Chapter Text
Soi Fon looks at the shrine of Yoruichi. It had started small, a ball of string in Yoruichi's desk meant to lure the neighborhood cats according to Yoruichi. It grew when the Shihoin hadn't wanted to keep her military clothes. A picture of the two of them is here, a picture of Yoruichi and Urahara is not. The other absences hurt almost as much. Her zanpakuto was gone, surprising the rest of the squad, but Soi Fon knew better. Yoruichi liked valuable things, even when they weren't useful. She wondered what it said about her. Well, Yoruichi couldn't be right about everything, right?
It had gotten out of hand when she found some of Urahara's stuff in his old room. He'd been gone for 10 years, they couldn't be found with that, even if she had liked him. Yamamoto-soutaichou might set fire to all of it, and she couldn't have that either.
She needs to find someone else to take care of this. "Omaeda" Her new lieutenant turns to look at her in shock. "Hai taichou." Omaeda says with an air of seriousness that looks out of place on his face. His arm wobbles while giving his salute, and when Soi Fon beckons for him to drop his salute, he gives off a sigh of relief.
“You’re a salesman, aren’t you?” Omaeda nods, unsure of where this is going. Soi Fon is not sure either, only that maybe this is the first step to proving Yoruichi wrong, maybe these items have value too, she’s just too close to see them. She points at Urahara and Yoruichi’s room. “Grab everything from those rooms, we’re selling it all.” Omaeda looks like he wants to protest, but for once when the understanding outweighs the fear in his eyes, Soi Fon doesn’t regret naming him her Vice Captain.
He hesitates before speaking, as if tact will stop her from outright rejecting the idea. “We’ll have to sell it ourselves. No one I know will take this.” Soi Fon’s temper flares for a moment, and she coils as if she’s about to act on her anger before she deflates slightly.
“It’s sturdy, dependable gear, just because it’s lightly used and a bit temperamental it doesn’t mean it’s worthless.” For the briefest of moments, it looks like she’s about to cry, until the determined scowl returns to its natural home on her face. “We’ll sell it ourselves then, gather the rest of the division and ask them if they have anything they want to add to the pile.” Omaeda wants to grin at seeing signs of the old version of the captain returning, at least the version that she had shown to anyone besides Yoruichi.
It took a lot less effort than she had expected to hold a yard sale. Yamamoto had sighed when he heard of her idea, but it was evident that he wasn’t in a position to say no, there were far too few captains now to risk angering one now. Besides, everyone had their own ways to grieve, he hoped her way helped her more than throwing things into the fire like he had. With his approval, it wasn’t hard to secure the time and space to throw a yard sale. Omaeda had wanted to do it just outside the division, but ultimately had been persuaded to open a warehouse near the center of the Seireitei under the guise of making it easier for the other captains to attend. The truth was Soi Fon couldn’t spend another moment with that haori in the second division. Urahara’s invention’s were one thing but the haori in the corner mocked her. If Yoruichi didn’t take that then what good was anything Soi Fon did? It asked. She’d find the value of that Haori, but it wouldn’t be here.
And so here she stood trying to find the value in the debris Urahara Kisuke and Yoruichi Shihouin left in their wake. The warehouse loomed in the background as soul reapers from every division mulled about the yard sale, meandering from table to table. Among the Soul reapers, a lone captain stood adorned in his pink Haori. Shunsui swayed towards Soi Fon’s table, slow enough for her to question whether he was going to reach her, but fast enough to get there before she lost her patience. He looks lost in thought for a moment before donning his signature swagger. Soi Fon glares and once he takes a glance around, the facade falls.
"Are you sure it's worth giving up?" Kyoraku gestures at the shelves of items Soifon can't use, the outfits that don't quite fit right these days. "Surely you'll find a use for them eventually." He hasn't really been asking about the items for a while now, he probably didn't even come to this yard sale for that. If she presses, he'll avoid it and leave her to wonder if he's taking her measure as a captain or a person.
"The Stealth Force can't afford it. If we rely on the old equipment, it'll end up hurting us more in the long run." Soi Fon says. "The Haori doesn't fit right, I'll have to order a new one of those as well. She could have at least taken that when she left." Soi Fon's eyes start to glaze over before she refocuses her attention on Kyoraku. He's also a little slow to respond, wrapped up in thoughts of an armband he'll have to replace. He grabs a bottle of sake, he would've grabbed more but he's drinking alone now.
Kyoraku merely nods and says "I might have to have a yard sale of my own soon. Lisa-chan taking up too much space in the barracks too. I bet my new Lieutenant is going to want to decorate her room her own way. I'll take this bottle if you'll have a drink with me, Soifon-Taichou" She nearly dismisses him out of hand, but merely sighs and tells him the price, it's far too low he thinks, far below market value, and far below what she paid for it, but he gives her the money and skips away to take a drink after securing a promise to meet him after his yard sale to grab a drink. If he slipped in a couple extra Kan under the guise of miscounting, only he and the Soul King will ever know.
Soi Fon sighs as she counts the money, noting the increased value and wondering if she should bring it up to Kyoraku. She decides not, if the drunk loses a few extra Kan, maybe his liver will thank her for it later. If it was on purpose he knows she’s hardly the type to say thank you. The thoughts on Kyoraku’s counting ability are forgotten as Ichimaru and Aizen arrive. They aren’t here for the yard sale and something about that rubs her in the wrong way that Kyoraku didn’t. Gin’s smile which is always disarming feels almost predatory now. Even Aizen’s eyes normally associated with kindness seem off somehow. Perhaps he’s tired too. His voice however makes that hard to believe. “My condolences, Soi Fon. I know you and Shihouin were close.” Soi Fon notes the ease of which he’s able to drop the honorifics from Shihouin and it makes her angry. She knows has no right to it, Yoruichi isn’t a captain and Aizen is, but still the fact he’s able to slip into that role so quickly disturbs her. She’d heard there was no love lost between him and his old captain though, so maybe she should just give him the benefit of the doubt and bless (or curse) the fact she got a captain that was as good to her as Yoruichi was. “I came to let you know if you need any help all you need to do is ask. I may be a newly promoted captain, but Gin is almost as good as a captain now, so I can push my duties on to him.” He smiles, and she wants to tell him to shove it, but she has to keep her composure so she simply thanks him and says she has a previous engagement. The rest of Division 2 can take over the yard sale.
She wanders for a bit, taking routes she’d forgotten existed to avoid the ghost she knows she never can. Her steps take her to the 8th Division, her mind too lost in thought to notice that home was in the other direction.
“It looks like some part of you wanted a drink, ne?” Kyoraku smirks lazily lounging on the roof with the air of someone who does this often. He chuckles at the expression on Soi Fon’s face before producing a completely different bottle of sake.
“I didn’t take you for a cheapskate. Implying you would drink from the top shelf when in reality you were planning on drinking something barely army conscripts would drink.” Soi Fon said. Kyoraku’s laugh grows as he produces a cup from his sleeves and pours Soi Fon a glass. She shunpos to the top of the building and snatches the glass. “Where do you even get swill this bad anyway?” She says as gulps down the glass, trying and failing not to make a face as it goes
down her throat.
“It’s a secret” He says with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. She knows then that it was Lisa’s favorite. An odd drink for an odd girl or at least that’s what she’s observed from the vice captain meetings. “It strips away the memories better than anything else though, or so I’ve heard.” He pours her another glass, disguising the shaking off his hand as little flourishes.
“I can't,” she says “I can’t afford to let go, or I’ll end up letting things fall through the cracks, and fall further behind.” Kyoraku looks at her as if he knows what she’s actually trying to say. She wonders how he can afford to forget without having to mold himself into a whole new person. She supposes that’s the burden of being a vice captain and not a captain. “I suppose you have more experience sleeping this off than I do.” And the look on his face makes her wonder if she’s gone too far, but it’s gone as soon as it is there.
He simply sighs and downs the drink as if this too will be a memory he wants to forget, and then stares at the moon. She looks at it, and can’t invent a reason why Kyoraku could be so enraptured with it. Impatient she goes through various forms of hakuda in her head, and eventually she ends up falling into old routines, her exhales the only sounds echoing through the night.