Game 2 - Chapter 2

Chiken turned to the entrance to the classroom when the door opened, and Momo-Sensei walked in. When she asked what happened, Chiken instantly started talking. "Well, we were in Shuhei-Sensei's class and we were fighting each other when Rikiki made this really cool kidou ball and then fell asleep and then I tried it to but Shuhei-Sensei stopped me and then I was watching the fights with Zetsumei and then Anshou and Satoko were taken away by the fourth division people and Shuhei-Sensei told us to go get lunch and then we ate and then we came here and I fixed my watch!" Chiken smiled at the Sensei, indicating that he was finished with his version of the explanation. Not that it cleared anything up, of course.

Igarashi Sakimoto wrote:

Igarashi had been staring at the dancing Shinigami all that time behind the classroom door, recognizing the man as Yumichika Ayasegawa, his profesor of SL&P in the first year. Genuinely impressed at how he was performing even though he didn't knew much about dancing, and he wasn't even familiar with the kind of music that was being played. But even Igarashi was able appreciate the elegance behind the whole thing. As the Shinigami switched records, Igarashi just stood there, still hidden. For a moment he just focused on that man's movements synchronizing with the soothing melody in the Piano, a melody that sounded very pleasant to Igarashi.

After a minute or two had passed however. Igarashi turned back at his thoughts, thinking once again about the homecoming dance and how poor his dancing skills were. Also, being a SL&P professor, perhaps Yumichika could even be able to help him with some etiquette lessons... But even considering this idea made Igarashi flush a little, still finding the whole idea silly and pointless, wondering if it was really worth it.

Then, the piano melody ended. And Igarashi stared at profesor Ayasegawa again. Now that he had a perfect chance, Igarashi was not really sure that he wanted to go along with it. But he knew there was no escaping the dance, and it was now his best chance to ask, before the teacher left or started dancing again. Clenching his fist a little to give himself some courage, Igarashi stepped into the classroom, walking a few steps before addresing an the teacher. "Excuse me Ayasegawa-sensei... That music you were dancing to... is that the kind of music that's going to be used in the homecoming dance?" Igarashi tried his best to keep a straight face, but it was obvious he was rather nervous and embarrassed.

Yumichika spun around. "Oh!" he started, turning slightly red. "I... wasn't expecting anyone to be standing there watching me!" He coughed a little, regaining his composure. "Er, to answer your question, yes. European classical music typically makes up most of the tunes played at Homecoming... though in recent years, there's been a touch of Japanese classical music added as well." Yumichika shuddered, a look of distaste on his face. "Though give me the hum of a cello over that discordant tang of a shamisen any day." His eyes blinked a couple of times. "Though, I'd have to say, Sakimoto-kun, that you don't seem the type to be interested in classical music or dancing. Is there something you need?"

Chiken Kazenosei wrote:

Chiken turned to the entrance to the classroom when the door opened, and Momo-Sensei walked in. When she asked what happened, Chiken instantly started talking. "Well, we were in Shuhei-Sensei's class and we were fighting each other when Rikiki made this really cool kidou ball and then fell asleep and then I tried it to but Shuhei-Sensei stopped me and then I was watching the fights with Zetsumei and then Anshou and Satoko were taken away by the fourth division people and Shuhei-Sensei told us to go get lunch and then we ate and then we came here and I fixed my watch!" Chiken smiled at the Sensei, indicating that he was finished with his version of the explanation. Not that it cleared anything up, of course.

Despite witnessing it repeatedly, Ryouichi found himself blinking at Chiken's naivete. Then he blinked again, and realized that Hinamori was probably going to get very angry if she didn't get a proper explanation. Ryouichi didn't fancy being blown sky-high. He coughed slightly, and then did his best to translate 'Chiken-speak' into something more intelligible.

"Ah, well, you see, Hinamori-sensei," Ryouichi began, trying to find the best way to start explaining, "Mizukin-san and Takeshi-san were both gravely injured during sparring practice and had to be taken to the medical ward, Brown-san was attempting to attack with a ball of raw Kidou, which blew up in her face, and Zetsumei-san was also beat up pretty badly while sparring with Sakimoto-san. Ah," Ryouichi paused, not sure if he should mention Satoko's throat being slit lest his classmates started to suspect more about Orihime, "Actually, Takeshi-san's injuries were life-threatening, and Isane-sensei was very strained from trying to keep the wound in his throat closed, so she allowed Orihime-san to help, and eventually Takeshi-san was stabilized. Oh!" he exclaimed, turning to the redhead as he realized that he hadn't yet thanked his newest classmate for her aid, "Thank you for that, Orihime-san. I'm sorry I didn't express my gratitude earlier, but you seemed kind of exhausted."

"Ah, so, anyway Sensei," Ryouichi said, turning back to Hinamori with an apologetic look, "Shuhei-sensei dismissed us to lunch and told us that we basically had a free study period until either he or Isane-sensei returned or the dinner bell rang. We apologize for eating into your free time, Hinamori-sensei," he said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly (it looked like that was becoming a habit), "We try not to let these kind of things happen, you know, but I guess we're just predisposed to catastrophe. Ahahaha..." Ryouichi laughed nervously at his own joke, praying silently that she wouldn't burn all of them to charred and crispy ashes.

Ryouichi Kanue wrote:

"Ah, well, you see, Hinamori-sensei," Ryouichi began, trying to find the best way to start explaining, "Mizukin-san and Takeshi-san were both gravely injured during sparring practice and had to be taken to the medical ward, Brown-san was attempting to attack with a ball of raw Kidou, which blew up in her face, and Zetsumei-san was also beat up pretty badly while sparring with Sakimoto-san. Ah," Ryouichi paused, not sure if he should mention Satoko's throat being slit lest his classmates started to suspect more about Orihime, "Actually, Takeshi-san's injuries were life-threatening, and Isane-sensei was very strained from trying to keep the wound in his throat closed, so she allowed Orihime-san to help, and eventually Takeshi-san was stabilized. Oh!" he exclaimed, turning to the redhead as he realized that he hadn't yet thanked his newest classmate for her aid, "Thank you for that, Orihime-san. I'm sorry I didn't express my gratitude earlier, but you seemed kind of exhausted."

"Ah, so, anyway Sensei," Ryouichi said, turning back to Hinamori with an apologetic look, "Shuhei-sensei dismissed us to lunch and told us that we basically had a free study period until either he or Isane-sensei returned or the dinner bell rang. We apologize for eating into your free time, Hinamori-sensei," he said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly (it looked like that was becoming a habit), "We try not to let these kind of things happen, you know, but I guess we're just predisposed to catastrophe. Ahahaha..." Ryouichi laughed nervously at his own joke, praying silently that she wouldn't burn all of them to charred and crispy ashes.

"Hahaha, good one Ryou. That really is us to a T. We were just trying to fight seriously as instructed."

He smiles and puts his and on his head.

"I guess that makes me a problem too huh sensei?"

After he waited a bit, Zetsumei Oushou turned to Satoko.

"Satoko, are you feeling ok? It sounded pretty serious before."

Zetsu waited to see if Satoko would give him more information about what happened.

"Ow... Ow! Kas, you're hurting me!" Naomi struggled a little as Maka dragged her bodily out to the woods behind the school, where the fire had occurred just two weeks earlier. She really didn't want to fight, and the attitude that her friend was displaying was mystifying to her.

Maka unceremoniously dropped the smaller girl to her knees in the grass and kept walking. The sound of Naomi's sword rang out as Mesuokori hit the ground. "Kasahara!" Naomi yelled. "We don't have to fight!"

Maka stopped. "No...," she said, slowly turning around. "I believe we do have to fight."

Naomi blinked. "Oh... Oh! I get it!" she smiled. "You mean a 'real' spar, like in class!" Naomi put her sword up. "You had me worried for a minute. I thought you were really going to try to kill--"

WHAM! The blow to her undefended face was quick, brutal and painful. Blood began pouring from Naomi's nose as she barreled head over feet to the ground. "What the...," she said, shocked from the attack.

"Defend yourself," Maka commanded, drawing her sword and advancing menacingly.

"Kasahara... what's...,"

"I said defend yourself!" Maka lunged, making another attack, which Naomi barely, reflexively was able to parry, ending up with only a large gash in her arm.

"What the hell has gotten into you?!" Naomi shouted, barely holding her friend at bay. Maka's eyes were burning, and there wasn't the least bit of warm emotion showing on her face.

The smashing sound of steel on steel rang out as Maka's attack grew fiercer, less controlled, more destructive. It was all the shellshocked Naomi could do to keep dodging, blocking, and spinning to keep Maka's edge away from her.

"Kasahara... Maka... Please...," Naomi's words were muffled by the tears forming in her eyes, both from the emotion and from her broken nose. Maka replied by another fierce sword slash that rang loud againd Naomi's defense. "Look," Naomi said, desperately trying to talk some sense into her friend. "Maka, please... I know what happened to Takeshi really took a toll on you!"

Only the slightest twitch of Maka's eyebrow gave any sign that these words had any effect on her at all. "Shut up," she said coldly.

"I'm worried about him too! Just... calm down. We can go visit him in the sick room! He might even be back in class by--"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" with a mighty underhand swing, Maka knocked Naomi's sword off center and followed with a vicious slash to the chest. Naomi coughed loudly, blood dripping from her lips.

"He's... he's your... friend, Maka, and I'm your--"

"I don't have any friends!" Maka howled, swinging her sword wildly. Naomi put her free hand on her sword's hilt, using all her strength to parry Maka's blows.

"I'm your friend!" Naomi continued. "And... I know this is how you deal with pain, Maka. You lash out to those closest to you!" The tears were pouring down with just as much intensity as the blood. "We're... just the same, you know. It's destructive... the way we deal with pain. So...," Naomi dropped her sword, her words getting shaky. "Go ahead. If you need to beat the hell out of me to make yourself feel better, go ahead. I won't stop you. Because we're friends, Maka. And... I know you'd do the same for me."

"I'm nothing like you."

Naomi looked up. "W... wha..."

"I said I'm nothing like you!" Maka shouted. "Because unlike you, I don't feel the need to screw anything that moves!"

Naomi felt something go numb inside her. That... that was the one thing. The one trigger. How dare Maka press that button. That... ... ...

"How... how could you!" Naomi snapped, snatching her sword off the ground with a quick movement and hurling herself toward her roommate. Maka's eyes shot wide open, there was no way she'd be able to--

Naomi brought her sword down in a wide arc across Maka's chest, sending blood flying in a spray, and then--

The pain only registered long enough to shut down any remaining logical thought in Maka's mind. She wanted to believe it had been a reflex, a fighting instinct, but looking back, she realized she had definite memories of lifting her sword and driving it between Naomi's ribs in retaliation. When her mind cleared a little, her roommate was half-slumped against her, impaled completely on her blade up to the hilt, blood dripping from the wound and pouring down Maka's hands.

"Y... you're... right..." Naomi let out in a choked whisper. "I'm... I'm just a wounded little... girl." She coughed loudly, her voice getting weaker. "I... just wanted... someone to... love... m--"

With a fierce slash, Maka ripped her sword from Naomi's body in a shower of blood that stained Naomi's blue hair red. Her eyes widened and her body twisted and crumpled to the grass, silent and motionless.


ROUND 1:
Maka makes Normal Attack for 14 wounds
Naomi makes All-Out Attack for 0 wounds

ROUND 2:
Maka makes Normal Attack for 4 wounds
Naomi makes Defensive Attack for 0 wounds

ROUND 3:
Maka makes Aggressive Attack for 11 wounds
Naomi defends

ROUND 4:
Maka makes Aggressive Attack for 0 wounds
Naomi defends

ROUND 5:
Maka makes All-Out Attack for 22 wounds
Naomi makes All-Out Attack for 19 wounds
Naomi falls UNCONSCIOUS!

"So," came a voice from the entrance of the empty medical ward. Anshou groggily looked up. The unmistakable massive form and spiked hairdo of Kenpachi Zaraki was leaning against the door jamb. "I heard you got your ass kicked."

Smirking, Zaraki leaned over his student. "And you got your ass kicked by that one blond kid, the one who's weird and depressed all the time." He snorted. "Come on, you're tougher than that."

"Anyway...," he started to walk away. "You'd better get out of that bed pretty soon. We've got a lesson tonight." Zaraki turned back to grin at Anshou. "Remember... if you miss a lesson, I'll kill you."

And then he was gone.

Kasahara's lips trembled as she felt warm blood that painted her clothes and spotted across her face deep red. Her hands were already drenched in Naomi's bodily fluids but the brunette barely felt it. Her rage didn't immediately dissipate; the feeling lingered within her as she stood there while her heated sweat mixed in with Naomi's blood. The audible thud of 'her friend' falling to the ground was deaf upon her ears. Her eyes were unseeing of Naomi's face twisted in agony as Kasahara dealt the final blow.

Minutes passed and nothing has moved other than the drips and splatter of red that fell from Kasahara's hands to the damp earth. Blood was starting to pool underneath the fallen academy student; there was just so much of it, it would be hard to think that the once blue haired girl was still alive. The tomboy's mind soon registers what she has done as the fog of hate was driven from her mind. She pursed her lips and lifted her weapon once more; the next sound heard was not the hacking of flesh though. There was a clean swipe of steel cutting through the air as Kasahara rid the platters of blood and flesh from her weapon. The next movements were slow and heavy as she sheathed her weapon and gradually squatted down to inspect the bloodied body.

There was a soft, almost inaudible, gurgle coming from Naomi's chest as it desperately tried to inhale and exhale life sustaining oxygen. Otherwise the girl looked to be deceased; her eyes were still wide and glazed over with her face as pale as snow. Her mouth hung open as if she was screaming though no one could hear it. She was still alive. That's what was most important. Kasahara expressionlessly stepped over the prone body before grabbing 'her friend' by the back of Naomi's shinigami uniform. Slowly, the tomboy began to drag the bloody body across the school grounds and into the building while leaving an eerie trail of blood.

There was a slight stinging in Kasahara's own chest as she slowly recognized that she herself was wounded as well. At one glance, the cut looked to be critical and much worse than it felt. Perhaps it was the adrenalin that dulling down her sense of pain. She would soon find out later. What went on in the girl's distracted mind was that fact that she felt like a murderer. She felt ashamed though she didn't regret starting the duel. She didn't mean for it to go this far; the brunette's conscience weighed heavily upon her as she lugged the body through the empty halls. The wound in her chest grew more painful as she neared the medical ward. Kasahara leaned the body against the wall next to the screen door and knocked once before leaving the area. She didn't want anyone to see her now. Not while her clothes and hands were stained red and guilt was written across her face.

It wasn't the right thing to do. It wasn't right to leave Naomi, her 'friend' and fellow classmate, in such a miserable condition but she did what she could to regain some sense of what was right. She wasn't completely heartless, otherwise she would've left the girl to die. She wasn't exactly chivalrous in the way she handled the body either but Kasahara did feel an increment better. Did she worry about Naomi now? Kasahara couldn't sort her current feelings at all; worry wasn't one of the most prudent emotion running through her system. Noticeably, there was guilt... and relief.

The tomboy swiftly took refuge in her dorm room before any of her classmates could see her. With the adrenaline in her system decreasing, the discomfort from her chest grew into a painful ache. She didn't need to go to the medical ward for it though; compared to Naomi, her wound was just a scratch.

Now to get rid of the evidence.

Kasahara stripped out of her bloodied uniform and began to rip it into strips. What ever was not bloodied was used as a bandage for her own wound. The rest was soon discarded into the bottom of a cluttered trashcan. With a shower and a new uniform, it looked as though brunette had not been in a fight at all. As long as the cut in her chest didn't bleed through the makeshift bandages, Maka Kasahara can put up an innocent charade for a long while...

"You... did... what?!??!" Isane screamed, grabbing Shuhei by the neck and pinning him to the wall of Headmaster Sasakibe's office. "Go all out? Don't hold back? Release your zanpakutou?! Have you completely lost your mind?!"

"Isane... I...," Shuhei managed to choke out.

"They're students!" Isane's face was turning red with fury. "They're not fully fledged shinigami! They might be powerful, a lot more powerful than we were when we were at the Academy, but they have no idea how to focus that power!"

"Lieutenant Kotetsu, please calm down," said Sasakibe, his hands held calmly in front of his thin grey beard. "I understand your indignation, but further violence will only serve to exacerbate the problem." Lieutenant Ise stood behind him, almost at attention, not saying a word.

Isane, shaking, let go of Shuhei's collar and turned away, trying to get her temper back under control.

"And you, Lieutenant Hisagi," Sasakibe continued, turning his piercing golden eyes to face the 9th Division officer. "I am mystified as to why you thought it prudent to unleash the level of deadly power these students are capable of in a training environment."

"W... well, sir. Sir." Shuhei straighten himself up and forced himself into the military bearing he was used to exhibiting. "With all due respect sir, I had taken the precaution of inviting members of 4th Division's medical crew to observe the class, in case the worst should happen. And with the Homecoming Tournament coming up, I judged that it would--"

"The tournament?!" Isane shouted. "That's why you let my students almost kill each other?! So you could show off for that damn tournament?!"

"Lieutenant, please," Sasakibe said calmly to Isane before addressing Shuhei again. "Lieutenant Hisagi, I am very disappointed in you. And frankly, I am rather shocked at this lapse in judgment that nearly cost the lives of one of our students. You do remember that our primary goal here is to mold the Shinigami of tomorrow, not to bask in the glory of today. You remember that, right?"

Shuhei felt an odd hole in the pit of his stomach. "Y... yes, sir."

"Good. Since you agree with me, there will be no argument. Effective immediately, you are suspended as an instructor from the Academy for the duration of one year."

Shuhei's mouth dropped open for a moment, but he recovered quickly, standing back at attention. "Y... yes, sir. I understand, sir."

"Now, now, Chojiro. Are you sure that's necessary?"

Sasakibe started and jumped from his desk. The three other Lieutenants in the room stood straight as well as General Yamamoto, leaning on his wooden staff, stepped without introduction into the Headmaster's Office.

"G... General, sir!" Sasakibe barked. "You... what are you... we were just discussing..."

"Of course," the General smiled calmly. "I have to say, you were all impressed by what my Orihime did, weren't you?"

Ise scowled at the General, and Sasakibe sputtered, "Er... sir, that's not really what this meeting is a--"

"Oh, don't mind me, Chojiro," Yamamoto interrupted his Lieutenant again. "But... just the same, don't you think you're being a little harsh on Shuhei here?"

Shuhei's eyebrows went up, as did Isane's.

"W... with all due respect, General!" Sasakibe said. "This is Academy business, sir. And as Academy business, it remains within my jurisdiction to--"

"Oh, of course, of course. Wouldn't dream of it. I'm just saying... these are special kids, Chojiro. And with my Orihime with them, there's really nothing to worry about. In fact, it's possible that Shuhei might not even be pushing them hard enough."

Isane's eyes shot open. "G... General!"

"By the way, Isane," Yamamoto smiled at her. "Do tell me, how is Retsu-chan doing? Oh, there's also another student bleeding to death in your medical ward. You might want to attend to that. I'd suggest you get Orihime from your classroom to assist you."

Isane's mouth dropped open. She exchanged a glance with Shuhei, then dashed out of the room.

"As you were, Lieutenants," Yamamoto smiled at the three remaining. "It'll be good to see you leading your class in the tournament," he said to Shuhei before toddling out of the office.

Chojiro sighed as the General left his office. He cleared his throat. "Alright, then, Lieutenant Hisagi. Consider yourself lucky as the General has granted you a reprieve. But be certain that you will not exercise such poor judgment in the future. Be ready for class day after tomorrow. You're dismissed."

Without another word, Shuhei bowed deeply and took off, shutting the door behind him.

Chojiro sighed again, burying his face in his hands. "The General was out of line," Ise said.

"You're telling me," Chojiro agreed, reaching into his desk drawer for a book. "And it's not the first time, either. There's something that's been definitely... off with the General lately." He opened the book. There listed on the pages were the names and faces of Class 3-A. Brown, Rikiki. Duggo, Duggo. Kasahara, Maka. "I can't put my finger on it, but... Nanao, you remember how... serious the General used to be, right?"

Chojiro put his face back in his hands. "And... there's something wrong with these kids too, I can feel it. They're just... they're almost too strong."

"They... are the Advanced Class, sir," Ise replied.

"Nanao, how long ago did you graduate from the Academy?"

She was a little reticent to admit her age, but she swallowed and answered truthfully. "Eighty-four years ago, sir."

"And, in your graduating class, how many were there that could release their zanpakutou?"

Ise swallowed again. "Well... none, sir."

"That's what I thought." Chojiro stared down at his record book again. "That's... definitely what I thought," he said, pondering.

"If you don't need me, sir... There's some paperwork in my office I need to finish."

"Go right ahead," Chojiro said, not taking his eyes off the photographs of Class 3-A.

"Thank you," Ise quickly hurried from the room.

"Shh, here she comes," Fuiro said to Duggo as the telltale rhythmic clacking of Nanao Ise's heels came closer and closer. Fuiro peeked up over his cubicle, beer still in hand, as she clacked past his door and kept walking.

"Alright," Fuiro chuckled. "T-minus in ten seconds."

"Nine..."

"Eight..."

--------------------------

Ise sighed as she made her way to her own office. She couldn't stand to see the Headmaster like that, but it was true. The General had changed. He'd gotten less authoritarian. Less strict with the rules. And Ise did not like that one bit. What was going on? Was he getting...

Ise didn't want to admit it, but even someone as illustrious as the General wasn't immortal. And not immune to the ravages of aging either.

"He's... getting old," she sighed, her hand on her office door. With a quick motion, she turned the knob...

----------------------------

The shriek was audible in nearly every corner of the campus.

"Sakimoto-san, if you wanted dancing lessons, you should have just said so!" Yumichika smiled, holding Igarashi's hand and moving with him to the classical music. "I don't mean to brag, but I was more than a little well known for dancing during my own Academy days. It's not difficult, here." He took Igarashi's hand and placed it on his waist.

"A... Ayasegawa-sensei," Igarashi stammered. "I don't know if I feel comfortable with--"

"Do you want lessons or not?" Yumichika pouted. "Now, you're the gentleman, so you'll be leading. I assume you've found a cute one to go to the dance with you?"

Igarashi turned almost as red as his hair.

"You did, you did," Yumichika teased. "Now, just use your hand to move me in the direction you want to -- OW! -- Careful not to step on my feet, Sakimoto-san! They're delicate!" The music rose to a flourish and then stopped. "There, just like that! You'll be cutting the rug like a champion before--"

Just then... a loud scream echoed through the halls of the Academy.

"Dear lord!" Yumichika jumped, pulling Igarashi a little closer to him. "What on earth was-- aaagh!" In his confusion over the scream, Yumichika slipped on the cover of his Brahms album and crashed to the ground. Pulling Igarashi unintentionally on top of him.

Feeling nervous and uncomfortable, Igarashi looked Yumichika in the face, embarassed.

And at that one, singularly perfect moment, the door to the classroom slid open.

And standing there was none other than General Yamamoto himself.

The General smiled down at the two petrified young men on the floor in front of him.

"As you were, gentlemen. Sorry for intruding."

And the door closed, and he was gone.

"Satoko, are you feeling ok? It sounded pretty serious before."

Satoko's eyes met Zetsumei's, and the barren wasteland that was his eyes would have shocked most. No sign of emotion was there, Takeshi's eyes even lacked the glaze of loneliness and pain they had worn when Takeshi had first met his fellows. Nothing but a freezing cold, empty, indfference was shown, and yet it was clear that Takeshi's eyes hid nothing of who he was; his eyes had always been the most expressive part of him. His voice had never been littered with emotion, his movements were nothing more then movements; although occasionally they were magnificently graceful. Takeshi's eyes were who he was, you could see him in his eyes, he was unaware of this.
"I'm... I..."

Takeshi hesitated, before his eyelids slid slowly shut, and he stood a few moments as if considering something of great importance, then his eyes open and he almost spat the words he spoke. "I had my throat slit open, Zetsumei!" Takeshi exclaimed, almost hollered. He was most definately angry, angry with himself, enraged with the world around him, Takeshi felt the anger in him being unfairly directed at the green haired boy, and so he forced himself to stop. He looked over to Momo, and sighed before speaking again. "Anshou didn't half kill me, he killed me. I was dead, Hinamori." He strolled past her, the cold air about him showering itself on anyone unfrotunate enough to be near him. At the exit to the classrom he stopped, and without turning around adressed Kanue. "And next time I take an injury, I don't need you around watching me die, you nosy bastard!" Takeshi spat at Kanue, a mix of anger and disappointment in his voice, and then he was gone.

Takeshi walked away from the class room, and ended simply wandering around aimlessly, no direction in mind, none wanted. His mind went unused, thoughts went untouched, Takeshi simply forged onward, trekking blankly on untill his foot met the floor and fond it slicked wet, and his noise was blasted with the scent of blood. He looked down, a trail of blood flowing off deeper into the school, this did not immediately register in Takeshi's detatched, relaxed mind, but he was soon brought back down to earth by the remembrance that blood must have come from somebody. That... That's a loot of blood... It's... ugh, I'm tired of seeing blood. This school could fill a blood bank with all the blood its students lost. He shook his head in disagreement with the situation before setting off in a sprint towards whatever had left the trail behind.

Takeshi ran as quickly as his legs would carry him, covering the distance from the end up of the trail of the blood to the other rather quickly. Then he skidded to a halt.

His blue-haired classmate, or what remained of the once attractive girl anyway. Takeshi's eyes widened as he saw the girl in obvious pain, she looked like she was dead, and the blonde teenage boy could barely bring himself to look at her, to look at another in pain, not quite dead but dying. For some reason this bothered him... it bothered him a lot. Suddenly somethign that Takeshi had used to dwell on for ages came back to him- he was only a teenager. He was only 18 and all this was happening to him. How was he supposed to handle this? I-It's too much... I'm dying, other people are dying, and I'll be killing them one day. How can I do that? How can I do any of this?

"How", he spoke aloud, "How? HOW!?" Takeshi hesitated for several long seconds before speaking aloud at no one again, "Or even more curious... Why?"

It wasn't the time for this. He had to move Naomi, and so he did. He picked her up and moved her inside the medical room, ignorant of anyone else in the room. He wanted to know what had done this.

Of course, he did know. There had been only four students missing from that classroom when Takeshi had arrived. Anshou, who was still here in the medical room. That blonde one, Anshou's girlfriend, who had gone off with Ximenez. This blue haired one. And...

Kasahara.

He shrugged, now wasn't the time. Naomi was taken care of, he should get out of there. He was soaked in her blood and he looked like a severely used bandage with arms and legs. Sighing, he strolled towards the medical ward's exit so he could head off to change.

Isane stepped briskly through the halls of the Academy, mulling over what had gone on in the Headmaster's office. How could Shuhei have done that? Yes, they were the Advanced class, but... It wasn't right to have them nearly kill each other like that. Training needed to be rough, even brutal at times. Isane was a Shinigami, she knew that, but...

She stopped short in the hallway, looking closely, unable to believe what she was seeing.

Blood.

A veritable trail of blood, smeared along the floor of the Academy, leading...

Isane felt her heart sink into the ground.

She broke into a full sprint down the hall toward the medical ward following the blood. It was a lot of blood, and Isane desperately hoped it wasn't too late for the person from whom it had come.

There was a massive stain outside the medical ward, against the wall. Whoever had been bleeding had been put there for a little while and then.. Isane threw open the door and almost ran headlong into--

"You!" she said loudly. "You're the boy from earlier!" She took one look at his clothes. Covered in blood. Then she looked behind him. It was another of 3-A's students, sure enough. Naomi Oxen. Carved up and barely breathing.

Isane pushed past Satoko and examined the girl. She was hurt bad, but not as bad as the boy had been earlier. This was well within Isane's training.

"Did you do this?" Isane snapped at Satoko. "First you come within a hair's breadth of dying yourself, and then you almost go and kill somebody else?! What the hell is wrong with your class?!" she yelled, preparing to cast a kidou spell. "Way of Binding 46, Renew!" Reiatsu filled the room, and Isane channeled it through her hands to each of Naomi's wounds, purifying and sealing them shut.

"Get out of here. Now!" Isane shouted at Satoko, not giving the boy any chance to speak. "Tell Hinamori-sensei that I will be there shortly."

(Sorry I've been really busy lately. I'm assuming all of this is happening in the class room. If not, let me know please.)

Chiken Kazenosei wrote:

"Oh, well, she's my spirit butterfly! Uhh... 'from my sword' is what she told me to say. She teaches me stuff like a professor, like to sort my memories, but she keeps scolding me, saying that I should 'allow people to respond before I talk too much' and to 'not stick my sword in an electrical socket' and stuff, but she's really nice! Oh, what is your spirit butterfly like?"

Orihime had been spacing out too. Her zompakto's form... that was difficult.

"Well, it's not a butterfly... it's more likea fairy really. Kind of like my small ones, but larger."

Orihime realised Chiken wouldn't know what she was talking about, but she didn't really want to go into explaining it more.

Satoko Takeshi wrote:

""I'm... I... I had my throat slit open, Zetsumei!" Takeshi exclaimed

"Anshou didn't half kill me, he killed me. I was dead, Hinamori." He strolled past her, the cold air about him showering itself on anyone unfrotunate enough to be near him. At the exit to the classrom he stopped, and without turning around adressed Kanue. "And next time I take an injury, I don't need you around watching me die, you nosy bastard!"

Orihime watched as Satoko left. She sighed at his poor attitude.

Really, he's lucky to be alive at all.

She then stood up and addressed to anyone listening:

"Well, he's healed and ok now, so let's not bring up bad memories for him."

Chiken, however, totally ignored anything Orihime said when he got up to follow Satoko. He wanted to know what he meant by some of the things he said, mostly about having his throat slit open. He walked right past the kidou teacher on his way out, a confused look on his face.

Once outside the classroom, Chiken had no idea which way to go. He stood right outside of the classroom for a second and blinked. Once he opened his eyes, he was suddenly seeing everything in a deep blue with many different strings of spiritual energy of various sizes criss-crossing in front of himself. The sight startled Chiken and he blinked again, the strings gone and color back when he opened his eyes again. Shrugging the weird event off, he picked a direction and started walking.

After a little bit of walking, he saw a trail of blood on the ground. Chiken walked over to it and dipped his finger in, confused. Shrugging, he decided to follow the trail. He was led to the medical ward and opened the door to see Isane-Sensei yelling at Satoko who was covered in blood, Chiken did not notice Naomi on a bed in the background and instantly assumed... "Satoko, why are you bleeding again? Did your throat open back up? Can I see it?"

Naomi tried to deflect the fierce slashes from her once best friend. Naomi wondered what had gotten into her. Her eyes had almost appeared to be a blood red. It could have been Naomi’s blood though. Then all at once everything slowed down and Kasahara’s blade went through her. Naomi fell to he ground gasping air. “Ka, kas.....” Naomi tried to spit out a sentence but her body would not speak. Naomi felt blood in her chest make its way up to her throat. Everything went black.

Naomi’s eyes fluttered open briefly and she was being drug. Again later on and she was being carried. Then there was shouting. Naomi saw Isane and reached for her hand. Naomi’s eyes closed, but through her eyelids she could see a bright light and then Naomi heard “way of binding.”

Satoko Takeshi wrote:

""I'm... I... I had my throat slit open, Zetsumei! Anshou didn't half kill me, he killed me. I was dead, Hinamori." He strolled past her, the cold air about him showering itself on anyone unfortunate enough to be near him. At the exit to the classroom he stopped, and without turning around addressed Kanue. "And next time I take an injury, I don't need you around watching me die, you nosy bastard!"

I just wanted to know how he was feeling. I didn't really get a good look at what happened. I was distracted by my previous conversation. Next thing I know, everyone is being asked to clear out as Satoko was carried away and there was blood on the floor. That could have been me or Igarashi that sent each other to the medical ward.

Orihime Inoue wrote:

"Well, he's healed and ok now, so let's not bring up bad memories for him."

"As if it were that simple. I heard you managaed to heal him somehow, but you can't heal someone's mind. Mermories can be more damaging than wounds and more likely to resurface."

Man, now I've gone and spoke without thinking. There's someone else though that I should appologise to. Someone I've wronged. I still haven't apologised to Igarashi.

((Sorry Smyth, it's a bit hard to keep up with what's going on. ))

Kazu walks around the corner, and into the current mess of whatever had been going on. Recognizing a bloody battle, Kazu just shook his head. 'Why do people feel the need to kill themselves? Don't they understand that you can spar without slicing off your friend's throat?'

Zetsumei Oushou wrote:

"I would really like to go with you to the homecoming dance. If you don't want to go with me, I understand."

Yes, that's what Ashibue had thought he'd said. She stared at him, looking neither up nor down, partly unconfortable from the sudden attention and partly out of wondering why on earth he wanted to go to the dance with her. She thought long and hard. Should she say yes? She hardly knew the green-haired boy. Still... he seemed less intimidating than the other members of the class. A fearful vision popped into Ashibue's mind of attending the dance in the company of the loud Sakimoto-san or the class representative. She shot a nervous glance toward Kanue-san. He'd always left a bit of nervous suspicion at the back of Ashibue's skull.

But... the idea... why did she have to go to the dance with anybody? She sighed out loud. Fighting the system was pointless. Rules were rules, and it would be easier to grin and bear it with someone who didn't terrify her too much. Ashibue shakily looked up, preparing to agree.

Unfortunately, the green-haired boy... Zetsumei-san, was that his name? He had gone on and was now talking to the sullen Takeshi-san. Ashibue bit her lip. Had she spent too much time thinking? Had she taken too long to answer? Maybe he'd taken her sigh as a rejection.

His back was to her now. Ashibue reached out one hand to him, then drew it back quickly. She held one hand over her face, nervously pondering what to do next. No one else would ask her to the dance, probably. She'd end up getting paired with whoever didn't have a partner, and she knew what terrible consequences might come from that. The vision of having Sakimoto-san or Kanue-san as a partner. Holding hands with them. Having to dance with...

The fear of that overwhelmed her other fear. She reached out... slowly...

She touched his arm.

Her fingers barely whispered against the fabric of his uniform. Zetsumei-san didn't even seem to notice her for what felt like an eternity. The shadow girl had no idea what to say or do. He seemed entranced by the sheer intensity of the commotion going on around him. Luckily for her, a voice from the doorway broke Zetsumei out of it.

Kazu Arikosu wrote:

Why do people feel the need to kill themselves? Don't they understand that you can spar without slicing off your friend's throat?

Kazu. She vaguely remembered seeing him around in previous years. He was loud, and had a habit of being rather overbearing and annoying to others, but he was also supposed to be one of the most gifted students there.

Zetsumei noticed Kazu, too, and he looked a little surprised at the sudden appearance of the bull-headed boy. It took him another few moments, but when he noticed Ashibue he smiled.

She sucked in a silent breath, and Ashibue nodded, her head so low she was practically bowing. She looked up at him with the softest suggestion of a smile, even though it took every ounce of will she had to keep her hands from shaking. The green-haired boy looked slightly confused, but hopefully he'd understand.

For a moment, she felt as if the bull-headed student standing by the doorway had been watching her, but she wasn't sure.

Ashibue Kijou wrote:

She touched his arm.

Her fingers barely whispered against the fabric of his uniform. Zetsumei-san didn't even seem to notice her for what felt like an eternity. The shadow girl had no idea what to say or do. He seemed entranced by the sheer intensity of the commotion going on around him. Luckily for her, a voice from the doorway broke Zetsumei out of it.[/i]

Kazu Arikosu wrote:

Why do people feel the need to kill themselves? Don't they understand that you can spar without slicing off your friend's throat?

Kazu. She vaguely remembered seeing him around in previous years. He was loud, and had a habit of being rather overbearing and annoying to others, but he was also supposed to be one of the most gifted students there.

Zetsumei noticed Kazu, too, and he looked a little surprised at the sudden appearance of the bull-headed boy. It took him another few moments, but when he noticed Ashibue he smiled.

She sucked in a silent breath, and Ashibue nodded, her head so low she was practically bowing. She looked up at him with the softest suggestion of a smile, even though it took every ounce of will she had to keep her hands from shaking. The green-haired boy looked slightly confused, but hopefully he'd understand.

For a moment, she felt as if the bull-headed student standing by the doorway had been watching her, but she wasn't sure.

Zetsumei had felt someone brushing up against his arm. He didn't notice it at first, because of everything else going on around him. First there was this thing with Sakoto who he some how managed to upset, and he had just recently had to rebuff this new red head girl who seemed to somehow with no obvious medical experience, heal his classmate. What did she know about true healing? Zetsumei realised perhaps he had been thoughtless too in his response, but he just wanted to know how Sakoto was holding up. Now this Kazu guy was butting into the class with the most random comments that made little sense in the context of what he knew. What did it all mean? He then finally noticed Ashibue Kijou behind him touching his arm.

"Oh sorry Kijou-san. I guess I'm still a little worked up about everything that has happened."

He then smiled although slightly sadly.

"If you're here, that means you must not completely hate me. I was worried since I asked you two or three times now and you were silent. I don't really want to rush your decision."

Zetsumei tried his best to exude the kind gentleman vibe, although he was shaking from nervousness. He put his hand in his hair and gave a sheepish grin.

"...."

Momo blinked, taken aback at how forcefully and disrepectfully Takeshi-san had spoken to her before running out of the room. And to call her "Hinamori" like that, not adding a "-sensei" or even a "-san."

She took a deep breath. It had been a rough day for him, Momo said to herself.

"Alright, class, take your seats," she said. "Let's try and keep things calm for the rest of the afternoon." She turned to the bull-headed 3-B student standing in the doorway. "And... is there something that our class can help you with?"

Quote :

"You!" she said loudly. "You're the boy from earlier!" She took one look at his clothes. Covered in blood. Then she looked behind him. It was another of 3-A's students, sure enough. Naomi Oxen. Carved up and barely breathing.

Satoko cocked his head to side in pure and obvious confusion and then took a step back in equally obvious shock, where had Isane come from, and why was she yelling at him? And why didn't she know his name? before more intelligent thoughts could form, Takeshi was pushed ungracefully aside by Isane, who was moving towards Naomi. Confused and distressed, Takeshi just took a few clumsy steps backwards and listened to Isane go on.
"Did you do this?" Isane snapped at Satoko.
Takeshi opened his mouth to protest her accusation, but more was still to come.
"First you come within a hair's breadth of dying yourself, and then you almost go and kill somebody else?! What the hell is wrong with your class?!" she yelled, preparing to cast a kidou spell.
Takeshi again brought his lips apart, but was left with his mouth agap like a fool as Isane cast the Kidou spell and he thought for sure that he shouldn't speak lest he distract her, in which case she may become even more upset.
"Get out of here. Now!" Isane shouted at Satoko, not giving the boy any chance to speak. "Tell Hinamori-sensei that I will be there shortly."
"... Yes m'am.", Takeshi sullenly began to slip out of the room, but stopped himself at the exit. "Sorry about this, Kotetsu, It won't happen again." And as he left the room, muttered silently to himself, so no one else could hear him, and the words were laced with determination, and trickled with dissapointment.

"I'll make sure it doesn't."


When leaving, Takeshi took notice of Chiken for the first time, and made sure to grab him and drag him into the hall with him. He had ehard his question and decided to respond before he started goin on about his own busisness. "No, sorry Chiken, as cool as that'd be it didn't happen, I'm still in one piece, see?" Takeshi raised his head so Chiken could see his neck, which was not scarred or wounded in the least, the skin looked very nice actually. Of course, Takeshi's complexion wasn't really the top of anyone's concerns rght now. "Hey, Chiken, can you do me a favour? I need you to go back to class and tell Hinamori that Isane will be there soon." Takeshi hesitated before continuing, but he wasn't sure Chiken noticed, "I-I injured a fellow student and Isane's tied up healing them, that's why she's been delayed. Tell Momo that, I don't mind if the class hears too.". Takeshi gave Chiken a nod of apporval and started off away from him, away from the lcassroom and the majority of his fellow classmates.

After only a few steps, Takeshi stopped, and turned to looked at Chiken, and spoke a word he couldn't remember using very often; "Thanks." And then he shuffled off and around a corner, out of Chiken's sight.

Chiken was a little disappointed to have Satoko not have his throat opened again and he wouldn't be able to see it, but the task quickly entrusted to him kept his mind off of it. He smiled once Satoko thanked him and nodded, glad to be of help. Now however, he had to get back to the classroom...

Surprisingly, Chiken retraced his steps quite well at the beginning, but that was only because he wanted to follow the footprints left behind in the trail of blood. Luckily, it was his footsteps he was now following: he hadn't noticed that he had made them while following the trail. Once he got to where the footprints stopped, Chiken looked around for the classroom. Luck still on his side, he spotted the classroom down the hall a little and wouldn't have to spend time wandering and looking for it, a process that would've taken a while.

Once inside the classroom, Chiken wasted no time repeating what Satoko had told him to say. "Satoko said to tell you that Isane-Sensei told him that she'll be there soon, and that he hurt someone and so she has to fix them." Chiken smiled broadly at Momo-Sensei and the class, not even thinking about the words that just came out of his mouth. He went back to his seat and sat down, waiting for Momo-Sensei to say something.

Isane, her head practically spinning, marched down the hallway, occasionally looking down at the blood stains streaking the floor. And the footprints. Her breath was shallow and her hands were quaking with fury.

There was her classroom. She threw open the door. And everyone in the room could sense just how upset she was.

"Thank you, Hinamori-sensei," she said, restraining herself from blowing up in front of the other lieutenant. "I can take over for the rest of the class."

Momo blinked. "You sure you're alright, Isane?" She didn't wait for a response. Momo could tell when a teacher needed private time with her students. "Ok, I'll head back to my division."

"Sorry for cutting into your day off, Momo," said Isane as Hinamori took off and shut the door.

Isane fixed the class with a glare as cold as her Shikai's ice. "Twice, today," she said. "Twice today, we almost lost a student. To what? To a captain gone rogue? To a surprise Hollow attack?" She swallowed, her eyes drifting from student to student.

"No," she went on. "To you. Just because you're all members of the Advanced class, you seem to think that you can hack and slash and cut and pierce and gouge at each other. Do you think you're immortal?" Isane's voice was raising. "Do you think you really can't kill each other if you try hard enough?! Heaven only knows what the lot of you are going to do to each other at Homecoming. Do you have any idea how much I fear all of you letting loose like that? Do you have any idea how much I'm expecting one of you to lose an arm? Or an eye? Or your life?!"

The class was stone silent.

"Do you have any idea how much it absolutely kills me, whenever I have a student die over something as pointless as a goddamned training exercise?!?! Isane's voice cracked with emotion and she looked away. She cleared her throat and caught her breath.

"It's clear to me that, as strong as you all are, you simply do not have the experience or maturity necessary to handle the responsibility of sparring. And, while I don't have the authority to affect Hisagi-sensei's class or any of your other teachers, I'm still your homeroom leader, your supervisor, your commanding officer, and a Lieutenant of Soul Society."

She paused for a moment.

"Effective immediately. I'm ordering all zanpakutou carried by this class to be peace-bound at any time while you're not under the direct supervision of an Academy instructor."

A murmur rose quickly as Isane opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew a large pouch. She threw it down on her desk, and inside were dozens of thick leather bindings.

"You will keep your swords wrapped and bound tightly at any time outside of class. Anyone caught violating this rule will be subject to the most severe disciplinary action, up to and including suspension and dismissal from Shinigami Academy." She cleared her throat again. "If you all still feel the need to beat the hell out of each other, you can do it with your scabbards on."

A slight protest began to rise from the class, but Isane silenced them quickly with a look of icy steel.

"You will find buckets and brushes in a closet in the hallway," she said quietly. "After you have finished securing your blades, you will all spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning your classmate Oxen-san's blood off the floor of this school. Now. Move."

Kazu, embarassed that he thought out loud rather than in his mind like he thought*, Kazu was about ready to answer Momo, but Isane seemed to be so very angry, Kazu shut his yap and carefully, stealthfully, inched out of view.

Had he actually spoken something, he had the look of someone concerned and eager to help if there was any need for his services. Considering Kazu's centuries of services, this most likely seemed to be the first thought in his mind. The loud noises and previous encounters with near death students in the nurses' office only stresses Kazu's willingness to help. Isane's mood, however, seemed too dangerous to approach.

As he slowly leaves the disaster area, Kazu breaths a soft sigh of relief and thinks to himself 'Maybe I should rethink the whole advanced class. Some of these talented kids don't seem that advanced to me.' Though his thoughts remain his own, his concerns echo in his face. While he hears Isane give her lecture, he casually watches to see if Momo leaves the room.


(ooc: *my fault guys, I'm too used to writing novels, when I do ' it's for thinking and " is for speaking, I will remember to explicitly say thinking next time, very sorry

If momo leaves (the class to follow kazu) Kazu will formally apologize for speaking out loud and then strike up a conversation)

Isane Kotetsu wrote:

"Thank you, Hinamori-sensei," she said, restraining herself from blowing up in front of the other lieutenant. "I can take over for the rest of the class."

Momo blinked. "You sure you're alright, Isane?" She didn't wait for a response. Momo could tell when a teacher needed private time with her students. "Ok, I'll head back to my division."

"Sorry for cutting into your day off, Momo," said Isane as Hinamori took off and shut the door.

Isane fixed the class with a glare as cold as her Shikai's ice. "Twice, today," she said. "Twice today, we almost lost a student. To what? To a captain gone rogue? To a surprise Hollow attack?" She swallowed, her eyes drifting from student to student.

"No," she went on. "To you. Just because you're all members of the Advanced class, you seem to think that you can hack and slash and cut and pierce and gouge at each other. Do you think you're immortal?" Isane's voice was raising. "Do you think you really can't kill each other if you try hard enough?! Heaven only knows what the lot of you are going to do to each other at Homecoming. Do you have any idea how much I fear all of you letting loose like that? Do you have any idea how much I'm expecting one of you to lose an arm? Or an eye? Or your life?!"

The class was stone silent.

"Do you have any idea how much it absolutely kills me, whenever I have a student die over something as pointless as a goddamned training exercise?!?! Isane's voice cracked with emotion and she looked away. She cleared her throat and caught her breath.

"It's clear to me that, as strong as you all are, you simply do not have the experience or maturity necessary to handle the responsibility of sparring. And, while I don't have the authority to affect Hisagi-sensei's class or any of your other teachers, I'm still your homeroom leader, your supervisor, your commanding officer, and a Lieutenant of Soul Society."

She paused for a moment.

"Effective immediately. I'm ordering all zanpakutou carried by this class to be peace-bound at any time while you're not under the direct supervision of an Academy instructor."

A murmur rose quickly as Isane opened a drawer in her desk and withdrew a large pouch. She threw it down on her desk, and inside were dozens of thick leather bindings.

"You will keep your swords wrapped and bound tightly at any time outside of class. Anyone caught violating this rule will be subject to the most severe disciplinary action, up to and including suspension and dismissal from Shinigami Academy." She cleared her throat again. "If you all still feel the need to beat the hell out of each other, you can do it with your scabbards on."

A slight protest began to rise from the class, but Isane silenced them quickly with a look of icy steel.

"You will find buckets and brushes in a closet in the hallway," she said quietly. "After you have finished securing your blades, you will all spend the rest of the afternoon cleaning your classmate Oxen-san's blood off the floor of this school. Now. Move."

Orihime was silently and intently listening to Kotetsu-sensei. She nodded at her reproach of the students.

Of course we shouldn't be trying to kill each other. That's why we are classmates. I want to show my support for her ideals.

Orihime approached Kotetsu-sensei's desk.

"Kotetsu-sensei, I'm sorry that all that happened. I would like to get one of those leather bindings please."

She picked is up and wrapped it around her sheathed blade. She then went to the class closet to get some scrubbing brushes and a bucket.

"I'll go start cleaning too Kotetsu-sensei. Where exactly is area we are supposed to clean?"

She waited holding her items till there were further instructions.

Chiken watched Isane-Sensei with interest, mostly because of how loud she was. Once she had brought out the bindings, Chiken jumped up to see them. Following Orihime's example he slid his on Myounahanashi, not fully understanding why. He looked around for a second, trying to remember what he was supposed to do next when he saw faint traces of bloody footprints out in the hall leading to the room. Intrigued, Chiken followed them outside the classroom.

The footprints led him to a trail of blood on the floor, which Chiken managed to remember seeing before. It took him a few seconds of staring at the trail before he remembered what he was supposed to be doing. Unsure where to find a bucket, Chiken looked around to see a door that had been taped back together. Puzzled, Chiken opened the door to find a closet. Not questioning about the door in it's poorly fixed shape, Chiken pulled out various buckets and rags. Those still in his hands, he closed the door and looked out into the hall and noticed some bloody footprints on the ground. Intrigued, Chiken followed them down the hall.

Finding himself back outside the classroom, Chiken walked in with all the supplies still in hand. He set them down on the table to look at the class for a second before turning around and seeing faint traces of bloody footprints out in the hall leading to the room. Intrigued, Chiken followed them outside the classroom...

(((SUPER CHIKEN POST GO!)))

The strains of a jovial song filled the air that night around the perimeter of 8th Divisions headquarted. An off-key, but very, very jovial song. Punctuated by an occasional odd chunk sound.

Leaning on each other, staggering slightly and red in the face, were Fuiro Hyakushi and Duggo. In the former's right hand, he carried a stack of papers. In the latter's left hand, he carried a stapler.

"Osake, osake, osake wo nomimasu," Fuiro sang, slurring a little, as he took the top paper from the stack in his right hand and placed it against the fence surrounding 8th Division. It was a copy of Nanao Ise's bikini picture.

"Nomimasu, kanpai, osake wo nomimasu," Duggo answered, swinging his left arm around and delivering a single staple to the middle of the photograph.

"Totemo osake, totemo nomimasu, nomu eien!" they joined in and sang together. Behind them, they left a scattered trail of risque Ise photographs stapled along the entire length of 8th Division's wall.

Duggo yawned. "This has been quite the experience," he said, reaching into his robe and pulling out another bottle of beer. He bit the cap off with his teeth, spit it away, and took a long pull.

Fuiro reached into his robe, pulled out a beer, and did the same thing. "Oh, don't worry, it's not over just yet."

As if on cue, strains of music filled the air, the same strains that had haunted nearly every night since class began. It was a tune that was, by now, very familiar to Fuiro Hyakushi. He began singing along.

"Ki no shita ni kuroi neko, kuroi neko ga ikimasu
Ore wo mimasu, naze desu ka, neko ni ki no shita wo mimashita "

Duggo took another swig of beer. "That's pretty good."

Fuiro took another swig of beer. "Lets head back to the Academy."

"Yeah, it's getting pretty late, and school tomorrow, and--"

"Oh no," Fuiro grinned. "No bed for you yet. We've got one more picture to put up."

Duggo grinned back. "At the school? Hell yes, let's do it."

They laughed together, drank some more beer, and went staggering off in the direction of the Academy, slurring Fuiro's song in discordant glee. "Ki no shita ni kuroi neko, kuroi neko..."

==================================

Far away, on the other side of the Academy, Chojiro Sasakibe stood, staring out the window of 1st Division's headquarters. The bad feeling he'd had in the pit of his stomach hadn't abated in the least. He agreed wholeheartedly with Lieutenant Kotetsu's decree that all of Class 3-A's swords be peace-bound... but during the Homecoming Tournament, all bets (and scabbards) would be off. There would be legions of officers from 4th Division there, but... Chojiro sighed. According to the rules, the only person with the authority to stop a fight in progress before one combatant was unconscious or out of the ring was--

"Chojiro," came a gruff, demanding voice from behind, accompanied by the sound of a cane hitting the floor.

"Yes, sir?" Chojiro turned to face the General.

"Chojiro, I-- hyakkk--" The General was seized by a coughing fit that broke his sentence. His lieutenant didn't betray a single ounce of worry or emotion on his face as Yamamoto bent over, hacking, his hand over his face.

"Yes, sir?" Chojiro repeated.

The General caught his breath. "Chojiro, did you send out my haori without my permission?"

Chojiro raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, sir?"

"I've spent the last twenty minutes looking for my haori, Chojiro. And I know I've warned you several times before not to send it out for cleaning without first informing me! It takes two days for it to return, and I have a meeting to attend with the Emperor tomorrow morning!"

The 1st Division Lieutenant bit his lip. "Sir... if I may?"

"What is it?" the General demanded. "You have an excuse?"

"Sir... it's... um..."

"Spit it out!"

Chojiro sighed. "General... you're... wearing your haori."

General Yamamoto looked down. Sure enough, his 1st Division Captain's haori was draped over his shoulders, just like it always was. The General paused for a moment, then shook his head. "Get some sleep, Chojiro. You've got a school to run tomorrow." He coughed again, not as drastically as before, though, stamped his cane into the ground again and went off toward his quarters.

Chojiro watched him shuffle off and sighed. He truly hoped that, should the need arise, General Yamamoto would have enough control of his faculties to stop the Tournament.

This January 21st would be General Yamamoto's 2759th birthday. He'd already outlived everyone else from the days Soul Society had been founded. He'd even outlived three emperors. He shook his head. Not to mention his own daughter...

Lieutenant Sasakibe turned back to the window. Seireitei looked peaceful tonight.

But there would be no sleep tonight for the Lieutenant.