowered her cigarette, pushing herself to a stand. This had to stop, one way or another, if he wouldn't wear out on his own. She moved towards the filing cabinet the bandages were in, not replying yet.

     It was when he spun to face her and demand yet again that he felt it. The room kept on turning even after he stopped. Antoku swayed a step with it, a wet hand out to catch himself, wet fingers smudging his temple. Not yet. She would ignore him and do what she wanted. He'd wake up in another room, some new place, yet another new life already planned out for him. "Listen to me you barren old bitch!" Antoku took another step, this one so drunken that he groaned in defeat and half-reached for the blurry smear of colors that represented his perfect prison.
     "Why the hell won't any of you listen?" Landing on his knees so hard that it took his breath away, he looked around himself, searching desperately for Yoro-
     When he folded, the weird twanging pressure that had been wringing the room like a towel snapped. Normal, unharmed atmosphere rushed into to fill the wounded space and escort the last of the plaster dust to the floor.

Participants: Satsue, Antoku
Notes: Unexpected reactions to the simple name of a woman. Satsue's office gets helpfully remodeled by Antoku's anger.
Status: Complete. Scene continued in log with Masa and Iki.

Antoku and Katoji

2008-04-17T09:35:15Z

     He had cut practice short because frankly, Matsuhiro's dark mood had felt like it was encroaching the entire dojo, and the awkwardness of being watched was getting to him. After an uneasy apology for really no reason at all now that he thinks about it, Katoji had left the room, broom in tow. For almost ten minutes he had been wandering the halls idly, distracted by the cryptic conversation (if it could even be called that) he had with the other student. Not long after that had he decided to seek out the other half of the supposed problem. His brother probably would have told him he would have been better off not to, but Katoji was concerned as to what could have happened to Matsuhiro that involved Antoku. While certainly they had been warned early on about the boy, Katoji had his own personal experience to go by, and although his attitude could use some adjustments, Antoku really didn't come off as so bad a person as everyone's made him out to be.
     Then again, it could just be him.
     Coming back to the library is a wild guess and as good a place as any to start in looking for the elusive delinquent. On hindsight, Katoji wishes he'd at least stopped by the dorm to leave his broom behind. Oh well. He can do so if he doesn't find who he's looking for in here.

     Antoku was stacking eggs.
     The eggs were stolen, though it was unlikely their loss would be noticed. Slumped against one of the heavy wooden tables centered in the library, his academy kimono draped over the back of his chair, Antoku let his head rest against the pillow made by one folded arm while he carefully balanced an egg on the third level of what was becoming a fragile pyramid of unborn chickens.
     Yoro-Ritsuryo, wrapped up and laced into its heavy leather sheath, hung from a long braided cord that Antoku wore over one shoulder, its pommel glimmering with old, dark wedges of black jade.
     Whatever Matsuhiro's upset was over, Antoku was currently a very unintimidating source.

     At a glance, it appeared that Antoku was a very lazy, unfulfilling student that was currently wasting his time with a pointless feat. Katoji remembered the cold look that the boy could give, however- remembered all too well. It was enough of a reminder to have him be on his guard, although it wouldn't be the first time he'd wonder how he should react if anything Bad Happened.
     Oh right, I'm not even supposed to be around him...
     Shaking his head, Katoji quietly made his way into the library and towards the table that Antoku had commandeered. His eyes drifted across the sheathed zanpakutou that hung, slung as just as before, over one of Antoku's shoulders. Katoji hadn't asked anything about it last time, but then there was a lot he didn't ask about that he wanted to then. He probably wouldn't have gotten many good answers.
Not wanting to be the cause of a potential mess, Katoji said nothing as he came up beside the table, not wanting to surprise Antoku either although he was pretty sure that wasn't possible anyway. All the same, he lifted his broom so it wouldn't drag on the floor. He waited with bated breath as he watched Antoku carefully add another egg to the growing pile, not even going to ask where he'd gotten the eggs from.

     It didn't make sense that the eggs stood the way they did, no matter how carefully they were placed there. Each one balanced erect, with the narrowest end pointing towards the ceiling, and theoretically supported the weight of the eggs above it. When one looked close, however, the trick remained as impossible as it should be. Each egg above the first row stood on nothing at all.
     Antoku's fingers paused in the act of placing the last egg. The late-day light slanting down through the cracked windows made each scar on his fingers look white as ash.
     "Why aren't you afraid that I'm going to hurt you?"

     "...." Katoji stared at the other's progress. Eggs... shouldn't do that. He caught himself frowning, and again he shook his head. He wasn't here for eggs, after all. His eyes shifted from the gravity-defying egg pyramid to the person that was constructing it, and his fingers tightened around the smooth bamboo handle of the broom he carried, leaned against his shoulder.
     "...are you going to?" he found himself asking. "...if it's unintentional, then it'd be from my own risk, but if not then I'd at least like to know why..." Things happened around Antoku, this had been quite clear since the first time he'd met him here in this very library. Things that as of yet remained unexplained. They had all been aptly warned, and yet here he was again. It wasn't the question that had been on his mind though.
     He allowed himself to lower his broom since he was standing still and his presence had been acknowledged, the bristles crunching lightly against the floor. After a moment, Katoji decided to resume with what he had planned to ask to begin with. "...what happened with you and Uemiya-san...?"

     Antoku was still a moment longer. Then he rotated the mottled brown egg between his fingers and stood it on its head at the top of the pyramid. Delicately, knuckles curved, he let go of the last egg and put his hand back down on the table top. From this safe, low place, his head still resting against his arm, he looked up at the illogical pyramid thoughtfully, then yawned.
     "I don't know who you mean." He wasn't distressed. By design alone he was destined to always be blamed for things he had not done or wanted to do, and he had never been in the habit of asking for names.

     Katoji eyed the completed egg-pyramid confusedly, and perhaps in any other instance would have been in utter awe of it, littering the silence with annoyingly eager questions like 'wow, how'd you do that?' or 'why'd you make a pyramid from eggs anyway?' or maybe even 'so now what?'- and all accompanied with the usual smile.
     Said smile was miles away from his face for a change, and Katoji gave a not-quite pout as he looked once again to Antoku. "Uemiya Matsuhiro. Um... around this tall," he gestured, even if Antoku wasn't looking. "-long brown hair in a ponytail with bangs like this.... He had a bandage on the right side of his face..."

     When Katoji said 'bandage,' Antoku barked a short, sharp laugh that didn't sound very nice. "Oh, right. Him. That's not your brother." It was a statement, not a question. Anyone could see that while Rukongai brothers were highly unlikely to truly be related, Katoji was not, all the same, related to the the Uemiya-san he'd brought up. "What difference does it make to you?"

     That was not the reaction he had been expecting, and definitely not one he would have preferred. Brow furrowing as a mildly disturbed look settled upon his countenance, Katoji slowly shook his head. "No, he's not, but..." But what did that have to do with anything? That was what he wanted to say, but he reconsidered it after the next question Antoku asked.
     "...well..." He looked down. "...I just wanted to know..." And was hoping that it really hadn't been the case that Antoku did something, but with that laugh in response, things certainly didn't look too positive for that aspect.

     "We exchanged words," Antoku replied cooly. He sat up stiffly, stretched his arms until his shoulders popped in their sockets, and began dismantling his project, two eggs at a time. He lined them up in neat little rows of two, one eyebrow down sharply. "But I didn't lose my temper, if you were somehow worried about that." And if Katoji -was- worried, it was because someone had been spreading the old rumors again. How did they always start so quickly?
     "That person isn't your friend, either. Why stress yourself about it?"

     Rumors? Katoji hadn't heard any rumors, but maybe he'd be better off not knowing. He didn't bother trying to hide the dubious look that crossed his face at the answer offered him. That the two had merely exchanged words would have been a fine answer if not for the fact that Matsuhiro had been wounded somehow.
     The reason he'd come to find and question Antoku wasn't completely due to concern for Matsuhiro though. "...I... well, I was hoping maybe Uemiya-san was mistaken when he mentioned running into you..." Well, not mistaken... exactly, but he wasn't sure how else to word it.

     "At the heart of the matter, running into me is exactly what he did." And Antoku rolled the palm of his hand across the bottom level of eggs, sending them all wobbling on their sides. Each was quickly gathered up between his magician's fingers and added to the rows laid out across the table he sat.
     Antoku leaned back in his chair with his arms folded tightly across his chest and eyed the freshman's broom critically. "Accidents happen."

     Katoji swallowed, clutching the broom to his chest as he looked down at the floor again. Accidents, huh? The almost casual response made him feel uneasy. He really wasn't sure what to say next, at that, and even Antoku's deft abilities with egg gathering went mostly unnoticed. "....."

     "Oh, please. What are you making that face for? Some kid you don't care about has a scratch and you're acting like I chopped up his family." Antoku untucked one of his hands and patted himself down in the universal sign language for 'where did I put my cigarettes.' "I couldn't do that, I don't know where his family lives yet."

     "....oh don't even joke!" Katoji sputtered, although in afterthought he wondered briefly if perhaps Antoku wasn't joking at all. Looking somewhat flustered, the freshman eyed Antoku as he sought out his cigarettes, inwardly hoping they wouldn't be found since, well, aside from it being against school regulations, a library was the last place anyone should light up.
     "...anyway... well... it's just that I've never seen him look like that before. I've never really talked to him until earlier, but I've seen him enough in class..." He stopped trying to fork out reasons, finding he had less and less to really work with.

     "So, what? Now he's got a scratch and you're gonna care about him like you care about me because I don't go to class?" Katoji was, he'd decided after their first meeting, the sort of person destined by nature to run off of a cliff and never procreate. "You are a severely fucked-up kid."
     Waggling an unlit cigarette he'd found rolled up behind his belt at Katoji scoldingly, he added, "You're doing it again, by the way. The blue-green thing."

     Satsue only desired a few simple things in life. Perfect record-keeping, perfect obedience, a cup of coffee, and a pack of cigarettes. .. and a certain young boy out of her hair, but certain matters always held their own complications, and the story of Sadakata Antoku had a long list of complications to go on.
     It wasn't hard to find him. If she had to get stuttering answers from anyone she questioned, so be it--she got answers nonetheless. She'd left both her coffee and cigarettes behind.. the former because she'd already lost two cherished coffee cups, the latter because she was currently out. Regardless..
     "Sadakata. ... Chihara," she tacked on as an after-thought greeting, zeroing in on the pair from behind a bookcase after briefly combing the library. Her entrance was as curt as the woman herself.

     Things were going rapidly downhill now. Katoji actually looked upset for a change, although probably not nearly as upset as Matsuhiro had. "Wh- well sorry if that's how I am!" he huffed, his grip tightening around the broom handle still in hands to the point that his knuckles were turning white. He never said he outright didn't care for his fellow classmates, he just had a hard time narrowing things down when it was asked of him to be specific. The boy almost missed the idle comment from Antoku, and even after that did it take him a moment to figure out what he was even talking about since it was out of the blue.
     He was saved the trouble of finding a suitable response with the arrival of one Iesada Satsue. Katoji didn't have to turn to know who spoke their names, and just realizing she was now present effectively froze him in his place. With a gulp, he turned his head, amber eyes confirming the presence of the assistant dean before he bowed his head abruptly to return the greeting. "I-Iesada-san."

     "...aaaand there it goes," mumbled Antoku, bent over the cigarette he was lighting. Leave it to the hag to spoil something like that. How the hell was he supposed to teach this airhead anything if people kept shaking him up right when he started doing something right?
     "Atilla-sensei," he raised his voice and let smoke roll out of his nose. "I thought you forgot about me."

     Lacquered nails were black-and-white filigree today, stylized mamosa blossoms on a background of night. They flashed briefly when she plucked the freshly-lit cigarette from Antoku's fingers, stubbing it out in a small silver case she pulled from her kimono. Both the case and the cigarette disappeared from site.
     "I'm not going to waste my breath on you. You cut Uemiya; what the hell happened."

     Antoku gestured sparingly with the hand that had been holding a perfectly good cigarette a moment ago. "Tell her what happened, Mitzy-mae," he ordered, his voice casual.

     "...." Katoji would have been fine with falling silent and just be conveniently forgotten. Of course, that wouldn't be the case what with Antoku there, now would it?
     It didn't take long for Satsue's words to sink in, and despite the implications that this had in fact been the clear answer Katoji would have rather not verified, it was there, as put so bluntly forth by the woman that stood there eyeing them.
     "What?!" He clamped a hand over his mouth as if realizing he shouldn't be yelling in here because it's a library, not to mention Satsue's Right There. The uncertain look that flickered in her direction quickly moved back to Antoku, and his lips pulled into a frown. "Why should I say what happened when I don't even know what exactly happened?" he asked, exasperatedly.
     "...and my name's not Mitzy-mae!"

     "You know what happened," Antoku corrected dryly. "This Uu-muu-mii-ya kid ran into me. I told you that." He glanced up at Satsue, less horrified by the concept of death looming so near than seemed proper. "I told him that. Come on, why're you spitting fire? Sixteen years and I haven't touched a single one of them. I do it once and it's like Salem all over again." In fact, his habits once inside the Academy had always been comparatively pristine.

     There was a perfectly still, silent moment during which Satsue's eyes narrowed. She regarded first Katoji critically, and then Antoku. "... I see." Whatever conclusions she had reached, they didn't seem to be pleasant in nature. .. things were rarely pleasant in nature when it came to Satsue, at least for other people.
     She leaned forward on the table, palms flat and fingers spread. She only spared the egg pyramid a brief glance before her gaze swung back sharply. "Mitzy-mae? Tell me, Antoku. After sixteen years, could it be you're... making friends? A little strange, even for you."

     He didn't want to be here. This whole thing was a bad idea from the start. Funny how often one only seemed capable of realizing such after the fact.
     Katoji had another sharp reply ready for Antoku although it pretty much reiterated what he'd dared say seconds ago- but with the look given him from Satsue, the boy hesitated, grabbing hastily at the reins of his would-be temper and hauling back with all his might. That broom might as well have been a life-preserver for how desperately he clung onto it. Yet despite the tension in the room only he seemed to feel, Katoji did wonder what Satsue was getting at. After all, she appeared to know Antoku quite well.

     Egg row, actually. The pyramid had bowed in anticipation of Satsue's coming.
     Antoku had the grace to look briefly embarassed. He shifted in his seat, rubbing at his upper lip with the side of a finger, and then rolled his eyes up to Satsue's angry, souless eyes. His dark stare flicked over to Katoji's face, then back to Madam Assistant. When he cleared his throat it sounded like a growl. "What's the saying? Any leopard can change his spots?"

     "Any leopard.. I don't believe I've heard that one before," she said pleasantly, and straightened. What a silly idiom, if that's what it was. "That's like saying a simple change of clothes changes the person wearing them. Do you realize how ridiculous that is?" An idiot was still an idiot, even if he was wearing a suit. And as for Antoku.. the thought was laughable. "But by all means... I am /delighted/ that you are finally making friends."
     .. Satsue could take the most harmless phrases and make them sound downright foreboding.

     Satsue just -being- there made things downright foreboding, but then the look received from Antoku just then wasn't one that brought sunshine and daisies either. The subject, under any normal circumstances would have been a positive one, however in the current context, friendship seemed anything but. It was making Katoji feel more than uneasy.
     The room could have probably successfully stored ice for all the warmth Katoji was feeling here, just being in the midst of these two. He was only able to draw comfort in the fact that Satsue's attention was devoted to Antoku and not him, but who knew how long that would be for. Either way, Katoji wasn't about to move, although he thought that if he were taught shunpo then he would have seriously considered making use of it, just to get as far away from here as possible.

     Although he was smiling beneath his hand, Antoku muttered, "/The idiom is 'the leopard does not change his spots,'/" softly, eyes lowered to the tabletop. Rubbing at his eyebrow with the smallest finger of his other hand, he cleared his throat yet again and wondered aloud, "If it's that delightful then surely you can celebrate...elsewhere?"
     No offense, but he was feeling ridiculously tired and while he loved Satsue, truly, like the mother he killed at birth, he wasn't sure how much battering he was prepared to withstand at the moment. And in front of Mitzy-Mae, no less-!

     "You are the last child I'll tolerate a loose tongue from, and if you don't want it freed from your mouth entirely you'd do best to curb it." Prolonged exposure to Antoku tended to wear her patience like skin being flayed from bone layer by layer, and it seemed today was no different. "Do not endanger my students--" her scowl took in Chihara-- "and you won't get so many visits from me."

     Antoku's eyes rolled sideways and up again, hitting Katoji hard. They weighed his worth in a clinical manner, then slid back to Satsue. Before they reached her face, he was smooth and jovial again. "That one's fine, Sacchan. I...like him." Ouch, agh. It hurt to say the little L word after so long. "Check him if you don't believe me. He's not hurt. Mitzy, tell her."

     It came as no surprise to Katoji that Antoku would be so easily flippant with the dean's assistant. Had he always been that way towards her, or was it just something that gradually built up during all the years he'd been here like a callous?
     Maybe just being here for however long it'd been, and like as it probably wasn't half as long as it felt, had made the freshman a little numbed to anymore of Satsue's looks for the moment. He managed not to flinch at the scowl shared between him and Antoku, although if the handle of his broom were a bit wider he would have gladly used it for cover.
     It's the look from Antoku that makes him wonder, and even though he would have normally been cheered to hear such an admission, this one just made him shiver. Only one thing kept him from faltering for an immediate response.
     "It's -Katoji-!" He frowned at Antoku a moment, then looked at Satsue, frown instantly dissolving. He swallowed, but nodded his head at her. "He's telling the truth though- I haven't been in any dangerous situations with him..." So far...

     ".. Like him." That had one delicate brow climbing up her forehead in incredulity, and the criticism in those two words alone could have supplied an entire satire novel. She didn't miss much, and she certainly hadn't missed that glance, given that she had been staring at Antoku with enough weight to pin a grown man to the floor. "Is that so."
     Indeed. She sized up Katoji casually, although whether or not she paid the boy's words any heed was left to speculation. "And why do you like him? Surely he must benefit you in some manner, as I fail to see what would stir your interest otherwise." The words were acerbic and blunt, and it seemed she wasn't about to spare him just because the 'friend' in question was standing right in front of them. Her gaze cut sideways sharply, back to Antoku. "Spare me any protestations that you like him for his charming personality, or any other bullshit you see fit to come up with."

     Because he laughed, he lifted his hand away from his face and fanned it briefly at Katoji, chuckling, "Sorry, sorry." Shouldn't have admitted it was funny like that, probably made it worse.
     "I like him because I feel like it," he parried casually. "Put that in your manila folder, you-know-who'll be fascinated to hear what you've found. Make sure you write down that Mitzy's also refused to do my homework for me, which shows an appalling amount of moral fiber. It's one of his most deplorable qualities. ...was...there...anything else you'd like to know about our relationship?"

     Hello? He's... kinda still standing there, right? It was one thing for him to have been forgotten, however it was another thing entirely when he was the subject in question while being treated as invisible. Katoji slumped where he stood- he'd been standing so straight the entire time that it was beginning to hurt, but at this point it was apparent he'd been wasting his effort for all the direct attention he was given. Fidgeting in place, he allowed himself a small sigh.
     He really didn't like the way Satsue had put her words. Even Antoku's words were more preferred over her's, but it was really only a small margin in difference. He didn't even bother looking at the two anymore, instead counting the seconds until this would all be over."......"

     "Hahaha," she said dryly. "No, thank you -- I've heard enough." Enough to reach some very concise conclusions, and she was sated. For the moment. When it came to Antoku, satisfaction was a thing hard to come by.. and it never lasted long, because there was always something else raising its nasty little head in front of her.
     "Very well," she mused after a moment, turning to leave.. but not without putting a hand on Katoji's shoulder as she passed, smiling pleasantly. "Enjoy your new friend, Chihara. .. and Antoku," she added, glancing over her shoulder. "Restrain yourself in the future. I rather hate being unpleasant, you know." Haha.

     "Consider my appetite for affection thoroughly satisfied," Antoku murmured, softly, but audibly. "I've already got everything I need. Other than freedom." Haha.

     Satsue had a way with entrances and exits. Her arrival had froze him into uncertain silence, and her departure nearly caused his heart to leap out of his chest. Katoji drew in a sharp breath, since it takes air to scream- of course that notion was smothered by the smile and the parting words offered him. If he wasn't already feeling ill from the conversation earlier, he certainly was now. Soon as he had the chance, he was going straight to his room and hiding under a blanket. It was just as well that classes had long been done for the day.
     It took some doing, but once Satsue's hand was removed from his shoulder and her presence soon to be removed from the library in general, Katoji looked back towards Antoku awkwardly.

     She was gone without further instructions or parting words, and it might have been pure imagination that a good portion of the chill in the air departed with her.

     Instead of watching Satsue go, Antoku rolled one of the eggs back and forth between the thumb and the forefinger of one hand, his eyes almost closed. He was silent until she was gone, and then, when she was, he said, "I don't want to see you again outside of class. Leave." The egg wobbled between his scarred fingers, uncertain of which direction to roll.

     At least he was saved the trouble of trying to figure out what to say so he could excuse himself. Without offering a word back of acknowledgement, agreement or otherwise, Katoji turned and walked quickly towards the library doors, not even pausing to spare a glance back before he exited into the hall. The chill may have eased with Satsue's departure, but even as he made his way back to his dormroom, Katoji couldn't help but still feel very much cold.

Participants: Satsue, Katoji, Antoku
Notes: Satsue confronts Antoku about Matsuhiro, Katoji gets caught in the crossfire.
Status: Complete.

Iki's Report

2008-02-19T05:55:41Z

     One of the largest things that insured both Iki's survival at the Shinigami Academy and his ability to continue in his position with a degree of peace was his ability to avoid Iesada Satsue. He was not fond at all of her attitude with the children, for while they both perhaps shared a degree of annoyance with the brats, Iki felt that it was a part of his duty to keep his dislike firmly in check, to smile at the kids when he passed them in the hallways and to encourage them as best he could. Iki was also not the type of man to make waves... at least, he tried not to be. Given that this job had been a second chance to begin with, he made much more effort than he had in his former posting to keep his mouth shut and follow the instructions he was given. Or at least to not get caught doing as he pleased.
     Yet there were some matters that couldn't be solved by avoidance and Iki was often the first to make a report when he thought things were amiss with the children. So here he was again, knocking lightly and stepping into Satsue's office. He held a few folders tucked under one arm, a clear indication he had just come from class. Another clear indication? His mood, no matter how he tried to hide it, was decidedly sour. Nakamori had been sleeping again and he'd very nearly given in to the urge to kick the brat.
     Most polite individuals would have offered a greeting or asked for a moment of Satsue's time, but Iki found it much simpler to beat around the bush lest she decide she didn't want to speak with him today. The threat of getting kicked out before he'd said his piece was enough to erase his manners. "Iesada-san, the most peculiar thing happened yesterday evening."

     Disruption within the lair of the beast was not tolerated kindly; indeed, it was hard to find anything Satsue tolerated kindly. Given that she was not a woman prone to idleness, however, left most out of luck in avoiding interrupting her on any given day, so the choices left to any individual seeking her attention were either suck it in and continue on their way, or suck it up and pray the dragon wasn't hungry for blood when they came knocking.
     At present she was preoccupied poring over letters from various Division houses; come the end of the semester another hopeful handful of 6th years would be leaving her care. It was her duty to record who was going where, and provide information to the Divisions about any given student should it be requested. Her record-keeping, like everything else about her, was thorough and pristine down to the smallest details. She was meticulous to her bones. She bled efficiency.
     Her office, as always, held the thick scent of spice and coffee.. and was, in fact, quite warm inside, despite the unnerving feeling of chill and winter that seemed to follow the woman herself. Smoke laced the air in whorls from the kiseru pipe in her hand, and she exhaled a stream of white smoke as Iki walked in, arching a brow at him through the veil. She looked at him coolly, and then resumed reading the letter in one, long-fingered hand.
     "That's nice," she said.

     Ah, a typical warm Iesada greeting. These, Iki was used to and he paid the rudeness no mind. Obviously he'd interrupted her work; he would never admit he enjoyed interrupting others' work, but it gave him the same enjoyment it likely gave the kids that pestered him constantly. He smiled and took a seat, even if he hadn't been invited, resting his work upon his lap. More papers to grade, no doubt... and more failed grades to dish out.
     "During my clinic hours last evening, a student came in with a very peculiar injury. Claimed he got it in the dojo, though I could have sworn the kids weren't allowed to use steel in the dojo. Especially the freshmen." He reached up to remove his glasses, carefully rubbing one of the lenses on his sleeve, then holding it up to the light and squinting to be sure he'd removed the offending spots.

     "Did he lose his head?" she asked politely, folding the letter once more and setting it on the stack from whence it had came. A click of lacquered nails on the polished surface of the desktop announced the downward placement of the pipe near the papers -- the pipe itself was immediately replaced with the coffee cup that perpetually accompanied her. The lace of white smoke still spiraling upwards lent the atmosphere an almost shrine-like quality, reminiscent of incense.. if one was inclined to worship dark things at dark altars. "Because if he hasn't, I promise you will if you don't spit it out and give your report," she continued pleasantly. "You are wasting my time."

     Charming as always. Had Iki been a more bold man, he might have even expressed that sentiment. However, he wasn't intent upon losing his job, so he kept the desire to put such an insufferable woman in her place safely beneath his smile.
     "Nothing quite so serious. Just a little cut on the right cheek. Shallow and precise and not at all reminiscent of training injuries the kids his age usually get. Still, the cut itself wasn't all that suspicious." His glasses were finally lowered and the opposite lens was rubbed at a bit as he paused thoughtfully. "The real curiosity about this cut..." Here, his expression turned concerned. Even his animosity towards Satsue didn't come before his concern for the situation. "...was that I couldn't heal it."

     "And the name of this student?" she sighed into her coffee cup, taking a sip of the bitter drink with gradually increasing exasperation. It was like pulling teeth; surely Iki was capable of spitting out a report without so many pauses and lulls? She was fully expecting him to develop a stutter. "--And anything else you know," she added with impatience, before she had to sit for another ten minutes while he cleaned his glasses before she actually learned anything.

     Iki did not stall purposefully. At least, not in the sense that he did it inorder to annoy Iesada, but there were times he felt these things were best delivered with dramatic pauses. Plus, it prevented him from getting kicked out too quickly.
     When his glasses were finally spot free, he slid them back on and blinked a few times to be sure all was well. Then, finally, he delivered the information she had requested. "Uemiya. He was in an amazingly poor mood about the whole thing... looked like he was ready to burst. But he refused to tell me how he'd gotten the wound. In fact, he was especially stubborn about it." Iki shook his head as if to express his disgust with all these little brats and their secrets.
     "But I've never had my healing just.... not work like that before. It was as if I hadn't even tried. It just didn't reach him. So I had to patch him up the old fashioned way. Ointments and bandages."

     "I see." She leaned back in her chair and exchanged the coffee cup for the pipe again, inhaling white smoke and picking up a fresh letter. "Thank you -- you're dismissed. I've suffered your useless, thought-trailing mumbling long enough. I will speak with Uemiya myself." She slit the letter open with her thumbnail, cracking the seal wax in a deft motion, before unfolding the paper. As far as she was concerned, that was the end of the matter, at least concerning his report.

     By the time she had finished dismissing him, Iki's jaw had set tightly and angrily. His face had never been meant for hiding anger and he struggled now to keep
from shooting a look fit to kill. He tried to remind himself that this woman gave the orders, that he should be graceful and leave and think nothing more of it. But that was
not the type of man Iki was.
     "Useless? Forgive me. Next time I won't bother with the report at all. I simply thought you might find it interesting when other students start to exhibit a trait like this. When kidou stops working." Iki rose from his chair, clutching his folders tightlyunder one arm, hand clenched tightly around them. "And if you have more luck with the boy than I did, I'd be shocked."

     Dark eyes were wreathed in smoke as she glanced up from the paper in her hand. "Oh dear, forgive /me/. I was under the impression that you were competent and capable of doing your job no matter the circumstances. Am I wrong?" Her words were calm, but the way the air prickled briefly was a warning. It was the only one he would get.

     For a moment, Iki teetered on the verge of explosion, but eventually came back from the edge, taking a slow, calming breath. His jaw worked slowly back and forth before he finally found the ability to speak. "I'll be going, then. I have a class to prepare for." He offered a stiff bow that was really nothing more than the slightest movement of his head and turned on heel, not waiting for another dismissal. Damn, but that woman brought out his violent side!

     "Of course," she inclined her head graciously as he excused himself. After he left.. "Don't ever give me cause to doubt you, sir.." she trailed off idly, exhaling another milky stream of smoke into the letter in her hand.
     The beast settled back into its lair comfortably. She might have smiled.

Participants: Satsue, Iki
Notes: Takes place after Antoku and Matsuhiro fight.
Status: Complete.

Antoku's Arrival

2008-01-26T06:21:42Z

      When they brought him back last time, it had been made clear to everyone involved that this would be the last time such an effort would be made. Whether that was some kind of thinly-veiled threat or just a warning that the money would dry up, the Kidoushu had expected results that hadn't appeared. Ultimately, like every time before, Antoku had disappeared. The Kidoushu had made a brief inquiry and politely blamed the Academy's lack-luster administration before withdrawing to their caves again, and that was the last of it.

      Except that was not the last of it, and suddenly, after so long, the Academy was notified that they would be happy to receive one of thier long-lost children back home, and they would be happy to do so within a week. And this time, no more mistakes.

      At the end of the week, they let themselves in. They always did. Three grown men to make sure one boy arrived safe and sound in the palm of the Dean's hand, men who walked quietly and did not talk much and never put their hands on the child but, all the same, had a strong air of violence about them. They were the sort of people who might wear sunglasses indoors a great deal.

      He was a little taller than he had been. His hair was scruffier, not much longer, though, and he seemed healthy in his slouching, restless, narrow way. For all that the men around him loomed and menaced meaningfully at him, he seemed to not have lost any fingers or acquired any broken bones. While the tight-lipped representative presented Satsue with a short form to sign, the young man stole a small paperweight from a bookshelf and then went to peep out of a window--only to be shooed away from it again.

      Carbon copies, sign here, here, and here. Initial this page. Sign at the bottom. Some of the terms were in bold, and underlined. Many of them were money values, signifying that if only the Academy could do its /job/, everybody here would win.

      Things were generally quiet in the vicinity of the Dean's office, hallway passerby reduced to hushed whispers or no words at all lest they be brought to the attention of the one lurking on the other side of the door, students hurrying to escape past the jaws of the beast before daring to breathe. It was a simple rule of self-preservation: those who did not have business there did not linger. The office itself was a crypt -- if crypts were inclined to have the occasional shuffle of papers, the very slight, erratic sounds of a pen scratching out figures and characters. Sometimes, the sound would pick up in pace if you listened very carefully, harsher, like the pen itself was making a sudden attempt to claw its way free from the grasp of the inhuman thing holding it.

      As for the monster herself, currently Satsue sat behind her desk with her head bent, spine immaculately straight while she documented the month's finances and balances. It was this task which was interrupted without announcement, and the impatient glance upward, coupled with an irritated scowl--

      Froze on her face like an abrupt onset of winter, the expression dropping frigidly from her face like icicles letting go of eaves.

      Pop.

      One eyebrow twitched, and the woman's face became gradually darker as an increasing chorus of shattered glass and breaking things filled the air of the office. Another pop from the direction of her desk had stormclouds on the horizon, and a final *twang* like a bowstring snapping from the direction of her personal bookshelf in the corner released a thunderous sigh of exasperation.

      She finished listening to all of her carefully constructed locks wash down the drain, didn't bother wasting any resentful glances for the Kidoushu agents -- she did, however, spare one for Antoku -- and then briefly read the documents passed to her, although 'briefly' was not to be confused as being synonymous with 'unthoroughly'. She signed, and signed again.. and finally handed the originals back, keeping the copies.

      She was silently counting in her head in the hopes that one, the Kidoushu would be gone by the time she reached ten, and two, that she would somehow be less angry by twenty. She did not put much faith in the latter.

      As arrangements go, this one was well understood. They had all been through this before and knew the lyrics by heart. Antoku had barely glanced at his warden when he entered, and while she signed, he stood in his faded black clothes near the bookshelf, fingering through the volumes. It was the sort of casual evil he was prone to: it was obvious he was too stupid to read, and the only reason he could have for touching someone else's literature was to create aggrevation. At least he hadn't begun asking for the books with pictures.

      Organizing and taking care of students who resided on campus meant Satsue was not just a teacher, but also a mother and a babysitter. The representative the Kidoushu had sent signed the last page of the form beneath Satsue's own signature, tore her copies free from the packet, and handed them over mirthlessly. There was a cool, smug detatchment about these people that no doubt came from never having to worry about things like uniforms, dorm room assignments, grade point averages, or young people.

      As the documents were folded up primly, he said, "He's promised to be serious this time. I don't think you'll have any trouble," writing an admission of brainlessness in stone. As they left, the young man standing at the bookshelves put his hand over his heart solemnly in a solemn, honour-bound promise to behave well at any cost. Strangely, this put away all of their doubts.

      After the door shut, the room was filled with silence broken only by an occasional, brief noise like a guitar string stretching...grinding slowly over a fingernail.

      Antoku lifted his head. "Do you have any with pictures?"

      She was not, unfortunately, less angry by twenty.

      The calm reassurances she received as to Antoku's performance were outwardly acknowledged purely for diplomatic purposes: they were otherwise ignored. Did they find her to be dense, or perhaps just largely gullible?

      Politics. The word sailed past her thoughts with distaste, and to her further offense, the smell of coffee and spice that filtered the air of her office was now replaced with ozone and sulphur -- a whiff like a match that had just been extinguished, or the faintest trace of melting plastic.

      "No." A sharp, sideways glance, cutting across the room to the boy and the bookshelf. She poured herself a fresh cup of coffee to ease the insult to her nose, pen long since set aside. She turned in her chair, just enough to keep an eye on him. "You ask that every single time they drag your sorry ass back here, and the answer is always the same." It wasn't often that Satsue swore in front of her students. By the same token, it wasn't often that she'd ever had a student fail more than once, much less eight times and counting. "Put the paperweight back -- don't act like I didn't notice -- and get your hands off there. Where did they find you this time?"

      So far, she was expending a valiant amount of energy in ignoring the glitches suddenly present on the edge of her vision, the glints and the lines like a spiderweb glimpsed at just the right angle of sunlight. And then.. gone again. It did nothing to ease her annoyance.

      Antoku looked up and up at the bookshelf, more likely measuring its value in coins than in knowledge. The spines of hundreds of thoughtful volumes on nearly anything likely to bore the reader to death gleamed back down at him. Respectfully, he took the little glass paperweight from inside of his open coat and set it down on the edge of a shelf. It was cracked.

      When he turned, his eyebrows were lifted high in an approximation of what he must have intended to be innocence. The narrow tilt of his eyes spoiled it. "In the church of our holy father, Jesus Christ," he replied, shocked she hadn't guessed it herself. "I've seen the light, sensei, I'm changed."

      Students were not often given to knowledge of the real world, but Antoku had an eerily accurate rememberance of his life before death, and foreign phrases from the bulky, living world sprang up in his speech at odd intervals like soldiers from rat holes.

      A tiny hairline crack was slowly creeping down the polished enamel of the coffee cup on Satsue's desk.

      "And for the record," he added, slipping his hands into his pockets, "I am sorry, thank you!"

      "Please," she muttered, but the only thing the word begged deliverance from was his absurdity. Whether she recognized the phrase was not brought to light; Satsue was never inclined to discuss her private life, or a past life, nor give any indications or hints thereof. "Don't waste your breath practicing your play-acting on me, boy--" her gaze swivelled over and downward, unerringly targeting her coffee cup. She swore.

      She stood, and pointed to the door. "Out." The coffee cup was picked up with a delicacy belying her haste. If it was going to burst, or break, she prefer it do it /elsewhere/. He was shooed out the door with lacquer-nailed hands, the door to her office shut curtly behind them. "If I could survive five seconds without you /breaking/ everything in sight, I would be a happier woman indeed." She began the walk to the dormitories, radiating ill-tempered barbs from underneath the skin. ... as for the coffee cup, it was held at a particular angle away from her as a precaution, although she wasn't about to waste good coffee and simply not drink it. Suspicious drinks were taken at steady intervals.

      He was strangely pliable when approached with a loaded and deadly woman, and let himself be whisked out of the office without complaint. In the hallway, he paused just long enough to look up at the doorframe. The last smoldering marks of what had really been simply decorative kidou faded, then snuffed.

      Antoku followed at the secretary's heels with an unconcerned slouch, making his acquaintence with the scenery all over again. An unevenly-checkered scarf, tied around his waist, hung down past his heels and dragged across the floor behind them, occasionally snagging and then snapping free again. He seemed not to notice. "I'm not really doing it," he corrected, his tone absent. "And it's not /everything./"

      They passed a window. It reflected Satsue's stern profile. It reflected Antoku as a dark olive-grey figure with the whole upper half of his face a mass of indistinct black threads, then cracked in five different direction with a nigh-inaudible 'krnch.'

      "Why'd you take the money? Too many lawsuits?"

      "I realize," she began, but something in the window just before it cracked caught her eye at the corners, and a frown she hadn't realized was pulling her mouth down deepened at the indistinct but recognizeable smudge of darkness that caused her to turn her head too late. "... something needs to be done about that," she continued on the same train, although it had switched tracks at the junction.

      Her feet never hesitated despite it all, and another sip of coffee and a long pause to savor the heat and heady flavor on her palate preceeded her reply. The clouds following her were beginning to dissipate, but that hardly meant her irritation was fading. It simply meant it was going back where it belonged, beneath the surface where she kept everything else. "I didn't."

      She was not an affectionate person. Many others would argue as to her kindness, and certainly not in her defense. Neither of these, however, were the foundation of her reply or motives, lest he begin to fool himself.

      She found the Kidoushu's insistence at bribery insulting. Indeed, when the papers reached their destination and the hands of the recipient, it would be found that Satsue had only signed two forms: one acknowledging her guardianship and duties as to Antoku's care and education, and the document finalizing his position as (once again) a student of the Academy and all it entailed, necessary expenses to be paid. The remaining 'signatures', when actually reviewed closely did not, in fact, state her name. Instead, they read 'Don't make me laugh.'

      The glance over her shoulder was cool and tasted of autumn, and it contained the ever-present knowledge that winter was not far behind. 'Warm' was not an adjective that could be attributed to the woman. "You should know by now that if I was to accept any bribe whatsoever, it would be to have you removed from my presence, not brought back into it. The only money pouring in attached to your name is what is needed for your room and board."

      "About what?" He could not, after all, know what other people saw when he was around. Just as they could not know what it was /he/ saw. ('The same stuff anyone sees,' if asked.)

      Modestly, Antoku grinned and lifted his hands up in a gesture of pure helplessness. It was the kind of helplessness a person displays when they are at least fifty-percent at fault. "You could just grade me on my good looks and do us both a favour, lady. It's not like I got any more capable of passing your industrialized tests while I was gone. How many kids do you think will blow up this time? I'll do my best to control it, but for the best results tell, them to stand as close to me as possible."

      "About your constant tendency to destroy Academy property," was the very pleasant growl in his direction as they reached the dormitories and in turn, the stairs leading up to the second floor. She ascended. She also ignored him.

      "Your room is the same as you left it," she eventually said, holding the coffee cup up and glancing at it after she finished the last of the drink. Inspection over, she tucked it carefully in a sleeve and it didn't come back out with her hand. Then she showed him to his door.

      Antoku inspected the doorway with cold indifference. He clearly wanted this room to remember that he hated it as much as it hated him. His return was in no way a declaration of familial affection. Geographically-speaking, it was placed as far from the academy's kidou building as possible while still remaining on the academy's property. In his years at the academy he had been moved to a number of rooms, but this one was the only one he'd -truly- hated.

      "I left mine downstairs with the suitcases; it must be yours."

      While they stood there, the brass knob on the door gently slid out of its home and thudded on the polished floorboards. That had never happened before, but Antoku didn't look remotely satisfied, so it most likely had not been purposeful. As he stooped down to pick it up, he said, "I may have unscrewed that, but Academy property screwed me first." All in all, this constant tendency may have been the reason the Kidoushu had been willing to return him. They were well-known masochists.

      Her eyes followed the doorknob's downward trajectory, halting with the impact and sliding with it as it rolled circularly on its own axis before he picked it up. Then she slowly raised her gaze again, thoroughly and critically surveying him and his state. "I'll have new uniforms sent up with your luggage."

      A turn on her heel, and she began to leave him. "I will also send the papers detailing your curriculum for the semester once I decide what to do with you. If you would please keep yourself and your surroundings from unraveling, I would appreciate it."

Participants: Satsue, Antoku
Notes: .. that window needs to be repaired.
Status: Complete.

The Library Incident

2007-12-05T05:01:45Z

      The Hall of Records -- also known as the Academy Archives -- was a vast room. It smelled heavily of paper; the crisp scent of newer pages and the mustier aroma of books whose age dated back to the foundation of the Academy itself. There were undercurrents of ink and the acrid hint of binding glue, all of the scents comingling together to form an odor that, while not thick, per se.. was strong, clinging to the nostrils and lodging there permanently. It was not something the nose became easily accustomed to.
      It smelled old.
      It suited her.
      Satsue surveyed the motley gathering of students before her, posture upright and rigid with long years of discipline, despite her growing age. If this place had been a temple, she would have been the guardian; its priestess, devoted to the seeking of knowledge and the keeping of records. The lines of her mouth were serious.
      "Normally, this is a task I would set to the fifth and sixth year students, but as a majority of them are away on training missions for the timebeing, and the third and fourth years are preparing for the winter festival... I suppose I have no choice." She'd gathered what students she could, in the center of the room. It would have to do.
      The room itself was large, and square. There were rows of massive bookshelves arranged in a ring around the circular center of the room where they all stood, one side of each bookshelf facing the middle with an alphabetical guide on each face. There were tables here, where they stood, and chairs... as well as past the bookshelves themselves, more resting places positioned against the walls themselves. She gestured to Kunio, Katoji, and Takemaru, whose names she had not yet learned.
      "You three. Names?" The rest, she knew well enough.

      What good was it to have your class cancelled when you just got snagged up to do something else instead? Oh well. Katoji knows better than to complain about such things here at the academy. With all the strictness of the do's and don't's around here, the boy's been mostly on edge when it came to dealings with any of the faculty and the studies and tasks they were charged with. He's still afraid one day he might breath incorrectly or something, but he knows he shouldn't be so paranoid.
      Taking a deep breath once they set foot within the archive hall was a mistake, as Katoji had erupted into a coughing fit from nearly choking on the musty air. He's mostly gotten over it by now, having stepped away from his brother after practically leaning against Kunio for support. He clears his throat, trying not to look too embarassed as he totally didn't just almost die just then, really.
      "Chihara, Katoji," he speaks up as the woman inquires of their names.

      Well at least a cancelled class was better than a class restructured around the fact that you forgot to bring your asauchi with you. Of course, since that day, Kunio had been back to his attentive self, on time and trying his best to do what was asked of him. Especially because he was still a little worried about any impression he might have left with that, and the minor indentations he and his brother had left on Yellow Hill for fighting over lunch. He wasn't a delinquent, honest! Kunio was probably one of the most responsible of his brothers, and it amazed him sometimes that with how now he was out of his element, it was so easy to make mistakes.
      Still, he was doing just fine today, and weathered Katoji's unfortunate coughing fit with little more than a pat on the back. You were supposed to be quiet in libraries after all. Unless you were asked something by the teacher of course. "Shoda Kunio."

      On 'normal' days this free period was used to spend some time with his friends or take a nap, but instead he had been gathered to The Hall of Records to assist with some sort of task (probably something like a chore). Eyes glanced amongst the other students that were gathered. Unfortunately his friends had been snagged up with him for this. Takemaru would never get used to these weird smells, but this one was kind of familiar... that old, crisp, dusty odor; reminded him a bit of home.
      Wandering eyes were brought to the stern tone of the familiar woman. He had seen her a few times before, peeking into classrooms and at the orientation. A confident smile grew on his face as he respond to her. "Nakamori Takemaru." All spoken while thinking 'You'll start hearing more of it, so you better remember it, ma'am.'

      The look she turned on Takemaru was steady and unwavering, and while she made no comment, she did not look away until he averted his gaze first. What opinion she held just then was kept behind the close doors of her thoughts, and a gaze like chipped ice returned to the students as a whole.
      "The six of you will be assisting me here for the next several hours, until classes are over for the day or you need attend another class," she spoke, and turned to indicate the piles of books and folders set like towers across the rows of tables surrounding them. "Everything is ordered by name. Alphabetically," she added, despite the common sense of it. With some, you never knew.
      "This Hall contains student transcripts and records, as well as information important to the Academy. I will not have any of you defiling my records in any way, shape, or form. Is that understood?"

      Unlike some students, a free peroid for Matsuhiro simply meant more time for independent study, and so to be called away on such short notice was more than a minor annoyance. But, of course, he came without complaint. That is, he came without any verbal complaint, though it was clear in his eyes that he was certain he had much better things to do.
      Still unsure of exactly why he'd been summoned (unless it was to place him with another useless tutor), Matsuhiro simply listened in silence, peering now and again at the other summoned students and the piles of work. He offered a nod of acknowledgement for Iesada-san's question along with a soft, "Yes, ma'am."

      Satsue's timing was good, in the case of Seiji. He was just beginning a free period, and she had managed to catch him on his way back towards the Academy grounds. He diverted course on her.. request? Demand? Order? Either way, he followed along behind her as she led him, along with other students, to the Hall of Records He stopped for a moment as he walked inside, then he just stopped for a good look around. "Huh."
      He went silent again as she explained the task ahead of them, to which he just nodded his head. Well, there went the rest of his day. He looked over towards Matsuhiro, then over to Umeko, then the rest of the students, before his eyes went right back to Satsue again, just in time to answer her question. "Yes, Iesada-san."

      Umeko had been a little disappointed when she heard that her free period was being cut short, however, she was eternally gratefully to Iesada-san for helping her, and so Umeko had to repay her kindness with her complete obedience. It was not like she would have done otherwise, but now her reasoning was a little more noble.
      The Hall of Records was an impressive place! Umeko spaced out a little, staring at the endless records and wondering to herself what they all contained. It was only when she raised her voice with her order that she paid attention, feeling a little embarrassed. 'Y-yes, Iesada-san...!' What exactly would she be having them do...? Surely it was important.

      Katoji really should have expected that. Go figure, being marched into a room full of smelly old books. Not that he has anything against smelly old books, of course! After throwing a quick glance at Kunio, Katoji looked back towards Satsue and nodded his bowed his head along with voicing his comprehension of the task. This... was going to be a looooong day. He eyes the piles and piles that they're to go through, holding back a sigh although a small smile does squirm its way onto his face. Well, it could be worse, he supposes. And maybe by the end of this he'll have developed some sort of immunity to musty air.

      When he was able to catch sight of all the books around them, Kunio stared around in a bit of awe. He liked to read. He wasn't the best at it, and there wasn't much selection at home, but it was something he enjoyed. So his face fell a little at the explanation that all they would be organizing was student records. He certainly wouldn't snoop through those, and they wouldn't really be interesting anyway. It was just going to be monotonous work.
      Still, he nodded along with the other students. "Yes ma'am." He wondered why the teacher seemed so cold, and if her job was incredibly stressful. It probably was, considering her position, but he sort of wished that it didn't mean that she came with the predisposed opinion that her first years were incompetent. Kunio would just have to work hard to ensure that she didn't need that worry.

      Feeling that cold look she returned to him, that smile was becoming more complicated to hold. But somehow Takemaru managed to keep some sort of expression that didn't advertise the chill he felt inside. Finally when she turned her attention to the group, he swallowed the lump inside his throat.
      What sort of task was this? And why the hell was she almost hesitant to let first year students complete it? It was so simple! But such questions were set aside, the point was: They were being trusted with all this documentary of past students and the evolution of this academy. Important stuff should always be handled with care. A nod was offered in understanding and acknowledgement to her words with a verbal response just in case she didn't spot it. "Understood." Takemaru only offered a brief glance over the paperwork. Jeeze, what were they, librarians? No matter, it was a chance to be a tiny bit nosey but still advertise a sort of responsibility. Takemaru would have to keep reminding himself that he's being trusted with a task Iesada-san usually only allowed in the hands of fifth and sixth year students. It must be worth something.

      She nodded curtly at their murmurs of assent, moving to stand beside one of the tables and placing a hand on a stack of records. "Any student records will be filed into those bookcases. As for these books.." she twisted, gesturing towards the swell of books piled high atop other tables -- so many books, that the sea of them overflowed and they'd had to be stacked on the floor beside the tables. It was a veritable mess of knowledge. .. it gave her an unhealthy twinge when she thought about it. "The books go into the bookcases lining the walls, not the bookcases arranged here in the center of the floor."
      She inspected the cover of a book cursorily, then looked back up. "I will be in a corner doing paperwork, and then I will have something to snack on brought in. Afterwards, I'll consider an appropriate reward for your help." It was, after all, a massive task. They likely wouldn't finish, but.. whether they knew it or not, she would appreciate whatever they did manage to complete.
      All of that aside, she clapped her hands smartly. "I don't want to see you standing around looking dumb." In other words: get to it. She strode away to a corner table where a small lamp was on, and a pile of papers.

      Of all the ridiculous wastes of time... He had been summoned away from his work in order to file papers and organize books? Shouldn't the academy have staff that handle this sort of thing? Matsuhiro scowled at the massive workload, though he took great care to make it very clear that none of that scowling was directed at Iesada-san. He was no idiot and doing paperwork was preferable to being on her bad side. So, like every ridiculous task he'd been given since coming here, Matsuhiro was determined to do his best to get through it with as little pain as possible.
      With a soft sigh, he stepped up to the nearest table and took up a stack of records, hauling them towards the nearest shelf. What a task... and to think of what his father might say when he told him 'today I learned how to alphabetize documents.'

      As compared to his roommate, the other occupant of room 205 had little to no complaints regardng the task that they've been saddled with. Maybe it didn't make complete sense as to why they let first-years handle it, over waiting for the senior students to return, but who was he to question? With a slight rolling shrug of his shoulders, Seiji turned towards the stacks of paperwork.
      He took a few moments to wait and see which stack Matsuhiro took, then he took the next stack in line and followed his roommate over towards the shelf. Once there, he sidled up to the bookcase and started sorting things into their proper place.

      Umeko stared a little as she tried to commit to memory exactly what Iesada-san wanted. Deciding that it was better to be safe than sorry, she reached into her sleeve and pulled out a pad of paper and a pencil, and furiously started to write down the instructions. The records were to be alphabetized on the shelves towards the center of the room, and the books were to be shelved in order on the shelves on the walls...
      She stopped writing, and her eyebrow slightly quirked. Was that all...? Umeko looked up to her peers, most of all Takemaru, who she gave a slightly unsure look. Well, if Iesada-san wanted it done, then Umeko would just have to do her best, right? She followed Matsuhiro and Seiji's example and moved towards a table, and tried to grab a stack of records to file.
      Finding that perhaps it was a bit much to grab at once, she had to halve the stack and move that way.

      Well, they heard the lady! Katoji licked his lips, watching as slowly but surely people began to set to work. He looked over at his brother, flashing him a grin that completely offset the idea of the task at hand. "Well..." He gestured to the immense pile and started over towards it to grab a random stack. Here was as good a place to start as any, he supposed. He tried very hard not to cough again, but boy, these things smelled even worse up close.

      Takemaru found this task to be stupid and pointless too. What lessons are to be learned by organizing papers and books, besides responsibility? Most of the student had to have learned this stuff already before being accepted into the academy. Well, atleast Iesada-san was making sure they were properly put to use.
      Once Matsuhiro stepped towards a pile, Takemaru was sure to head straight for the books. He could turn just about anything into some sort of competition; as long as it kept him busy and out of trouble, right? He focused on stacking the most and defeating everyone else in lifting the heaviest. Heaving a stack of books into his arms, he headed for the shelves towards the walls to start that awhile. Takemaru would drop the stack on the floor, the sound echoed through the silent room. Only after a brief second he'd kneel down to start filing them in order, perhaps an attempt to play it off and act as if it wasn't him making the ruckus.

      Kunio was already reaching for a stack of papers as well. He didn't touch the halved stack that Umeko left, not wanting to disturb the point at which she'd left off. It seemed almost everyone else had gone for paperwork, and perhaps if they all tackled that at once, they might complete it. But then again, it would also make the shelves quite crowded, and with how the shelves were arranged it made Kunio a bit nervous with them all vying for space.
      Instead, he returned his brothers smile, but nodded towards the books. "I think I should help my roommate a little," he suggested, before taking a stack and starting towards Takemaru. But then the awful sound of books being dropped caused him to flinch, and he gaped in the other boy's direction. Hurrying over, he bit back a sigh and set down his stack carefully. He gave a smile, one that asked 'everything alright?' or something of the sort, but shrugged as he had already taken to hurrying the books into place. Diligently, he set about placing his own on the shelf in the right order then.

      It was some time before Satsue finished her own personal tasks, the wafting scent of spice and coffee overwhelmed by the odor of thousands of books and papers in one place. She let them work unmolested during that period, until she gathered her things and her coffee cup, turning off the lamp at her table. Then, she found Umeko among the bookcases, and brought her along as she headed for the doors.
      "I'll be back with lunch for everyone. I expect you all to keep working." She cast her voice loud enough to be heard through the library, before departing with her enlisted assistant.

      The sound of books crashing behind him prompted only a slight shake of the head from Matsuhiro. He found no need to turn this into any kind of competition, for what good would winning be? What kind of bragging rights came from being the best at filing records? He would gladly leave that honor to Takemaru rather than rush through things and make a mistake, which would certainly be a costly error given his knowledge of Iesada-san. So he did his work silently and without complaint.
      After a time, though, he glanced towards his roommate, observing him in his filing, thinking how very at home Seiji looked around books and files. What a total nerd. So it was with only the barest hint of a smirk pushing through, that Matsuhiro slid closer to his roommate just as Seiji was about to slide one of the files into its place on the shelf. His own file in hand, he extended his arm quickly, blocking the path of his roommate's arm. Should Seiji glance his way, he'd find a glimmer of amusement in Matsuhiro's eyes.
      "Your reflexes need work."

      Okay, so maybe Seiji /did/ look like a bit of a nerd. It kinda came with the glasses. He couldn't help it. He did fit into the job given rather easily, though; files shuffled into place while he just moved his way along the shelf, pushing things into their proper place with nary a word... until Matsuhiro just had to go and do that. ".. is that so." A brief little smirk just pulls at Seiji's lips before he shakes his head at his roommate. "Well, I suppose I should work on them, hmm?"
      He would go back to filing once again, acting as if nothing had happened... but not long after, right as his hands emptied, one hand reached over without quite looking in an attempt to snatch the file right out of Matsuhiro's hand. After all, Satsue was still gone, and it's not like he would be messing up the order of the filing...

      Takemaru managed to continue working like all the rest; like a damn drone programmed for this sort of thing. Walking back and forth, carrying larger piles of books each time, even if he's just adding one. Occasionally a glance would be offered over his shoulder to see how Matsuhiro was doing.
      He'd only stop for a moment, watching Iesada-san walk out with Umeko for their lunch. Finally a breather! Takemaru looked towards his roommate, "Man, this is pointless... don't ya feel like you're bein' used to do someone elses chore?" He asked, expecting the answer to be drawn out and an attempt to get him to think of the bright side or something... To be honest, it was just a small bit of commentary he felt he had to get off his chest as he filed the last of his recent pile of books.

      This task was so repetitive that it was a wonder how Katoji managed not to fall asleep in doing it. He had set a steady pace for himself and despite finding it a boring job after not even getting through half of the stack he'd initially picked up, he forced himself to get through the rest. Making up stories from the names he had to file in order became a ridiculous attempt because there were just too many characters to figure out any real plot for where it would go, so that hadn't lasted long. Katoji paused, slumping against a shelf as he yawned. With the voices that came up from among the other shelves, he perked his head, wondering how everyone else was doing. He kind of wished Kunio hadn't gone off since who else would ensure that Katoji didn't suddenly zonk out? "Muuh.."
      Katoji looked back at the shelf in front of him, and then the pile he'd been working on... what number was this now? How long had they been at it? It probably hadn't been -that- long, but with such boring work it could seem like ages that they've been at it.

      The competitiveness with which his roommate attacked his task midly alarmed Kunio, but he said nothing as he continued to file away books. He really wanted to point out that adding a book every time would probably end in an accident, especially given how he treated the stack the first time around, but it was less trouble not to mention it and just get his job done. As time went by, he found himself glancing at the titles of the books with more than just the intent to file them by their alphabet, and instead with a curiosity to their contents. So by the time that the teacher walked out for a moment and Takemaru asked what he thought of it, Kunio blinked at him in surprise and flipped open his current volume with a grin.
      "Maybe, but someone's got to do it, right? Besides, I've been wondering what all they keep in here..." Sadly, the book he had opened was a little advanced a subject for him just yet, so with a few quick glances over the pages, he closed it and placed it on it's rightful spot on the shelf. It was hard not to get sidetracked, but maybe if they did well he'd be allowed back in to look around later. Although as a bit more time passed he finally found that he had to bring up his concern for the growing stacks of books. "Don't you think you ought to be a little careful with how many you carry?"

      Seiji's response only caused the barest arch of an eyebrow before Matsuhiro turned back to his work, sliding the files carefully... monotonously into place. One after another after another... He slowly felt himself slipping into auto-pilot and though normally he would force himself to give the task his full focus, at this point he wasn't quite sure he even cared enough to do that.
      It was that flash of motion out of the corner of his eye that finally woke him from his robotic, thoughtless work. Seiji would manage to get his hand on the file, but actually snatching it away was another matter. Nearly in the same instant as his hand closed around the file, Matsuhiro's hand would close around his wrist, leaving them in a draw. This time, the glance he cast at Seiji was accompanied by a much more obvious grin. "Better."

      Seiji didn't quite look surprised when Matsuhiro managed to catch his wrist. The fact that he got a hand on the file, though, was a fair accomplishment in its own right. He released it soon after, and he returned the grin right back to his roommate before brushing his hands off. "It'll get better with time, I hope. I'll work on it."
      Seiji goes back to his own filing, then, resuming the work that he was doing on his own oversized stack of paperwork. "Tomorrow, I think, seems good.. there's another free period, perhaps then." Shuffle, grab, shuffle, grab, the near-robotic sorting of the Hall's records into proper place resumed once more.

      A nod was given in response to Kunio's own reply, offering a sigh. "Yeah, guess so." Takemaru would get back to his feet, glancing over what has been completed so far, only to get held up for a second more with his roommate's concern over how he works. A smile tugged at his lips as he answered in complete confidence, "Don't worry 'bout me, I know my limits."
      Turning, Takemaru would catch the sight of Matsuhiro and Seiji... what looked to be fooling around. Stepping past the pile of books he was ready to haul back over to the shelves, he'd approach Seiji and Matsuhiro. "You shouldn't be tryin' to teach other people things you dunno much about either, Matsuhiro." Takemaru commented, not even really sure what they were talking about. No matter, the only thing Matsuhiro knows about is arrogance. A glance was spared towards all the work these two stacked so far. "Jeez, you better stop slackin' you two. Ya only got a lil' more than half of what I got done... Don't you know how to organize files?" Really it wasn't meant to sound so hostile, but it just came out that way. Takemaru wanted to make a friendly approach, but things just turned to the opposite once he got within range.

      Thonk. His forehead tapped against the front of the shelf, and immediately Katoji jerked his head back. Gah! He'd almost fallen asleep! Bad, bad, bad!! He cast a quick look around to make sure no one had noticed that, just as quickly grabbing another sheaf, forcing his eyes to focus on it before he went to seek out where they would go. At least from the sounds of things, it seemed as though the others were caught up in other things to have seen.
      Slowly but surely Katoji got back into the swing of things, but not without a stifled yawn or two in between replenishing stacks to file. He paused only briefly to see if they'd even made much of a dent in the initial pile. "Is this thing even going down...?" he murmured, hefting up another stack.

      Kunio gave his roommate a skeptical glance, but there wasn't much that he could do if the guy was confident in his abilities. He turned to go back for another stack just in time to see Katoji's sleeping episode. "H-hey, careful!" he whispered harshly, not wanting to yell in the library. He poked his brother's shoulder lightheartedly as he passed by him with his own stack of books.
      "Falling asleep here's a bad idea," he nodded, eyeing the strangely convenient setup of the shelves. If one were to fall, it'd spell the end of all their hard work. He hoped that the thought of that would keep his brother awake. "Want to switch for a bit?"

      "What a shame." Matsuhiro gave Takemaru no visual acknowledgement at all, but simply remained focused on his work. He was methodical and, more importantly, correct, and that was satisfactory enough for him. "It seems my lack of effort has denied me the title of Master File Clerk." His words were spoken with complete and total disinterest in the most yawn-inducing monotone he could manage.
      Another volume was slid into place and he reached for the next. "I will simply have to increase my focus in other areas to compensate, Master File Clerk-sama. I will never be able to match your skill." He paused and shook his head. "Your parents must be proud."
      He turned his attention back to Seiji and then, speaking in a perfectly normal, almost friendly manner, he continued with his conversation as if Takemaru had never even been there. "Tomorrow will work out fine, Toshiaki-kun."

      Seiji may have said something, but the response that Matsuhiro gave worked just fine for him. He fought off a snicker, though the smirk widened across his face for a few moments before he dipped into just the slightest little bow to Takemaru. "If only we could match your filing talents, Master File Clerk-sama. Your career in the Hall of Records will be one to make librarians proud for generations to come."
      At the same time, Seiji turns back to face the shelves with his look towards Matsuhiro, and he got back to work, shuffling files into their proper place with the same careful rhythm as before. "Will it? Good. I believe we have the same free period tomorrow, if I remember right... that should be enough time."

      Matsuhiro was just trying to piss him off, though he didn't let himself boil over; that'd only please the bastard. "'Course you're just sayin' that 'cause you're ashamed that ya can't handle somethin' so simple." The last bit about his parents being proud just gnawed on his last nerve. Then even Seiji played along! Brows furrowed for a moment as he would soon relax himself and smirk. Attention brought straight back to Matsuhiro. "Just as proud as your father is, I'm sure. Yanno' I see now, people who can't properly file documents among other things can't possibly hope to be placed in the advanced class."
      With that, Takemaru would turn away. He wasn't going to accept defeat, but maybe he took too long of a step into that. He knew how upset Matsuhiro was when he found out his placing and it wasn't right to scratch at it. It just slipped, that's all. Takemaru would take hold of a few books atop a neighboring pile and stack them atop the pile infront of him. He'd lower himself and heave the entire stack in his arms. Legs moved slowly to balance a few of the top ones. They should be thanking him for getting most of this done for them! At the pace he was working, he was probably doing more than his share.
      It only was a few steps before one of the top books slid off the top of the pile and in his line of walking. A foot stepping atop of the fallen book and tearing a few pages as the foot tried to catch a firm place. Takemaru quickly would be caught off balance from the awkward footing, sending him stumbling and most of the stacked books tumbling. His back would crash against the side of one of the shelves, causing it to wobble. As he fought to catch balance, he leaned more weight on the tipping shelf causing it to fully collapse and crashing into the next... The shelves would begin to fall much like dominoes. All of the other students' work ruined as the shelves tumbled one by one.
      A nightmare, that's what this was. A terrible nightmare.

      Katoji scowled at Kunio. Of course it would be him that saw. "I know that!" he hissed back at his brother, capping it off with a teethy grin. He shook his head as he adjusted his hold on the stack he'd just picked up from the center pile. "I think I can man-"
      Was that the sound that heralds doom?
      For several very long seconds, Katoji stood frozen as he looked in the direction of the awful, awful noise. The noise didn't stop though. It kept going. Each shelf striking probably resounded more loudly due to it being so quiet within the room. Amber eyes widening as his brain processed what was going on, Katoji then turned to stare at Kunio. "Did....that just....."

      Kunio was just trying to help! He'd hate for his brother to get in trouble, and it wasn't because he was trying to nag. Just like he'd occasionally cover by taking over chores, if Katoji wanted a chance to recharge or a change of pace then there'd be no problem in Kunio's eyes by swapping for a bit. He was about to retort when their conversation was abruptly halted by his worries being realized.
      "..." He had to go and open his mouth, didn't he? It was like slow motion as though the library or some force of nature were mocking his concerns and the thuds ticked down the time left until... "Quick, hurry and get out!" Almost dropping his own volumes in concern, Kunio quickly attempted to shuffle them back out to the center where the original stacks were.

Participants: Satsue, Takemaru, Umeko, Kunio, Seiji, Katoji, Matsuhiro
Notes: None.
Status: In progress.

Matsuhiro's New Tutor

2007-12-05T04:54:21Z

      The Dean's Assistant headed for the Academy with long strides, leading her charge away from Shi-san's makeshift training lessons. She said nothing as they walked, nodding acknowledgement to anyone she passed during the return to her office. She pointed to one individual, crooking a finger, but kept walking. When they reached the office itself, she did not wait for him to enter first, but it went without saying that she fully expected him to slide the shut the door behind him. She lingered standing long enough to take a small watering can and tend to the few potted trees and plants in her care before settling behind her desk. The silence was frosty, unbroken until she finished checking the letters on her desk to make sure none were of immediate import.
      "Sit," was all she said, plucking a pen from the coif of her hair, today twisted up into another elegant bun, loose, with wisps crowning it in a sunray of curled ends. She began writing a missive on a fresh piece of paper embroidered with the gilt insignia of the Academy. "Why did that anger you?" she asked, not looking up.

      There was tension in every step and anger still fresh in his eyes as he followed silently and obediently behind the Dean's Assistant. Occasionally he cast an angry glare down at his torn uniform, just knowing that the students they passed would no doubt whisper and wonder... and assume all manner of things. Torn uniforms were a product of fighting, brawling rather than honorable, noble sword combat. Matsuhiro was not the type of man that brawled.
      As was expected of him, he slid the door shut behind them, but did not move further into the room. One never knew what the right step was with Iesada-san, so it was best to take no steps at all until given permission. So he watched her go about her business, maintaining a stiff, formal posture all the while, until finally he was given permission to sit. He offered a brief bow in thanks before taking a seat. The question, though, caught him off guard. Wasn't the answer obvious?
      "Several reasons," he replied as if they should be perfectly clear. "For one, the object of the match was to disarm. I could have easily dealt a more serious blow had I chosen not to play by the rules! Not to mention she was in a position of authority! What type of responsible instructor attempts to purposfully deceive and injure her student! The woman was out of line!"

      "Ah." Here she paused in the penning of her letter, the writing instrument angling in the grasp of her fingers until it pointed in his direction, and she glanced up at him underneath an arched brow, not quite tilting her face fully up from its bowed position where she wrote and read. For now, she ignored his tone, although something in her expression said she had noted it without fail. "Yes and no. Yes, the point was to disarm. You are wrong, however, if you think you are entirely in the right... or that your reasoning for thinking so is entirely correct." She set her pen down, lacing her fingers together on top of the letter.
      "It's not that your logic is unsound, it's that you're forgetting to consider certain things. Strictly speaking, you broke the rules as soon as you feinted for her throat -- even if it was, indeed, a feint. I will not say that she was not out of line, but you forget she is not an instructor. She is not even a seated shinigami. The lessons she held were of her own volition, and this is a military institution. If you choose to participate in such a casual fight, you cannot complain of the wounds you receive from it. While I do not condone such violence in the bounds of a fair fight, you need to remember that you came here to train as a soldier, and you must look after yourself. I was there, this time, to keep things from getting out of hand. Next time, I might not be, and you should remember that if you willingly place yourself in those circumstances the way I bid you today, the only one accountable for your wounds will be yourself."
      She reached for the tea set on her desk, pouring herself a cup of something more aromatic and headier: coffee.
      "Your biggest complaint is that she broke the rules of what you consider to be common sense, but not everyone lives by those rules, and we attract all kinds of persons to this Academy. You should not trust, especially, someone who is heading to the 11th to give a damn about your pretty guidelines for fair fighting."

      It was clear by the way his jaw clenched that he was not pleased by the response, but then few things would have pleased him had they not included her complete agreement. But being the one in the wrong was something Matsuhiro was quickly getting used to. And he hated it. Yet at the same time he was willing to acknowledge that even if he did not agree, he was still obligated to work with these people and would no doubt require the skills to work with those he didn't agree with. It still didn't mean he had to like one bit of it, though. But it was a bit different for Iesada-san. He was in her debt for her kindness and it was a debt he did not take lightly.
      Averting his gaze from the Dean's Assistant, Matsuhiro can't help but release a bit of his scowl. "I understand, of course. I simply... detest being taken advantage of. She knew my objective and yet turned it into a ridiculous wrestling match nonetheless. I had expected more discipline. In the future I will not be so trusting of my opponent."
      Having voiced his complaints for a final time, he shifted his gaze back to the woman behind the desk. "I will not make the same mistake twice, Iesada-san. I do not expect you, or anyone else, to be forced to intervene on my behalf again."

      "Good," she said, unknotting her hands from their repose to resume writing her message, pleased that he had understood the underlying message of her words without her needing to explain twice. "I merely ask that you keep your wits about you, Uemiya-san. You've got promise, but you have a lot to learn. That is why you are here, yes? Hate me all you like," she added, catching his look with another of those serenely arched brows, "But I do not waste half as much time on others that I have bestowed on you. Pray it is not indeed a waste, for your sake."
      She was silent as she added a last few lines to her letter, and her posture said that he was not permitted to speak. If he did, she would ignore it entirely. She held up the letter, then, proofreading it one last time as she returned her pen to the updone twist of her hair one-handed. Then, with the same hand, she crooked two fingers at the door. "Shou, come here."
      A tall boy slid the door open and bowed low, his dark hair short-cropped. He was the shinigami she had gestured for, on their way to her office. She spoke low to his ear when he approached and leaned down closer to her beside her chair. Then with quick, deft motions she folded the letter and sealed it with wax, pressing the Academy's insignia into the blue of the wax as it cooled. She passed it to him, and he excused himself. She twisted back to Matsuhiro, finally picking up her neglected cup of coffee.
      "Do you know what it is I just wrote?"

      In response to her words, he simply bowed his head in silent acknowledgement. It was quite clear she wanted to hear no more from him at the moment and he was more than happy to comply, given the probability that he would be far too tempted to complain yet again about the insane woman he'd had to fight. Though his prickliness did gradually fade as she spoke, especially when she mentioned hate. How unfair... She was one of the few people here he did not hate!
      He observed this Sho with an arched brow, but offered the boy nothing more than a very slight nod, and only out of obligation. His mother had taught him proper manners, after all. Once the boy had left, he turned his curiosity back to Iesada-san. "No, ma'am." He attempted to contain his smile, but a few hints managed to sneak past his guard. "Though I assume you only ask because you are about to tell me."

      "I would hope so, or else I'd be caught asking useless questions." That might have been joke, or it might not; hard to tell, with someone so very far from being inclined to make jests, at least from all outward appearances. However, while it was clear she did intend to enlighten him, it didn't seem as if she planned to do it immediately.. no need, she saw, as of yet. She would wait for Shou's return. She eyed Matsuhiro across her desk. "How fair is your hand?" She meant, of course, his penmanship.

      That hint of a smile faded when she failed to enlighten him right away. Whatever potential jest might have been made, it was overshadowed by the first hints of impatience. Thankfully, Matsuhiro knew how to handle such an emotion and managed to hide it quite effectively, save the very slight single twitch in his right eye.
      "Ah, my hand?" Such a question caught him off guard. "Very fair, if I do say so myself."

      She began leafing through a sheaf of papers set aside on her desk, and eventually pulled out a small stack, no more than a fingerwidth high. She dropped it in front of him, and passed him another stack, the papers of this one blank. She also handed him a pen, although it was notably not one retrieved from the confines of her hair-- rather, it came from one of her desk drawers. "Copy the first few lines from the first page and let me see."

      There was no hiding his curios expression now as he watched her produce the papers. What in the world could she have planned for him that she would need to test his penmenship? There was always that inkling of suspicion alongside the curiosity, but he gave it little thought as he accepted the pen. He might have really been able to impress her had she asked to see his calligraphy, but penmanship would just have to do for now. He offered a brief nod of his head before beginning, copying with careful, deliberate strokes, then offering the paper for her inspection.

      "Fair enough," she decided, upon review. She gestured vaguely, and sat back to drink her coffee and read through her mail. "You may continue." And at that, she left it, catching up on her inquiries while she waited for Shou to return. She did not believe in idle hands; not for herself, or anyone else.

      Fair enough? The reply was supposed to be somewhat more impressive! However, he made no protest, but simply continued where he had left off, using the same careful pen strokes as he had before. Yet with every line or two completed, he cast a brief glance at Iesada-san. Was she trying to torture him again with all this waiting?

      For her part, she ignored him. It wasn't until Shou returned some time later, perhaps a half hour or more, that she glanced up from her reading; until then, she'd spared no looks for her makeshift scribe. As for the messenger himself, he bowed and escorted another into her office, and then excused himself when she dismissed him with a nod and a thank you.
      "Rikichi-san," she said, settling on his only name for the address, for lack of a proper surname. Her letters were set aside, and she inspected the boy keenly. "Thank you for coming. How are you?"

      He skulked and scuffled more than walked, really. Things that cost much more than the value of your own life tend to have a kind of special, extra heavy gravity, making it extremely difficult for someone like Rikichi to lifts his feet up off of the floors as he was ushered into Iesada-san's office. He looked over his shoulder and out the door, woefully hoping for rescue.
      No, no rescue out there. Jeez....
      "Oh gosh, I'm so great I couldn't possibly put it into words, ma'am! Um, isn't it too early for graduation...?" They weren't supposed to be getting any new shinigami for some time yet, right?

      Was this what he'd been waiting around for? The pen stilled and Matsuhiro glanced back over his shoulder, first to the returning messenger and then to the person he had been escorting. A brow arched. Though the rather small, timid things was dressed as a Shinigami, Matsuhiro could not help but doubt his eyes, if only for a second. But he did his best not to be rude and offered a bow of his head to the Shinigami. Just what was this kid here for anyway?

      "Ah, I assume Kuchiki-taichou did not fill you in? Very well. Rikichi-san, this is Uemiya Matsuhiro... Uemiya, this is Rikichi." She set her cup down carefully. "Rikichi-san, I've spoken with Kuchiki-taichou already, and as you're here now, I assume he's been gracious enough to grant my request. I'm giving you a special assignment outside of your normal duties." Cleanly and clearly spoken, she did not linger on the niceties and instead veered straight to the reason she had summoned him. "You will begin tutoring Uemiya in the arts of the sword. Immediately."

      The word 'immediately' hung in the air like a noose.
      Ssssslowly, Rikichi turned his eyes to the student in question, almost without turning his head at all. "Kuchiki-taichou...said that?" Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. He would. He would say 'yes,' and he'd say it without even thinking about it. He'd throw anyone to the sharks, he'd thrown Rukia, and oh, crap, that was a very expensive-looking shark and why did it have to be-
      He pointed towards the door and said, voice cracking, "A-actually I don't even have a shikai, s-so I'll just run back and find someone who does, okay?"

      Matsuhiro very clearly perked up at the mention of Kuchiki-taichou and for an instant, hope was kindled. Even if Kuchiki-taichou was only a minor part of all this, it was still one step closer... and was something he could twist just enough when he next spoke to his father. Even mentioning the name Kuchiki would make the old man ease back a little.
      It wasn't long, though, before that hopeful expression vanished and was replaced by first shock, then horror. This kid was supposed to tutor him? /This/ kid? Was this punishment for his harsh words to Jinkei? His mouth hung open for a time, on the verge of forcing out a few words, but he stopped them in his throat when the kid attempted to retreat. Silently, Matsuhiro cheered him on in his escape.

      "That won't be necessary." The words were sharp, coming down with the full, chilling force of an avalanche. It was a tone to crush someone by, and her look said she would cut him down if he took another step. "Possessing a shikai is not a prerequisite for my request," she continued, pulling a folder to herself from across the expanse of her desk. She opened it.
      "As for you," she stated momentarily, glancing to Matsuhiro. "You have no choice, either. You will continue your normal studies, as well as undergo Rikichi's tutoring."

      Although Rikichi's life in general was comprised of a never-ending string of defeats, this one looked particularly bleak. He dropped his hand back to his side and settled into his Best Face Forward Mode, which meant he wanted to drop dead but couldn't, and so was attempting to be eager and cheerful in the hope that /that/ could get him killed instead. "Um, yes ma'am. ..thank you." Oh boy, what an opportunity. "Is there anything special, um, you want him to be able do?" Say, in a fire, or off of a cliff?

      There was no hiding his displeasure, but Matsuhiro said nothing at all. He knew better than to argue with Iesada-san. Besides, this kid was a member of the Sixth... and that was the silver lining. He would hold on to that idea and just attempt to do his best with these less than ideal circumstances (not to say he wouldn't complain later to his roommate). So attempting to mask his displeasure, Matsuhiro stood and offered a deep bow to the Dean's Assistant. "Thank you for the opportunity, Iesada-san."

      "Test him yourself; I believe in your capability to gauge where his ability stands," she replied, reviewing her workload. She had more important matters to attend to, now. "You will report his progress to me. I will decide from there. That is all." She dismissed them both without further words. Dallying needlessly was not something she tolerated.
      Behind the ceramic rim of her coffee cup, however, she smiled as she continued to read. Those who claimed the Dean's Assistant was without a sense of humor did not know her well.

Participants: Satsue, Matsuhiro, Rikichi
Notes: Takes place immediately after Jinkei's sparring class.
Status: Complete.

Asking the Oracle

2007-12-05T04:36:10Z

      Rare as it was for someone to see the captain of the 8th taking the initiative regarding anything beyond sneaking away from work and refilling one of the numerous sake jugs that he kept hidden around his office, some of the events that transpired last night had motivated him to take a trip down towards the Academy. The boy that he found speaking with Hinamori around the Hill yesterday was curious enough, not to mention horribly out of place, to the point that Shunsui felt that it merited a little further investigation.
      He shuffled slowly through the Academy grounds, hat pushed back far enough to allow him an easy look around for the one person, amongst everyone here, that would be able to assist him in finding information. And find her he did, on an eventual trip down the hallway of the administrative wing. He stops in mid-hallway, having coincidentally come upon with the Secretary of the Dean of the Academy.
      He starts with a brief little clearing of his throat, "Oi, Iesada-san... I don't suppose you could spare a minute or two for an old student of the place, could you?"

      Satsue had her hands free, for once, save for the ever-present coffee mug that seemed to follow her wherever she went. It steamed with a pleasant aroma of spice and a hint of earth, a brief waft of nutty tinge, and she sipped it with a leisure that said she was allowing herself a small break from work. Despite her OCD tendencies, she was well aware that working herself into the ground did the Academy nor the Dean any good in the end, even if making herself stop once in a while had to be a determined, conscious effort. She had been a smoker, once, back in the days of being alive and being a school teacher, just to give her hands something to do in idleness. She'd quit, shortly before death, but still savored a coffee addiction, even if she'd given up the habit of nicotine intake.
      She was heading back to her office, mulling over things that needed to be done. Even if her hands were idle, her thoughts were not, and she was entertaining a written reply to the ceremony and festivities staff, acknowledging teachers and other staff members alike in the hallway with a pleasant enough, if curt, nod, when the Captain of the 8th approached. "Good morning, Kyoraku-taichou," she said, executing a formal bow in greeting. Even with her standing in the Academy, she was aware of her seat regardless and gave respect where it was due. "Of course. The Dean is away, currently, but you may come into my office." She led him the rest of
the way down the hall as she spoke. Small talk was not her specialty.

      The bow from Satsue was followed up shortly enough with a bow in return from Shunsui, and he slipped his hands into their opposite sleeves as he straightened back up. His nose twitches faintly at that smell... hmm. Interesting aroma that wafted into his nose. No time to particularly dwell over it, though, as he's led in short order towards the offices. "That's quite all right, Iesada-san. It was you I was hoping to speak with today, to be honest." His head turns this way and that while he walks down the hallway, taking in surroundings that haven't graced his eyes in... well, quite some time. Years upon years. "It's your talent with keeping and maintaining records, specifically, that brings me to see you today."
      It's a bit unusual, the way that the captain of the 8th just cuts right to the chase. "There's a particular name in which I'm researching at the moment, though the family name is all that I bring with." He shuffles along where guided, following into the office if he's to be lead there. "I was hoping you might be able to assist me in finding what information you have based on the name 'Hirako'."

      Her eyes narrowed briefly, though whether it was at the admission or the request itself was difficult to say. "I see." If he hadn't cut to the chase, she would have, to be sure; she was the least likely person to tolerate dallying when business was involved. She had already ushered him into her office, overlooking her desk entirely as she passed it -- the information he needed was elsewhere. She did, however, set her coffee mug down on it, bringing out a set of keys from the folds of her sleeve and approaching the myriad of filing cabinets that took up two adjacent walls. "Hirako, you say." She selected a cabinet, unlocked it, and with the efficiency and ease of long practice, began skimming through the bound volumes contained within.
      "What brings you to your curiousity?" she asked, for information in exchange for information was the kind of traffic she dealt in, and while the question was simple enough, it did not have the tones of simple conversation. She was not a dense woman, and everything had its worth, even if it seemed insignificant at the time.

      "Though I have no wish to cause any sort of panic, Iesada-san, I cannot help but find it unusual when someone acts as unusual as this Hirako boy, did." Shunsui reaches one hand up, taking a moment to adjust his haori as he talks. "He seemed very hesitant to say anything, even around me, and didn't so much as bow." He sighs a little to himself, then shakes his head. "I hardly mind when they don't bow, but an unseated Shinigami not bowing to a Captain is nothing short of suspicious. After the recent ryoka incident, even I feel as if I should be looking into things such as these now.. as I do not believe that Hinamori-ku will do so, herself.."

      She took his words with shrewd thoughtfulness, pausing in her search long enough to contemplate this piece of information. "You are saying he was with Hinamori-san?" She turned around at that, lips thinning as she pieced what she could of the story together. She was a seated of the 1st Division, after all, and she knew well the recent incidents, even if the affairs of running the school were somewhat removed from the affairs of the military. "Where? In the 4th?" This was no light news, and it made her pause her search entirely. Last she had heard, the 5th's Vice Captain had been under strict supervision.

      Kyouraku's head shook slowly for a few moments, then he turned to have a look out the door, down the hallway. "Hinamori-kun was amongst the hills, Satsue-san, in the Glories. The boy was already there by the time I had arrived. It was very odd; I don't recognize him, and he was unwilling to provide even the Gotei to which he was recruited. He would not even show the insignia kept in his jacket." The sleeves of Shunsui's haori rustled for a moment as he moved his arms into a more comfortable position. "He seemed very unusual, at best. Suspicious, perhaps. That's why I came; I was hoping you might be able to provide some information about this 'Hirako'..."

      These were the facts she gave him: the Vice Captain of the 5th had been astray from the busier districts, and she assumed by his words and tone that she had been alone, save for this Hirako boy. The Hirako boy was likely as not unseated, or perhaps a low seat, at the most, even though the Captain in her presence claimed him to be unseated. Once she found the records of the boy, she could solve that mystery easily enough; as a matter of habit she generally included what Gotei assignation had been made to a student's records upon their graduation, if such was available, before the record was closed. Then, also, the boy had been lax in showing respect to someone of Captain rank, something unheard of, she had to agree. And he had refused to give his Division and rank upon questioning from a Captain... Kyoraku was right, after the days of recent unrest, things people had been likely to let slide before set off alarms, now.
      She had laid all of that out in her mind in the span of two blinks, and without reply, had turned back to the filing cabinet, fingertips running over tabs with celerity. So it was silent for a short time as she did, shoulders set calmly as she searched... and then her posture changed, deeper in thought. Fingertips went back, and then forward again, more slowly this time. She did not waste effort on a third time; second-guessing what her eyes saw was redundant, and she was not one for redundancy. Before she said a word, however, she returned to her desk long enough to check if, perhaps, the record had been pulled for a reason..
      It had not. She glanced up, pursing her lips, and arched a brow finally. "You are sure that was his surname?"

      Shunsui simply waited, standing idly while drumming the fingertips of his right hand quietly along his left arm. He would not disturb Satsue while she worked; Captain or not, he sitll might end up with a bite taken out of him. So, he simply stood. And waited. It wasn't long before that inquiry came, to which he dropped his head in a short nod. "Completely. He stated it very clearly. I would have a first name to accompany it, were Hinamori-kun not.... zealous, perhaps, in defending her new friend." He doesn't sound accusatory in saying so, simply stating facts. "But Hirako is one word that I remember hearing quite perfectly... is there no record under his name, Satsue-san?"

      "Well..." she busied herself with a ceramic set on her desk, refilling her coffee from a modest tea pot. The addition of fresh coffee renewed the scent of almonds and spice in the air with a quick burst, and it curled into the room with the tendrils of steam that arose from her cup. She gestured, indicating that she would pour him a cup as well, if he desired. "... no, but I was skeptical to begin with, I will not lie. Hirako is a girl's name, for the one, and for the other, I've never heard of it used as a surname before in my life." Both brows arched as she replied, and she shook her head. "Not all shinigami carry surnames; others give themselves their own. It is possible he chose it himself without knowing the implications.. but regardless, that's a very strange name for a boy."

      "... hmm. So it's very possible that he never even used this name until after he left the Academy? That does put a bit of a difficulty in this, doesn't it?" The sleeves of the haori fluttered again as Shunsui reached a hand up to rub his chin. "We may never find out exactly who this Hirako boy is, then. Unfortunate that there's no way to find someone simply by looks." His shoulders roll in a short little shrug before breathing a short sigh. "This could prove to be more and more ... difficult? Curious.. I'll admit to even finding myself a bit intrigued, to be honest... just who is this person.." He takes another glance down the hallway, then looks back towards Satsue's desk a moment later. "Do we have any leads, or are we at a loss?"

      A long sip of coffee, but she was too lost in thought to savor it. "That's a possibility," she mused in regards to his first statement. "A bit eccentric, but.." Fingertips gripped the rim of her cup, delicately, and she set the coffee back down. "I'm afraid I can give you naught by speculation, and even that would be entirely baseless at this point. I think your best luck, taichou, lies in questioning Hinamori-san herself, or having someone else do it, if you think it is concerning enough to pursue. Perhaps you will run into the boy again. If you can discover is Gotei, it would simply be a matter of asking around of those members, and with a better lead, reviewing the Gotei's archives. I'm disappointed I can not do more for you."

      There was no where else to go, no one else to turn to. Though Umeko did not wish to trouble anyone about it, she could no longer bear the thoughts that plagued her mind. The truth would finally put her at ease, and would allow her to finally look straight forward towards her goal. She only prayed that Iesada-san knew something.
      Her hands clutched at her chest, as if to hold in her quickly beating heart, Umeko's steps were soft as she approached the Dean's office. Peering up from the floor to the doorway, she noticed that the door was open, and came closer to the wall in order to take a small peak inside. The sight of a Captain was a bit of a shock, and almost immediately she dove back from the doorway. If she was busy, Umeko could just come back later to ask...

      Another brief sigh passed Shunsui's lips. Having to question Momo directly, so soon after the entire Aizen indicent... This would not go well, to say the least. Finally, he does reach down to take the coffee cup that was proferred to him. "This... will be trying, to say the least. Hinamori-kun is still quite unstable after Sousuke-kun's decision to leave." Decision to leave. That, in the very least, was probably the understatement of the week. "I will speak with her, though."
      His head lifts just a little, then he looks back over his shoulder, feeling the sudden approach, and halting, of reiatsu from the direction of the hallway. Shunsui couldn't help a brief little chuckle before raising his open hand to wave Umeko in. "Please, student-kun, come in. Don't let me stop you, Iesada-san and I were simply discussing something. It's certainly nothing so important that you can't speak to her if you like."

      "You might have another female ask her," she suggested, at length, but no more. She trusted he knew well how women were prone to gossip with each other, and did not feel the need to comment about Sereitei's losses. The brief glimpse of lavender in her doorway made her beckon, as well. "He's right, child, you're free to enter."

      A blush rose on her cheeks when she heard them tell her to come in. They had probably spotted her pretty easily. Umeko was not the best at stealth. Sincerely hoping that she had not interupted anything, Umeko peeked from behind the frame just one more time before slowly walking in, her head lowered and her hands folded in front of her. Her hands were tightly held together, as well.
      "Excuse me..." She stopped before them and bowed slowly, still making sure to pay her respects to the Captain and the Dean's secretary. "...I had something to ask you, Iesada-san." She briefly glanced at the Captain but knew better than to stare. Her eyes were again averted towards the ground.

      Shunsui just smiles that serene little smile of his while stepping back and away from Satsue and her desk. His arms return to their opposite sleeves, folding over his midsection before offering Umeko and the secretary room to talk. He doesn't exit the office quite yet, instead deciding to just step back towards the closest wall to allow them their space. Then? Quiet captain. Just quiet, smiling captain.

      She surveyed the girl up and down, drawing her coffee mug back up to her lips for a drink. A nod, finally, all patience -- to an extent, at least. She remembered the girl quickly enough. "Yukieda-chan. Of course." She'd given the young student permission enough, yesterday, to come to her office. "What is it?" she prompted.

      She watched as the Captain left, and only turned when she was regarded by Iesada-san. Straightening herself out, she remembered to breath and lowered her head in another little bow. "I don't know if you can help me or not..." Her voice trailed off a little. This question was just so hard to ask! She took another pause, closing her eyes momentarily as she mustered the courage. "There was a student here sometime ago who attended, and..." It was too hard to say. She approached the question a different way. It came out all rather at once, and her voice picked up in a nervous speed. "...Please, do you have any record on a student by the name of Yukieda Umetaro?"

      She watched as the Captain left, and only turned when she was regarded by Iesada-san. Straightening herself out, she remembered to breath and lowered her head in another little bow. "I don't know if you can help me or not..." Her voice trailed off a little. This question was just so hard to ask! She took another pause, closing her eyes momentarily as she mustered the courage. "There was a student here sometime ago who attended, and..." It was too hard to say. She approached the question a different way. It came out all rather at once, and her voice picked up in a nervous speed. "...Please, do you have any record on a student by the name of Yukieda Umetaro?"

      Ah. "I see," was all Satsue said, disregarding the nervous girl to cross back to the filing cabinet she had left open during her discussion with the Captain of the 8th. She shut the drawer of it now, locking it once more with one of the keys dangling from the chain around her neck. She stood looking at the walls of filing cabinets, and eventually crossed to another, keys jingling once more. "Relative?"

      Umeko lingered on her words and watched her closely. As she saw Iesada-san move to the filing cabinets by the wall, her eyes seemed to light up just momentarily. Did she really have a record on him? Was she finally going to find her answers? But, when Iesada-san brought up the subject of relation, Umeko's expression suddenly grew a little sad. She managed to keep her composure, however, as she responded. "...He was my twin brother."

      The long, massive drawer swung out on its railing with a deft tug from her hand, and she began flipping through tabs, skimming names. Yuasa.. Yubo.. Yuhana.. Yukano.. Yukieda. She skipped over the girl's own records, pulled out another folder, heavier. The drawer was pushed back into the depths of the filing cabinet, returning with a loud thunk, laden under the concentrated weight of so many documents. It locked with a click, and she strode back to her desk to take a seat behind it, retrieving her coffee. She flipped the folder open, and began perusing the records. For all intents and purposes, it had seemed she was coldly ignoring the girl, until she spoke. "What did you wish to know?"

      She waited, although quietly impatient. Her fingers clutched tightly together, almost until her knuckles turned white. She craned her neck a little, but made sure to straighten out when Iesada-san turned back around. The file... it contained the last few years of her brother's life. Her eyes locked on it. How she would have loved to read it on her own, to see everything that he saw before he died. But, knowing that she could not, she knew that she had to ask what was important. When she was prompted, Umeko replied quietly, trying to hide the waver in her voice. "I want to know... I want to know how he died, if there's anything in there that says anything about it..."

      Not much startled the Dean's secretary, but she glanced up at the girl's last words, and realized the girl was still standing. "Sit down, child, I'm not going to bite you." That said, she simply nodded, and began turning the pages bound inside the folder. "Yes," was all she said about it. Of course there would be record of it; Satsue was, if nothing else, a painstaking detailist. She documented everything.
      She read quickly -- one wondered if the Assistant took leisure in anything -- turning to the very last pages. If his death was recorded, it would be at the end, before the boy's records were archived, finished more permanently than any closing graduation would have caused.
      "Yes," she repeated, after no more than the span of a minute. "He died during his fifth year at the Academy, during a training mission, and died at the scene." She glanced up, to see if the girl had further questions.

      As soon as she was offered, Umeko moved quickly to sit down, her hands balled together in her lap. She waited, her shoulders tense and her heart pounding. A few older students had told her so many things, so many hurtful things. They couldn't have been right. Umetaro was no loser! And whatever in that file was going to prove it.
      But she didn't get the answer she was hoping for right away. Although it certainly did rule out the possibility of him dying at the hands of another student, she was still left with so many blanks. It was possible that they left no detailed record, but she wasn't satisfied. The troubled look on her face was apparent, and her eyes seemed to shine over a little. "...Please, Iesada-san, was that all that was in the record?" She tried to keep from choking. Facing her brother's death was never easy. "...I've heard so many rumors, but I don't want to believe that he was a failure and a coward..." He wasn't like that at all. Umeko really wanted to be put at ease, or else she felt like a part of her would not be able to rest.

      ... ah. A matter of honor, then, she thought. She glanced back down, reading the exact details of his death, and brought her coffee up once more, sipping the bitter drink, enjoying the steaming scent of spices and earth. At first, the details of the account were empty to her, and it wasn't until she looked back to the girl, about to speak, that the familiarity tugging her thoughts finally found a name. Ah. Again, that single syllable to her thoughts, and as always, it held volumes.
      The mug was set back down, and she read the account, once more. She remembered, now. Certainly, she couldn't be expected to remember everyone, and deaths weren't uncommon enough that they warranted special attention... but the death of an ungraduated student was always a sad thing, indeed. And the boy himself had been bright, ever-helpful and willing. She'd let him do more than one errand for her, she recalled. "You look a lot like him," she commented, coming back to the present. Then she shut the folder -- she already knew the story.
      "Your brother was very promising, actually. He had potential, and it saddens me that he never saw the day to graduate." She slid her coffee aside, then. "He intercepted an attack to save a teammate, and it cost him his life. It happens, unfortunately. His injuries did not give them enough time." Those were the details, simply put, for the woman was not one for embellishment.
      ".... I will say this, however," she said, after a time, when it seemed like she would say no more. "He didn't deserve to die."

      Once again she waited, ever so thankful to Iesada-san for looking into this. She was willing to wait -- the years she had spent wondering had seemed to go by so slowly. Everyday she thought about it, but it had not really gotten to her until she came to the Academy and had to face the truth on her own. In silence she waited, feeling like she could burst at any moment.
      When she set her mug down, Umeko shifted in her chair a little, as if she had been caught off guard. Indeed, she was so intent in the contents of the folder that she was too focused. But the one thing Iesada-san said -- the comment about their resemblance -- finally brought a smile to her face, though it might have been a bit bittersweet. She nodded, and vocalized a short response. "Mm."
      That smile lingered, but as Iesada-san continued, her eyes started to mist over. It was exactly what she wanted to hear. Of course her brother was gifted, of course he died honorably, for a cause... Now that her doubts had been expelled, they seemed to come to her eyes as welling tears. She blinked some away, and continued to smile.
      "He really didn't but... I'm sure he died doing what he believed to be right." A hand came up to wipe at her right eye, but quickly withdrew. She didn't want to be a weeping mess in front of Iesada-san. "Thank you so much... you don't know what you say means to me." Her hands dropping in her lap together once more, she lowered her head in gratitude.

      "You're welcome, dear," she said, and before she said more, a slight, unimposing shinigami appeared in the doorway behind Umeko, and Satsue permitted him to enter with a gesture. Despite all appearances, he delivered whatever message he had for her without delay or nervousness, murmuring something at her side, and she nodded, dismissing him with thanks. "If you'll excuse me, it seems I have elsewhere to be. Don't hesitate to come again, should you have more questions, Yukieda-chan." She rose from her seat, only pausing to take one last sip from her coffee.

      She nodded, however still kept her head down. Hearing the steps of the other shinigami was what prompted her to bring her head up in curiousity, and a hand came up to wipe at a tear that was falling from her right eye. She stood when Iesada-san excused herself, and lowered herself in a respectful bow. "Thank you so much again!" She couldn't linger any longer. There was a building knot in her throat, and... well, the last place she wanted to be was in front of someone at that moment. Keeping her head down, she turned and hastily made her way out.
      A burden had been lifted, but at the same time, that sudden release had allowed the tears to start flowing. Her chin started buckling as she headed down the hall, and so she kept her eyes averted from anyone as she headed to her dorm room where hopefully she could be alone.

Participants: Satsue, Shunsui, Umeko
Notes: Shunsui comes to question about Shinji, Umeko comes to question about her brother. Takes place after a log involving Momo, Shinji, and Shunsui. Shunsui needs to revise last pose.
Status: Complete.

iesada @ 2007-12-04T23:16:00

2007-12-05T04:20:20Z

Jinkei was sitting on the steps outside of the practice room, leading down into a courtyard outside. Her sword was slung over her shoulder, back to the open door, as she waited for today's class to show up. She was just starting her temporary assignment running classes for busy teachers, and this was her first real run-in with this group of students...

Kunio hurried to get to his classes for the day. For some reason, he had managed to sleep in. It was a rare thing, he was always careful to make sure that he would go to bed at a reasonable time each night, after his homework had been done. It wasn't like his roommate had kept him up, although there had been times where they didn't always get along.
None the less, he had managed to make up the time somehow by cutting short his usual morning routine. It meant skipping breakfast, a fact he quickly regretted as he sprinted around a corner and his stomach growled in protest. But as long as he didn't end up tardy, he could deal with it.
By the time he neared the school grounds, he realized he might even be right on time, so he slowed his pace and tried to at least look a little presentable. Tucking his book under one arm and smoothing out his hakama, he only then caught sight of the rather large looking shinigami seated at the entrance. That... wasn't their instructor for today, was it? She was huge!

Jinkei turned her gaze to take in the first student rushing to class, smiling as she looked him over. "...don't think you'll have any time for reading during this class. You didn't forget your sword while you were grabbing your book, I hope?" Even though she seems to be in a good mood, her looks certainly put a different spin on her words. "You'd look silly trying to parry with a paperback."

This class couldn't have been timed any better. Fresh after getting in a verbal fight with his roommate, Seiji had just grabbed his asauchi and stormed out of the dorm room without thought as to what the plans were for the rest of the day. It wasn't until a good five or so minutes of stomping around out of anger that he realized that there would be a lesson starting soon. The anger turned to panic as he turned in the direction of the grounds and headed out in that direction.
Thankfully, he didn't seem to be late. One other student arrived already, and the teacher's already here. Seiji took a moment to adjust his sword, shouldering it a bit more comfortably as he stepped closer and joined the gathering.

Yae was present, but not entirely easy to spot out. She had settled upon a nice, shady and out of the way corner facing this courtyard. Her bokken was kept nearby, lying upon the ground next to her. She pressed one palm against her knee while she grudgingly stood up. That bokken was scooped right up off the ground before she lunged forward to get a running start toward the group. The bokken was raised as she readied a strike primarily directed at the instructor, but whoever else was in the way, well...

If he had felt a little intimidated at first, Kunio's emotions jumped from worry, to relief as the teacher smiled, to extreme embarrassment as he realized what he had just done. Here he thought he had saved himself from getting in trouble by arriving on time, only to forget the most important thing- his sword! He could have sworn he had it but it must have been left propped against the door just as he left.
"I er..." he began, knowing an apology wouldn't really cut it, and was about to ask permission to return to retrieve it. What a way to start the day. "No ma'am, it was an accident. If I could just-" Unfortunately, his words were cut off as he heard footsteps behind him. It was almost then, like a strange parody the afterlife had bestowed upon him as it was all he could do but flinch and hold up the very book he had been scolded over to block the insane student descending upon them. "Gah!"

Jinkei shook her head. "An accident that could get you killed, if this had been a real-" She cut off suddenly as Yae ran towards the group with that wooden sword raise. The giant was on her feet in a flash, her big hand coming between Kunio's precious book and the bokken. It thudded into her palm as she took a firm grip on what looked somewhat like a toothpick in comparison to the sword still slung over her shoulder. "Ah, I was wondering when you were gonna stop lazing about in the shade over there." She was still smiling, as she looked from Yae to Kunio. "See? Wasn't a good idea..." She hoped the girl would calm down, even as she turned her head to Seiji, acknowledging his arrival for class with a nod.

Once he arrived, Seiji started to calm down in short order. He wasn't hate, and there still seemed to be someone arriving. He folded his arms lazily over his chest... just in time to watch someone come rushing out of the shade with bokken raised. He stayed out of the way, off to one side while Yae went rushing forward... and got her bokken caught in the... very, very tall teacher's hand. He tilts his head back, taking a look from student to teacher, then back to student again before he dipped his head in a return-nod to Jinkei. Beyond that, he simply remained off to one side, waiting patiently.

Any rowdiness and activity from this one is guaranteed temporary. Little outbursts such as this left and returned from time to time. Yae was certain that she was matched, and took a few steps back. She drove the tip of that bokken into the dirt and raised her hand to her forehead before greeting, "Ossu!"

Kunio cracked open one eye to look up as the blow never hit, and just nodded as the teacher reaffirmed the lesson she was trying to teach. Well, before hand he might have taken the advice but now he had certainly learned from it. "Yes ma'am," he answered, and stood up straight. The plain way that Yae just dismissed the fact that she had leapt at their teacher bothered him though, and he glanced her way in irritation at her greeting.

Jinkei let Yae tug at the bokken once, just to make sure she knew it was held fast, before opening her hand and releasing it. "Well, well, my first day on the job, and I've already ran into a delinquent. Shouldn't you address me a bit more formally...I thought it'd be cool to be called 'sensai' and all that junk." She was still all smiles. "Is that yours?" She tilted her head towards the bokken. "Or have you already gotten into the practice equipment?" She let out a snort when she saw that look on Kunio's face. "Well, I wanted to practice drawing and sheathing today...but since *some* people can't remember their swords..." She trailed off. "Punk, why don't you go grab enough of those sticks for your three friends here?" She gestured vaugely towards Yae with her free hand.

After shouldering his asauchi again, a brief look was given around at the rest of the class. Was he th.. yes, it appeared he was the only person here with his sword at hand. Seiji rolled his shoulders in a slow little shrug, then dropped his shoulder down just enough that the sheathed sword rolled off his shoulder. He had the length of cord that held it over his shoulder gripped, preventing it from hitting the ground. He certainly wasn't about to complain, but he admitted to himself that it might be a little disappointing that they'd just be using bokken. He shrugged his shoulders, though, then turned to face Yae, waiting for her to go grab the practice equipment.

"This is one from my personal armory!" Yae proclaimed as she pointed her thumb toward her own chest. There wasn't much to her personal armory, besides that bokken and her asauchi. Being called such terms as 'punk' didn't seem to have any affect on her at all. "Yeah, yeah," She turned upon her heel and strolled off toward the place where practice equipment was held.
Yae took her dear sweet time, but eventually returned with three practice swords within her arms.

Trying to hold back a sigh at being put in the spotlight, Kunio simply told himself that he was lucky someone was drawing more attention to themselves, even if he was the one responsible for the change in the lesson plan. Next time, surely, he would be sure to get up on time and then none of this would be a problem to begin with. He glanced to the teacher, then back to Yae, and finally nodded as he stepped forward to take one of the bokken.. "Thank you." He wouldn't be rude even if she seemed a little bit herself.

Jinkei shook her head. Personal armory? The academy always dug up the weirdest kids. She tapped her sword against her shoulder while she waited for Yae to return from inside, eyeing the other two in the meanwhile. "So, the punk here at least knows how to ambush someone and bash'em over the head. What about you two. Got any prior experience?" She raised an eyebrow. "Or is this your first class?" At least the one with a real sword seemed to hold it carefully. "We're usin' the practice swords, because I don't want any of you accidently killing someone. I saw one of my classmates get their hand lopped right off." She glanced at the still-open door. "...and we're outside, 'cause I don't wanna poke a hole in the roof. Again." She looked a bit sheepish at that, trying to tilt the extra-long zanpakuto so some of the length is hidden behind her back.

"There you go, help yourself, you're welcome...," Yae wasn't completely rotten to the core, she could at least present others with weaponry to some degree of politeness. Once this task was finished, she returned to her bokken and leaned against the sword slightly.

Jinkei nods after everyone is furnished with a weapon. "Well, let's start with something easy." She took a few steps back across the courtyard, as she tilted her zanpakuto forward on her shoulder by the scabbard. She took hold of the hilt as it slipped free, drawing the oversized sword with her right hand, before dropping the sheath to the ground at her side. "The grip might not be too flashy, but the basics are always important. Don't wanna be chopping some Hollow in half and have your sword go flyin' outta your hands." She gripped the hilt with both hands, now, turning slightly to the side to show her 'technique' to the few students assembled.

"I sparred a little back in Rukongai, Sensei," Kunio admitted with a bit of a smile as he was questioned by the teacher. He shifted his bokken to get a better grip on it. He didn't see himself as great or experienced by any means, but all the chores that had turned into battle sessions with his brother were at least something. He tightened his hold, trying to mimic the teacher's stance. It wasn't a great copy, he didn't have the position quite right, but his stance was not stiff either. As he watched to make sure that he was doing it correctly, he hoped in the back of his mind that the hollows were smaller than his sensei and her sword.

Yae tilted her head as she watched the instructor. Crap, she had to actually move. She removed the bokken out of the dirt and took a few steps to congrigate along with the others, leaving plenty of room before she demonstrated the way to go about holding a sword. As she already had previous knowledge, she held the sword quite well. This was the basic of the basics.

Jinkei nodded at that. "S'rare to run into someone from outside the walls that hasn't been in a fight or two." She looked sideways to examine their grip, smiling again. Well, at least she seems satisfied. "Just remember...you're not clubbing people over the head with your zanpakuto. It's a weapon, an art, a dance...I'm sure you've both heard this before." She lowered her sword a bit, grin widening. "...so, why don't you two beat up on each other a little, eh? When I was in school, he mostly focused on Hollows. But after this business with the ryoka and those captains defecting, I bet man-to-man combat is going to be seeing a serious comeback." Not that any of them would have much to do that that.

Yae cast an immediate stare toward Kunio. A wide grin cracked the corners of her lips as she proclaimed, "Now's your last chance to commit seppuku!" She turned to face her opponent, holding the bokken aside before taking a shallow bow. She stood at the appropriate posture, and held out the bokken before her.

Kunio nodded, repeating the words in his head. It was pretty easy to see what she meant; often times Katoji would overzealously try and attack him and though half the time he was taken by surprise from spacing out, when Kunio really put his mind to it he could avoid and even counter some of the blows. A dance was a very good term for it. But then the teacher's next words startled him out of his thoughts. "Beat up...? Excuse me, Sensei, but shouldn't we learn some moves first?" At the very least, how to block! He wasn't sure that all the students knew that yet! Even if they would possibly have to deal with future problems just as the ryoka had been, this was a little silly!
"Oh for crying out..." Kunio bit back his words with a sigh as Yae declared him her partner, and stood up straight with a shake of his head. Offering her a bow, he matched her stance. "Are you sure this is alright?"

Jinkei resisted the urge to laugh at those questions, although her grin did turn into more of a smirk. "There's no better way to learn than just doin' it. I'll keep an eye on you two." She shrugged as they readied themselves. "...m'sure I'll spot a few things we can fix. Then I'll beat the right techniques into y'all."

Whine whine whine talk talk talk. Was there any end to it? If Yae could help it, yes. She didn't even bother to try faking out Kunio, she took one pace forward and struck, not even bothering to go easy on him. Having already tutored someone else from scratch, she knew that going easy on her opponent didn't help at all.

Jinkei glanced aside at Seiji as the other two squared off. "...well, since you brought your sword...you know how to draw that thing properly?" Three people fighting would just be chaotic, after all. Although you have to wonder what she knows about proper drawing, after the way she unsheathed that sword earlier...

Though he arrived late to the scene, it was better than not arriving at all. He had intended to skip out on this pathetic lesson by a pathetic instructor, but the events of the day had caused a great deal of stress to build up, too much stress to allow him to study in peace. So he figured he would enjoy watching a few amateurs square off against one another.
Unlike some people, Matsuhiro wears his sword at his side, one hand resting lightly upon the hilt. His expression is one of boredom; one might wonder why he even bothered to show up in the first place.

She came right at him! Kunio wasn't as much of a whiner as he seemed. For leaving his sword at his dorm, and asking lots of questions, he knew that he had given off the wrong first impression. But that didn't mean he was going to go down on the first swing, and as Yae swung her bokken at him, he countered by blocking it with his own. She was strong, and he dug his heels into the ground to keep from sliding backwards. "Alright then!" he answered back with a bit of a grin, and gave a good push to try and separate. If it worked then he would follow with a swing of his own.

Wasn't it coincidental that one of the causes of Matsuhiro's high stress levels was already at the class, watching the goings-on between Kunio and Yae while crouching down and resting the tip of his bokken against the ground. Something caused that little irritation needle in the back of his brain to start rising, though, and Seiji couldn't help but look over his shoulder. There Matsuhiro was, looking exactly as his roommate expected him to after this morning; upset, slightly tired, and doing his best to put on the 'i know better than you do' look.
Sparing only a brief snort through his nose, Seiji just turned back to the class, then shook his head a little to himself.

Jinkei seemed to think the spar was going well enough, letting out a little grunt of approval at the first move. She spotted another student coming to join them outside, lowering her sword, to gesture to him with one hand. "You're late...but at least you brought your sword, instead of a book." At Seiji's reaction, she wondered what the connection must be to cause that. And to distract him from her question. After her wave to Matsuhiro, she used that hand to lightly slap Seiji on the back. Although, knowing her, it might be a little stronger than she thought...

Yae allowed him to push back, and she took a few paces backward herself. The swing seemed like a painful sign of her opponent's limited knowledge, simply negotiating around that strike was easy enough. Not only that, she decided to teach a little lesson of her own... and took a good swing at the vunerable opening of Kunio's shoulder.

The Dean's Assistant had been taking rounds of the Academy during her daily errands -- it was easy enough to check in on classes and students alike inbetween destinations, and the woman was certainly known for making the most of her time. If she came upon the sparring class shortly after Matsuhiro, that was purely coincidence... unfortunately for him, she saw it as a pleasantly unplanned opportunity.
"I hope you don't plan on standing idle with your hand on your hilt for long, Uemiya-kun," came the smooth voice from behind him, as Satsue scrutinized the practice yard and its occupants.

Kunio's swing missed, and he almost managed to see her attack coming, when he heard the words of the teacher. It wasn't like he was trying to become distracted, but to have his earlier blunder used as an insult, however teasingly, took away his attention. The blow connected with his shoulder and he stumbled back with a grunt. "Heh, sorry. Guess I need to be paying better attention," he admitted, refocusing and adjusting his grip again. That stung! But unless they were supposed to stand down after one hit, he wasn't about to quit just yet.

Matsuhiro eyes the woman with a skeptical expression. He is never one to hesitate in showing respect to his instructors, but just this once he is given pause. He is not sure what to think of this woman and can't help but wonder why she would be giving sword instruction instead of Iwao-sensei. Already, by a simple first impression alone, Matsuhiro has decided that she is worth only reluctantly given respect.
So as manners would dictate, he offers a bow in greeting. However, any words intended for her are caught in his throat as the unexpected arrival of the Dean's Assistant catches him off guard.
He turns quickly, offering a lower bow to the new arrival. "Iesada-san. Actually, I... hadn't intended to participate. They are far below my level..."

"Quit stalling and fight!" Yae practically spat poison along with those words. She held the bokken at a lowered stance while she stepped back. Just to keep Kunio well on his toes, she took a quick step toward him and jabbed the end of that bokken his way, but not as to actually hit him.

Jinkei just smiles at the bow. "Next I'll really have'em callin' me sensei." She seems amused by the idea...and even more so by his reaction to Iwao's arrival. She covers her growing smirk with that free hand, lightly resting the dull edge of her sword over her shoulder. Turning her attention back to the fight... "At least you learn your lesson without me pointin' it out. Saves me time."

Most of Seiji's attention had been given to the swordplay that was going on between two of the other students, as well as keeping himself balanced on his bokken and rocking back forth on his toes. The slap, light-hearted as it was from Jinkei, very nearly sent him toppling forward. The tip of the wooden sword skidded across the ground for a couple feet, and he leaned forward against it, just barely managing to keep himself propped up by using the sword for balance.
He lets out a cautious little laugh, then looks over his shoulder towards the teacher of today's lesson. "Jinkei-san, that was quite a shot, for such a light impact.. that's quite an arm you've got." Slowly, he pushes against the ground, using the fake sword to lean against as he straightens back up and stands again.

"Oh?" she inquired, one slim brow arching just faintly. "I would have thought, being that you are carrying your sword on your person, that you intended to participate without delay." The words were calm, but coming from a woman who did not play needless games, they held an edge of warning. "But if they are below your level, as you say..."
She turned easily, hailing Jinkei. "Shi-san, a moment of your time, please."

Jinkei tilted her head back, finally breaking into a loud laugh, when Seiji's comment pushes her over the edge. "Sorry! Don't know my own strength. Maybe the Second'll recruit me, eh?" She noticed the gesture, blinking at the woman hailing her. Memory...fuzzy. But she thinks she's someone in charge here. Sometimes all the paper pushers blur together. "Sheesh, how's everybody know my name already?" She shrugged, leaving her scabbard on the ground as she walked towards Iwao. She kept one eye on the spar. "When ya'll are done, those two can step up next. Unless Seiji's friend wants to teach the class instead." She barked another laugh as she moved to the side with Satsue.

Maybe he was being too cautious. The times he had fought with Katoji, it had never been serious, but only play. Sure, they both wanted to win, but he never had fought against a girl before, and it strikes Kunio that maybe he's not trying his best as Yae yells at him. Frowning, he lifts his sword and steps forward, pushing her test strike out of the way. This girl, whoever she was, was the angriest and fight hungry person he'd ever met. If that's what she really wanted, he supposed he had better give it to her. Another swing is aimed at her side and with more force than before, but he keeps moving this time.

Really, he should have known better than to say anything at all. It seemed as if the staff delighted in humiliating him in front of his peers. But he was bound to obey, especially after the generous favor Iesada-san had done for him. Brows crease unhappily. He is not in the mood for games today, nor is he at the top of his game. He says nothing, but his displeasure is clearly written on his face.

If she knew Jinkei's name, it was for no other reason than that a conversation in passing with a teacher on her way here had informed her of the small practice session led by the female shinigami -- certainly, Satsue could not keep track of everyone on a personal level. She had merely come to observe, except.. "A favor, dear," she said, when the woman had approached.
She glanced back to Matsuhiro, folding her arms and tucking her hands into the sky blue sleeves of her haori -- the color the Dean wore, with the Academy's insignia. "If you can disarm her, I'll believe there's nothing for you to learn here." It was not so much that the Dean's Assistant delighted in torturing the poor boy. She simply believed there were certain lessons that he would do good to benefit from. Namely.. never assume you know more than someone else.

Yae was quick to guard her weak points. She met that strike with quite a bit of force. Now fiercely locked in with her sparring partner, she didn't need to yell out just to taunt a fight out of this person. "What's the matter, didn't you have any breakfast this morning?" A quick glance was taken over her shoulder as she had grown tired of this spar already. Good, the instructors weren't paying direct attention to them. Yae escaped this lock and gestured for Kunio to drop his guard along with her. She spoke quietly, "C'mere, I'll teach ya some neat stuff." If Kunio dared to take a cheap shot at her, she'd make him pay dearly.

Seiji's attention was split, at this point. On one side, it looked like something interesting was going on over where the duel was taking place... but on the other hand, Jinkei was just called in the general direction of Matsuhiro. This was going to be worth watching, but.. what was going on over in the other direction? ... what to do... eventually, he settled on watching what Satsue was putting together. He turned to face the group over there, then he settled the tip of his bokken back against the ground before leaning lightly against it.
Normally, he wouldn't want to see his roommate going through something like this, but... maybe a little bit of him was looking forward to this. Just a little bit.

Kunio flinched a little at the force of their swords meeting, but Yae's wisecrack almost made him smile a little sheepishly. "Actually-" His explanation was cut short, however, as she suddenly looked away from him in the middle of the fight. He almost felt a little insulted. Did she think so little of him that she could just look away? But what she said next surprised him even more. He faltered in his steps, and lowered his bokken. "What?" he whispered, not wanting to get in even more trouble. He already got the delinquent vibe from this girl.

No matter what she may say, Matsuhiro was certain that Iesada was out to get him. Instructors hated students with confidence. It was obvious. But now, despite the obvious trap, he was in fact trapped. The only solution was to endure this test and prove himself against this woman.
He offers a bow to Iesada-san, though there is nothing that will remove the scowl from his face. "If those are your orders, Iesada-san, I will comply." His hand closes around the hilt of his sword and he draws it free. This Jinkei woman could not be too far out of his league.

No, Yae wasn't going to kidnap her classmate off to go play hooky--not today, at least. She simply stepped aside and started an instruction of her own. "You see, when your opponent has you like this..." Yae made up her own example with the bokken, "...You do this..." Her explanation continued as she shown off the way to counter, "...because that's the place which is wide open... hey, ya follow?" This young woman spoke with quite the accent, which probably sounded like nails going down a blackboard to those who originated from a more classical setting.

Jinkei raised an eyebrow at the request. "Favor eh? Well..." She tapped her sword against her shoulder, giving Matsuhiro the eye. The kid must either really be something, or just think so, for this official-looking woman to put out such a challenge. "Guess we'll have to go through with it, eh?" She said, as she saw him drawing his sword. Jinkei was distracted from the fight she was supposed to be overseeing, not even noticing the lack of noise and action. She nodded and stepped clear of Satsue...not wanting to accidently wing her with that oversized sword, if things got hectic. She glanced towards the training room inside, remembering that hole in the roof again.

He eyes that oversized sword with a scowl. He had been taught long ago that a Shinigami with an oversized sword was an indication of a lack of control. To be unable to control your power well enough to keep your zanpakutou at a reasonable size would suggest the woman was all power, with little finesse.
As is proper, he offers a bow to indicate the beginning of the fight and waits for the same in return. Though once it is given, he darts forward quickly, feinting to the right before changing course to strike at the woman's left arm, just above the elbow. If nothing else, she made for a large target.

It was a pleasant surprise for Kunio to find that Yae was only trying to help. His concerned expression became a smile, and he nodded, mimicking her move. "Yeah, I think I get it." He was pretty sure he had a good idea of what openings were, but since he kept missing her it wasn't like he had room to talk. The fact that she spoke funny didn't bother him. He'd met a lot of people who talked like it from home. "So then, what if I swing like this?" Kunio asked, demonstrating another move. This was much more helpful than being thrown into battle.

Jinkei just smiled in responce to that scowl, her grim face looking as amused as the solid block could manage. She returned the bow, spending a little more time on it than the boy, thanks to her height. She looked up to see the kid already rushing at her, lifting her sword up into a ready posistion. A look of surprise slipped out, as she barely got the huge zanpakuto up in time. Metal screeched against metal as a few sparks flew. Of course, once that blade met hers, she was able to push back with considerable force. It looked like she was simply trying to send Matsuhiro flying.

"Ah, that's easy, you just come at 'em over the head, especially if they put too much strength behind their swing..." Yae demonstrated briefly as she took another glance around. Being alert and aware of her surroundings was well conditioned into her actions, even while she focused attention into conversations. She noticed the practice going on between instructor and student... no way! This wasn't something she could miss. Yae took a deep breath and shouted out, "Kick his butt, /shen/sei!" The accent, again.
Yae grinned and jabbed a light elbow at Kunio before she crossed her arms. "So, ya ever see any of those hollow things these people go on and on about?"

It was not hard to guess that this woman would rely on strength, for it seemed to be the most dominating quality of her person. So when his strike is blocked, he is already shifting gears, moving with her blow rather than attempting to stand against it. So when she puts all her weight against him, Matsuhiro uses it to propel himself back of his own accord.
As his feet return to stable ground, he is already shifting forward once more, his body held low and compact, driving towards her legs, his blade swinging to fell her much like one would fell a great tree.

Jinkei pushes forward too hard, when she doesn't meet any resistance. The huge shinigami slips an extra step forward, as Matsuhiro moves back, grimacing at her mistake. As he ducks down and springs towards her lower half, Jinkei has to twist her arms uncomfortably, unnaturally, to swing her sword down towards his attack. She reflexively pulls one foot back, as his blade narrowly misses that leg...sending her off-blance.

"Over the head, huh?" Kunio mused aloud, though he wasn't quite sure to take that sort of advice seriously. Not when their sensei had blocked such a move barehanded. Then again, that was their sensei. The woman was a giant, and he wasn't sure who would be better to learn from at this point. The one who threw you into class with no instructions, but clearly had experience, or the one who had less experience but at least put a little thought behind it. He settled for a wait and see approach, as he probably wouldn't have any idea until his next battle.
Instead, the battle between his teacher and fellow classmate soon had his attention. The moment Yae shouts in that direction he turns as well, and Kunio gapes. "H-he's attacking Sensei!?" It seems that for the moment, the question about hollows was ignored, but after a second passed he shook his head. "No, I haven't... heard stories from some of my siblings, but I haven't seen one yet."

"... Big things. Super scary stuff." Yae left out many details in her explanation, only because she was watching this fight rather closely.

Seiji remained quiet, as well. His attention was on what was occurring between Jinkei and Matsuhiro, and he had little urge, at the moment, to do much else other than see how this turned out.

Metal meets metal again as she blokes his strike, but he cannot help but smirk at the fact that she has been put off balance. So, determined as he was to prove himself, Matsuhiro attempts to push his advantage. Moving with an agility developed over years of training, he darts back from his opponent once again, but this time adds a spin that will hopefully bring him around behind her. As he spins, he sweeps his blade around in a grand arc, bringing it towards her opposite leg, the leg that still maintains much of its stability.

Satsue, for her own part, merely watched with arms still folded. Being an observer, it was easy to pick out the strengths and weaknesses of both, pleased to see how each of them gauged the other, and took advantage. Though she approved, her face itself belied little expression. She was curious of this outcome, and awaited a victor to claim the disarming blow.

Jinkei stumbles forward slightly as she hastily puts her foot back on the ground, head turning to follow Matsuhiro as he twirled around her. That huge sword look to be as much of a hinderance as her body's size, taking an effort to swing it up and then back down behind her. Like a scene straight from a movie, she manages to block another strike at the last moment with the slighty ridiculous and probably ill-advised manuever. Now her sword was out of position, her front wide-open to the smaller, faster opponent.

It was just amazing to see a student taking on a teacher, and Kunio had never considered that some in his class might be of a level to do that. He nodded back to Yae, even though he knew she wouldn't see it, but his eyes were also glued on the fight. There was no bashing over the head, as she had mentioned earlier, and he takes note of the way both of them fight. Maybe this was a better lesson than either ways he had been trying to learn before. While he's amazed at his classmate's skill in fighting though, it's the teacher's speed that truely has him in awe.

Speed was bringing him the victory and so Matsuhiro saw no need to change his strategy. So moving quickly on agile feet, he shifts once more, his hand opening around his blade in order to complete a small toss, rotating the blade so that he would not attack with the flat rather than the blade itself. And this he brought down hard towards the instructor's sword hand, putting all of his strength behind the strike in order to cause her fingers to open and her blade to drop.

Jinkei tried her best to swing her sword back around in time, moving towards proper stance, but she only wound up in perfect posistion for that strike. Her eyes widened as that flat of Matsuhiro's sword rushed towards her right hand. She tensed up her grip, holding on tight...until her left hand was suddenly off the hilt. The blow crashed down onto her hand, as Matushio suddenly felt like he had swung with full force against a steel rod. Her left hand was at his chest by now, fingers starting to clench in a deathgrip around his open collar. "Got'cha."

The force of the impact with Jinkei's arm was jarring! Matsuhiro's entire body seemed to rattle, right down to the bone. Such force stuns him momentarily, long enough for her arm to take hold of his collar. Chin lifts defiently and he casts a sharp glare at the woman. This type of manhandling was not the way he was taught to fight! But then, what could he expect from such a brute of a woman.
His blade shifts in his hand again, rotating it once more so that he is no longer armed with the flat, but with the blade again. Then he makes a sharp, well aimed swing towards the woman's throat, stopping his slice only bare inches before meeting flesh. Despite the large hand on his collar, he smirks.

Jinkei dug her fingers into that fabric, clenching tightly. Her earlier looks of surprise and confusion were gone. A huge grin was plastered across her face...but different from before. Her teeth were showing, and she looked...excited. Matsuhiro's sword swung towards her neck perfectly...but the giantess yanked at his collar, pulling him up and towards her. His blade nicked her neck before sliding behind her as he was hauled in.
That grin zoomed towards Matushiro before her huge, solid forehead tipped down, rushing towards his poor nose.

It was impossible to say when the Dean's Assistant moved -- or even to follow the motion -- but the fact was clear that previously, she'd been standing as she had before, and now..
Neither Jinkei or Matsuhiro made it far. Satsue's sword was out with blinding motion, and three things happened at once: Matsuhiro's sword was relieved of him with a flick of the woman's own, and as she twisted, she brought her blade around once more, and up -- the flat of one hand against Jinkei's chest as she appeared between them, shoving, the hilt in her other hand coming backwards to jar into Jinkei's hand which gripped the boy's collar. The separation was quick and forceful, guided by a strong flare of reiatsu.

Matsuhiro had intended, with the placement of his blade, to call a draw to their spar, as obviously a sword battle was not meant to include fists! However, he never intended for the woman to go this far! Panic flashes through his eyes as she begins to draw him nearer, caring nothing for the small cut made against her throat... and in an instant he sees what is coming and the dread settles into the pit of his stomach. She meant to headbutt him! Of all the ridiculous, barbaric things to do! Especially considering his own honorable actions!
Yet the blow never came. Iesada-san's actions come as a shock, though a much welcome shock! He doesn't seem to mind that he was disarmed himself, only that he'd been saved the humiliation and pain of meeting with that woman's hideous head!
He stumbles back a few steps once he was freed and then the anger takes over. "That was out of line!"

It was all so fast. That was what Kunio kept thinking as he watched the fight, and then his second thought was that the giant teacher was incredible and scary, and he never wanted to fight someone who fought like that. If he wasn't so amazed at Matsuhiro's speed and skill he would have felt sorry (actually, he still did), when he barely saw the teacher slamming her face towards his own, but what /really/ stunned the boy into silence was the moment that the blows didn't strike. What had just happened? The... was that the dean that had broken them apart? "A... amazing," was all he was finally able to say when it all had ended. He tried to see what had happened, but it was no use. His eyes weren't able to keep up.

Jinkei stumbled back as she was shoved, hand coming away with a fistful of ragged fabric still clenched by huge, thick fingers. She snarled, lip curling as her head lifted back up, along with her sword. She started to swing towards the woman that had intervened...thankfully catching herself before she did something she'd regret. Her sword lowered, still gripped tightly in one hand, as she worked her snarl into something that might be a more friendly grin. "If someone wants ta kill yah, they're not gonna play by the rules. Never miss a chance to spit in someone's eye, just 'cause it might make you look bad." She blinked and looked down at her hand, noticing the chunk of fabric there. "...whoops." She offered it towards Iesada, her grin now rather sheepish. She doesn't seem to notice the blood running down her neck.

If he had not already been so shocked by such irresponsible actions, Matsuhiro surely would have been by that response! Not to mention the fact that she'd managed to ruin one of his uniforms! He peers down at the torn fabric, scowling at the mess. However, his glare does not remain long on his own clothing and settles again on the lunatic woman in short order.
"My duty was to disarm you and I fought to those ends. My only fault was that I would never strike to kill a sensei... though now I regret such a choice, for you hardly deserve to be granted such a title of respect!"

It was good that Jinkei caught herself -- it was in these circumstances, clearly the healthier choice for her. The expression the Dean's Assistant gave the woman as Jinkei brought her sword around reflected unforgiving steel in her eyes. It would not have been wise, to take Satsue on, nor would it have been overly pretty for the young quasi-instructor. Luck was on the younger woman's side, however, as Jinkei seemed to catch herself before she inevitably met Satsue's blade.
The Assistant herself straightened, sheathing her zanpakutou again as Jinkei came to her senses. "Uemiya." The word rang out sharply.

"This guy...," Yae stared rather deadpan as she listened into the conversation, resting one palm upon her cheek as she knelt down near the ground. All three of them were the crazy type of strong, and Yae had to wonder just how long this Uemiya fellow had been in the academy.

Jinkei snorted at that. "I wasn't gonna kill yah. Just put a little lump on that pretty face." She reached up to tap her crooked, squashed nose. "...hey...this one called me sensei." She looks rather proud of herself. Wait. "...where are...?" She looked around, before spotting the rest of the class across the yard. "...hey!"

"Do you know him?" Kunio turned to ask Yae as she spoke, but jumped to attention as the teacher suddenly yelled at them. Could they really be blamed for stopping to watch? How could they concentrate on their own fights with something like that going on? He glanced to Yae again, before bowing to the teacher. "Sorry for stopping, Sensei. We were... curious to the outcome of your fight." Well that was the truth, at least.

It was Iesada-san's sharp words that helped cool Matsuhiro's temper, but only by a fraction. He was still furious at the humiliation he'd nearly suffered at the hands of that brute, and even more so that she did not even seem to see the error of her ways!
He nearly bites off another angry response at Jinkei's assertion that she had no intention of killing him, but he thinks better of it. Instead, he simply strides past her, casting a look fit to kill up at her ugly face, before turning to retrieve his asauchi and sheathing it at his side once more. He then offers a deep, respectful bow to Iesada-san, pointedly refusing to offer the same to Jinkei. "Forgive my outburst, Iesada-san."

Yae shook her head. She hadn't seen this student before. A glance was cast toward Kunio briefly, and she looked away once he'd answer for the both of them.

Jinkei glanced at Iesada, to make sure there wasn't anything else she needed from her. Or anything else to yell at her about. She looked back to locate her scabbard, clomping towards it as she glared at her other students. "Slacking off, eh? Everyone needs to get back to business!"

"He wouldn't have killed her." A very small shadow sitting between the roots of two huge oaks offered in a friendly voice, "Um... Couldn't have. His balance was off, 'cause of her being so tall. Um... It's never good to try stop someone with your hands like that."
The shadow readjusted itself in the grass, a charcoal smudge with as much reiatsu as a frog, and had most likely been there from the beginning of the class.

Satsue flat out disregarded the young boy, turning to Jinkei briefly. "Thank you, dear-- I advise more in the ways of restraint with younger students. That aside, please continue your lessons." It was not said lightly, but she did not linger to dress either of them down publicly. When she finally acknowledged Matsuhiro, her eyes narrowed. "Thank Shi-san for your match." Regardless of what transpired, she would not tolerate belligerence. He should have known as much.

Too bad she was completely disinterested in going back to business as usual. The sound of that voice caught Yae's attention, and she looked over her shoulder to see who it belonged to. "Wow, you saw the entire match too?"

There is no pleasure in his expression, but he knows better than to refuse any instructions from Iesada. Of all those at the academy, this is the one woman Matsuhiro is almost pleased to show respect, despite her seeming desire to humiliate him at every turn. So, just as he was told, he turned towards Jinkei, bowing again (but not nearly so deeply), and speaking in a clear, but unhappy tone. "Thank you, Shi-san."

With the order to get back to practice, Kunio glanced to Yae with a shrug. At least he may have learned something by now. "You ready?" he asked, guessing already what her answer would be as he got back into position. Then the voice from the shadows spoke up and he blinked that way in surprise. He hadn't noticed anyone there at all. "Uh... hey there. Um, excuse me, miss?" he turned back to Yae, realizing he hadn't even learned her name yet. "Shouldn't we finish our lesson?" The teacher had already yelled at them once.

That well enough settled, the Dean's Assistant turned to the sound of the voice near the tree. Something in her tone bespoke of approval, and she replied. "That's quite correct." She surveyed the rest of the students in turn, continuing, "Observation is a key part of progressing your skills. I pray you exercised it for that match. Now.." and here she observed the small one by the tree again. "Would you be so kind as to explain to them why intervening like that is a bad idea?" It was a good thing to learn, certainly.

With the guilty manner of a stalker caught in the act, Rikichi glanced away from the students and up to the sky while he wrapped up the rest of a half-eaten sandwich. He'd seen the whole match, and a lot of the matches that'd come before it. He was a professional spectator, really. "...um...yeah, I guess I did."
He was getting on his feet, handkerchief of left-overs in one hand and two sheathed and bonded zanpakutou in the other, when he realised he was being spoken to by an Adult. Instead of going closer to the class group, he hesitated by the trees as if Satsue's rank might be a contagious disease. "Um... Um.... Well, because there's no such thing as a good way to block a sword. Um, it's better to stay away. He'd'a just cut off her arm for grabbing him anyway."
The trees made a long, humiliated pause, and then Rikichi offered, "...I wasn't looking at the girls, ma'am."

Having given his reluctant thanks to the brute woman, Matsuhiro turns his attention back to the rest of the class, or rather, what is left of it. With an arched brow, he observs the small figure by the trees, but offers nothing more than a brief glance before settling down in the grass himself. He's had his fill of class for one day.
He scowls down at his torn uniform again... He would have to order a replacement.

Something about the reply made one corner of her mouth quirk, but the planes of her mouth quickly smoothed into a thin line again. "Very good. I look forward to seeing you all progress," she said, addressing the latter to the impromptu class as a whole. Then she looked down at Matsuhiro, adjusting her sash with a smart motion before striding past him. "You, follow me." This was no time to be sitting down.

Having just settled into the grass, he is able to rise quickly and fall into step behind Iesada-san. No doubt she was aiming to lecture him on how to speak to his instructors or some other nonsense... or even worse, find some other way to humiliate him tonight. But despite his misgivings, he followed, voicing the obvious, "Yes, ma'am."

A heavy sigh followed while Yae forced herself to a stand. Her arms stretched far above her head and then quickly dropped to her sides. "...Another time," Yae answered rather late. One foot dug beneath her bokken, and she kicked slightly to catch that wooden sword out of the air. "I'm out of here." The only explanation she'd give before making her exit from the courtyard.

When Rikichi was in the academy, they were all expected to earn their grades the old-fashioned way: hard work and getting hit with stuff a lot. Not by kissing the teachers. His regret took the form of a miserable slouch while he watched Satsue lead the cheater away. ...it REALLY wasn't fair.

Participants: Jinkei, Kunio, Seiji, Yae, Matsuhiro, Satsue, Rikichi
Notes: Jinkei holds impromptu sparring lessons; Matsuhiro fights Jinkei.
Status: Complete.

iesada @ 2007-12-04T21:52:00

2007-12-05T02:56:11Z

The Shinigami Academy's main auditorium is a monstrous thing. The room itself is box-shaped, walls of the purest white, wooden floors polished to a sheen under the artificial lighting. Most of the auditorium is given to seating; the students sit on benches behind wooden counters, one stretching directly back and up from the front of the room and two at an angle to either side. A podium is set at the very edge of a small stage at the very front, behind which is an excessively large blackboard, segmented at the middle in order to provide more writing space as necessary.
The students' seats are segregated: girls are to sit toward the speaker's left, boys to the right, the middle filled with overflow as necessary. Every seat is within view, none seated may miss the sight of whomever is lecturing.
It's not until everybody is seated that the side door opens, allowing a number of uniformed, older-looking souls through. At the lead is Annaeg himself, Dean or Headmaster, for those particularly pedantic folk, a bound folder held under one arm, his zanpakutou- pick resting on the other's shoulder. He heads directly for the podium itself, setting his weapon down at its side, handle-up, and spreads his folder out. The other entrants are given time to find their places, giving motions for the room to quiet down.

For the most part, Seiji had nothing to worry about regarding the quiet once the Dean had arrived. A small hardbound book was spread out on the counter in front of him, and for the minutes preceding things getting started, he had been idly flipping through the pages, reading through until he heard the hushing of the crowd that began even before those that accompanied the headmaster arrived. Seiji gathered his book up after taking a moment to mark the page by dog-earing it, then tucked it into his shirt. That done, he rests his arms on the counter and waits to see what's going to happen.

Rai sits on the right side of the room, doing his best not to look nervous. Despite his act, a twinge of pride mixed with an uneasy feeling pervades his stomach. I guess you could call it the 'butterflies'. He sits with back straight, eyeforward, hands folded in front of him, paying rapt attention as soon as the Dean and his entourage enter the room. The whole even tended to make him feel like a hopeful little boy again.

Tardiness is unacceptable. Thus, Uemiya Matsuhiro had been seated well in advance, determined to make the best possible first impression upon his superiors. However, he had no wish to seem too eager, and thus had taken a seat a few rows from the front. Posture was rigid and gaze attentive, the perfect image of a model student... or at least, the image he'd conjured up in his own overly-proper mind.

Finally, the day had arrived for the orientation. Fellow students had been so eager, if not a bit nervous for this to come. But Takemaru was less than nervous, just a day closer to reaching his goals. He arrived earlier than needed just has his friend, Matsuhiro. Umeko had bugged him to get his butt in gear and not be late, she had somewhat dragged him out!
Unlike Matsuhiro, Takemaru slumped in his posture and leaned arms on the wooden counter infront of him. Stopping his conversing when the Dean had made his entrance like the rest of the fellow students.

Unable to keep her mind off of it all day, Umeko had spent the entire day out in the Academy Grounds, thinking to herself and playing her shamisen to pass the time. Unfortunately, she had been so preoccupied that, when she realized what time it was, she was in a rush to make it to the auditorium. Thankfully she had made it in time, but her heart was racing from rushing and her nervousness. When she sat down in an isolated seat next to a couple of strange faces to the right of the room in the middle rows, she was still catching her breath. Heat rose in her cheeks as she wondered how foolish she must have looked!
Umeko sat at attention with her hands folded tightly in her lap, eagerly waiting the beginning of the orientation. Her eyes scanned about for Takemaru, but it was too late. Things were getting started, and her attentive eyes flew to watch the Dean.

Kunio hadn't held as much excitement for the orientation as many of the students seemed to, but none the less, he had gotten there early and taken a seat. For some reason, he hadn't been able to find Katoji, but by getting there first at least he would see him come in, right? Or so he had thought. Maybe he had missed him in the crowd, now that just about everyone else was dressed the same. That blue hair would certainly blend in easily among the sea of red and white and blue.
It was a little disappointing that he couldn't sit next to his brother in class. But they weren't there to hang out, and so when everyone else seemed settled and the dean entered, he sat up a little straighter and waited to see what would happen next. He really had no idea what to expect, but it had to be interesting.

Today was the day her mentor had long seethed since Shirahime Kourin announced her plans to enter the Shinigami Academy. However, going into the ceremony, she finds herself caring very little for what the Shinigami will have to say or do; she has her own motives.
Sitting in the seat far to the left and alienating herself from others who were more interested in social matters, her fingers were laced across her crossed legs and emotion is not shown in her face. Instead, she seems more of a statue than a real human being for how still she remains. Her eyes are still on the scene in front of her, not those around her who seem to be centered on discovering others.

Now that the Dean's folder is open, his notes before him, he pauses long enough to bring a fist to his mouth, coughing once to clear his throat. Now that he feels that he's ready, he reaches out for the end of Duryn Dygdwyn's handle, hefting the thing up a foot before slamming it onto the stage beneath it. The wood is sturdy, fortified; instead of a cracking, splintering sound, there's a dull reveberation throughout the auditorium...it's his way of getting everyone's full and complete attention, and the sound carries as well as the man's voice.
"Let me begin by welcoming you, new students, Shinigami hopefuls. Today you begin the six-year path of training toward your goal: to hold fast the World's balance, uphold the World's justice." It doesn't really matter if those listening share that goal or not...the curriculum is centered around those ideals, and more to be explained during class. "I commend you, who have passed the entrance examinations, proven your willingness to serve the good of Man, to protect those unable to defend and grant respite to those unable to find peace." Annaeg falls quiet for a moment, looking down to his papers and turning a few of them before placing both hands on the edge of the podium once more.
"These are the men and women who will do their best to educate you in the ways of the Shinigami, to teach you to fight, to repel the dangers that befall innocent souls. You will learn of our culture and laws, instilled with the morals befitting ones of such noble positions." As he speaks, he turns and gestures toward the faculty members standing, some sitting, in a row on the wall behind him; those that had entered with him, some that were already there.

Even though Seiji saw the zanpakutou lifting, the loud thud of its contact with the wooden floor and the reverb that followed still almost made him jump in his seat. In the very least, it did add cause him to bolt a bit upright, sitting tall now with hands folded in front of him and eyes attentive and forward. He glances off to either side for just a moment, and he feels a bit relieved to see that he wasn't the only person in his general area that jumped.

Not being able to help it, Rai turns a portion of his attention away from the rather predictable speech and towards examining his fellow students. These people would be his comrades-in-arms over the next six years, and if there's one thing Rai haslearned, it's the value of teamwork. He cannot see a familiar face in this sea of an audience, but he makes a note to remember the ones he is able to glimpse. His roaming eyeballs return, along with his full attention towards the stage at the mention of 'culture and laws'. Those, he would need to learn. Quickly.

Though he wanted very much to lecture Nakamori on his poor posture and ill appearance, Matsuhiro remained silent and attentive. The unexpected reverberation of the Dean's zanpakutou caused him no alarm, though a brow did arch slightly in question. Dramatic but effective. He offered no response to the speech but for a very slight nod, an acknowledgement of those words. Always respectful, but still the slightest bit impatient. Formalities were necessary, but never particularly interesting.

Though she had been paying close attention, Umeko still jumped a little at the falling of the Dean's zanpakutou, but she did her best not to waver. His words were moving, and were a reminder that she had worked hard to get to this point. There was no turning back now, not ever. Clenching her hands together tightly, it was a little silly perhaps that she was so intense about this, but she was not doing this for herself alone. Completely silent and almost completely still now, Umeko sat and listened intently.

The man beside him shouldn't worry how Takemaru was sitting, but keep attention on the one at the front of the auditorium. The loud 'thump' also didn't cause Takemaru to jump. Instead he found it amusing to watch the others hop a bit in their seats. The chuckle was held silent in his throat. Only a brief glance was cast over to the familiar man at his side as Takemaru could only smirk at his nodding. A simple shake of his head was given before he pushed his attention back on the dean. Elbow pressed on the counter, chin resting on his knuckles.

He had turned his attention to the Dean, so Kunio didn't miss seeing it be slammed down to get everyone's attention. It still made him jump slightly, and he glanced over when one of his classmates threw a look his way. He offered a slight smile back, a small acknowledgement that he didn't expect that either, especially for it to sound like that. Then he turned back to the instructor. Those ideals of protecting people had been the most interesting to him, and he hoped that his mother understood. Making the decision to come here wasn't easy after all.

And so the speech goes on for only a short while longer, any mention of virtue and hard work coming to an abrupt and immediate stop. His jaw shifts left, right, and then the Dean hunches down to rummage around inside the podium before him. Before long, he's standing upright again, a handful of...something, some white objects...resting in one palm. Calmly, one is plucked from its bretheren and held between two fingers, then flicked! Luckily for Rai, a flicked pebble isn't enough to permanently damage anything, but it's sure to sting like hell and draw the giggles of those around him should be find the thing dinging off of his skull.
His chest swells fully, and then Annaeg starts to speak again: "Higashibayashi Kashin Taishi Rai..." My, what a mouthful THAT name is. It's almost enough to make one have to draw another breath just to resume speaking. "I would advise you to pay more attention to your teachers than you are to my rambling." He only looks at the student for a moment longer before stretching his hands out to the far corners of his podium, curling his fingers about the edges. "I can't stress enough the importance of attentiveness and self- control. The training that you will undertake is by no means harmless; a single mistake can injure yourselves, your classmates..." Again, one of his hands goes to the papers before him, turning one over to its other side. "And, of course, you will be given failing marks for that particular class."

As his attention returns to the man speaking on stage, Rai is startled to find a small object hurtling towards his face! His reflexes are good, and he does manage to get most of his cranium out of the way. The pebble still manages to ricochet off of his left temple, though. Well, now the Dean knew his name... and not in a good way. Rai takes a moment to reflect on how well his first day was going as he rubs his stinging temple. An effective lesson, to be sure, as Rai's full attention is now turned towards locating incoming projectiles from the stage.

Though he tried to hide it, Matsuhiro could not help but allow a small smirk to escape. He ducked his head for a moment until his expression could be schooled to the proper neutrality. It served the boy right for his lack of discipline and Matsuhiro felt no pity. And though he would never admit it, even to himself, he took the slightest bit of pleasure in watching another student's poor behavior corrected... in front of the entire student body, no less!

Seiji turned his head for a moment to watch the sudden projectile-based lesson being administered by the dean, and his brow furrows ever-so-slightly while watching the reaction after... but then he catches what it was that the Dean actually said, rather than just what he did, and eyes are turned to look over towards the faculty that was just mentioned. He lifts his head up just a little, craning his neck to get a decent look at all the teachers and other such faculty that're in attendance with the headmaster.

The chuckle was silent, and luckily he had kept his tone to less than a whisper when commenting. "Idiot." Alright, this dean guy got Takemaru's full attention. It was like a game, he waited for another small object to come hurling toward a student. But a more serious expression came across him at the mention of injury. Eyes were now forced to remain on the dean when he wanted to look for his closest friend among the many students. With all the joking and lack of attention some students offered, he wondered if they were really taking this all serious. So easily the injury could happen to them, and here they are yawning from boredom and squirming in their seats.

Umeko was quite amazed by the Dean's precision. She leaned forward a little to peer at Rai momentarily, but she could not allow her attention to wander for too long. The Dean's words about attentiveness and self-control caught her attention, and she let those words really soak in. Her brother had died here, and knew very well that her fate could be the same. Briefly she scanned the faces of the teachers and faculty -- the people who would be teaching them to become Shinigami. How could some of the other students be so careless about this?

It wasn't in his nature to start trouble, but to find a pebble suddenly flicked at one of the misbehaving students nearby him, Kunio had to fight to hold back a laugh. He didn't want to get hit by one either, or to be rude, so he looked the other way. Especially as the teacher rattled off the name. The very long name. He almost felt sorry for him at that. But the Dean's serious tone dampened his expression, and he thought about that. He would have a lot to learn, and he was sure it would be nothing like all the sparring practiced at home.

With Rai suitably chastised, Annaeg once more brings his hand up and clears his throat. He'd already covered the basics, gone through the formalities. He'd even managed to stay awake through the whole speech! A dozen seconds are given to his turning through his pages, looking over notes, seeing if he'd missed anything...ah! From the look on his face, he'd obviously found something very important!
He turns and walks toward the wall that was behind him, past the row of staff, until he stands at one end of the blackboard. Reaching up, he pulls the top 'flap' down to reveal more writing space beneath...and three very, very large, well-detailed images of Abarai Renji from various angles. They almost look like mug shots. "If there is any one thing that you take with you today, remember this man. If ever he offers to teach you, do NOT, under ANY circumstances accept. Furthermore, you should contact a member of faculty so that they may remove him from the premises." The Dean walks back toward his podium, giving people ample time to review the pictures behind him. "If any of you have further questions about the purpose of this academy, my office is always open." Whether or not he'll be there may be another story...

Rai studies the images of the... strangely tattoo'ed fellow presented to the student body. He certainly did look outlandish enough that Rai would be wary of him, though whether he will remember the face or not is questionable, as during his study of the 'Renji' character, he manages to keep one eye on the Dean. He was very intent on not catching anymore pebbles with his forehead. As Rai does his chameleon, two-eyes-going- separate-directions, trick (no, not literally), he can't help but wonder what this guy must have done to be banned from the Academy.

Though she had remained very attentive the entire way through, but when the images of Abarai Renji were displayed, Umeko's expression became a little blank. ...He seemed to stress the issue a lot. What exactly had this man done? It must have been absolutely grievous and troublesome for an entire speech to end on that note...
Surely Abarai-san had a very distinctive look, so Umeko would be sure to be on the lookout for suspicious behavior from him!

Kunio studied the picture carefully. What did he do, indeed? Well it shouldn't be too hard to recognize all those tattoos, right? As long as he can notify a teacher. But he had to wonder why, if someone was causing trouble like that, was he still allowed to be a shinigami? He didn't voice his opinion however, simply glancing around the classroom once more at his fellow students, and listened if there was any more to be heard.

The Dean stands at his spot, silent for a short spell as he scans the faces of the new class. When he feels content that everyone has taken in as much as they're going to, he pulls the folder before him shut, tapping it on the wood until the edges are all straight, perfect. "Now, my assistant will go over the various rules of the academy with you in brief, as well as your various assignments." The folder is tucked under his arm, but before he turns to claim a seat, he adds: "New students, I wish you luck! Work hard and make us proud!" Make them proud or be failed, pretty much.

Seiji smiles for a bit at the last words of the Dean. He finds himself nodding in agreement soon after, then he watches Annaeg leave before looking over to who remains. Assignments? For a moment, he pondered assignments before class even started, like the reverse version of a summer essay, but.. likely, this was just class assignments, and not any actual work to be done quite yet. He sits himself up straight once again after finding himself starting to slouch, then he give his head a quick shake before sitting attentive again.

Rai's ears perk up at the word 'assignments'. Right to work, the way he preferred. While he had patience by the boatload, Rai certainly preferred action to words, as long as the action was planned. Unless, of course, the Dean simply meant classroom assignments. Either way, Rai had no intention of slacking off, since failure all too often meant death in his experience. His eyes never leave the Dean until the man actually takes a seat. Then he visually searches the stage, looking for this 'assistant' person.

This was what Matsuhiro had been waiting for and he forced his posture into an even more rigid stance then before. All the greetings had been pointless formality, but this? This was worth his full attention! Assignments, the thing that would decide his future from this moment on. Whatever confidence he had posessed before faded for a moment and even the ever-confident Matsuhiro gave way to a moment of doubt. Hands remained resting in his lap, but fists clenched tightly around the fabric of his hakama. For the first time since he had arrived, the stoic facade cracked.

With the image of Abarai Renji firmly in her mind, Umeko snapped back to the issue at hand, blinking a few times as she looked around for the assistant. This was it, the moment that everyone had been waiting for! Where was she going to be assigned? What did they have in store for her? She wondered quietly to herself if Aniki had been this nervous. She severely doubted it, but it was very difficult to be calm about this. She also wondered about the fate of Takemaru, and the few friends she had made. Were they going to be drawn apart?

Assignments! Now we're talking! Takemaru just hoped he wasn't going to regret any of this excitement...no, no regrets. He and Umeko had come this far, they had to make it to their goal with no turn arounds or failure. Takemaru had finally lowered his elbow from the desk, and straightened his posture in interest. A brief glance was cast at the other students around him, especially Matsuhiro. He had finally seemed to show a bit more emotion and reaction than his usual self. Takemaru hadn't worried about being drawn apart, knowing that somehow he and his friends would see eachother again. Now let's get the show on the road!

The lecture wasn't so bad, and it was standard fare, but Kunio was glad when it was announced to be over. He hoped that Katoji hadn't fallen asleep yet, but then maybe he hadn't since no more rocks had been flicked. Soon they would find out what they were going to learn and where they would be assigned, and he was really curious who his teacher would be. What was the first thing they taught you in the academy anyway? Kidou? Form? Ah yes, the rules. Those were important. Leaning forward in his seat now that something actually informative was about to happen, he watched.

An older woman detached herself from the rows of staff and faculty, giving a dutiful bow to the Dean as he took his seat, before approaching the podium. The sound of her notebooks hitting the podium's shelf was sharp, quickly silent. She expected everyone to be the latter, as well. "Before I begin I will introduce myself -- I am the Dean's assistant, second-in-command, and his secretary. You will see me frequently and you will address me as Iesada-san *always*. No exceptions." The woman practically had 'No Exceptions' permanently labeled on her face, and she surveyed the crowd of students carefully but quickly. She was not one to linger over business. "As most of you are aware, dorm assignments have been given out already. If you are lost or still do not know where you are staying, check the bulletin board in the dorm hall where the postings were made. If you cannot find your name, see me in my office after orientation."
She opened the topmost notebook, flipping to a pre-marked page. "While you are studying at this Academy you will be expected to follow certain rules, most of which are posted clearly in the dorm hall. Curfew is at 10 PM. No later. You will be expected to be in your room for the night by this time. You are not permitted to carry your asauchi on your person -- once you are given it -- unless going to and from a class requiring it. It is to remain in your dorm room otherwise. You are expected to be on time to classes -- every class, every day. You will address all teachers respectfully. Disruptive behavior is not acceptable, and should you find yourself giving into urges to misbehave, keep in mind that behavior will only be corrected so far. Continuing to act like an *idiot* after you have been warned will result in confiscation of your asauchi, suspension from classes, or even being expelled from the Academy." Her eyes narrowed, and she shut her book. "Any questions?"

... just... wow. When the Dean's assistant hit the podium, she just took over as if she was the one in command. .. for all intents and purposes, she may as well be, with Annaeg simply giving the 'hello' speech while she laid into the rules first thing. If Seiji was sitting upright before, his spine goes straight as an iron rod now, sitting tall with arms folded politely in front of him without so much as uttering a noise. He simply sat right where he was and listened, thoroughly.

Rai can certainly appreciate, and even applaude, the woman's no-nonsense attitude. 'Fun' wasn't really in his vocabulary. As he listens (and makes a point out of doing so quite obviously), Rai entwines the fingers of his two hands together, resting his chin atop them, elbows on the counter. This had to be paid attention to, he reminded himself. The rules could not be broken. MUST NOT be broken.

During his...commanding assistant's run-through of some of the Academy's rules and regulations, it seems that the Dean himself has fallen asleep. He's seated properly, his pick still up and resting against his right shoulder...and his head is dipped down. Those in the front row may be able to hear the sounds of mild snoring.

Kenpachi sat huddled amongst the students, squeezed in between their tiny shoulders and cleverly disguised as just another new student. His zanpakutou, resting on his shoulder, the hilt concealed by a giant white-and-pink swirled lollipop, would soon be coated in the blood of innocents. All he had to do was wait for the shepherds to abandon this dewy flock of spring lambs, and then....
...then they would learn the lesson of a lifetime.

When the strict woman took over, Kunio realized that he was going to need to take notes, and he quickly tried to scribble down the bit about curfew and the assistant's name. He wasn't too concerned with finding his dorm, he had glanced at the listing already. He just hoped that the person he roomed with wasn't someone like the one who disrupted the Dean earlier. He was completley quiet as the assistant teacher lecturesd them, since what were you going to ask someone who was as strict as-- did the dean just fall asleep through that?! Kunio stared at the dean, amazed and yet somehow amused at the same time.

As no one was brave enough to voice an inquiry -- she expected no inquiries, in fact -- she set aside the topmost book, opened the one underneath it, and pulled out a sheaf of papers. It contained a list of names. She skimmed it, and then glanced up.. and zeroed in on a student unexpectedly with the sharp pointing of one, long fingernail. "You. What is your name." She was pointing at Matsuhiro, the sound of her voice breaking the short silence again without warning.

Faced with the sudden attention from the dean's assistant, Matsuhiro grew even more rigid. This was the first test. The first impression he had been waiting for. This single moment could very well shape his entire future as a Shinigami... and he was prepared. He stood with a fluidity that hardly betrayed the tension in his back and bowed respectfully, speaking in his most proper and respectful tone. "Uemiya Matsuhiro."

Rai peers over in Matsuhiro's direction, silently breathing a sigh of relief that he wasn't the one singled out for... whatever this was. As he glances back and forth between the Dean's Assistant and the student, Rai's head pivots about from it's perch on top of his interlocked fingers. Matsuhiro's composure under such sudden and unexpected scrutiny was certainly commendable, and Rai silently gave applause to his performance.

Attention followed the direction of her finger, was it to him? When Matsuhiro stood, his expression grew dull. A hint of jealousy rumbled in the pit of his stomach. Yet, Takemaru wasn't even sure what Matsuhiro was chosen for. When he bowed, Takemaru couldn't push the thought of jealous insult from his skull. 'He always has to try to look perfect.' A few thoughts ran through his mind, yet nothing that would spoil a friendship that grew between those two; opposites, one could call them. Takemaru waited anxiously to hear what the woman had to ask or say to Matsuhiro.

Satsue glanced over him cursorily, and arched a brow. "What are the main duties of a Shinigami?" She expected a quick reply, and her expression said as much.

Umeko had been surprised to see that the assistant pointed someone out so quickly, but she was even more surprised to see that it was Matsuhiro. Umeko moved forward in her seat a little to see him. He was always so calm and composed, even in this type of situation! Surely he was going to be placed higher than her. And, he would answer the assistant's question without fail, too. There was little doubt in her mind, even though she had only known Matsuhiro for a few days.

Wow, they were already singling people out? Kunio glanced about, and was relieved that it wasn't him the teacher was pointing to. Were they going to quiz, or had another student misbehaved? He hadn't been looking so he didn't realize. It was amazing how calm the student who was picked was, and he listened with interest at what his answer might be.

This was not what he had expected and for a moment he drew a complete blank. A million thoughts ran though his mind. He could not afford to answer incorrectly, to do so would be to tarnish his family name, to humiliate himself before the entire class, whose eyes he could feel upon him. It was their respect he intended to earn as well as that of his teachers. To fail now would be to become a laughing stock! His expression grew tense, palms began to sweat. He swallowed the lump in his throat... "A Shinigami's duties include the defense and protection of the living world, guiding the earthbound spirits to Soul Society and defeating and releasing the souls of Hollows..." He was losing his cool quickly, and thus opted to end there... before he made a bigger fool out of himself than he already had.

"That's enough," she interrupted at the tail end of his sentence, notating something on her lists. "Get a glass of water when you leave before you swallow your own tongue. Standard class." With that, she just as easily dismissed him, and started going down the list. "Toshiaki Seiji, standard class. You showed a lot of promise during the entrance exam, however. Shoda Kunio, standard class. Yukieda Umeko, standard class. Chihara Katoji, standard class. Work a little harder and you might succeed. Shirahime Kourin, standard class. Nakamori Takemaru, standard class. You have potential. Maybe. Sabaku Takeshi, standard class. Takinaga Haku, standard class. Higashibayashi Rai, standard class. Also great potential: don't let it go to waste."
She continued listing off names, flipping the page she was on when necessary, until she finally reached the last name. She looked up. "You've all already been given your uniforms. It will be expected that you keep them clean, and you will only be given one spare. Don't be reckless." She waited for that information to sink in, and went through her notes, meanwhile.

Matsuhiro quickly took his seat before his trembling legs could betray him any further. It was not so much his utter failure in front of the entire class that made him feel ill, but the placement in the standard class. His face grew pale and for a moment it felt as if he would never be able to draw a full breath again. This was a disaster. No, it was beyond disaster. Eyes closed and Matsuhiro's pride crumbled right there for all to see.

Rai accepts his assignment with a bland expression and a simple nod to show he was listening. He can't help but feel a twinge of dissappointment that he didn't make the advanced class cut, but he'd live. Rai formed a resolution right then and there to apply himself day and night and not fall too far behind the advanced class, though they would surely have advantages. Rai would simply have to use what resources he had to get ahead. Good thing he didn't have a social life...

What...happened? The hopeful feeling she had quickly melted away. Matsuhiro completely buckled under pressure! Not that she held it against him, but she had been... expecting something out of him. She started to frown a little when she saw him so completely defeated, but the mention of her own name caused her to jump and turn towards the speaker once more.
...Standard class. Well, she had been expecting as such. She smiled softly and nodded a little, accepting the academy's decision. Hey, she was lucky to even be here at all! All she had to do now was keep going forward! And the thought of all her friends in the same class was a little comforting as well.

Seiji lifted his head a little when he heard his name spoken, then he sat back down again at his announcement of what class he would be starting it. He had to bite the inside of his cheek for a moment to fend off the smile that was attempting to spread across his lips when he got the brief extra mention from Iesada-san regarding his test results. Once that's done, however, he nods, and settles back into his seat while the rest of the other classmates' announcements were made. Well, he supposes he can't be too upset regarding that. He'll just have to work a little harder now that he was more visible... in his opinion, anyway.

A firm pat on Matsuhiro's back was given when he took his seat again. Takemaru knew how nervous he actually broke down to be. Amusing, someone like Matsuhiro falling under such little pressure. But the reassuring smile faded after he saw the paleness coming over Matsuhiro's face at the mention of the class. " Oi, it ain't that ba- "Takemaru began to whisper before his attention was dragged away at the mention of his name. A wide grin spread across his face and a brief nod given in understanding. Then a nudge was offered to Matsuhiro. "Looks like we'll be in the same class." He spoke quietly.

Kunio couldn't help frown slightly. Well, he wasn't so much disappointed. He didn't exactly have high hopes. There was also plenty of room to grow even in a standard class, and he could work his way up. But the student who got singled out sure seemed to take it hard. It's a bit of a relief to know that both he and Katoji are in the same class though.

"Silence," she said simply, glancing up again from her papers. She'd been listening to the faint snoring at her back the entire time she'd been standing at the podium, and quickly rearranged any plans for the Dean giving a farewell speech. She had learned, if nothing else after so many years of following the Dean, to be adaptable to his surprise quirks. She'd learned to do it with the same efficiency she treated everything else in life with. "That is all. Report back to your rooms, classes start on Monday. Your curriculum has been posted in your rooms. Consider this your last weekend of reprieve -- but do not consider it an excuse to party recklessly," she added, no-nonsense as usual. "Please also refrain from giving into idiocy, as hard as it might be to resist the appeal for some of you." She neatly compiled her books into a smart stack again. "You are dismissed."

As the students are all dismissed, Seiji simply rises up to his seat and joins the throng headed towards the doors out.

Not immediatly moving, Rai remains in his seat for a few moments as most of the students around him make to leave. His thoughts turn inwards and he is lost inside of his own head momentarily as he ponders what his strategy would be to graduate from here, six years in the future. A proper plan needed to be formed, but not necessarily this second, Rai reminds himself as he stands and peers about the emptying room. Perhaps a good night's sleep would do him good and help him forget the humiliation of being pegged in the face with a rock. Rai also heads towards the door, standing in the line waiting to exit.

He did not acknowledge Takemaru's attempt at comfort. Perhaps he never even noticed it. The devistation was striking him with full force and his mind was racing light years ahead. This was not the first step he'd intended to make. This was not the path he was supposed to follow. It had to be a mistake... some kind of error with his paperwork. The exam scores must have been recorded incorrectly. Something... anything... Eventually, probably once he'd noticed others leaving, Matsuhiro rose on still trembling legs. But the reason behind the trembling had changed. Shock was fast turning to anger. So before he could further humiliate himself with these ridiculous expressions of emotion, he pushed past Takemaru and stepped into the aisle. He couldn't escape from this humiliation quickly enough!

Umeko took what she had to say in mind, and then stood up as soon she dismissed everyone. She was quite excited to meet up with Takemaru and talk to him about the assignments, even though they were in the standard class. The fact that they even made it was a reason to celebrate. She was moved along with the herd of moving students, and eventually made it out onto the grounds to try and get in touch with Takemaru. She thought twice about approaching Matsuhiro... and decided it would be best to approach him when it was quiet.

The comforting words were all he could offer. He truly didn't understand the meanings behind Matsuhiro's reactions, and probably never would. He was happy to take anything that could lead him to becoming a someone! But he allowed Matsuhiro some time to himself when he forced his way past. Maybe he'll settle after a night's rest.

Participants: Annaeg, Satsue, Seiji, Rai, Matsuhiro, Takemaru, Umeko, Kunio, Kourin
Notes: Missing students assumed present.
Status: Complete.