Northeast Seireitei

[GhoulBunny]

Yūgure didn’t respond to the Bankai question. Not a first. A soft “Hm” curled from her lips instead, accompanied by the faintest tug of amusement at the corners of her mouth. She lifted her teacup and took a sip—calm, deliberate—like she hadn’t heard the question at all. But of course, she had.

That question had nothing to do with concern. Nothing to do with shared strategy. It was posturing, plain and simple—like a child running laps around a courtyard, shouting “Look how fast I am!” Her golden eyes, half-lidded and sharp, didn’t leave her cousin’s face as she set the cup back down with a soft clink.

“Bankai, cousin?” she repeated, as though tasting the word in her mouth. “I don’t know… have you finally decided to report to the 9th about your suspicions and your little witch hunt?”

Her voice was velvet—smooth, polite. But there was an unmistakable edge hidden beneath the silk.

The book. The one marked with their family crest. The one tied to some imagined betrayal. He’d been sitting on it. Keeping it to himself. And in all that time—not once had he brought it to her. Not once had he consulted the Ninth.


And if anyone in the Gotei 13 had a right to know about threats to the Seireitei, it was the woman in front of him. The Ninth Division literally was there to keep the Gotei safe. So for Hideo to keep that from her? It wasn’t just careless. It was insulting.

Still, she smiled. Sweetly.

“If you were really so concerned about treachery… you’d have come to me first. Unless, of course, you were worried I’d see right through it.”

Her hand returned to the cup, resting lightly on its rim, fingers poised as if deciding whether to sip again.

“The Shihoin are already on thin ice,” she went on, the tone never rising. “It doesn’t take much to make that crack.”

Her gaze shifted now, casually, to Suzume.

“I imagine you’d agree, wouldn’t you, Suzume? One misplaced whisper. One rogue theory. And suddenly Shihoin are painted as enemies of the Seireitei. Again.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly, the warmth in her smile never reaching her eyes now. Suzume’s earlier words about infighting rang in her memory, and Yūgure nodded, ever so slightly.

“She’s right. The Seireitei is fractured. And while the Arrancar unify under one banner, we bicker over which division failed first. Which noble house deserves the most blame.”

Her eyes returned to Hideo now, expression sobering.

“So no, cousin. I haven’t been chasing family ghosts through dusty books.”

Her hand withdrew from the cup.


She sat back slightly, the lines of her shoulders perfect in posture, unflinching, regal in the way only a Shihoin trained from birth could be.

“My squad has been on alert since the first whispers of the Espada surfaced. We’ve doubled our drills. Looking at every gate. Make sure the Gotei is safe.”

She could feel the faint pulse of her own reiatsu rising, though she kept it contained. Controlled. It hummed beneath her skin, tightly wound, like a string on the edge of snapping.

“And while you were tracing mochi recipes,” she said with a wry smirk, “we’ve been making sure we don’t die.”

She let that hang in the air for a moment.

“This war is coming,” she continued, voice softer now. “And we can’t afford to be seen as relics of the past. Not when we’ve only just clawed our way out of disgrace.”

A pause. Then, she leaned forward, ever so slightly, golden eyes fixed on Hideo with unblinking precision.

“I thought we were working toward the same goal. Restoring the Shihoin name. Showing the Gotei we’ve changed. That we’re not some whisper of nobility hanging by threads of old glory.”

She tapped her fingers once against the cup. The sound was soft, but intentional.

“But maybe I was wrong.”

And just like that, the smile returned. Subtle. Controlled. It softened the blow, even as the blade still turned beneath it.

Yūgure picked up her cup once more and took another sip, letting the Darjeeling warm her from the inside out.

She didn’t want to fight. But she wouldn’t tolerate anyone disgracing the shihoin name. Not even her own cousin.​

 

[Nobody]

The Ninth's grounds tremble in the wake of the explosion, the area painted in a red tint before a scorching white takes its place. Members of the Ninth move about like scattered ants in a panic, the grounds of the two combatants growing ever hotter, both figuratively and literally. Kishō remains fixed in place, appearing to do nothing to bring the girl back into his field of vision. He also remains silent in the face of the girl's prattling over the roaring of her flames.

Yes, no sound or words appear to move the man, who appears statuesque in his pose. This whole time, as the two have stood there, as Kuwashii has spoken, the ground they stand on has grown increasingly hotter. Kishō has not turned to gauge his surroundings, so it would appear he would be ignorant of the flames hurtling his way. As the star like flames boomerang their way back towards their creator something happens.

An eruption

Kishō's form becomes lost as the ground he stands on, and the ground around him in seven meters is destroyed from the compacted lava that punches into the sky. At first glance, like Kuwashii's technique, it too appears as little more than a pillar, one of lava instead of fire. Those further out, away from the actual ground zero are more easily able to tell otherwise.

What appears as a pillar at first glance, in truth is the serpentine body of a dragon, one fashioned and formed from Mōshoishi. She is an odd and stubborn zanpakutō, while able to create the eruptions that have harassed Kuwashii since earlier upon release, her other abilities remain dormant until she has woken from her slumber. Throughout the exchange she has been rattled and stirred awake, evident by the lava that has been spilling from the cracks of the spear head. While that same spearhead has been embedded in the ground, lava has been continuously pumped into it, the cause for the ground they've been standing on growing increasingly hotter since Mōshoishi's placement into the earth. Tightly compacted underneath them until erupting into Oniyama Jigoku.

The arcs of flame are perhaps certain to continue along their path, barely perturbed by the sudden forceful eruption, if at all, passing through the tightly packed molten body to reach their destination. Their return is met with the dragon's body descending down on Kuwashii and the area around her. The force of the dragon's fall enough to cause the entirety of the barracks to shudder as the ground cracks and is upheaved, demolished as the construct tunnels into and through the ground. A layman would perceive the girl having pushed him to such an extent to use such an overzealous technique against her. If Yūgure was present she would be able to tell such fools otherwise. Kishō is a volcano, once he has erupted there is little telling just how far he will go until he has cooled down, something Kazuki of the Tenth should be grateful for, as it meant that despite what had happened to him, Kishō had not fully erupted.

Throughout this exchange, the similarities between the two have only grown. While Kuwashii had used her zanpakutō's power to create a pillar of fire to offset the spell launched at her while hiding her form from him, Kishō uses his zanpakutō to create a "pillar" of lava that even if not offsetting her attack, has both displaced him from the returning arcs and hidden him from Kuwashii's field of vision given the timing of its eruption, the force and scope of the eruption. One was an intentional strategy, the other happenstance. Under the roaring of the dragon, the thunderous sound of crashing and destruction screams and shouts were being drowned out from the panicked bystanders being swept up into the conflict. Oddly enough, as chaotic as everything seemed, the only ones not involved who could potentially be harmed would be those too focused on the scope of the battle to not pay attention to their surroundings, running into something, tripping over themselves or each other spraining their limbs or hurting their heads from the collision or falls.

Tap

Standing on the roof of a half-destroyed building of the barracks was Kishō with Mōshoishi in hand. Lava continued to spill and leak freely from her cracks as he stared down towards the ruined ground of where they had been fighting.

"Perhaps this girl is wasted on the likes of the Tenth."

It is uncertain if he was speaking to himself, Mōshoishi or someone else entirely. While he has started off annoyed, angered at the gall of such a lowly girl he has since cooled and perhaps unadmittedly, finds himself slightly intrigued. He thinks nothing about the destruction caused by him, the fear he has caused those around him and perhaps others who may fear that another civil war has broken out. No, the weight of his actions is completely lost to him, and when she returns it will undoubtedly once again fall on Yūgure to pick up the pieces and handle the damage control and fallout of all he has done.

 

[Elk]

That response was all he needed, and the deflection was one he could give a small nod to.


“Witch hunt?”

“Treachery?”

“I didn’t think Ninth Division would care about a few missing artifacts…”


His hand lifted to his chin, allowing it to rest there with his finger lightly rubbing along his skin. His gaze flickered up to the ceiling for a moment, while his lips began to curl—before his gaze shifted back down to Yūgure.


“Was that you under the floorboards?”


His shoulders lifted a bit as one arm bent upward, palm facing skyward. Then he reached down to a knob on his desk. The wooden hiss of the drawer could be heard. With one hand, he lifted a book and placed it onto the table.



“This little book contains a list of artifacts in our possession, and what is missing—since the civil wars.”

“I admire your preparations, Yūgure. It is wise to double your drills in these times. While I was away, I’m sure Suzume has seen to the duties of preparing our division. But ours isn’t going to be one with direct contact like yours.”

“Our division operates in a supporting role. The majority of our members will be moving across the Seireitei, attending to both the injured and the fallen. The injured will be transferred to the Fourth Division, while the deceased will be brought to the Eighth for identification and record.”

“A small team will remain behind to secure our historical artifacts, relocating them to predesignated safehouses. They’ll also oversee the bodies brought here. Should we encounter any Arrancar corpses, we are to disarm them—removing their weapons for separate storage—before delivering the remains to Twelfth Division for examination.”


The cup lifted to his lips as he began to drink ever so slowly, before leaning back to let out one more sigh of relief.


“Our goal is the same, but our plans differ.”

“Tell me, cousin”

“Is our name so fragile that one rumor can break us entirely?”

“I hope the Ninth isn’t only looking at those gates. I heard from both Tenth and Thirteenth members that those Gargantas they use… can open anywhere they please.”

“But of course, I’m sure the Ninth already accounted for that. You always do.”


The Maneki-Neko’s arm began to wave, drawing his gaze. His lips parted a bit wider, amused, before he reached out—tapping its head, then gently pressing a finger to halt the mechanical motion.

His gaze met Yūgure’s as his fingers wrapped around the teapot’s handle. He lifted it gently, pouring the clear liquid into his cup, thumb brushing over the top of the handle before setting it back down.


“Would you prefer tea or sake for your next pour?”

His hand moved over to Suzume’s cup, pouring out the drink for her before moving towards Yūgure’s. either way he would pour based on the response she’d give.

“Either way, we have to savor these moments.”
There’s no need for us to fight—after all, we might not see each other again once they come.”

​

 

[Adonai]

This level of response was not expected by Kuwashii, to use such an attack against her, she almost feels honored. But the time for feeling honored will come later, once she figures out how to survive this attack. She was prepared for a counter attack to say the least, the slamming sound heard behind the pillar of fire was her Zanpakuto embedding itself into the ground at an angle. She half expected him to punch through the pillar with Onibi again, which is why the flat surface of her blade facing his direction and at an angle so that the spear head would be deflected off of it. This situation is drastically different from that, but with preparedness to defend herself already established she should be able to escape this attack without dying. She adjusts her hands in preparation for the impact, putting both on the flat of the blade so her hands won't be exposed to the lava. She has never been more grateful for the size of her Zanpakuto than she is right now. The dragon engulfs her and for a moment it seems like that is the end of Kuwashii.

The serpentine body of the lava dragon continues to flow into the ground, perhaps those still watching in silence as the bright spark of an ambitious Shinigami is put out at the hands of Kisho Date. However, Kuwashii does not need their pity…

Unyielding Star

Screaming is heard, not a scream of pain but one of defiance, a battle cry. Kuwashii screams at the top of her lungs and the dragon is cut open from where Kuwashii was standing as she dives out of it and slides across the burning ground. She pants heavily as her Zanpakuto returns to its sealed form. Laying on her back she stares into the sky, still hearing the roaring and rumbling of the lava dragon Kisho unleashed. She survived using the flat side of her Zanpakuto like a shield against the dragon which, in turn, protected the ground at her feet. She couldn’t endure the attack for long and she would have been swept away by it if she didn’t make a move. That move meant taking a risk, meaning she had to reach for the handle of her blade in order to get a swing off, but that swing was the last of her fighting energy.

She lays on the ground, covered in burns and spear wounds that have been seared shut, she is defeated but she survived and learned. Ever the hot head she moves her arm when she shouldn’t, grabbing her Zanpakuto and raising it over herself to look at it.

”So, Zougeiro, how about letting me get my Bankai now?”

She receives only silence, which is the typical response her Zanpakuto gives her when she brings up the topic of Bankai but this time it feels different. This time the silence cuts deep for her considering everything she has just gone through.

”Not even that is enough? I wasn’t even able to touch him, everytime I tried it just backfired and I got hit instead…I need to get stronger, why won't you help me?”

More silence follows. Her hand begins to tremble with frustration and anger and this time there are no flames to burn away the tears as she tosses her Zanpakuto away from her. She puts her forearm over her eyes as if attempting to stop the tears from flowing. Her inability to even wound a strong foe is frustrating beyond all reason and the silence of the one who is supposed to fight beside her doubles that pain. She can’t move though she is still conscious, thankfully. She wipes her eyes with her forearm and tilts her head back to see Kisho watching from a distance. It would be easy to kill her now and she knows it. She relaxes her head and just stares into the sky. Whatever happens at this point happens, she doesn’t have the strength to fight back anymore.

 

[TherosAestas]

Suzume made her annoyance of the schism of the Seireitei known, and Yugure had acknowledged that was indeed a problem. Yet she divided her and Hideo more, as well as the relationship between 8th and 9th division. Comparing the two when they were nothing alike was only making the rift wider, and to expect one division to operate the same as another was a fool’s errand. 8th would not neglect their duties in the face of an invasion. To do so would only put the artifacts and the Seireitei in greater jeopardy. The notion of whispers and rumors sinking their family into ruin was almost laughable compared to everything else.

“One misplaced rumor could damage, but doubtful it would full on destroy at this point. You speak about working toward the same goal and yet here we sit, tea and diatribes. Both of your demeanors may be calm, but venom is there. Take it from someone with a taste for it.”

She placed her cup back upon the desk as Hideo retrieved a book and placed that too on the desk. She need not look at the book. She knew it well. Many days were spent pouring over the pages. Many more were spent hunting down missing artifacts. She bristled at the idea of spending her time identifying the dead. Her years in 4th division still urged her to do her best to save everyone she could but she knew there were bound to be casualties.

She was still unsure what he intended for her to do during the invasion whether it be on body retrieval, identification, or artifact guarding duty. However, she decided that she would act as sentinel and if push came to shove and any arrancar descended upon their division, she would defend it and the artifacts with her life.

“The division has been sufficiently prepared for the invasion. They’ve trained rigorously but not to the point of exhaustion, and they know their assignments.”

Fingers once again absentmindedly tracing the design on Jigitarisu’s sheath, Suzume merely watched as they conversed.

The scoundrel intrigues me, as does this other one, Suzume.

Jigitarisu’s eerie whispers brought a faint smile to Suzume’s face.

I told you to stop calling him that, fox.

Her eyes shift to the cat arm as it begins to move and the way Hideo stills it. Leaning her cheek against her fist, she watched as the clear liquid filled her cup once more. She hadn’t expected him to clue her into their drink, but what harm could it really do. Her fingers halted on her zanpakuto’s sheath as her hand moved to retrieve her cup. She didn’t have much else to add to this conversation so she simply sipped her drink and gazed past them as nothing in particular.

​

 

[GhoulBunny]

Yūgure remained still as Hideo spoke, her fingers cradling the teacup at her lips, her expression as polished as ever. She gave no outward sign that his words had rattled her—not in her posture, not in her eyes. But inside?

Inside, she could feel the slow coil of irritation wrapping tighter around her spine.
​

“Ours isn’t going to be one with direct contact like yours.”​

How foolish. How shortsighted. Did he truly believe the enemy would care who stood in the front or backlines? That those arrancar, those monsters, would differentiate between medics, archivists, or combatants when the sky tore open above their heads?

There would be no sanctuaries. No safety in neutrality. War didn’t work that way. It never had. Not in the days of their ancestors. Not now.


A soft “Hm,” was all she gave as she lifted her cup and took another sip of the black tea Suzume had prepared. The heat calmed the burn that threatened her composure. When the cup lowered, her eyes returned to her cousin.


She listened to him go on and on about the precautions they were taking. Her annoyance running deep. But she stayed silent and composed. Until he asked:
​

“Is our name so fragile that one rumor can break us entirely?”​

And at the same beat, Suzume, forever loyal, spoke.
​

“One misplaced rumor could damage, but doubtful it would full on destroy at this point. You speak about working toward the same goal and yet here we sit, tea and diatribes. Both of your demeanors may be calm, but venom is there. Take it from someone with a taste for it.”​

Suzume, at least, offered a note of grounded reason. But what lingered more was the way Suzume responded when it mattered. . She wasn’t a fool. She noted layerd hostility in both of the Shihoin’s voices. Yugure was annoyed at her also not understanding that the Shihoin were one word away from being kindling. But at least she understood that training couldn’t be neglected, even in a “support” division. But Yūgure passed playing friendly. This was a serious matter.

She finally moved. Her teacup lowered to the table with a soft clink, and for the first time, her voice broke through the surface calm with something real beneath it.

“Yes,” she said plainly.

No dramatic pause. No hesitation. Just the truth, spoken in that crisp, razor-thin voice of hers.

“After what our family has done?” she continued, golden eyes locked with his. “Yes. A rumor is enough. One whisper of betrayal, and the Shihōin name won’t just crack—it will be annihilated.”

Her fingers tapped once—lightly—against the rim of her cup.

“You say our goals are the same. I don’t think so.”

SILENCE

For the first time in their entire conversation she allowed the mask to drop. She was angry. But she kept trying to compose herself. She needed to leave.

She took one last sip from her tea cup before turning towards Suzume.


“Again, it was truly nice to see you Suzume. You seem to know what you are doing…so keep my cousin in check. He needs it.”

Was the last words spoken.

And then the chair was empty.
​

 

[Nobody]

Like a spectator, he watches on as the girl is consumed by his technique. He close his eyes, at first assuming that is the end of her. The end of her struggle, her defiance, her foolishness and ignorance...that is, until he hears the scream. His eyes open to witness the splitting of the dragon. While he could very well command the lava to shift and flow in order to attack her once more, instead the lava merely collapses, splattering on the ground as Kuwashii laying on the ground, surrounded by scorched and ruined earth.

With the clattering of her tossed blade onto the ground comes another sound, that of footsteps.

"Perhaps it is because the nature of your shikai, that has allowed you to emerge while still holding your form."

Kishō's voice reaches her as he stands next to her body, spear in hand. Given the nature of the man, and the fact he had not sealed his blade back, the scene seemed as if he were going to truly finish things off by executing the injured girl.

Clack

The spear's head is pressed to the ground as Kishō leans against it, towering over the girl. His green eyes look her over.

"Staying as you are, and perhaps where you are may very well cause even your flames to eventually die out."

Unexpectedly, rather than berating or insulting her, Kishō warns her. The warning is not one against messing with him or even disrespecting him, but warning her that if things do not change she will only inevitably grow weaker instead of stronger.

"I could make you powerful...beyond reason...If only you will kneel. Under the care of mongrels too afraid to stoke and fan your flames and unprepared to contain them, your blade will dull and your flames will weaken."

Kishō having seen what the girl can do, and incapable of not noticing the similarities between their blades has chosen to try and poach the girl from the hands of the Tenth as he offers to bring her into the fold of the Ninth. As he speaks to her, a few unseated shinigami hesitantly walk up, seeing and sensing that things had died down some.

"Take her to the Fourth to ensure she gets properly checked out."

He doesn't bother hearing the girl out, as regardless of her answer he had laid his eyes and claim on her. One way or another, she will find her way to him. Mōshoishi returns to her sealed state, as Kishō secures her back into her scabbard. He walks off, blind to the damage and havok he has caused to resume his duties.

 

[Elk]

“Yes,”
“After what our family has done?” “Yes. A rumor is enough. One whisper of betrayal, and the Shihōin name won’t just crack—it will be annihilated.”

All he did was smile as she spoke. Such vile words had him leaning back, as she spoke of their goals—goals of restoring the Shihōin name were no longer the same.

She broke first, thanked Suzume, and then vanished with Shunpo.

He lifted his cup to his lips, taking in the last of his sake before quietly exhaling. His eyes closed as he placed the cup down, giving it a gentle tap to the rim.

“She forgets about how I had to kill my father and brother… For betraying the Seireitei.”

His hand shifted over, middle finger sliding to his thumb before delivering a light flick to the toy’s mechanical arm. The Maneki-Neko began to wave back and forth once more. As it did, his gaze shifted to Suzume, lips slowly curling into a familiar smile.


“I’ve been promoted from a noble to a hazard.”

“Had this been another clan, she would have been dead the moment she swallowed that drink. Far too trusting, cousin.”

“Thank you, Suzume, for providing the tea. It went well with the peach sake.”

“You never did say ‘tea’ when she dropped by.”


His eyes stared down at the porcelain teapot’s handle, with a hole on top and a hole near the bottom of the inside of the handle. Those soft violet flowers that trailed along the rounded form—petals curling downward as if wilting mid-bloom—were none other than the deadly plant known as foxglove, a clear warning that the pot was more than it appeared. Though its original purpose was long since abandoned, it now sat only as a glorified teapot.

The distance between himself and Suzume closed slowly and deliberately. His smile was faint, his hands folded behind his back, one wrist held tightly and the other loose. As he neared, he bent forward, lowering his voice into her ear.

“I have another brother, Haruki Shihōin. As far as I know, he may be innocent, but I also expect the worst. He could be a traitor—and one that must be killed if he is…”

He spoke softly—too softly for anyone or anything left behind to catch it. His hand slid into his sleeve and withdrew the Shihōin family crest, turning it slowly to reveal the wavy brass and copper design to her.

“I also found this. Far too old. By the Shihōin records, a little over 850 years old. With only one record belonging to my grandfather… though the next page is covered in ink to prevent anyone from looking further…”

All spoken softly, as he slowly shifted the crest back and forth.

​

 

[GhoulBunny]

The way back to the Ninth Division barracks should have brought clarity. Instead, it only deepened the weight in Yūgure’s chest.

The tea had long since cooled in her mouth, but the words? Those still lingered—lukewarm and irritating. Hideo had always been clever, charming in the way nobles could be when they believed the world would bend for them. But today, Yūgure had seen something she hadn’t quite placed until now.

Complacency.

Ten days buried in records, speaking of “support roles” and “preserving artifacts,” as if the invasion would come politely knock on his gates and wait while he got his paperwork in order. As if the Twelfth or Fourth would have time to catch their breath, much less sort through the debris once it all came crashing down. He spoke of logistics and safehouses, as if war followed plans. As if those Arrancar cared who wore what emblem or who came from which division.

And then the book.

That damned book.

To spend ten whole days rifling through dusty books while the Gotei braced itself for another cataclysm—it told her everything she needed to know. Her cousin, for all his charm, had become a liability. Maybe not intentionally. But that was the problem with people like Hideo—they always believed they had more time.

Foolish.

She wouldn’t say that aloud, of course. Her smile had been kind. Her tone polite. Her words measured.

But inwardly?

She had already begun watching him more closely.

Not as a rival, not even as blood—but as someone who might get them all killed if left unchecked.
​

---

She stepped into the Ninth Division barracks just as the last whispers of battle died from the air.

Smoke and heat still clung to the walls, though the flames had long since died down. Her footsteps were silent, deliberate, moving with the kind of grace that came only from years of discipline. The type passed down through lineage and honed by necessity.

Her golden eyes lifted just in time to catch him—Kishō—walking away, his voice a low command in the dissipating tension:
​

“Take her to the Fourth to ensure she gets properly checked out.”
​

And that was it. No glance back. No acknowledgment of the destruction left in his wake. Just the lingering heat of his reiatsu fading down the corridor with him, like a storm that refused to apologize for the damage it caused.

Yūgure stood still, her gaze falling to the girl on the ground.

Kuwashii lay among cracked earth and cooling stone, her body seared, her blade discarded. She looked small like this—nothing like the fireball that had launched herself into a fight she couldn’t win. Her breathing was shallow, her face streaked with ash and tears, but her fingers still curled faintly toward her Zanpakutō.

Yūgure watched her in silence for a long moment.

Then came the shift.

She turned—just slightly—and the world around her responded.

No barked orders. No raised voice.

Just presence.

A presence that commanded without demanding, that pulled the room back into motion like a snapped thread had finally been tugged tight. Officers began moving—shinigami that had hovered uncertainly on the edges now surged into action. Some began clearing debris. Others swept the fractured floor.

It always was, when Yūgure was in the room.

She didn’t need to shout to be obeyed. Her expectations were known, her standards carved into the bones of the Ninth Division. She simply gave a glance—and they moved.

Her eyes returned to Kuwashii as two seated officers carefully approached with a stretcher.

Yūgure’s gaze lingered on the girl longer than before, something soft settling into her expression. Not pity—never that. But understanding.

She smiled. She truly hoped the girl will truly get what she was fighting for.

The smile slowly vanished as she thought of having to confront the red headed man yet again for a mess that he was involved in.

The Date was busy lately. Very busy.

-

She found him easily.


One moment, the path before him was clear. The next—there she was.

She stood there without fanfare, directly in his path.

“Didn’t kill her.”

It wasn’t a question. A soft hm escaped her as her gaze lingered on him, narrowing with just a trace of irony. “I think you surprised everyone with that.”

And she meant it.

Everyone watching—from the sidelines, from the shadows—had expected Kuwashii to be turned to ash beneath the wrath of Mōshoishi. And yet the girl still breathed. Barely, but breathing nonetheless. Her flames hadn’t gone out. They’d been tempered. Brutally—but effectively.

“You helped her more than you think,” Yūgure murmured, her voice quieter now. “Though I doubt you’ll ever admit it.”

She recalled Kuwashii’s earlier words—her desperate cry to be broken, refined, forged in fire. That need to be recognized. Not coddled.

And she’d been. In the worst and best of ways.

Yūgure looked away for a moment, exhaling softly through her nose before her eyes returned to him—sharp now. Focused.

“And while we’re on the subject of fire…My cousin’s been busy. And I’m going to need your help with something.”​

 

[LucianRedgrave]

Oyuki knew very well the tension between himself and Kazuki was more than palpable. He wanted it to be, he almost in a way yearned for the idea that if any division was going to be at the top of the totem pole to show their weakness it was none other than 10th itself. Their short comings in the eyes of Oyuki was nothing more than a drop in the bucket. His entrance into the meeting was nothing more than a formality as far as he was concerned. His gaze shifted between the three of them as he stood between Hyoroshi and Kazuki alike and soon his eyes landed on Hyoroshi in particular. He was waiting for the wolfman of his division to fulfill his end of the bargain and lay out exactly what came of the attack on the world of the living. His scarred eye a stark reminder that even in times of peace war is ever on the horizon. The situation he opted to put himself in bothered him even further as Hyoroshi and soon Shizukana exchanged words. However there it was on the forefront his mind, another shortcoming of the very division tasked with protecting the feeble human souls shinigami so precisely regulated passage for. Hyoroshi and Shizukana alike posed valid points despite his most recent return from Hueco Mundo it was the right thing to do. They needed to dive deeper, swim through the depths of the arrnacar’s machinations to see just what flavor of debauchery they could really be bothered with given they were abducting humans. It was out of the social norm even for them.

Oyuki’s gaze shifted to Kazuki at the mention of him joining the three of them in their endeavor and yet Oyuki didn’t seem to protest. Even if he had it would be a silent one. His feelings on the matter were nothing more than a grab bag of survival of the fittest and the strongest survive. Despite that same sensation pertaining even to that of his seated compatriot Hyoroshi. Oyuki knew very well the furball could hold his own should the need arise, however Kazuki? The icy lieutenant felt as if Kisho had done the gotei a favor in his brief dispatch of the 10th division’s lieutenant. That was where Kisho and Oyuki had a similar reproach to the matter at hand. While Oyuki respected leadership he knew his title was nothing more than a formality. Those irrational feelings the pair let culminate in the display of Kazuki’s insides was nothing short of a waste of energy, but it was indeed a necessary one. Opposite side of the same coin the pair were but perhaps the 10th division had something to learn from the ordeal as a whole. Despite the distance he could feel the tasteful bout that boiled over between Kuwashii and Kisho. It was impressive in his eyes that such a young girl could boast such resolve.

He could very well sense that her light hadn’t been snuffed out by a flame much bigger than her own. He admired that even amongst his frigid disposition. Oyuki’s mind was wandering despite being physically present in the conversation between the lot of them. When Shizukana suggested their return to Hueco Mundo he only offered a kurt nod of agreement as his actions always spoke louder than his words. They all knew that, when Oyuki arrived in Hueco Mundo again the boyish figure who escaped winters grasp would not be so fortunate. He would bring about a new ice age if the worldly balance allowed it. That was the unrelenting reality of his power after all.
​