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Chapter Text

Ichigo has massively fucked up. Seriously fucked up. Not only did Mr. Kagine see him (and subsequently Rukia) on live, national television, and promptly dragged out of class. Had the day been worse, (and Rukia a little sneakier) he’d be sitting in the councilor’s office having to explain what he just did. Maybe he should just go back home, and take a long, nice bath.

But oh, no, no, no… Don Kanonji had to show up to his house, with Rukia in tow, then grabbing his younger sister in— not grabbing, dragging his younger sister in, then his own dad… Then Rukia’s Soul Pager beeps. What an awful turn of events, really… He ran down the block and immediately into an alleyway, only to find it empty, save for the Soul who was just squealing like a pig in there.

Of course, when Ichigo finds no Hollow inside, and only said meek Soul, he starts spouting on about the ifs of Rukia’s Soul Pager being broken. Rukia retorts this with that it isn’t broken, it works perfectly fine, in fact! Then Ichigo instead prompts up that maybe, another Soul Reaper got there! Shot down again, as Rukia retorts that Soul Reapers have territories. It makes him wonder if Soul Reapers ever get into gang disputes, for some odd reason.

The only noise is the two’s arguing, save for the quiet steps that have an eerily pressing spiritual pressure, covered with sneakers and loudly-blaring heavy metal. Rukia reacts first, eyes widening as she regards the figure.

It’s a girl— maybe?— wearing a hoodie over the summer outfit of a shirt and shorts. White hair, short enough to reach her ears, but it slides down like a slope, reaching her shoulders. Eyes dead (oh, like him after an exam) and purple, skin seemingly tanned in the sun. Perched on the bridge of her nose is a pair of bright purple glasses, and beaded chains attached to the frames.

“Third Seat Akimura! What’re you doing here?” Rukia says, somewhat on guard, as she regards the so-called ‘Third Seat’ named Akimura. Still, she remains impassive, struck with the presence of a figure of authority. Yet, the girl looked the same age as him, she even acted as awkwardly so, flinching slightly at Rukia’s words.

Akimura shuffles around, putting her hands in her pockets before she talks, eyes looking upwards to the sky as if she was nervous. “I felt you around, Rukia… I was… going to follow you int– into Karakura High.” Her words seem to stutter, absolutely nothing of the image that Ichigo conjured of a ‘Third Seat’.

Akimura kicks rocks, looking around nervously for what to say, before nodding. “I actually argued with somebody around here, and… and he told me he was a Quincy. I didn’t want to fight him, so I just let him do what he needed.”

A Third Seat being socially slapped around by (whatever the hell—) a Quincy is insane to hear, even more that Rukia and Ichigo doesn’t know what a Quincy is. Akimura sputters in her words, finally pulling her hands from her pockets, trying to make a gesture of two people arguing, before her eyes finally catch on to Ichigo, narrowing as if to look.

She steps closer, not having to look up at all, (unlike Rukia) as she instead has to shift her head downwards to meet Ichigo’s gaze. She squints again, tilting her head sideways for good measure, before nodding and murmuring something she doesn’t say. “You’re good.” Is all she says, before placing her arm on his shoulder. “Super good, actually. Wow.”

What the hell did that mean? When Akimura’s done with her ‘inspection’, Ichigo looks to a very proud Rukia, with her arms crossed. Considering that Akimura was addressed like a superior, it makes some sense, that Akimura gave a stamp of approval to Ichigo, and made Rukia proud by extension. Though, Akimura does stretch, sighing.

“You two can go off now. I want a smoke break.”

At your age? Ichigo thinks, before he goes to walk back off into the distance with Rukia. He doesn’t run back like usual, the afternoon will surely wait for him. What he does do, is ask questions, thinking over the seemingly human appearance of Akimura. She looked irrevocably young, and seemed as old as him, and the random admission that she would join Rukia and subsequently Ichigo into Karakura High School was unsettling. What is there to even think about? For somebody as intimidating (well, not really) a title as Third Seat to come and check?

—

By the end of semester finals, Ichigo feels all is right. Sure, it’s been nearly seven-six months since he’s become a Soul Reaper, but it seems all is right. It’s all fine. He just does with his routine of waking up, going to school, and punting Hollows— he passes his classes, and he still refuses to go into any club, let alone a sports one. His grades are good enough, that’s all he needs to know. All Ichigo can think about is that fateful little encounter, that annoying, aggravating encounter with Uryu Ishida.

He walks home like it’s any other day, then goes to fight a Hollow, then realizes again that it’s no longer there. That damned Ishida— taking the sweet glory of snagging Hollows… Or well, at least Ichigo assumes so. He looks around incessantly, before his ears catch on before his eyes do.

“Squabbling? How ugly.”

That damned voice, it could only be that belonging to their kill-stealer, Uryu Ishida, with his deliberate steps and timed thumps, showboating his so-called Quincy powers and shooting down the Hollow with that Cross of his…

Akimura— or as she told herself to be called during this time, Mieko, had transferred too, after mid-semesters, and slowly, Ichigo’s been hearing her one-up the Quincy countless of times, (even if it meant that the two would ignore him) in all sorts of things. Never once has she commented on him stealing Hollows that were supposed to be purified by Soul Reapers except for maybe, a resounding ’Great, him again?’ that echoed with some form of malice lined inside. Other than that, it seems she was acclimating well to Karakura.

All that Ichigo can think of is that Quincy’s sudden entrance, before he mouths off the next set of names that maybe Ishida had. Arms crossed as he leaned sideways against the glass windows, a vein appearing on his forehead just thinking of it. Ishida… Ernie? Ari? Maybe that’s just another thing, at this point, Ichigo might have to go—

Thump.

“You mean Ishida right? Uryu Ishida, I-3 Class President, son of—”

“Woah, woah, woah, you already investigated him, Mieko?!”

Mieko looks dumbfounded at such a question. She narrows her eyes, crossing her arms, sneering. She nods, stepping recurrently against the floor. She looks around to see if said Uryu Ishida is present, before whispering in Ichigo’s ear, eyes warily checking each corner to see if that spot of perfectly straightened black hair was there.

“You didn’t see? He’s number one in th–the finals.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. He's a sorta stick -- stickler good kid, so he probably won't hurt you that bad... 'sides, I've got a toy that needs stitching.”

She shoves him a glare that said, ‘Don’t tell anyone else, or else you might be the one who needs stitching’, before she walks off, pulling a stuffed toy— of a rabbit, its right arm and ear ripped halfway, poorly dangling. She immediately goes back to class, sliding the door open, and knows Ichigo was following— but what’s he gonna do? Yell at her? Ha. — She immediately goes to one particular desk.

Uryu Ishida.

What the hell?

“Iiiiiishida. Earth to Ishida.” Mieko calls out, finding him purposefully ignoring her. Mieko, the only child of the Third Division huffs, before pulling on the bridge of his glasses, taking them off effectively and jeering at him. Yes, jeering.

“Don’t steal my glasses—” Uryu responds, grabbing back his glasses and pushing them back onto his face, adjusting so they’re level on to his eyes. He seems to purse his lips when he regards Mieko again, looking up. “—I thought a ‘Third Seat’ like you had more decorum." He spoke, looking up to Mieko. If she had come up and deliberately annoyed him, when she usually just hovers around him like a shadow, she must have something to say.

"Since you're the best person to ask this..." She says, plopping the half-dead rabbit plushie down on his desk, beady black eyes catching the light of the classroom ceiling. The ear and arm hanging by literal threads. Covered in some suspicious red liquid -- totally not blood, -- but still having its felted smile intact.

Chapter Text

Oh. They’re arguing. Mieko remarks in her mind as she watches. She’s slightly thankful that hiding her spiritual pressure was like second nature to herself, as she seems to spy on Ichigo and Uryu’s ‘contest’, waiting for the perfect time to swipe in and save them. Not for cool points, necessarily, just that she doesn’t want to attract the attention of anyone that might not understand what’s going on.

She’s been stalking them both— well, moreso Ichigo, down the block now. Uryu sniffed out Ichigo’s spiritual pressure, that’s nothing big. That’s nothing. The real showboating of skill was if he could sniff her out, and he didn’t do that. That means the strange hide-and-seek she used to have back home paid off handsomely, a trait her superiors will likely admire.

This Gigai copies her exact skills and all, except that after some usage, the leg seems to require a brace. No worries, she got one. She watches from down below, craning her neck at times until they settled to stand in the dead-middle of a building. They seem to be doing pretty good— albeit Uryu’s fingers are injured from drawing his bow so many times.

She watches it. The Cross is used as a conduit to draw in surrounding reishi, then the wearer coats that in their own spiritual pressure, then it forms a bow. That’s all. It’s similar to what she has— except, she’s not allowed. Mieko doesn’t dare interfere, not until the situation becomes dire. The Hollows are just going to keep going, so she’ll most likely be kept up to get at the leftovers.

Sucks.

Her head tilts slightly as she watches Uryu talk, running off about his sob story— dead grandfather and no parents mentioned in the slightest. What a dream, it must be. (If you didn’t or couldn’t tell—she’s kidding. It still must be fun, with all the freedom of being the most spiteful high-schooler alive.)

She finds this one quality of Uryu’s very fun. When he talks, people listens. No matter what. In class, when he’s told to give his answer, everyone stops whatever they’re doing to listen. Same goes for his stories. Whenever he recounts some boring old tale to Mieko, she always stands around to know the ending. He has a quality that makes him somebody she’d stick around for.

He has a condition opposite of hers. He talks and everybody listens. Mieko doesn’t think she’s talked too much in any sort of mission, not even personally. She was the same as any sort of tiny thing— a rabbit that only squeaked. A hare that only bit.

Haha.

She laughs a little when Ichigo kicks Uryu on the head, probably leaving a bump that will last for days — Ichigo’s heel managing to hit his upper neck as well. She guesses it was probably half-deserved, so she doesn’t pay much mind to it. He goes on to immediately prove Mieko why he passed Literature, and gets to the core of Uryu’s sob story.

“The point is, your master’s number-one desire..
wasn’t to prove that the Quincies are better than Soul Reapers!
He wanted them to fight as a team!”

Smart. Mieko thinks, humming and nodding. Ichigo gets the point of the story more than Uryu does. She appoints that to the fact that Uryu seems to be a bit more airheaded than he wants to believe, a defection of maturity, never reading into things. She finds this a little funny, if not endearing to some extent. Like somebody whose ideology is logic, yet seems to be a little fairytale prince-like. It’s almost cute if it didn’t make him an idiot sometimes.

She looks up, and her smile drops. She doesn’t frown— she never frowns! She only reverts back into her usual face; pursed lips, raised shoulders, and eyes that don’t necessarily suggest she’s having fun, but not that she’s being angry about it either. Similar to the expression one does when washing dishes, doing thankless, repetitive chores. The sky cracks, large hands slim out first, before Mieko’s eyes finally widen.

Her eyes narrow again as Mieko stands up, pulling Muri-Shinju from the sleeve of her shihakusho, holding onto its hilt— lightweight and bladeless. No, what does she do? Mieko’s eyes nearly cross as she attempts to think. Think, think, think! Narrowing eyes and tightening grip, before she lands on draining her reishi instead. It’d be replenishable in a few hours, anyway.

She seems to not give any second thought at getting the split decision to go for the crowd or for the gigantic Hollow. Mieko doesn’t fly, but she hops down, hair flying up as the air hits her.

“Forsake and attain, Muri…”

The blade finally appears, lengthening at her will and bending like a whip, yet instead of a crack, it seems to zip as she lands, creating the outline of a bouquet of metal. Mieko pulls and tugs, bringing some of the Hollows down, but some seem insistent— to which she pulls again, and is informally interrupted.

“Mieko?! Where–”
“Mieko! You were—”

Two voices spoke in unison, to which Mieko turns, subconsciously flaunting her badge, an air of certain professionalism and a near-mundanity to it as she looked around, before scolding the two.

“I have this handled. You two go up.”

There are two things they don’t expect hearing from her. Plain authority, and a voice firm enough to back it up. Mieko points upward to the gigantic Menos that’s just approaching, fully well what she’s sending them up to— she looks to Rukia, then to the Hollows, then to distant figures. She recognizes almost every single silhouette near immediately.

Mr. Urahara, Ururu, Ginta, and Mr. Tessai. Great. She doesn’t speak a word before she looks up, knowing those two idiots wouldn’t know a thing about fighting a Menos Grande, before Rukia explains to the two of them— she isn’t necessarily surprised, but she’s fascinated. A sick experiment of sorts, looking at how they both seem to struggle slightly.

“You have a lot of trust in those two, Mieko~”
“I don't. I think I'll be hilarious if they live, though. I'll stick out for them.”

Mieko almost falls from her footholds in laughter as Ichigo explains his ‘strategy’, it’s funny how he’s so simplistic as well. She almost envies it. Mieko looks up, knowing fully well that using the usual trick of just using Muri Shinju— before she immediately seems to go back to the land.

“Mr. Urahara, are you sure in…”

She gestures to the two. Ichigo, with his Zanpakutou in contact with Uryu’s bow, slowly making it bigger. She laughs a little, sighing.

“... Those two?”
“Yep.”

She sighs, again, before it turns into a yawn as she watches Ichigo do since senselessly idiotic tactic, watching his spiritual pressure be turned back on like a switch to blinding floodlights. She yawns again. Idiots. Idiots. Even more idiotic motions. She doesn’t flinch to the sudden disappearance of the Menos, but her main concern is the fact that this will surely ring up the Soul Society. If this gets word to her superiors, to Captain Ichimaru, who knows what hell awaits her.

The slow cracks in the sky are disappearing. No, the eerie silence has always been such a cause of comfort. Ichigo, for all he knows, he just did a massive feat that only Captains could do. A feat Mieko deliberately stepped out of because she hated thinking to protect Uryu and Ichigo from Muri-Shinju. She lets them take the credit before she gets promoted to anything better.

“Menos appeared… and was defeated…” Rukia dreads, eyes widening as she stares into the closing gap in the sky. “This information won’t take long to reach the Soul Society… Ichigo…”

Mieko looks towards Rukia, nodding. Slowly, Mieko seemed to kneel. This was where she was weakest. Thinking for other people, attempting to prevent than cure… this’ll be her only trial. Her only tribulation that didn’t involve a single mention of sin-cos-tan, thankfully. Mieko sifts through her pockets, to her Soul Pager, finding no notifications.

“Rukia Kuchiki. You're gonna have to navigate this road now.”

Mieko tries to think. She knows too much. Multitudes of groups— illegally-commissioned hunters, the secret police, the Gotei 13, and Rukia’s own brother. What an asshole, Mieko seems to nod to herself, face slowly but surely turning to a scowl, just as she schools her appearances and reverts her expression back to its neutrality.

“... I'll try my best to help, though.” Mieko blurts out, looking over and backwards. Her eyes shoot to the sky, to the very direction of the Senkaimon, squinting. “I’ll probably be marked with a grave offense, but I’m not using a Gigai at all unless necessary. But you, Miss Rukia, however…”

Mieko doesn’t talk. Instead, she goes and grabs her Gigai from a rooftop, hopping back down. She walks down the road, shoving her hands into her jacket’s pockets, no sway in her step as she reaches Rukia’s position. She puts a hand on her hair, on the clip, and takes it off with a click. Hair falls into her eyes, as she seems to lament on her new problem.

What a mess, Mieko thinks. She's roped into something that concerns somebody ten divisions over. The silence speaks for itself, as she walks around and gestures for Rukia to get up. She looks off, not at Rukia. Too deep in thought.

“You're lucky you have a nice Captain like Captain Ukitake. However, Captain Ichimaru…”

Mieko spends too much time being the smartest person in a room that now, she seems to forget to scan the room once it holds other geniuses. The one who taught her how to even read people in the first place, who taught her all her party tricks and sour little tactics. Gin would seem almost amused if he heard his Third Seat’s misconduct.

The interrogation is going to be awful, especially if Izuru is going to be swayed over to Gin’s side instead physically, which is easier to do than win Izuru over emotionally— not much gets him to go up against a teenager.

Much less his sister.

“... You don’t need to—”

“You do understand, that this is an order for you to live?”

Rukia only sighs, seeing how easily Mieko exploits her own authority.

“Yes, sir.”

—-

Urahara Shoten is run down, but much more maintained than any bar in Rukongai. Mieko likes the Milky Pouches that he sells, and so she paid him handsomely for an entire box to bring back home. She managed to eat a quarter of the box she was supposedly going to ‘bring home’, as she cites she merely lost time.

Mr. Yoruichi is just around Mieko’s lap as Mieko absentmindedly pets him. Calloused fingers feel like a comb through the black cat’s fur, stopping at times to scritch and scratch at his head or his neck.

“Sooooo, whatcha gonna do, Aaaaakimuraaa?” Kisuke asks with his tone of subtle slyness— his tone is oddly feminine, even more than Mieko herself. (who unironically refers to herself as sir, mister’s, etcetera.) He hangs his head, tilting it so off to the point it seems to have made a clean 90 degrees away from his neck. “Ya got a plan for little old Rukia there? Or do you already know?”

Mieko shakes her head, sighing. This entire scandal of a non-mission will eventually cost her title and honor— if that be the price of her friend’s life, so be it, then. Her eyes squint, before her index and thumb take her glasses off, wiping them on the edge of her skirt.

“It’s likely Miss Rukia’s ran off already. My plan can only start when both of us are in the Soul Society.” The Third Seat had spoken her verdict. “Ichigo and the others are just as likely to follow, aren’t they…?” She asks, looking up to Kisuke expectantly, sad little eyes blatantly pleading for her ‘friends’ to go with.

Kisuke nods.

“... Good. I guess, it’s good, then.” Mieko crosses her arms. She briefly stops petting Mr. Yoruichi, before she resumes again. “My only obstacle would be Captain Ichimaru…” She frowns; the resigned sadness on her face as if already accepted of what will be eventual. If it comes down to it, so be it.

So be it.

Mieko keeps repeating those three words as if they’re her mantra, a repetition of the same sentence over and over, to make herself understand the plight she had just placed herself in. Rukia Kuchiki, this night, was most likely…

… Going to be killed.

Chapter Text

Mieko rids herself clean of the mess. Rukia is captured. Mieko is so, so screwed. The gate is open in Yokohama, after Mieko took three minutes to travel from Karakura Town.

Back to the Soul Society. Back home. Back to…

“So you used Muri-Shinju instead? My, my, without a single word a’permission from your superiors, too. How disgraceful, Akimura.” Her Captain tsked in amusement, a hand of his on the edge of his office desk. Gin Ichimaru tilts his head, a sly little grin on his face.

Akimura nods, looking away in shame. Was it for going out of her way for a Menos? Was it for using her Shikai without extended permission from her superiors? Or was it the fact she needed her Shikai unrestrained to defeat a Menos? That she had been weak enough to know her main weapon was no match against such an enemy, that she was smart enough to know in the first place.

Her eyes go nowhere. She has a hand gripping at her elbow, and she nods, almost ruefully. “You know I’m sorry, Captain. I’ll accept any punishment for my mistake.” The rough gravel in her voice almost disappears in an act of filial piety, head bowed down low as if in deep contemplation and obedience.

Ah… when was the last time she looked this pitiful? After being caught stealing candy as a little five-year-old, or fresh of her own psychotic break at a meager twelve after she'd bargain away her naivety? Akimura looks down, hand refusing to go with instinct— she couldn't let herself look like a shameless murderer in front of her Captain, of all people!

“But the Menos was still dispatched. I'm not saying this as justification, but responses were slow and Miss Rukia was in a Gigai. The human boy was sufficient enough help, and I didn't engage with him any more than I should've.” She adds, looking up. With some level of her confidence restored, Akimura seems to be ready to dump information on her Captain, an added oral report of her doings.

Ichimaru hummed, nodding. It seems her actions were, at the very least, satisfactory to him. If this is her truth, then so be it. He'd have to file in a bonus for her, for taking out a Menos with minimal help.

That is, if he didn't know she was blatantly lying. He's almost annoyed with how well she does it now, mixing in a natural stutter, making hand gestures, the particle of his imprint right in front of him, lying on the girl’s silver tongue. It wouldn't matter much to him anyway, a harmless enough lie as it is, with how she acted.

It isn't— and wouldn't be surprising, would it? The prodigy girl who graduated in nine months and became a Third Seat immediately on entry into the Third dispatched a Menos Grande by herself. If he told this news to the other Captains or Lieutenant Kira, it wouldn't be surprising.

That's why it's a good lie.

It's mundane as it is, but he gives Akimura heart for being able to do it smoothly. Most people crumble under him in the act of being caught, but they're playing a game that even he doesn't know when it will end or when it started.

“Haaah, you're dismissed. Remember the report by evenin’, ‘kay?” He says, sighing. He waves her off softly, which earned a nod as she silently exited the Captain’s Office. When the door clicked shut, Ichimaru looked out.

My own little sister’s growin’ up. Harmless lyin’, but I know Mieko wouldn't brag ‘bout using her Shikai to do anythin’... if anythin’, she'd be kind of disappointed ‘bout havin’ to use that ta take down a Hollow. He muses silently. Game on, then, Mieko. Not like it'll change anythin’.

He hears her being waved down a subordinate for something, just outside. Muffled enough to the point he couldn't quite catch it, but it earned the subordinate a ”Woooow, okay. Thank you!” from Mieko. Nowadays, she speaks so firmly, unlike the past where she'd be too soft spoken with anyone, content to be in the background.

Had she grown up, or is he seeing her revert back to who she was? Recovery is always a slow process, what if he was just seeing it for himself? Ichimaru had no more time to ponder on philosophic questions about seeing life quite literally bloom right before him, seeing her hands red and beaten from throwing handballs to swinging swords, seeing her bark around orders instead—

—It had felt slightly jarring. Mieko had always outpaced everyone she knew. Her own classmates were years older but she was years ahead. She outpaced even him. She'd outrun her playmates and started being excluded for ‘winning too many times’, how she'd run down to a shogi parlor to play with people beyond her age, to come home and be scolded for going outside and meeting with strangers.

Seeing that ridiculous stuffed bunny be carried from the makeshift nursery to the main barracks, still in genuinely horrific shape, still with its eye poked out like some elaborate torture scar. Ichimaru saw it hanging out to dry after she'd washed it, and it was repaired. The thing had looked loved, not brand new. The poor animal was just waiting to be eaten by a Hollow on mistake, anyway.

Mieko was fun while she lasted, and Ichimaru liked counting the days. He used to wait out on her missions and count the minutes to hours to days, and each time, he'd have a grim chance of having to count forever for her to go back home. He made it dark tradition, the morbid curiosity to see if she'd live at all. From an infant dying of hypothermia to a teenager bleeding out from a Hollow, he'd never count past a month.

She truly was ‘favourable’. Truthful, like her name, and beneficial. As both a life and an asset in the grand scheme of the Seireitei, its newest child genius and cornerlight. Peering into her, to see nothing back then. No hobbies of any sort, or favorite food, or intolerance to anything.

Ichimaru remembers vividly, of an infantile Mieko waving a Hollow as it disintegrated.

“Bye-bye,” she murmured, doing a small waving gesture with her equally tiny hands. Plucky fingers spread out, smile wide as the Eleventh Seat held her with an inward baby strap. It was a hilarious (albeit dangerous) dare.

“See? She's even kind to Hollows, Captain!” He'd state, playing with her cheeks and ruffling up her hair. Ichimaru figured she saw him doing that sort of gesture, and merely imitated what she saw.

How clever.

———

Captain Akitoshi is an idiot, the Eleventh Division Captain thinks. The Ryoka boy was fun. She also concludes, walking down the prison wards.