Chapter Text
Omaeda was not someone who was predisposed to making deep reflections on life, the universe, and his role in it although he always had a pressing need to know what other people thought about him. He was a large man, frighteningly so, with the voice to match, and it was these traits that had him believing all his life that people simply didn’t have a choice but to talk about him whenever he was there. For him, it was just something that came with the territory of being so large and overwhelmingly in charge.
He was known all over as a very, very rich man indeed; born into immense material wealth he had the luxury of never working for even if he busted his tail regularly to please Second Division Captain Soifon. He suspected that his Captain did not like him very much and so he endeavored, with all of his might, to do everything he possibly could to endear himself to her; to make himself as indispensable as possible and make sure he pulled double duty to fulfill tasks he thought only he could do.
For Omaeda, this meant staying bullishly by her side even when she told him to get out of her face. It meant paying for every little convenience he felt their offices needed even if she hadn’t asked for the upgrades. What this also meant was shunning all of the usual duties assigned to an enlisted Gotei 13 Vice-Captain as Omaeda believed that they were things a Third, a Fourth, sometimes even a Seventh Seat were capable of.
And so it was until recruitment season came upon them at last, and Second Division became overrun with fresh Academy graduates who’d heard all about their spruced-up offices and wanted in on the action. With Second Division becoming one of the most highly sought-after offices for fresh recruits, it happened that every year, during the Gotei 13’s recruitment season, Second Division found itself besieged by applications and resumes and even live demonstrations from some of the more desperate hopefuls.
Being Vice-Captain of the Second, Omaeda took it upon himself to take no part in helping to mitigate all the extra work that came with being one of the Gotei 13’s most in-demand Divisions, although it was under his barking initiative that a wholly separate Admissions Department was set up within their ranks to dedicate itself solely to filing and organizing all of the application paperwork. He didn’t take any part in that, too; instead, he envisioned himself in a much grander role befitting of his status which was to help his Captain Soifon oversee their newest recruits on their first weeks with the Division.
“Is this everyone?” Captain Soifon asked, surveying this latest batch of spindly-looking faces lined up very neatly on Second’s training grounds.
Omaeda, assuming she’d been displeased with their recruit count this year, became incensed and whipped around to their Third Seat, to whom he had passed most of their recruitment duties, to roar, “That’s it? This is everyone? Are you sure?!”
Their Third Seat flinched, attempting to duck the rice cracker crumbs spraying forth from Omaeda’s mouth.
“Shut up, Omaeda,” Captain Soifon muttered, wiping some of the crumbs off her uniform. She dismissed their Third Seat with a wave of her hand and now turned to address their recruits.
Omaeda remained to stand rather imposingly by her side, snickering to himself and making sure his large build was helping her make an impression.
“Welcome to the Second Division,” his Captain said. “I assume you’re all here under your own free will and not because my tub of a Vice-Captain didn’t bully you to sign up – ”
“I would do no such thing – !”
“ – in which case, I’m introducing myself as your Captain, Soifon. Of course, just standing here does not guarantee you a spot among our numbers. But now that you are pledged members of our Gotei 13, know that you have willingly signed on to dedicate your lives to the highest of honors. As such, you can expect to be trained to meet nothing less than the best standards.”
Beside her, Omaeda stood, viciously nodding his head. “That’s right! Prepare to die!” he hollered. “Lay your lives on the line to protect your officers!”
Such a reminder was important, he insisted to himself. After all, as early as now, they had to start weeding out the cowards from the true soldiers; the opportunists from those willing to break their backs to follow Omaeda’s every command.
“You don’t like the sound of that, then you oughta just go back to school! Second Division’s got no use for cowards like that!” he crooned, overcome by a bout of devotion to his duty and positively thrumming with subservience to his favorite Captain in the world.
Captain Soifon shot him a look full of distaste and disdain and carried on as if he had not said anything. “As you know, being a member of Second also means you earn your chance to work with our Stealth Forces…”
Omaeda was used to this routine by now. It was a speech as old as time, one that he had heard many, many times before – but drop the ol’ Stealth Forces and like magic, all was revealed to Second’s bulky Vice.
And what was revealed was this: some recruits, nodding off; other recruits, still listening with rapt attention like they were going to be quizzed about this after; and finally, the golden ticket – those few choice recruits who had dared to glance up at Omaeda and give him the stink eye.
It never failed. With Captain Soifon, nobody batted an eye when they heard she was in charge of their Stealth Forces. But with Omaeda, it became an issue all of a sudden that he was her second-in-command. Him, loud-mouthed and foul; large and looming and then some.
Omaeda snorted. In his mind, if they were all here for the extravagant offices he had so graciously paid for, then that clearly meant they’d all gathered here for him. And wasn’t that just the funniest, darndest thing anyone had ever heard? They hated him and they loved him and he could see right through their two-faced lies. Just who the hell did these brats think they were?
“... We run drills, every day and on the dot. Being a part of the Second Division means that you are also punctual! It is a tragedy that very few people realize how crucial every second is to survival, but be punctual and you’ve won half the battle…”
What a waste of time!, he thought. Now his Captain would be stuck babysitting them for the next few days instead of doing her usual, more productive duties like telling Omaeda to take a hike.
Oh, he’d heard all the talk. But he could give it to them good, the same way his father had done before him. He was going to prove that he’d earned the position that was rightfully given to him, goddammit, or he was going to die trying.
“... and so speed is only half of the equation. And timeliness is half the key to winning in battle. Half and half and they make a whole. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain!” Omaeda boomed, effectively scaring half the recruits awake. He was pleased to note that those giving him the stink eye from earlier had intensified their stares. “Speed and punctuality! Tried and tested tenets of the Second Division!”
Captain Soifon scowled and pulled her finger out of her ear. “... Thank you, Lieutenant,” she said. “Now, if there are no more questions…”
There were none.
Omaeda leapt into action. “Awwright, then!” he announced, clapping his hands. “All right, all right, all right! Let’s see what you weaklings are really made of! An’ then we’ll see if you deserve to be here, huh? Get to it! Stand up! Hands on the ground! Turn around! Gimme ten splits! Fall in line! Teeeeen-hut!” Omaeda continued to wail, feeling mirthful as he watched the new guys scramble.
“Hey, wait a minute!” someone called from the back. “Wait a minute! Excuse me!”
Everyone stopped, save for one overzealous recruit who was still hurrying to meet all of Omaeda’s crazy requests from earlier. Captain Soifon was eyeing this one with interest.
Omaeda craned his neck to see who’d cried out at them and grinned. That didn’t take long. “Whaddaya want?” he said.
“Ma’am!” the recruit said, very pointedly ignoring Omaeda. He snapped to attention and saluted for all the good it did him – the poor guy didn’t know yet how much Second Division’s Captain hated being referred to as ma’am. “Ma’am, look, I’m sorry, but I really gotta protest this… do we really have to do everything he says? I mean – this’s the Stealth Forces, isn’t it? What kinda entrance exam’s this where we’re being made to do a buncha push-ups and sit-ups?”
“What’s the matter with you, you got wax in your ears or something?” Omaeda bawled. “Weren’t you listenin’ to Captain Soifon when she said you’re supposed to dedicate your lives to the highest of causes? In here, that means us! Your Captain an’ Vice! There’s no higher order in your lives than that!”
“I’m not dedicating my life to the likes of you,” the recruit snapped. And then, after a beat: “Sir.”
Captain Soifon huffed. “Oh,” she said under her breath so only Omaeda could hear. “It’s one of those.”
“What’s the matter with you, huh?” Omaeda went right on shouting. “I oughta write you up for disrespectin’ an officer! Insubordination! And you wanna make a career here with us? Don’t make me laugh!”
Oh, he’d heard all the talk. That Vice-Captain at Second, he’s heavy and no good. Can’t run to save his life. Useless waste of space his Captain only keeps around because his family paid for him to be there.
It was tough being Omaeda. He was plenty of things to plenty of people and anyone who had bad thoughts about that was simply jealous and mean, and Omaeda would do everything in his power to win them over. Everything he was today was the painstaking result of his grit, wit, and charm, along with the occasional dole-out from back home to help. So if people wanted to doubt that – well, he thought, let ‘em. They weren’t him. They could never be him no matter how hard they prayed.
Finally, Captain Soifon had had enough. “Is there a point to this?” she said, addressing the recruit.
“Well... sort of! Look, I just wanted to… just wanted to know, you see. Some of us couldn’t help but notice after all that – ”
“Notice what?” Omaeda whispered right into the recruit’s ear, having Shunpo’d all the way to where he was in the back row.
Now his bulk was more than imposing – now that it was positioned directly behind their mouthy recruit, it had become a formidable wall, too. With Omaeda standing behind him and with Captain Soifon making her way towards him with intent, there was no other way for the poor guy to go.
“Answer his question,” she said.
“It – ! It’s nothing! I’m sorry!”
“Oh? Then let me answer it for you.” She came to a halt about two paces in front of the new kid’s nose and raised her voice to make sure everyone would hear. “Some of you couldn’t help but notice that you’ll be answering to Lieutenant Omaeda here. This means some of you were also wondering how he became Vice. That’s why some of you want to know if it’s going to be so easy to try and take his spot. You want to know if I run my Division like an incompetent amateur. Is that it, recruit?”
“Well – no! O – of course not! It’s just – ”
Ah, but Omaeda did like the smell of terrified fresh meat in the morning. “Shut the hell up!” he bellowed. “You’re getting way out of line now, fresh blood, I’d watch where the hell I’m about to step next if I were you!”
“Okay!” the recruit babbled, now looking very sorry for speaking up at all. “Okay! I’m sorry I – ”
“You think I haven’t heard it all before, you dumbass? You think I don’t know people don’t think I can run? I’m gonna put you through your paces, all right! Put you through your paces to hell! You’re so dead you won’t even know what – ow!”
“Shut up, Omaeda,” Captain Soifon told him, withdrawing her hand from where she’d slapped him upside the head.
The recruit turned around and fell on his backside in the process. He hadn’t noticed her zip past him to stand beside Omaeda at the back.
“You,” Captain Soifon said, now addressing their mouthy recruit. “If you joined Second Division because you thought you saw an easy path, then you’ve made the biggest mistake of your life. I’d recommend you go somewhere else, but seeing as you’ve already signed your entry form…”
The recruit paled. “N – no, wait! I’m sorry! I take it back!”
Captain Soifon scoffed. “And from now on,” she said, “you will be addressing me as Captain, and nothing else. Am I clear?”
“Y – yes, Captain! Lieutenant! Sir!”
Omaeda laughed. “Ohhh, you’re in for it now, boy!” he gloated, pointing a finger.
“Welcome to the Second Division,” his Captain said. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”
“Yes, Captain!” Omaeda answered. “Yessir! Everyone, get to the training grounds now! We’re gonna – ow!”
“When I said to get the hell out of my sight, Omaeda, that included you.”
“Yes, Captain! Right away, Captain! Getting the hell out of your sight right now if that’s what you – OW!”
Even when he tried to do everything right, he still wound up doing it wrong.
Not that Omaeda minded. It was tough being him; tough being healthy and wealthy and the handsomest devil around – but at least he had his Captain backing him up. She had his back and he had her back and all was good and righteous in the world.
“Well, yeah, but… I dunno, man. Don’t you think you were bein’ too harsh on the poor kid?” Hisagi said.
“Harsh! You want to talk harsh at Second Division, you come to me! Kid thinks that was harsh. Ha!”
“Oh. Okay. If you say so.”
Then as if Omaeda realized who he was talking to, he glowered at Hisagi and roared, “Will you stop eating so damn much? It’s like this is your first meal of the day or something!”
It was, in fact, Hisagi’s first meal of the day. He’d worked late, woken up late, missed the Ninth’s breakfast down at mess, and was now snacking on Omaeda’s excess lunch to compensate. “Hey, man, you invited me, remember?” Hisagi said. “Say, you mind passing those buns?”
“I didn’t invite you,” Omaeda grumbled. He slammed a heavy palm on the table and instantly, a server materialized to hand Hisagi his buns. And then without waiting for the order, the server leaned over to fill their glasses with more grape juice. Once that was finished, he drew out another pair of glasses and placed them both on the table. He filled those up with grape juice, too.
Hisagi whistled in appreciation of the efficiency with which his colleague ran his household.
But Omaeda snorted and dismissed the server with a wave of his hand. “You people are too easily impressed,” he said, but he was blushing with pride at Hisagi’s reaction. “You can’t get good help nowadays. Did I ask for more juice? Why did he give us more juice?” He picked up his glass of grape juice to take a swig.
Hisagi shrugged. “Technically, you didn’t actually say anything,” he said.
Omaeda continued to mope. People always asked him for so much and because he was so generous and such a sucker for all the attention, he’d end up giving it to them anyway. It sure wasn’t easy being him and it truly was a crying, flaming shame that there was nobody around who understood just how hard he had it.
“Will you stop that?” he said to Hisagi, who’d tried to hide his obnoxious snigger under a cough. “I’m serious! Peasants like you can never understand.”
“Sure,” Hisagi said.
“It’s not easy being me.”
“You tell ‘em.”
“Everyone thinks I’m a joke. A slob. Do I look fat to you?”
“You? Nah.”
“Stop lying to my face. You think I don’t know what you people are like?”
“You got me there.”
Omaeda was no longer listening. “You’re the only one who understands,” he said, returning to his original point. “The only one. But you still don’t get it. How could you? You’re poor.”
Perhaps, Hisagi thought, this was the part where he should have been offended.
But here was a spread of a meal his nearest, dearest pals could only dream of having and so he chose to let the insult slide. Idly, he wondered if Omaeda remembered his name at all since he’d been addressing him as “you people” for over an hour now.
“Yeah, but didn’t she tell you to finance all those fancy upgrades at your office?” he pressed, trying to see something. “Your Captain, I mean. Second’s all nice now ‘cos of your, ah… contributions.”
“She didn’t tell me to do it, you stupid man. I volunteered.”
“Oh, right.”
“You see, my father made sure to instill a sense of loyalty in me, especially to my superiors.”
“Instilled a sense of self-preservation in you too, I bet,” Hisagi couldn’t help but add.
The insult flew over Omaeda’s large head. “Of course he did! How am I supposed to practice loyalty if I’m not alive to do it? Where’s your common sense?”
“Aw, don’t stress out about it, Omaeda,” Hisagi said. He shrugged and drank his juice. It had been a good meal, hadn't it? So you know, he figured, who cared what Omaeda thought so long as he continued to provide out of the goodness of his heart and desperate need for friends? What kind of man would Hisagi be if he didn’t hold up his end of the bargain?
Hisagi grabbed hold of another bun and extended an olive branch. “You know I’m always here to listen.”
That was the last straw for Omaeda. “Shut up and get out of my house, you freeloading bum!” he said. “Lunch break’s over! Why are you still here?”
“So don’t give me two glasses of your juice if you want me out that badly!”
“Shut up! I hate you! Why do I keep bringing you around? What am I getting out of this?”
“Aw, come on, you know you don’t mean that.”
“I sure as hell do! Get out of my sight, I said!”
“Okay, okay, I’m going! I’ll see you next week?”
“Yes! Now leave!”
Hisagi began to scramble out the door, making sure to tuck a few more buns under his uniform to smuggle out to Iba and the others. Omaeda threw more loaves after him and watched him go, hoping he would spread the word about how kind and giving he was among the rest of their colleagues. He may be fat and slow-looking and always at the mercy of a Captain less than twice his size, but he wasn’t dumb. And what that meant was, he could take whatever was being handed to him and give it back, twice as hard, and give it back good – because if there was anything Omaeda certainly wasn’t, it was a pushover.