A/N: My apologies for the delay. Had some health issues and this was a tricky chapter to write. It's also really long, hahahaha. By the way, expect long things from me. I love character development and worldbuilding.

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"Sometimes terror and pain are not the best levers; deception, when it works, is the most elegant and the least expensive manipulation of all."

― Vernor Vinge, A Fire Upon the Deep

x§x§x CHAPTER FOUR: GIUOCO PIANISSIMO x§x§x

Daybreak bathed the grounds of the Fifth Division in soft light that brightened the eastern faces of buildings and cast hidden corners into deeper shadow. Sleepy shinigami drifted out of the main courtyard in pairs and small groups. Captain Aizen stood at the main exit and warmly wished his subordinates Happy New Year as they filed past on their way to their barracks to sleep off the evening's entertainment. He watched with some amusement as his lieutenant prodded people to pick up after themselves as they left- the or else was not overtly stated but the threat was obvious in his body language and sharply teasing voice. Such was often the case with Gin Ichimaru.

All their little lambs were finally shepherded out of the courtyard an hour after sunrise. Aizen turned to leave, but paused for a moment to allow Ichimaru to saunter over and fall in step behind him. Together they walked to the main office building, Aizen quietly content and Ichimaru whistling a jaunty tune. A handful of officers loitered in the entryway. They fell into formation as their superiors joined them. Aizen gestured vaguely to Ichimaru, who then entered the Captain's Office. Aizen turned to face his subordinates.

"Good morning. Thank you for arriving in such a timely manner. I also wish to thank you for volunteering to work today. Ideally, we would all take these days off, but the unfortunate reality of this world is that it won't stop for us to do so. There are some things that simply must be done- sadly, Hollows don't observe holidays." Ichimaru ambled out of the office with a small stack of papers in hand and stood beside him. "I'm assigning you to loosely patrol various areas. You shouldn't have much trouble, but send a jigōkuchō for backup if you encounter anything you think may be too much to handle alone. Lieutenant Ichimaru will give you your assignments. Be safe. Report to the quartermaster's office for your supply packs. Report here for evening shift change to be relieved. Thank you again and Happy New Year. Dismissed." He turned and slipped into his office while Ichimaru handed out papers.

Aizen shrugged off the extra cloak he had worn to ward off the winter chill overnight and hung it on a coat rack. He sat at his desk and idly paged through some documents while he waited for Ichimaru. The lieutenant entered with a nervous young recruit who had been assigned kitchen duty. She bore a tray with breakfast and tea for two.

"Breakfast time, Captain!" singsonged Ichimaru.

Aizen smiled gratefully. "Set it on the table, please, Kino-kun."

"Yes, sir." The willowy young woman did as she was ordered and stood for a moment, unsure what to do.

Aizen nodded at her. "Thank you, Kino-kun. You are dismissed."

The young woman bowed, then straightened and tucked a strand of auburn hair behind her ear. She bit her lip for a moment and shyly said, "Happy New Year, Captain."

Aizen smiled. "Thank you. A Happy New Year to you, as well."

"Awwwwww," Ichimaru mock-whined. "No New Year Happiness for me? I'm hurt." He smirked.

The recruit flushed and scrambled to respond. "Oh! I'm sorry! H-happy New Year, Lieutenant Ichimaru!"

"Gin," scolded Aizen. "That was unnecessary." He turned back to Kino. "Don't mind him, Kino-kun. He is a horrible tease. Have a good day."

The young woman bowed and hurried from the room, daring to briefly direct a mildly rebellious glance Ichimaru's way. The door clicked shut behind her and her footsteps receded. Both men were quiet for a moment.

Ichimaru grinned. "Haaa, she has a bit of spunk in her. She'll be fun to rile up."

Aizen chuckled. "You and your games, Gin."

"You say that like you don't enjoy a good mind game yourself."

Aizen glanced at Ichimaru and merely quirked his lips slightly in reply. He set his documents in neat stacks and stood, then moved to the office's table and gracefully sat before it. Ichimaru strolled over and lounged across from him. Both began to eat.

"Did you look through the student dossiers, Gin?"

"Yep. Most of 'em are pretty borin'. I'm guessin' you're lookin' at the little child prodigy?" He fished a piece of mochi out of his soup, bit it, and stretched it as far as possible before biting some off and chewing.

Aizen hummed agreeably. "I've watched him from a distance for awhile. Ōnabara-sensei quite helpfully drew my attention to the Kusaka boy, as well."

"Oh? Number five, right? Somethin' to do with his improvement at the end?"

"Yes." Aizen sipped his tea. "He isn't particularly interesting on his own, but his friendship with Hitsugaya has elevated both of them. They would make an efficient pair of officers."

Ichimaru slurped some of his broth. "Oh? Gonna recruit 'em and add 'em to your collection o' dupes? Maybe be their wonderful mentor and bring the prodigy in to help with your plans after you promote 'em and get 'em wrapped around your little finger?"

"I had considered it. Officers could make some useful allowances for a child they might not otherwise grant an adult. And children are generally perceived as innocents, which is useful in itself." Aizen absently stirred the contents of his bowl. "I have decided against it for now. It is as they say: too many cooks spoil the broth. Our progress is more than adequate. Adding more pawns to manage could hinder us in the long run- Hitsugaya in particular could be bothersome to control compared to the others. Another accomplice increases the risk of exposure. At the same time, leaving Hitsugaya and Kusaka to their own devices is also a risk. Ōnabara's opinion is that they will greatly enhance each other's abilities and likely rise through the ranks relatively swiftly. My end objective is still quite distant. They could have a few decades to mature. The last thing I need is a second coming of Kyōraku and Ukitake."

Ichimaru grinned eagerly. "Ooh, someone gonna have a problem on their next field trip?"

Aizen thoughtfully ate a piece of carrot. "No. It is too soon to sabotage another Academy exercise to the degree we did last time. While effective, it draws attention. If it appears to become a common occurrence, someone may investigate. The death of a prodigy may invite an inquiry in itself." He sipped his tea. "However, it is not uncommon for new recruits- especially young recruits- to be overwhelmed on a mission for their division. Especially if their superiors overestimate their abilities based on reputation for genius. The risk they present is not immediate. I can afford to be patient for a bit before I weed my garden."

Ichimaru's grin widened sadistically. "So we're gonna pick up a couple more lambs an' lead 'em to slaughter when it suits our fancy?"

"Perhaps." Aizen poured himself a second cup of tea. "I have a few weeks to think it through. It may be wiser to allow another division to recruit them. It would keep the prodigy's inevitably tragic death from instigating an investigation of Fifth Division." He watched steam rise from his cup. "I'd like to minimize the number of deaths we cause and save termination for extraordinary threats. Eliminating the prodigy should negate any potential threat the Kusaka boy presents. Hitsugaya is his catalyst."

Ichimaru idly stirred and stabbed the food floating in his broth. "You gonna just leave 'em be for awhile then? If we let 'em go to another division we can't control when the kid gets put in a vulnerable position. Could be a bit before we can nail him. Could give the tag-along time to grow a spine. Or killin' the kid could end up motivatin' him to do better in his memory or somethin'."

Aizen set his tea cup down and tapped a finger against its side, frowning in thought. "You make a good point. From what I've observed of this Kusaka over the last several days, he is loyal to the boy. I can see him turn the boy into a martyr. Hmm."

"Observed?" Ichimaru waggled his eyebrows. "Been spyin' on schoolboys again, Captain?" His face shifted to a caricature of concern. "You haven't been watchin' his bedroom, have you? Such a deviant habit." He smirked slyly and gulped some tea.

Aizen dipped his head and reproachfully looked at Ichimaru over his glasses frames. He didn't dignify the baiting with an answer. "The simplest solution would be to separate the two of them. If their relationship is severed, there is no direct mutual improvement. I suppose it could lead to a rivalry with a similar effect, but that motivation should cool once the prodigy is dead. If it doesn't, Kusaka can always have an accident somewhere down the line."

"And how is the big bad shinigami captain gonna break 'em up without looking like a total creeper?" Ichimaru took more mochi and deliberately chewed with obnoxious loudness.

Aizen snorted almost soundlessly. "I may not have to do much at all. My evaluation of the Kusaka boy is that while he is fairly loyal to Hitsugaya, he has also been oblivious to the contempt the student body at large feels for him because of their friendship. My reconnaissance shows that he has recently been suddenly made aware of this social issue in an abrupt way which has left him reeling. I think he will be the weaker link of the two. I know a ruse I can use to have regular access to him. I can drop a comment or two here and there to provoke him in certain ways. I think I'll fabricate a scheduling conflict and push my usual presentation back from near the end of term to near the beginning of term and perhaps" -he paused and quirked his lips into the slightest of smiles- "augment his negative experiences a bit."

"Ooh, gonna get directly involved? Thought messin' with school kids was somethin' you'd shove off on someone else."

Aizen smirked. "Things have been a bit dull lately." He raised his cup in a mock salute. "As you said, I do enjoy a good mind game."

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Early that afternoon, Sōjirō didn't so much wake up as he regained just enough consciousness to realize he was miserable and thirsty and needed to do something about it. His usual carafe of water was within sight, so he crawled over to it and guzzled it down. He considered going and doing... something, he forgot what... but decided it was really too bright and the best place to hide from the glowy, eye-stabbity... everything... was in his futon. He dragged himself back to it and passed out half in the futon while clutching the pillow over his head. Fortunately, he did not smother himself in his sleep.

The sun had kindly dimmed to twilight when he woke again. His position and state of dress perplexed him. His memory of his first awakening was extremely fuzzy. Insatiable thirst and less severe misery still plagued him, accompanied by a new desperate need to relieve himself. Stumbling to his feet and staggering down the hall to the communal toilet required intense concentration. He caught sight of his face in the mirror as he washed up and grimaced at his ghastly appearance. His legs wobbled as he returned to his room and retrieved some toiletries and the yukata he wore after bathing and made his way to his dormitory building's communal bath house. Very little of his time there would register in his memory; he would remember sitting in the warm spray of the shower and wanting to soak in a bath but deciding against it as some deep part of his mind warned him he'd probably drown. The next thing he'd really remember would be stumbling through his room juggling a full carafe of water, his toiletries, and rumpled uniform. Everything but the water was carelessly dropped to the floor. The water was set down and regarded with the reverence due a sacred object. Then Sōjirō turned and flopped onto his futon. The thought of food was mildly interesting but the effort required to fetch it was daunting so he curled up under the covers. He slept straight through the night.

The next morning dawned on a world of sparsely falling snow. Sōjirō lay in his futon and squinted at the snowflakes floating past his window. He thought he may have dreamed of snow, but he couldn't be sure. As he woke more, he realized several things: He was parched, starved, and unpleasantly chilled- he had gone to bed when his hair was still damp. Solving all those problems required moving. He groaned and shakily rolled out of his futon.

Half an hour later, he plodded into the cafeteria dry and fully dressed. He ate his cold osechi and hot ozōni in a daze, then wandered back to his room when other students started trickling into the cafeteria. He finished tidying up the mess he had made in his hangover stupor and sprawled out on his futon, feeling more human than he had all of New Year's Day. Still lethargic despite his long sleep, he was content to simply lay in bed and stare at the ceiling while letting his mind wander. Boredom crept up on him just before lunch. He went to the cafeteria early and ate alone again. The longer he sat there, the more he wanted Tōshirō to be sitting across from him. He ate quickly and left, pensively wandering toward his dormitory.

As best as he could recall, he had spent much of his life on the fringes of groups of people, never forming any solid bonds with anyone. Before Tōshirō, the person he had been closest to was the Rukongai dye-maker who had employed him. Ironically enough, that relationship had largely been based on mutual gains as his current friendship was rumored to- the dye-maker got cheap, enthusiastic labor and Sōjirō got food for doing a simple but interesting job. They had been amicable, but their business relationship had not had time to truly fade into the background of their interactions. On his journey to Seireitei he had occasionally traveled with one or more people across a few districts before parting ways, but those acquaintances had been fleeting. At Shin'ō he had tested the waters with several clusters of people. Most were simply acquaintances, but a handful had become more. Perhaps "casual friends" would describe his relationship with them: They got along quite amiably, could have fun with each other, and were generally willing to help one another to a certain extent. Their bonds were not tight, though. They didn't share deep thoughts and opinions on non-academic subjects, didn't particularly share a great deal of their lives prior to their enrollment in the Academy, and he didn't see them as people with whom he would feel comfortable enough to do so to any great extent. Perhaps he was more of a social butterfly than he had thought- flitting from flower to flower, tasting but never staying, restlessly looking for something more. Now that he had a meaningful friendship, his previous state of existence felt lonely. He was so glad he had approached Tōshirō.

Sōjirō still had mixed feelings about their reputations and what deeper issues their souring could indicate. He decided to try to shelve his concerns until he could talk about the mess with Tōshirō. Deciding on a constructive first step beyond sulking made him feel much better. The remaining five days of the holiday couldn't pass quickly enough for him. There was so much to consider and Sōjirō tended to get overwhelmed by avalanches of information unless he had time to sort through it all. He was eager to see what points Tōshirō would focus on after he let it all tumble about in his quick mind for a bit.

That was all well and good but wanting Tōshirō to return immediately wouldn't make him magically appear. Five empty days stretched out before Sōjirō. He vaguely wondered if he could join any of the people he had partied with the other night to do something fun, but still felt tired and a bit ill. The only recreational item he owned was an old kendama. There was no way in hell he had the energy to do anything with it. He could read, but all he had were the text books he had seared into his mind during exam prep. One of his goals for whatever pay he would earn in a division was to buy books to read for fun. It was one of his ideas he had shared with Tōshirō, who had eagerly agreed. But again, thinking of the future when he would have books of his own was pointless for entertaining himself at present. There was only one thing for it: The Academy's library. He had long since read everything in its meager fiction section, but he had discovered that books about the distant past could be read as stories if he used his imagination a bit. Disused books about minutiae that modern history classes now glossed over were plentiful.

Sōjirō detoured from the path to his dorm and headed to the library. The building was nearly deserted. His tread was loud as he traveled down the main room's central aisle, steps echoing sharply in the stillness. Dust motes drifted lazily in the beams of weak winter sunlight slanting in the tall windows. Occasional rustles and shuffles of feet and pages among the stacks revealed the presence of a few others in search of entertainment or study. The only other occupant he actually encountered was a haggard young man Sōjirō vaguely recognized as a student in the regular sixth year class who was known to struggle. The guy hurried out of the reijutsu theory section and past Sōjirō without noticing him, desperately clinging to a couple books. The idea of seeing what the stressed guy so badly needed help with crossed Sōjirō's mind but really, he did still feel a bit unwell. All he wanted to do was choose a history book whose subject was so far in the past it could be like reading about an entirely different world and hole up in his dorm, reading curled up in his warm futon until he fell asleep. He felt a bit guilty. Perhaps he'd check in again tomorrow to see if there was something he could do.

Sōjirō wandered down the dimly-lit aisles of the older history books, idly fingering the worn spines of familiar titles as he moved. He passed the point where experience told him history began to give way to legend and inspected titles more closely. The Life and Crimes of the First Kenpachi- too morbid. The Monstrous Flame That Walked the Earth- too morbid. The First Thirteen Blades- he'd already read it. Also, too morbid. Forty-Six Pillars of Civilization- read it, too. The Hallowed City- he had read it three times now, fascinated by the legends about the site and foundation of Seireitei. He wanted something different. The Dauntless Scribe: Forefather of the Kuchiki- ooh, a book about an old-timey historian who had traversed Soul Society to gather legends. Interesting. And it had been written by an early member of the Kuchiki Clan, so it might not have as much flowery glorification of the family. Actually, even glorification could suit his purposes if done the right way, plus the early Kuchiki had risen to prominence largely based on a reputation for crafting excellent literature. Mind made up, Sōjirō snagged the battered tome and strolled back the way he had come, still glancing idly at titles.

As Sōjirō turned onto the main aisle, he stepped into someone's path. Said person had been moving quite swiftly and their collision knocked both boys and a stack of books to the floor. Sōjirō's first thought was that he must have run into the harried guy he had seen earlier, but when he turned around he found a different young man: Yuu Aotoa, whose presence in the library was so constant that he had been considered background scenery by students for the past six years.

Stormy blue eyes glared at Sōjirō past glasses that had been knocked askew. "You," he sneered. Aotoa smoothed his dark blue hair back from his face and righted his glasses. He dusted off the sleeves of his kimono and began to gather his books. He continued to glare at Sōjirō out of the side of his eyes. Sōjirō opened his mouth to apologize but was cut off.

"What, sober enough to get to the library, but not sober enough to walk without running into people?"

Sōjirō blinked, nonplussed. "What?"

"You heard me. Or maybe you don't understand things without your pet genius to act as your interpreter."

Sōjirō's mouth fell open. The audacity shocked him. "Excuse me?"

"Or maybe your mind is still addled by alcohol. You were so drunk you didn't know where to look to see the sunrise, so it wouldn't surprise me."

Sōjirō began to speak, then paused as blurry memories swam into focus. Light reflecting off glasses. A book and a tea cup. Without your pet genius- His eyes narrowed. "It was you."

Aotoa's face fell into a parody of surprise as he stood. "Oh, you were conscious enough to register faces and voices. How impressive."

Sōjirō's first impulse was to lash out verbally, but he squashed it. He stood stiffly and picked up his own book. "I apologize for running into you," he ground out.

Aotoa sniffed disdainfully. "What are you even doing here?" He glanced at the book in Sōjirō's hands. "Do you even know how to choose a book without someone helping you? Those fairy tales aren't going to get you anywhere this term. Perhaps your supposed improvement is just the teacher's pet telling you how to stay on topic. Like a little boy leading his puppy around by the leash."

Sōjirō forcefully controlled his breathing as his anger mounted. "You do realize I held steady at ninth in the Special Advanced Class long before I ever met Hitsugaya-san, don't you? Since you seem so interested in remembering things people do."

"I am well aware." Aotoa arched his eyebrows with sinister curiosity. "I do wonder who you were leeching off of before he transferred in."

Sōjirō's blood sang in his ears as his fury skyrocketed. His control slipped somewhat, his face settling into a snarl. "I suppose you think someone like me could never score higher than you on my own merit."

Aotoa pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with two fingers, everything about him screaming disdain. "Of course. I was taught by excellent tutors before I ever came to this school. Obviously, someone of my caliber should place higher than a Rukongai urchin like you. Barring extenuating circumstances, of course. I hear Rukongai brats grow up advancing through deception and theft. It's hardly surprising that such strategies are employed by your kind in the Academy. Even against each other." Aotoa smiled unpleasantly. "If you're as smart as you think you are, you've served your purpose for that scheming brat. I think you will soon find yourself... disposable."

Sōjirō's face twisted in rage. Many wrathful rebuttals flitted in and out of his mind. He clenched his free hand so hard that his nails bit into his palm. An object less sturdy than the book in his other hand would have been crushed. Potential reactions were rapidly considered- punching the arrogant ass, slapping him with the hefty book, spitting on him- and discarded just as quickly. He was one to plan his strikes carefully, to project the consequences of his actions in search of a desirable outcome. Sōjirō concluded that the vindictive retaliation that might make him feel better in the short term would end very badly for him in the long term. He ground his teeth and resented his position, dearly wishing to put the elitist noble in his place. Instead, Sōjirō abruptly turned to leave.

"Oh? Not going to defend yourself?" Aotoa sounded smug. Disappointed, but smug.

Sōjirō stopped, looked over his shoulder, and coolly asked, "Why do you want me to?"

Caught off guard, Aotoa protested, "I didn't say I wanted you to."

An unimpressed frown crossed Sōjirō's face. "You may as well have. You're blatantly taunting me and wondering why I'm not reacting. You're like a child who wants attention. I'm not going to dignify that... nonsense... with a response. Believe what you want if conjuring excuses lets you sleep at night. Have a nice day." He turned around and swept through the library, his rage outwardly restricted to the swift sharpness of his gait and the furious scowl on his face.

The camera fly didn't express any particular emotion as it trailed behind him.

x§x§x

Sōjirō spent all his free time between that afternoon and lunch the next day engrossed in his book. Come afternoon, he ventured to the library in search of the student who had seemed so desperate and volunteered to take a look at his problem. He was quite pleased to find the subject fell within his academic strengths- namely, visualization. Thus began a rambling lecture that involved a lot of gestures and figures drawn on paper to explain the molding of reishi to form different kidō. Somewhere between the charades, doodles, chicken scratch, and multiple metaphors, something clicked for the guy.

"Wait, wait, wait- yeah!" The guy flipped back to an earlier section of the book. "So that's what they were trying to say! And the next part-" he paused to read for a moment- "yeah, that makes more sense now. I think I know where I went wrong. I think I can manage with a re-read." He grinned up at Sōjirō, tiredly happy. "Thank you so much, Kusaka-san."

Sōjirō returned the smile. "No problem, Motosuwa-san. Let me know if I can help you with anything else, okay? I'm not sure how often I'll be in the library for the rest of the holiday, but you should be able to find me at meals."

"All right. Thanks again, really. You're a lifesaver."

Sōjirō excused himself and meandered toward the exit, quite pleased with himself. A small glimmer at the edge of his vision drew his attention. He turned and saw Aotoa lurking just in the shadows of the stacks, wan light reflecting off his glasses as he scowled. The library was so quiet because of the holiday that the pompous jerk had to have been aware of the spirited tutoring session. Newly annoyed, Sōjirō suppressed the childish urge to stick his tongue out at Aotoa. Instead, he allowed a small, condescending smirk for the library lurker, turned away, and strode to the door with his head held high.

Once outside, Sōjirō found his agitation had converted itself to excess energy. He wandered around campus erratically. The beauty of softly falling snow helped cool his temper. By the second time he passed the administration wing, he had settled into a more contemplative mindset. His daydream-like state kept him from noticing the man who strode around the corner. Sōjirō was quite startled to find himself on the ground after a second collision. This time he fell in cold snow. He leapt to his feet and frantically brushed cold powder off his clothes before it could melt. Then he turned to apologize to his unfortunate victim. The first syllable wasn't even out of his mouth when he froze in horror as his brain processed what he saw.

He had plowed into a captain of one of the Thirteen Divisions.

What.

The captain hadn't fallen, but his glasses were knocked askew and he was brushing snow off of a handful of portfolios. Sōjirō was certain any documents a captain would carry must be awfully important.

He was so screwed.

Sōjirō gaped and worked his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. His brain coughed up the man's identity: Captain Sosuke Aizen of Fifth Division. He taught a class at the Academy. He thought. Which one? His mind went blank again. He could just see his shinigami career path veering off into a wasteland.

"I'm terribly sorry. Are you all right?"

It took a moment for the words to really register in Sōjirō's brain. He must have misheard. "What?"

The captain looked concerned. "Are you all right? You had quite a fall, there."

"Oh. Uhhhhhhh. Yeah." Sōjirō shook his head to clear his thoughts. "I mean, I'm fine. I'm so sorry for running into you. I was distracted and- um. I'm sorry!" He bowed deeply, mortified.

Captain Aizen chuckled. "Stand up. It's fine. Let's chalk this up to mutual inattention. I am equally at fault. I must confess, I was looking at the sky instead of my path. The snow is quite distractingly lovely when it's falling this gently." He looked heavenward, his face contemplative. "Don't you think?"

Bewildered, Sōjirō looked up at the lightly swirling snowflakes as they meandered their way to earth. After a long pause, Sōjirō belatedly realized he was supposed to answer. "Oh. Uh. Yes. Very. Pretty, that is. I was looking at it, too. The snow. And thinking. And stuff. So I wasn't paying attention and did I say how I am so sorry-?"

Another laugh. "Really, there was no harm done."

Captain Aizen looked amused. Sōjirō's brain shifted from blind panic to cautious optimism. Silence stretched between them. Sōjirō saw that Captain Aizen was looking at him keenly. He felt the desperate need to fill the silence.

"So, uh, Happy New Year, Captain Aizen."

One corner of the captain's mouth quirked up. "Happy New Year to you, too... I'm sorry, I recognize you but I can't quite place your face."

"Oh! I'm Sōjirō Kusaka, sir!" Okay, so he was still wide-eyed and a bit panicky and, yeah, kind of starstruck. The Captain of the Fifth Division recognized him?! Whaaaaat?

Captain Aizen snapped his fingers. "Yes, that's it. Happy New Year, Kusaka-kun."

"Happy New Year, Captain—wait, I said that. Uhhhh. You know who I am?" If he was ever asked about it later, he would refuse to admit that his voice squeaked when he asked his question. He had no idea whether being recognized was good or bad.

"Yes. You are a sixth year in the Special Advanced Class. Student performance reports include a photo. I've been going through the reports since the holiday began, making notes."

"Oh. That makes sense."

"Actually, I'm glad I ran into you." Captain Aizen laughed. "Literally. I suppose it's a good thing I forgot some of my lesson plans after all. Come with me to my office, won't you? I'd like to speak with you, and while the weather looks truly beautiful the cold gets bothersome after a bit."

"You want to speak with me?" Totally not squeaking. Nope.

"Yes. Unless this is a bad time?"

"No!" A captain deferring to a student's schedule? Will wonders never cease? "I mean yes! Ahhhh, I mean, no, I don't have anywhere to be. So yeah, I can talk." Sōjirō cringed. "I'm so sorry I'm being so weird. I've never talked to a captain before."

Captain Aizen smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry. I understand. Even I was once a new recruit meeting a captain for the first time." He took a few steps past Sōjirō and glanced back over his shoulder. "Come."

Sōjirō dutifully followed Captain Aizen back the way he had come. Ten minutes later, he was seated in front of a large desk in a tastefully decorated office as the captain lit lamps and prepared tea. A captain was making tea for him. Really, was it topsy-turvy day or something? Was he having a particularly weird dream?

A few moments later, the captain and the student sat across from one another at the desk, regarding each other over steaming cups of tea. Captain Aizen was the picture of poise as he sipped; Sōjirō tried to emulate him but ended up gripping his cup in both hands as if clinging to sanity.

"So, Kusaka-kun, I wanted to speak with you about your performance evaluation."

"Oh?" Still not squeaking. Really.

"Your consistently good performance and work ethic are admirable, as is your recent improvement. Congratulations on that, by the way."

"Uh, thank you, sir."

Captain Aizen set down his tea cup. "I do have a couple concerns, as far as recruitment goes. The first is that you appear to have trouble maintaining meditation. This is a minor problem for now and honestly quite expected among new graduates. Still, it is an essential component in connecting with your zanpakutō spirit, and that connection is essential to advancing in the ranks. Your class will receive extra emphasis on shifting from meditation into jinzen during this coming term. Some of the Advanced students manage to manifest their zanpakutō before graduation. If you can at least make contact with your spirit, you will have an edge over your peers. So many shinigami take such a long time to meet their spirits that a new graduate who has already done so is quite coveted by all divisions."

Sōjirō blinked, a bit overwhelmed that a captain was essentially giving him career advice. He decided to pretend he was dreaming and roll with it. "Oh. I understand. I'll really pay attention to that this term."

Captain Aizen smiled. "I don't doubt you will." He looked serious again. "However, you have one great stumbling block in your path. Should you wish to be an officer of any level, you absolutely must do something about your penmanship."

Sōjirō bit his lip and felt his face heating with a blush. "Oh. I know it's pretty bad, but I thought I'd work on it after I graduated. I didn't think it would be too important."

Captain Aizen shook his head slightly and sipped at his tea. "It is quite important. Even unseated shinigami are expected to complete regular reports on their duties. Seated officers have larger burdens of paperwork as they rise through the ranks. There is little room for error in quite a few areas of documentation. If your handwriting cannot be read at a glance, it can create problems. If a division is considering both you and a candidate they consider your equal in every other way, they will probably choose the candidate who is likely to make paperwork go more smoothly."

Sōjirō looked down at his cup, face burning. "Oh. I hadn't thought of that."

The captain smiled sympathetically. "I don't blame you. Neat completion of paperwork isn't exactly held up as one of a shinigami's crucial skills. There is far more emphasis on field work. However, the Thirteen Divisions would fall into disarray without the structure provided by paperwork. Subordinates who come to be known for their efficiency in completing paperwork find themselves favored by their superiors, sometimes more than those who excel in battle. A demonstrated ability to perform well in both spheres is priceless. As the Academy's calligraphy instructor, I wanted to warn you about this before you found out the hard way. You have three months to improve before your final evaluations. I think it would be wise to do so."

Sōjirō fought his embarrassment. He sat hunched over his tea, nervously rubbing a finger over the rim of his cup. "Oh." He gathered himself and sat up, then looked the captain in the eye with determination. "What would you suggest I do, Captain Aizen?"

Captain Aizen stared at him for a moment, then slightly inclined his head and looked pleased. "I wish I could simply offer you a place in one of my classes. However, even the beginner class is beyond the basics you'll need to start with. If you like, though, I can arrange for one of my students to tutor you as much as possible. I do have a fifth year student who missed a good deal of work due to a hand injury. He has been asking for extra assignments to make up for lost time. He's actually quite good, so it should work out well for both of you. If he declines, I know of a few others who might be interested. Providing you are, of course. I know last term is very busy."

"Yes! I'm very interested." Sōjirō leaned forward in anticipation.

Captain Aizen smiled. "Excellent. I will make inquiries and send you a message by the second week of the new term. We can sort out all the details during a meeting that weekend."

Sōjirō grinned. "Thank you, sir!"

"You are quite welcome." Captain Aizen finished his tea.

Sōjirō fiddled with his teacup, bashful again. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Why me? I mean, you don't know me, and I'm not the top of my class-"

"Not far from it, though."

"Uh. Yeah. I guess. But still. Why go out of your way to help me like this?"

"I feel it is my duty as a teacher." Captain Aizen tapped his teacup and tilted his head sideways, studying Sōjirō for a few moments. "And you deserve it."

Sōjirō was taken aback. Before he could come up with a response, Captain Aizen glanced at a wall clock and straightened.

"Ah, we really should be going. You need to get dinner and I need to oversee the next shift change of the holiday volunteers. Oh, my papers!" He shuffled about, gathering papers from two different drawers and a stack on the desk.

Sōjirō awkwardly cast about for something to do and settled on gathering their empty teacups and carrying them to the small sideboard. He blinked in confusion and wondered what to do with them. "There's no sink."

Captain Aizen laughed self-effacingly. "Ah, there was only water for tea because I forgot to empty the pitcher before the holiday. I'm very busy and tend to forget little things at times. Dump the leaves from the pot in the trash and leave everything on the counter. Housekeeping will find it before classes start. Ah, and please put out the lights."

He finished gathering his papers as Sōjirō obeyed. He tapped them into neat stacks, slid them into the portfolios he had brought with him, and swept toward the door as Sōjirō put out the last lamp. Both exited. Captain Aizen locked the door and turned to smile warmly at Sōjirō. "I look forward to working with you, Kusaka-kun. Enjoy the rest of your holiday."

"Oh, uh, I... look forward to it, too. And thank you. For everything. And the tea. Happy New Year, Captain Aizen." Sōjirō bowed respectfully.

Captain Aizen nodded and left, moving with a refined confidence, sure steps echoing in the abandoned twilit hall. Sōjirō stared at his back dumbfounded and wondered if the last half hour or so had actually happened.

A seed of admiration took root in Sōjirō's heart. Captain Aizen, with his strength and intelligence, his class and his kindness, was truly the most noble shinigami Sōjirō had ever met.

x§x§x

The remainder of the holiday passed easily enough for Sōjirō except for one minor jaw-grinding exchange with Aotoa when he returned the history book to the library and checked out a book on calligraphy. At mealtimes he alternated sitting with others and sitting alone. By the last day of break, he was sliding into boredom.

Sōjirō wandered around the dorms exchanging greetings as students returned from their visits home, hoping he'd run into Tōshirō. When he had yet to appear by dinner time, Sōjirō became increasingly worried. He collected his meal and sat alone at his and Tōshirō's usual place. Heavy snowfall blotted out much of the view out the windows. He picked at his food and squinted into the snowscape in turns. Thus distracted, he jolted when a tray abruptly rattled onto the table across from him. Sōjirō blinked in surprise as his missing friend unceremoniously plopped into his seat.

Sōjirō grinned. "Tōshirō! There you are! I was getting worri- wow, you look awful."

"Pssh, thanks," Tōshirō scoffed. The boy looked exhausted, hair wild and dark circles under his eyes. He blinked sleepily down at his tray of food as if wondering what he was supposed to do with it.

"What happened?"

Tōshirō picked up his chopsticks and stared hard at his hand until he managed to hold them properly. "A lot of it is the storm. Wind and melting snow... eh." He shrugged. "Otherwise, I'm just tired. And my eyes hurt, I guess. Day before yesterday some merchant sent a servant to Granny to order new clothes. Something about a party and sake and fire. I don't think they were supposed to tell us that part. They promised a big bonus if the order was finished quickly. So Hinamori and I have been helping Granny sew for two days. Then Hinamori and I used shunpo to relay the order across town this afternoon. We just made it. Granny could live off what she made from that order til summer without working if she wanted to." The boy smirked and looked pleased.

For some reason, the part of that which stuck out to Sōjirō was- "You sew?" He started to eat, but watched his friend's face.

Tōshirō took a big bite of rice and chewed with his cheeks puffed out. Wordlessly, he lifted his right hand and shifted his chopsticks to wiggle his reddened, callused index finger at Sōjirō. He swallowed. "Yep. Hinamori and I wanted to help Granny when we were little. She started us on picking up scraps and sorting thread, and when we were big enough she taught us to sew. I can't do anything fancy and I suck at knowing what shape to cut the cloth, but once something gets pinned in place I can sew a straight line." He snatched up a piece of fish and ate it. "Granny says sewing is a life skill. I guess she's right- I have a little sewing kit in my dorm so I can repair my own uniforms instead of turning one in to the quartermaster and trying to keep my spare set in perfect condition while they take their time repairing it."

Sōjirō smirked. "Haaa, you've been holding out on me. It took me two weeks to get one of my hakama back from them. Next time I'll just bribe you." His eyes shone with mischief.

Tōshirō rolled his eyes good-naturedly. "Whatever. It'd better be a good bribe." He held his chopstick hand in front of his mouth to hide a yawn.

"I'll think of something," said Sōjirō, amused. "So, did you have fun with your family?"

"Yeah. It was nice being together again. I was reminded of one of the reasons I used to run off and play spinning tops on my own towards the end, though."

"Oh? Family problems?"

Tōshirō swallowed and stared at the ceiling contemplatively. "Kind of, but not really? I mean, I love my sister, obviously, but sometimes she's a bit too... relentlessly chirpy, I guess. I mean, somehow Granny managed to raise an extreme optimist and a... I guess I'm kind of a cynic. She managed to raise both extremes under one roof. The two of us see the world in completely different ways. Don't get me wrong, I'm really happy Hinamori is that happy with... pretty much everything... but the sheer force of her cheerfulness gets tiring sometimes. Especially when she latches onto one subject."

"Oh? Like what?"

"Hmm. When we were little it would be things like endlessly talking about a festival or a new game or something. Over the holiday, it was her captain."

Sōjirō tilted his head to one side. "Oh? Who is her captain, anyway?"

Tōshirō huffed and airily replied, "Captain Sōsuke Aizen of the Fifth Division, the most perfect shinigami in the history of Soul Society, obviously. As my sister tells it." Sōjirō opened his mouth to bring up his meeting with said captain but was interrupted by Tōshirō, who rolled his eyes and scowled. "She talked about him so much- Captain Aizen did this, Captain Aizen did that, Captain Aizen says whatever, Captain Aizen likes such-and-such, Captain Aizen is sooo amaaazing. Everything we did somehow came back to him. I swear if someone else tries to talk to me about him, I'll scream." He grumpily stabbed a vegetable and ate it fiercely.

Awkward. Sōjirō swallowed his original topic and cautiously asked, "Do you not like him or something?"

Tōshirō blinked in surprise. "What? No. I don't know. I've never met him. I've only ever heard good things about him. It's just... have you ever had too much of a good thing and started to want it to go away?"

"Umm." Sōjirō stared at his bowl thoughtfully as he shifted the contents about. "I guess? I told you about that wandering musician I paired up with to cross a few districts, right?"

"Yeah."

"The first night I ran into him, he played this beautiful song. I loved it. But then he played it at every inn, tavern, and marketplace we stopped at and, well..." He shrugged sheepishly.

Tōshirō grinned wryly. "Started to hear it in your nightmares?"

Sōjirō laughed. "Yeah."

"Good. Then you know what I mean." Tōshirō looked relieved. "My sister has been spending her breaks talking about Captain Aizen for several years now. Some field exercise went badly wrong when she went here and Captain Aizen showed up to save the class. She's been over the moon for him ever since."

Sōjirō tilted his head to one side. "If he personally saved her life then it makes sense she'd think well of him. And he does seem nice."

Tōshirō huffed and fell into a sulk. "I know. I know I'm being unreasonable. I'm just tired of hearing about him so much. Hinamori keeps saying I should join Fifth Division but I don't think I could bear her waxing poetic every day."

"I see," Sōjirō said neutrally.

Both boys fell quiet for a few minutes to focus on eating. Eventually, Tōshirō tentatively attempted to renew the conversation. "You look well-rested. How was your holiday?" He picked up his bowl and sipped at his broth, teal eyes peeking at his friend over the rim. Sōjirō noticed those usually wide and alert eyes were droopy and bloodshot with fatigue.

"Aha, well, uh." Sōjirō awkwardly ran his hand through his hair. "The last few days have been okay. Didn't start out that way, though."

Tōshirō raised his eyebrows as he chewed the dregs of his soup. He swallowed and asked, "What happened?"

Sōjirō eyed his tired friend again. A wide yawn settled his mind. "It's kind of complicated. I want to talk to you about it but I think it's best to wait until you won't fall asleep three sentences in."

"Ha, ha. I'll hold you to that." Tōshirō neatly arranged his empty dishes on his tray and sat back. He reached up and rubbed his eyes with his knuckles while failing to stifle a yawn. The action made him look terribly young.

Sōjirō stood and lifted his tray, a mischievous smirk playing about his lips. "Come on. I think it's past your bedtime."

Tōshirō favored him with an irritated scowl.

"I can tell you a story if you like."

"Shut up," snarled Tōshirō.

Sōjirō laughed lightly. "Sorry, sorry. Let's go."

The friends discarded their trays and headed for the dormitory, Tōshirō's grumbling fading away as they plodded through the snow. They reached Tōshirō's room first.

"Well, good night, Tōshirō. Glad you're back. See you in the morning." Sōjirō grinned and waved.

"Ah, good night. Yeah, see-" Tōshirō jumped slightly. "Wait. I forgot. Wait here." He fumbled with the latch and went inside. Sōjirō leaned against the door frame and peered into Tōshirō's dark room. His friend knelt by two large bundles in the middle of his floor and rummaged around before standing and returning to the door. He held out a package wrapped in brown paper. "Here."

Sōjirō took the parcel slowly and turned it around in curiosity. The contents seemed to be soft and bulky without being heavy. "What is it?"

Tōshirō shifted awkwardly and avoided his gaze, scratching the back of his head as his cheeks pinked. "A present. From my Granny."

Sōjirō blinked down at it, even more surprised. "How would your Granny know me? And why would she give me a present?"

Tōshirō's cheeks reddened. "I might have talked about you over break. And some of the stories you told me. And she wanted to give you something."

Sōjirō looked between the gift and his friend, bewildered. "But why?"

"I dunno." Tōshirō looked down and scuffed his toe on the ground. "There's a note or something inside. Go open it and find out."

Even weirder. "Go? You don't want me to open it here?"

"I-it would be weird to carry it out of the wrapping and Granny probably wrote something embarrassing and like you said, I'm really tired, so goodnightseeyoutomorrow." He shut his door, flustered.

Sōjirō blinked at the door.

The door opened partway. Tōshirō peeked out. "And Happy New Year." The door shut again.

Sōjirō stared at the door incredulously and pondered his friend's behavior. Well, it seemed he was still socially awkward. He had obviously reached his limit. But he had actually shared a lot with Sōjirō that night. He was opening up more. Sōjirō finally grinned and called out a quick New Year greeting and set off for his own room.

He set the bundle on the floor and lit his lamp, then knelt before his gift and stared for a moment. The only gifts he could remember receiving had been small and informal, never this large and never wrapped so neatly. Finally, he eagerly untied the string and unfolded the wrapping. Inside was a stack of folded cloth; on top was a card. He looked at it for a moment but set it aside to read later. Biting his lip in anticipation, Sōjirō started unfolding the pieces of cloth.

A summer-weight yukata in faded violet. A winter-weight kimono in dusty blue and hakama in much darker blue, both made of wool. Underclothes to match. Sōjirō gaped at it all. He fingered the light cloth of the yukata in disbelief. They were all quite simply made- nobles would probably call them plain- but they were far superior to all clothes Sōjirō had worn in his life. Stunned, he blindly groped to his side until he found the card. He opened it and began to read, occasionally glancing up to make sure that, yes, the clothes were really there.

Dear Kusaka-san,

Please accept this gift as a token of my gratitude. Even if every stitch was a thank you, I would never be able to thank you enough. As you have likely noticed, my grandson has come to be quiet and keeps to himself. He is guarded with other people, even myself and his sister to some extent. Aside from his time with his sister, he has had a lonely childhood. Words cannot describe the joy this old woman felt when her grandson finally spoke warmly of a friend. I believe you have made quite an impression on him, which speaks well of you. He is still shy so you may not know this, but your friendship is priceless to him. I thank you with all my heart.

I have told my grandson he may invite you to come home with him next time you have a break. You are welcome in my home any time.

I wish you a Happy New Year.

Most Sincerely,

Yoshiko Arisugawa

Sōjirō stared at the letter, then looked at the clothes, boggled, and read it again. It was all so overwhelming. He was inclined to think the gift was extravagant and that he didn't deserve to be spoiled so just for saying hello and befriending Tōshirō. Well, perhaps it wasn't as extravagant a gift for someone with the means to live comfortably in Junrinan. He was from a district in which simple sandals bordered on being luxury items, so his perception could be skewed. But still- he had expected to live in school- and division-issued minimal clothing until he could save up pay. Suddenly having his own wardrobe, no matter how small, made him feel rich. Really, it was too much. But he felt that to refuse the gift would be the height of rudeness.

Sōjirō read the card again, wondering why the old seamstress would indulge him so. Certain loaded language stood out as he rolled around the letter's image of Tōshirō- quiet, guarded, lonely, shy, friendship is priceless, finally spoke of a friend- as if he had never spoken of a friend before. Realization crawled up on Sōjirō slowly as he thought back to Tōshirō's increasingly awkward dodging of the topic of his friends in Junrinan. Tōshirō's grandmother seemed to obliquely imply that there had never been any friends. It was troubling, but it explained a lot about the boy.

The mystery of why Tōshirō had no friends bothered him. He decided to try to figure it out. In the meantime, Sōjirō set down the card and neatly folded his new clothes, marveling at the handiwork. He ran his fingers over perfect seams; the stitches were innumerable, each wrought with care. If each was a thank you... well, that was a lot of thank yous. Tōshirō's grandmother must love him deeply to express such gratitude for something he had thought of as simple.

He carefully stacked the clothes and re-wrapped them in a bundle, then tucked them in a corner and prepared for bed. Before he put out the light, he gave them another long look. Sōjirō fell asleep wondering what it would be like to have someone love him as much as Tōshirō's grandmother loved her grandson.

x§x§x

The boys met for an early breakfast the next morning. Sōjirō stared at Tōshirō, who stared at his food, cheeks pink as he avoided eye contact. He glanced up once and quickly looked down again.

"She did write something embarrassing, didn't she?"

Sōjirō cocked his head to one side. "I don't think so. It was really very sweet."

"Sweet." Tōshirō grimaced. "Oh, God."

Sōjirō laughed at his friend's dismay. "Your grandmother seems like an amazing person. I want to thank her."

Tōshirō shyly scratched one flaming cheek. "Yeah, she's great. And you can thank her yourself when you come home with me after graduation." He looked up swiftly. "If you want, I mean."

Come home. Sōjirō grinned. "That'd be great! I really want to do something for her. It just seems like such an opulent gift, you know?"

Tōshirō snorted. "I've seen opulent clothes before. These are nothing of the sort. No fancy beading or embroidery or anything- just practical seasonal clothes made well enough to last a while."

Sōjirō's grin edged into something a bit darker. "Where I'm from, that's a luxury." The shadow passed just as quickly as it came. "Besides, she obviously put a lot of work into it. And she had that big order to do, too."

"Well, I guess. To an extent. They really are simple. And I think Granny could sew perfect yukata and underclothes in her sleep. Hakama are more difficult, but she's been making them for decades and my sister was helping her. That was before the order came in, so don't feel bad about that."

"Still-"

Tōshirō rolled his eyes. "Then you can help me tear up and redo the garden after graduation."

"Oh, yeah, that sounds useful! I know my way around plants." Sōjirō scratched his chin. "I suppose it would be mostly dirt and dead stuff after last frost, though. Whatever, I did some gardening for the dye-maker."

"It's a plan." Tōshirō drank his broth and set down his bowl. He licked his lips.

Sōjirō nodded decisively and sat back to drink his own broth. As he set down his bowl, someone beat a small gong by the door. The crowded hall quieted down as everyone recognized a rare mealtime announcement was about to happen.

Most faces turned to look at the staff member, who turned out to be the meditation instructor. "Attention sixth year students! All sixth year students! Both regular and advanced classes! Your meditation classes will convene in Lecture Hall Four this afternoon. Don't go to our classroom, go to Lecture Hall Four! Thank you!" He scurried away.

Tōshirō and Sōjirō turned to look at one another.

"Wonder what that's about." Sōjirō drained his tea cup.

Tōshirō shrugged. "Who knows? Come on, we need to get to class."

The boys had little opportunity to talk. They spent the morning finding out just how much they had to dread from their final term in the Academy. Sōjirō noticed with mounting displeasure that various classmates glanced furtively at Tōshirō and himself. Their whispers seemed loud to his new awareness of them, yet he couldn't understand exactly what was being said. He was unsurprised to find Aotoa openly glaring daggers at them during lulls in their lectures. More worrying were the glimpses of deep resentment the usually-polite Miyazawa directed at Tōshirō and the restrained, calculating anger that seethed in Izawa's long, considering glances at them both. He was unsure whether or not Tōshirō noticed. If he did, he did a good job of not looking bothered. Lunch was a welcome escape despite the cacophony of voices.

The meditation instructor made a reminder announcement during lunch. When the bell rang, the sixth year Special Advanced Class students made their way to the lecture hall. There was no one to supervise them, so they fell into guessing why their class had been moved from the dojo in which they usually sat on the floor. Their instructor strode in five minutes late and called them to order.

"Obviously, we are doing something different today. A guest speaker will give you a lecture and demonstration. You will show him the utmost respect, as he holds the rank of Captain." The classroom burst into excited and curious whispers. The man scanned his students' faces with a stern gaze. "While he does us the honor of making this presentation to every sixth year class, this year we are breaking with pattern. Usually, this lecture is delivered in your final weeks here. A scheduling conflict has come up. We have decided to experiment with the order of the lesson plan for this class this year. I want you to pay attention to Captain Aizen-" He was interrupted by a louder round of chatter accompanied by the quietest of groans from Tōshirō, which Sōjirō couldn't help but find hilarious. The instructor glared and slammed a palm on the lectern. Everyone shut up."-And apply his lessons through the rest of term. If you do well, we may permanently alter the lesson plan. I stress again: You will be on your best behavior. Am I understood?"

The class sang out the requisite "Yes, sir!"

"Good. Wait quietly." He turned and crossed to the door, opening it and stepping out.

Sōjirō had a brief moment to glance at Tōshirō. The boy had disguised most of his facial expression, but still reminded Sōjirō of someone who smelled something faintly sour in the air. Sōjirō couldn't help himself. He whispered, "So, you were saying last night-"

"Shut it," hissed Tōshirō. He briefly glared at his friend then turned his eyes to the ceiling and whispered an accusatory, "Someone is messing with me. It's not funny."

Sōjirō snickered and quickly countered, "Yes, it is!"

"Is not!" Tōshirō's face was so childishly outraged that Sōjirō had to look away quickly and cover his mouth to stifle the urge to laugh. Tōshirō looked ready to throw something at him but quickly reeled himself in and pasted a mostly-normal expression on his face as their teacher led the captain into the classroom. Sōjirō glanced his friend's way and nearly lost it when he spotted Tōshirō's eyebrow twitching in irritation.

"Stand!" barked their teacher. Every student obeyed automatically. "Bow!" Simultaneous obedience.

Captain Aizen assumed control of the class with a smooth "Thank you, Jurahi-sensei. Please be seated, everyone." The mild-mannered man curiously surveyed the students from behind the lectern as they situated themselves. When they had settled into attentive silence, he smiled at them. "Good afternoon. I am here to speak with you about the importance of perfecting your meditation habits while you have a dedicated instructor in the art, accompanied by a demonstration of what taking your meditation to the next level may help you achieve." He panned the room seriously. "Far too many budding shinigami neglect their meditation classes, especially in this busy final term. You are admittedly given a great deal of work and have a great many decisions to make. It is understandable that many would prioritize everything else above meditation. However, falling into that mindset will hurt you in the future." He favored each student with a brief, stern look. "Due to scheduling and course load constraints, meditation is only overtly taught in your final year. Do not think that means meditation is an unimportant subject. As Jurahi-sensei has surely explained, you will only be able to perform jinzen and contact your zanpakutō spirits with disciplined use of meditation. If any of you expect to be officers, you must make basic contact with your spirit. You cannot rise in the ranks by much without having a proper connection with your zanpakutō spirit. To know your blade's name is to empower yourself; to grow with your spirit requires meditation to reflect upon and come to truly know yourself through your spirit." He looked around at the students who were glancing at one another quizzically. "I see I have strayed into the abstract. Allow me to demonstrate."

Captain Aizen gracefully circled the lectern to stand in front of it. He pushed aside his haori and drew his blade, a katana with a green hilt and hexagonal guard. "This is my partner, Kyōka Suigetsu." He held it aloft horizontally, live steel innocently resting against the palm of his free hand. "When I first learned her name, I was mystified. I wondered what she might be able to do. The kanji in her name stand for Mirror Flower, Water Moon. It was quite the riddle. It took a great deal of thought and many conversations with my spirit before I figured out that riddle and earned her shikai." He began to slowly pace before the lectern, studying his blade as the class watched raptly. "A zanpakutō's name and abilities are a reflection of the shinigami's personality, no matter how direct or abstract the relation may be. The most notable example of a direct tie between personality and zanpakutō is our esteemed Captain Commander. His zanpakutō is Ryūjin Jakka. The kanji in its name mean Flowing Blade-Like Flame. However, ryūjin has a homophone which is read as dragon soul or dragon god, lending his zanpakutō the implied reading of Dragon Soul-Like Flame or Dragon God-Like Flame. While I have not witnessed it myself as he reserves his power for only the direst of circumstances, his shikai command is recorded as Reduce all Creation to ash. Quite the godly command, in my opinion." He stopped before the lectern once more and sharply turned to face forward, still inspecting his gleaming blade. The class was still and silent, several students leaning forward in their interest. His intellectual tone shifted toward serious, voice clipped as something sharp glinted in his eyes. This was the mien of a commanding officer. "As you have learned in your history classes, those names aptly describe Captain Commander Yamamoto. He is a mighty dragon protecting Seireitei, his temper and power a banked fire until that which he guards is threatened. His wrath then becomes a blade of fire that flows through the enemy like a burning scythe through dry grass, leaving naught but ash in his wake."

Hushed sounds of understanding rustled through the students. Captain Aizen paused to leave them to it for a moment, calmly swiveling his zanpakutō to allow light to play along its blade. Then he looked up at the class and cleared his throat. "This brings me back to my own zanpakutō." Eager to hear more, the students immediately fell silent.

"When Kyōka Suigetsu told me her name, she refused to reveal her power until I had reflected on it as a riddle and come to the correct conclusion myself. It required extensive, ah, soul-searching-" he grinned bashfully at the pun- "in which I studied myself honestly and met with my spirit as often as I could, as she would steer our conversations in ways intended to make me think deeply. Meditation was crucial. It was only when I knew myself more that I figured out the riddle of her name and was granted her shikai." He paused, an amused smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as the students hung onto his every word. The captain slowly rotated his zanpakutō until the gleaming flat of the blade faced the class, deliberately teasing them by drawing out the suspense. He smiled enigmatically and called out in a clear voice, "Shimmer, Kyōka Suigetsu!"*

Mist swirled around Captain Aizen's feet, billowing out to fill the lecture hall until the students could barely see nearby classmates through the haze. Gasps and squeals of alarm reverberated eerily in the fog.

"It is disorienting, is it not?"

Students turned and looked in every direction. The voice seemed to echo from all around them. Tension ratcheted up quickly.

"You can't see me, and you can't tell where I am speaking from, can you? Fog has that effect- the atmosphere becomes dense with water droplets, which conduct sound much better than less humid air. If there is a barrier above- either an actual ceiling or just a layer of atmosphere warmer and less dense- the effect is magnified, the barrier reflecting the sound waves within the sphere of my influence. I could be standing in the place where you last saw me. Or perhaps-" Someone in the back shrieked in terror as a hand clapped down on his shoulder. "-I could be standing right behind you."

Captain Aizen's voice went silent. Whorls of mist floated about in a way that had been peaceful but was now ominous. For several minutes only the strangely projected sounds of fearful breathing and muttering ghosted about the room without discernible sources. The fog gradually cleared until the students could see one another, though hazily. Captain Aizen's figure was indistinct but just visible before the lectern. The class calmed and focused on him once again, squinting to see him shimmering in the mist.

"Kyōka Suigetsu's abilities with mist have another useful property. Water droplets do not just conduct sound; they also refract light. This is the source of clouds and rainbows, of the blueness of the sky. Kyōka Suigetsu weaponizes that refraction. Jurahi-sensei, would you mind assisting me?"

The mists shifted as their instructor approached the captain from the side. Students gasped when he drew his blade.

"Now, Jurahi-sensei is going to attack me."

The words had barely passed his lips when the instructor executed a perfect slice that should have sent the captain's head rolling. Students screamed, reared away, or stood and reached out as if to warn him. Instead of creating a bloody mess, the figure that had appeared to be Captain Aizen collapsed in on itself, revealing it to have been a dense concentration of mist. Most of the fog in the room rapidly evaporated, leaving the captain and the teacher in a perfectly still pose, the instructor over-extended from his attack while the real Captain Aizen stood behind him and lightly rested his blade at the junction of the instructor's neck and shoulder. A low, thin mist innocently drifted around their knees.

Captain Aizen nonchalantly continued, "You see, Kyōka Suigetsu can use mist to bend light to create mirages."

Hyperventilation and vulgarity were popular reactions. They gradually gave way to fascination and awe. Captain Aizen and Jurahi-sensei exchanged businesslike nods as they sheathed their blades. The captain allowed the shock to wear off a bit before clapping his hands sharply to call them to order. The students reined in their excitement enough to listen to him.

Captain Aizen cleared his throat. "Now, to explain the demonstration's relevance to my lecture- how all of these abilities tie back to my person." He adjusted his glasses and assumed a scholarly tone. "Kyōka Suigetsu's name refers to illusions- the reflection of a flower in a mirror cannot be touched; neither can the reflection of the moon on water. What you may not know is that clouds and thin mist can also cast a white or rainbow-like halo around the moon when it is bright. Her name is connected to water, as are her abilities. Her status as a flowing-water type zanpakutō metaphorically implies several things about my personality. One is that I am adaptable and a problem solver. Another is that I am at best patient and at worst stubborn. These arise from the tendency of water to flow around every obstacle, even if it has to slowly wear away at stone or shoreline. Another implication is that I may be calm as water that can reflect the moon on the surface, but I may be turbulent beneath as with dangerous underwater currents- appearances can be deceiving. Kyōka Suigetsu's specific technique speaks more to how I prefer to fight. I use bent light and sound to confuse my enemies so that I may remain at a safe distance and strike as I will. This speaks to my cautiousness." He chuckled. "Before I learned my shikai, I was criticized for my cautiousness in battle. I have a tendency to stay back and really think about a situation, you see. I had to learn to moderate that." He grew serious again. "But it also alludes to my willingness to strike an enemy from behind. Some would call it ignoble. However, I prefer to think of it as an embodiment of the Academy's commandment: Do not seek beauty in battle. Do not seek virtue in death. Do not make the mistake of considering only your own life. If you wish to protect that which you must protect... slice the enemy you must defeat from behind." He panned the room with a steely gaze. A hush settled over the classroom, students really processing the meaning of the words for the first time.

After a moment, Captain Aizen relaxed. "Now, all of these aspects of my personality and how I function as a shinigami are things I spoke of with Kyōka Suigetsu during extensive jinzen sessions. Meditation and reflection were absolutely critical to our harmony. I look forward to finding out what you discover about yourselves when you attain shikai." He smiled, eyes twinkling merrily. "Or, who knows? Perhaps bankai." The class buzzed with excited murmurs. "You may be able to attain shikai without reaching a deep level of understanding with yourself, but you will never truly master your shikai without that knowledge. I cannot stress the importance of this class enough." He looked at them imploringly. "Please study meditation diligently." He stepped away from the podium and bowed his head slightly. "Thank you for respectful attentiveness and thank you for having me in your classroom." He stood and looked amused. "I hope your final term here is, ah, bearable."

The rest of the class period passed in a whirl of bowing and clapping as the captain exited, leaving Jurahi-sensei with a classroom full of excited babble.

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A/N: Con/crit welcome. Especially on characterization. Not sure I've grasped Ichimaru. He's a slippery fellow to write.

Don't be surprised if chapter five takes at least a month to appear. If this chapter was tricky, the next will be a beast. I have a lot of threads to weave together.

NOTE ON FALSE SHIKAI: In canon, Isane was told by Aizen himself that Kyōka Suigetsu is "a flowing-water type zanpakutō. It distorts the sight with reflections in the fog to confuse the enemy, causing them to fight amongst themselves." For someone to rattle off a description like that, plus for so many people to be ensnared by Complete Hypnosis, he must have spammed that fake shikai a lot. Why not get as many shinigami as possible by having every graduating class see it? It adds an extra layer to Aizen's plans taking so long- he had time to hypnotize at least one full generation of shinigami and let them scatter in the ranks. Then if he needs something- such as luring shinigami somewhere to sacrifice them to his Hōgyoku- he just has to have an illusion of a superior officer tell them where to go and what to do.

* NOTE ON SHIKAI COMMAND: Personally, I think it would be in character for Aizen to concoct a more innocuous command to match his fake shikai. "Shatter" doesn't really make sense with mist and bent light. Canon allows high-ranking shinigami to use false commands (see: Ayasegawa) or multiple commands (see: Madarame) and the anime lets them go into shikai without speaking the command, so I don't see why not.