Shun
New Member
OOG
There it was. The Eleventh Division, as grandiose as ever in all of its brutality. It was home, but strangely, he had not stepped foot in headquarters in a long time. As he waded his way through Duelists, he passed by a group of lively cadets. Nodding their way, he turned the next corner but not before being stopped in his tracks.
“Oi Ryou-, I mean to say... Arashi-san! It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I know this is quite frank and bold of me to ask, but we’ve got a little bit of a dilemma,” a blonde-haired boy, looking no older than seventeen, said stiffly. His cerulean gaze attempted to conceal his anxiety but to no avail.
“Hm, what’s up?” Ryoujin asked nonchalantly.
“We’ve just been assigned a mission in Tokyo, sir. We already have a party of six. We need one more for our scouting mission today. You think you’d be up for it?” the blonde asked.
“Takashi, he’s a fourth seated officer for god’s sake, and we just graduated from the Academy two weeks ago if you don’t remember,” a bespectacled youth said, elbowing his naive friend for being so foolish and direct. “This is our first mission; there’s no way he’s gonna come babysit us.”
“You’re probably right,” the one known as Takashi said, sighing.
Ryoujin shook his head. “Actually, it beats having nothing to do. I’m in-”
As he was about to finish the statement, eliciting a grin from Takashi, a ringtone went off abruptly.
Realizing that it was his own denreinshinki, Ryoujin fished it out of his shihakushou and looked at the myriad of notifications.
“Fuck,” he said, startling the new recruits, “Sorry. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
Laughing nervously, Takashi saluted his superior, “Oh hahahaha, it’s totally fine! Sorry to bother you, sir!”
Patting the nervous cadet on the shoulder, Ryoujin gave him a thumbs up. “The first one’s always nerve wracking. You’ll get out just fine. They don’t throw you into suicidal missions right from the get go,” he said, not sure if that really took away any of the pressure. Nevertheless, there wasn’t really much he could do.
“T-t-t-thanks sir! Take care!” Takashi said before he left with the others to try and recruit their last party member.
Frowning as he truly was looking forward to do some reconnaissance, Ryoujin turned to leave as well. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
In the life of a particular pink-haired vagrant, no days in particular were ever considered normal. And today was no exception. The calm was always broken by some sort of stimulus, whether it was being deployed to eliminate a hollow, going into Zaraki to handle the growing crimes and mobs, or in this case treason. But before our hero could realize just what else was in store for him that day, he was once more bombarded by several voicemails in his rather old and beat-up denreinshinki that he had neglected to look at for the past few weeks. There were over a hundred calls that he had not known; however, most notably the following:
Missed calls: Masafumi Inoue-chan (20)....
Yoshiyuki Toshi (4)...
Kenji (2)...
Yoshiyuki Toshi (10)
Before he could try and scroll down further, his eyes traced back up to the individual that had tried to contact him more than anyone else on his missed caller list, though he did notice that Toshi, his overly-passionate silver-haired best friend from the academy, had been a bit more insistent than usual by trying to reach him through phone instead of in person, which was strangely unlike him. Nevertheless, he figured that Toshi was just trying to bother him with something that was unimportant, as usual.
And so, he elected to listen instead to Masafumi’s multiple messages.
“Ryoujin-san... could you please call me back? This is urgent.” The first went.
“Ryoujin-san... you’re late once again. Why haven’t you been answering any of your calls?” The third message went, though there was still no indication as to what she wanted from him.
As he continued listening further to the most recent messages however, the tone in which Masafumi spoke seemed to get worse until finally he knew what she wanted. After the last few words from her last message ended abruptly, his auburn eyes shot open in alarm, as if petrified from fear which could only mean one thing. That stony gaze that shook him only came from utter boredom, and there was nothing in the entire universe that could be worse than...
Paperwork. Yes.. paperwork. By now, he was used to having to shoulder a heavier weight of paperwork with his ascendancy through the ranks, but lately, his hiatus for all sorts of reasons had exempted him from filling out reports. Or rather pushed back deadlines was a proper choice of words here.
Sighing as if he had already resigned to his fate, he finally admitted that it was that dreadful time again. He had in all honesty hoped that he would be pardoned from having to look over paperwork... at least for another month or so; however, it should have occurred to him that he was already behind on a great deal of it that it was probably better that he got rid of them now before he was forced to spend the rest of his life trying to play catch up.
And so painstakingly after being scolded by the Eleventh’s secretary, Masafumi-chan, after having dialed her number and meagerly apologized for his tardiness, he found it in himself to brave what would certainly be an arduous task. As he entered the mail box office, containing various lockers that were filled with all sorts of reports and letters, he found one in particular that looked like it would burst at any second. After gathering what seemed like an entire ton of parchments, he turned to make his way to his office with paperwork in tow.
Hidden beneath the mountainous stack of folders he was barely shouldering, the pink-haired officer tried his best to weave past the crowd of growing shinigami that were going about their days. It wasn’t until today when he had truly realized their increase in numbers. Sure, the Eleventh was pretty popular from the whole “fearless and gutsy’ stigma that it seemed to carry, and the standards and dreams of many shinigami hopefuls from back during his graduating class had certainly not changed. But who would have imagined something like this? In fact, in his various long absences from the familiar environs of the taihonbu, it seemed like the newly refurbished Fearless Duelists had attracted a larger influx of recruits than it had ever seen, so much so that it was probably disconcerting to them to know that their Captain had taken to being more secluded than usual.
Speaking of which,
Kyuketsu, Ryoujin thought momentarily, sidetracked from his journey to his office as he was reminded of the forewarning that he had been given. The words from that Vizored the other day still rung clearly through his head, goading him to try and seek out his isolated friend to see if in actuality the man had gone off the wrong end. But given his stubbornness, he figured that eventually the white-haired boy would have no choice but to openly reveal himself. He would deal with that when the time came.
So without pressing any further on the topic, Ryoujin finally swerved to the right, crossing the last few meters of his long trek to his office, which had unfortunately been relocated several times in the remodeling of the Eleventh. Gingerly setting down the monster of paperwork so as to not cause it to tumble and scatter everywhere, the pink-haired youth sighed and plopped down on his chair. Taking the nearest pen, he grasped hold of the first few sheets within his immediate reach.
For a few minutes, he stared down at the parchments, his auburn eyes glazing over the text. As he signed off the first few sheets and made a few comments, his sights trained in on the next set. This continued for another hour, until finally Ryoujin leaned back, exasperated.
“Ahhhhh, I don’t know how Inoue deals with these kinds of things!” he exclaimed, slamming his fists on the table in frustration.
Instead of admiring the productiveness of having knocked out half of the overdue reports, he was frowning at the other half that awaited him. Shaking his head as if it were already settled, his gaze fixed to the window outside, where freedom awaited.
By now, it was already approaching evening, and if he didn’t pick up the pace, then he would certainly miss out on dinner tonight, and his grumbling stomach certainly was not making the task any easier. Gritting his teeth as if finding some sort of inspiration again to resume work, he clenched the pen and furiously went through more files so much so that his speed at writing almost seemed to rival the speed of his shunpo, if that were even possible. However, unlike his persistence in battle, this didn’t last very long as his head soon slumped forward in defeat, strands of his pink hair cascading wildly over his eyes.
“Chikashou, I’m gonna miss tonight’s grub!” he cursed under his breath. At this point, it took every ounce of restraint in him to not just burn the remainder of the reports, as if they never existed. Of course, if he were ever to do that, he didn’t want to imagine the sort of consequences that he’d be facing. Prison for dereliction of duty? Or maybe worse- being forced to carry out the rest of his life as a pencil pusher.
Shuddering at the thought, Ryoujin grabbed another sheet, except this time his eyes lit up in mild interest and curiosity. This was the most recent report that had come in, and the last of the bunch that he had left. More than that however, it seemed like it was misplaced, as if it were not meant for his prying eyes. To confirm that, he noticed that it was labeled as classified information and addressed to those with third seat and above clearance. If that were truly the case though, then why had it winded up in his locker? Maybe by sheer coincidence or maybe because he was the third seat not very long ago before he had been demoted to the position of Yonseki.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t like he had any room to complain. Peering suspiciously around his room as if there might be someone watching and just waiting for the right moment to catch him in the act, Ryoujin was relieved that there was no one around, as mostly everybody around the taihonbu had already gone to the canteen or Rukongai to get dinner.
Prying open the seal hastily but making sure that he didn't rip the entire parchment inside in the process, he pulled out the report.
“To those with third seat and above clearance,
It is to my sheer disgust and regret that I have to report this. Another dead body. This is the seventh this month found from our very own division. Originally, we suspected that there must have been a hollow on the loose, but after a careful autopsy of the bodies or what was left of them anyways, we found that the wounds were all produced by a zanpakutou. Normally, we would be able to trace the reiatsu signature that was behind all of these incidents, but it appears that the culprit can mask his presence. After having gone through several inspections of suspected culprits, our search has still not bore any sort of evidence. Nevertheless, it is clear. There is a traitor amongst our ranks. Tread with caution, for we don’t know who will be next,” Ryoujin read, his auburn gaze becoming ghastly at the realization. How had he not known about this? Was this another “accident” that was going to be hidden from the underlings? The last time there was a massacre was when the rogue Kyoshiro had impersonated him and killed his own men. The last thing he needed right now was to own up to not being able to do anything sooner about it and turn something else into a bloodbath.
As his rage seemed to boil, his eyes peered once more at the report, gazing over the last few lines.
Oh and one last thing. All seven deaths have been following a strange pattern. It’s almost as if the killer is trying to draw our attention. Every subsequent murder has been in Soul Society, then in Tokyo, and then back in Soul Society.
That meant the next one was...
...in Tokyo.
Gritting his teeth, Ryoujin stood up and headed towards the rack where his zanpakutou was. Grabbing it and sheathing it in his crimson scabbard in one fluid motion, the pink-haired youth vanished into a shunpo. Normally, he was able to restrain himself and keep a collected mindset, but this was different. If his suspicions were correct, then he had just unknowingly allowed them to venture off into grave danger.
“Oi Ryou-, I mean to say... Arashi-san! It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I know this is quite frank and bold of me to ask, but we’ve got a little bit of a dilemma,” a blonde-haired boy, looking no older than seventeen, said stiffly. His cerulean gaze attempted to conceal his anxiety but to no avail.
“Hm, what’s up?” Ryoujin asked nonchalantly.
“We’ve just been assigned a mission in Tokyo, sir. We already have a party of six. We need one more for our scouting mission today. You think you’d be up for it?” the blonde asked.
“Takashi, he’s a fourth seated officer for god’s sake, and we just graduated from the Academy two weeks ago if you don’t remember,” a bespectacled youth said, elbowing his naive friend for being so foolish and direct. “This is our first mission; there’s no way he’s gonna come babysit us.”
“You’re probably right,” the one known as Takashi said, sighing.
Ryoujin shook his head. “Actually, it beats having nothing to do. I’m in-”
As he was about to finish the statement, eliciting a grin from Takashi, a ringtone went off abruptly.
Realizing that it was his own denreinshinki, Ryoujin fished it out of his shihakushou and looked at the myriad of notifications.
“Fuck,” he said, startling the new recruits, “Sorry. I’ve got some things to take care of.”
Laughing nervously, Takashi saluted his superior, “Oh hahahaha, it’s totally fine! Sorry to bother you, sir!”
Patting the nervous cadet on the shoulder, Ryoujin gave him a thumbs up. “The first one’s always nerve wracking. You’ll get out just fine. They don’t throw you into suicidal missions right from the get go,” he said, not sure if that really took away any of the pressure. Nevertheless, there wasn’t really much he could do.
“T-t-t-thanks sir! Take care!” Takashi said before he left with the others to try and recruit their last party member.
Frowning as he truly was looking forward to do some reconnaissance, Ryoujin turned to leave as well. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
In the life of a particular pink-haired vagrant, no days in particular were ever considered normal. And today was no exception. The calm was always broken by some sort of stimulus, whether it was being deployed to eliminate a hollow, going into Zaraki to handle the growing crimes and mobs, or in this case treason. But before our hero could realize just what else was in store for him that day, he was once more bombarded by several voicemails in his rather old and beat-up denreinshinki that he had neglected to look at for the past few weeks. There were over a hundred calls that he had not known; however, most notably the following:
Missed calls: Masafumi Inoue-chan (20)....
Yoshiyuki Toshi (4)...
Kenji (2)...
Yoshiyuki Toshi (10)
Before he could try and scroll down further, his eyes traced back up to the individual that had tried to contact him more than anyone else on his missed caller list, though he did notice that Toshi, his overly-passionate silver-haired best friend from the academy, had been a bit more insistent than usual by trying to reach him through phone instead of in person, which was strangely unlike him. Nevertheless, he figured that Toshi was just trying to bother him with something that was unimportant, as usual.
And so, he elected to listen instead to Masafumi’s multiple messages.
“Ryoujin-san... could you please call me back? This is urgent.” The first went.
“Ryoujin-san... you’re late once again. Why haven’t you been answering any of your calls?” The third message went, though there was still no indication as to what she wanted from him.
As he continued listening further to the most recent messages however, the tone in which Masafumi spoke seemed to get worse until finally he knew what she wanted. After the last few words from her last message ended abruptly, his auburn eyes shot open in alarm, as if petrified from fear which could only mean one thing. That stony gaze that shook him only came from utter boredom, and there was nothing in the entire universe that could be worse than...
Paperwork. Yes.. paperwork. By now, he was used to having to shoulder a heavier weight of paperwork with his ascendancy through the ranks, but lately, his hiatus for all sorts of reasons had exempted him from filling out reports. Or rather pushed back deadlines was a proper choice of words here.
Sighing as if he had already resigned to his fate, he finally admitted that it was that dreadful time again. He had in all honesty hoped that he would be pardoned from having to look over paperwork... at least for another month or so; however, it should have occurred to him that he was already behind on a great deal of it that it was probably better that he got rid of them now before he was forced to spend the rest of his life trying to play catch up.
And so painstakingly after being scolded by the Eleventh’s secretary, Masafumi-chan, after having dialed her number and meagerly apologized for his tardiness, he found it in himself to brave what would certainly be an arduous task. As he entered the mail box office, containing various lockers that were filled with all sorts of reports and letters, he found one in particular that looked like it would burst at any second. After gathering what seemed like an entire ton of parchments, he turned to make his way to his office with paperwork in tow.
Hidden beneath the mountainous stack of folders he was barely shouldering, the pink-haired officer tried his best to weave past the crowd of growing shinigami that were going about their days. It wasn’t until today when he had truly realized their increase in numbers. Sure, the Eleventh was pretty popular from the whole “fearless and gutsy’ stigma that it seemed to carry, and the standards and dreams of many shinigami hopefuls from back during his graduating class had certainly not changed. But who would have imagined something like this? In fact, in his various long absences from the familiar environs of the taihonbu, it seemed like the newly refurbished Fearless Duelists had attracted a larger influx of recruits than it had ever seen, so much so that it was probably disconcerting to them to know that their Captain had taken to being more secluded than usual.
Speaking of which,
Kyuketsu, Ryoujin thought momentarily, sidetracked from his journey to his office as he was reminded of the forewarning that he had been given. The words from that Vizored the other day still rung clearly through his head, goading him to try and seek out his isolated friend to see if in actuality the man had gone off the wrong end. But given his stubbornness, he figured that eventually the white-haired boy would have no choice but to openly reveal himself. He would deal with that when the time came.
So without pressing any further on the topic, Ryoujin finally swerved to the right, crossing the last few meters of his long trek to his office, which had unfortunately been relocated several times in the remodeling of the Eleventh. Gingerly setting down the monster of paperwork so as to not cause it to tumble and scatter everywhere, the pink-haired youth sighed and plopped down on his chair. Taking the nearest pen, he grasped hold of the first few sheets within his immediate reach.
For a few minutes, he stared down at the parchments, his auburn eyes glazing over the text. As he signed off the first few sheets and made a few comments, his sights trained in on the next set. This continued for another hour, until finally Ryoujin leaned back, exasperated.
“Ahhhhh, I don’t know how Inoue deals with these kinds of things!” he exclaimed, slamming his fists on the table in frustration.
Instead of admiring the productiveness of having knocked out half of the overdue reports, he was frowning at the other half that awaited him. Shaking his head as if it were already settled, his gaze fixed to the window outside, where freedom awaited.
By now, it was already approaching evening, and if he didn’t pick up the pace, then he would certainly miss out on dinner tonight, and his grumbling stomach certainly was not making the task any easier. Gritting his teeth as if finding some sort of inspiration again to resume work, he clenched the pen and furiously went through more files so much so that his speed at writing almost seemed to rival the speed of his shunpo, if that were even possible. However, unlike his persistence in battle, this didn’t last very long as his head soon slumped forward in defeat, strands of his pink hair cascading wildly over his eyes.
“Chikashou, I’m gonna miss tonight’s grub!” he cursed under his breath. At this point, it took every ounce of restraint in him to not just burn the remainder of the reports, as if they never existed. Of course, if he were ever to do that, he didn’t want to imagine the sort of consequences that he’d be facing. Prison for dereliction of duty? Or maybe worse- being forced to carry out the rest of his life as a pencil pusher.
Shuddering at the thought, Ryoujin grabbed another sheet, except this time his eyes lit up in mild interest and curiosity. This was the most recent report that had come in, and the last of the bunch that he had left. More than that however, it seemed like it was misplaced, as if it were not meant for his prying eyes. To confirm that, he noticed that it was labeled as classified information and addressed to those with third seat and above clearance. If that were truly the case though, then why had it winded up in his locker? Maybe by sheer coincidence or maybe because he was the third seat not very long ago before he had been demoted to the position of Yonseki.
Whatever the case, it wasn’t like he had any room to complain. Peering suspiciously around his room as if there might be someone watching and just waiting for the right moment to catch him in the act, Ryoujin was relieved that there was no one around, as mostly everybody around the taihonbu had already gone to the canteen or Rukongai to get dinner.
Prying open the seal hastily but making sure that he didn't rip the entire parchment inside in the process, he pulled out the report.
“To those with third seat and above clearance,
It is to my sheer disgust and regret that I have to report this. Another dead body. This is the seventh this month found from our very own division. Originally, we suspected that there must have been a hollow on the loose, but after a careful autopsy of the bodies or what was left of them anyways, we found that the wounds were all produced by a zanpakutou. Normally, we would be able to trace the reiatsu signature that was behind all of these incidents, but it appears that the culprit can mask his presence. After having gone through several inspections of suspected culprits, our search has still not bore any sort of evidence. Nevertheless, it is clear. There is a traitor amongst our ranks. Tread with caution, for we don’t know who will be next,” Ryoujin read, his auburn gaze becoming ghastly at the realization. How had he not known about this? Was this another “accident” that was going to be hidden from the underlings? The last time there was a massacre was when the rogue Kyoshiro had impersonated him and killed his own men. The last thing he needed right now was to own up to not being able to do anything sooner about it and turn something else into a bloodbath.
As his rage seemed to boil, his eyes peered once more at the report, gazing over the last few lines.
Oh and one last thing. All seven deaths have been following a strange pattern. It’s almost as if the killer is trying to draw our attention. Every subsequent murder has been in Soul Society, then in Tokyo, and then back in Soul Society.
That meant the next one was...
”Oi Arashi-san, we already have a party of six. We need one more for our scouting mission today. You think you’d be up for it?”
“Takashi, he’s a fourth seated officer, and we just graduated from the Academy two weeks ago. This is our first mission; there’s no way he’s gonna come babysit us.”
“Takashi, he’s a fourth seated officer, and we just graduated from the Academy two weeks ago. This is our first mission; there’s no way he’s gonna come babysit us.”
...in Tokyo.
Gritting his teeth, Ryoujin stood up and headed towards the rack where his zanpakutou was. Grabbing it and sheathing it in his crimson scabbard in one fluid motion, the pink-haired youth vanished into a shunpo. Normally, he was able to restrain himself and keep a collected mindset, but this was different. If his suspicions were correct, then he had just unknowingly allowed them to venture off into grave danger.
[ 2253 ]