Between the Cracks [Solo]

He drifted further into his directionless haze. Nothing felt truly real. It was the sheer magnitude of it all, mingled with the uncertainty and doubt, and the cloying sense of, given the scope, abandoning his thoughts entirely and leaving this grim business to someone else. But something wouldn't let him, so he had tugged and tugged at the mental thread, unravelling the reality and gravity of the situation piece by bloody piece.

He was 'born' in the far half of the Rukongai, far from the benevolent brilliant pure white walls that separated the Seireitei from the rest of Soul Society. For many districts of the Rukongai, the Shinigami were a benevolent force that maintained order and helped the countless souls thrive in this second life. For many more, they were absent entirely, left to the devices of their communities, for the even further unlucky they saw the Shinigami at their worst as they sought their little proclivities far from the watchful eyes of their superiors. Those not gifted enough to indulge behind their own closed doors behind the white walls.

Kisho knew of that side of the Shinigami. He knew what it was like to survive from nothing but his own power and struggle and it had left him bitter. He wanted to change things of course, but every effort, every bit of the good clawed away from the wicked world wound up taken away. No matter how hard he tried to make life better for those people of his home it wound up optimistically back to the status quo, or far too often worse for having tried.

So he could hate the nobles, he could curse the Shinigami, he could fight and lash out at every evildoer, at every abuser of power, but deep down he knew it wouldn't matter because things don't change, not really. They might pretend to do so, but not for long. How could he blame those forces for the twisted nature of existence? What then, was there left to do? He found his answer: Just do your best to weather the storm. So he accepted that offer to become one himself. He donned the robes, took his Asauchi and wore it at his hip. He followed his orders, he took to his lessons and did what he had to.

He'd live out his days behind those white walls, become 'content' if such a thing could be done. Simple. Quiet. He'd stay out of the way, he'd keep his head down, and life would pass him by, see that he had been beaten and bowed and move on to torment someone else who felt like they could stand in the way of it.

That was the plan.

He'd nearly made it into the ranks, but a glitch in the system left his examination in the hands of one Watari Suzumei. There was something off from the beginning, it should have been a simple demonstration of Zanjutsu but the man was looking for something. And from the moment the blades draw everything felt more and more askew. Hindsight brought a lot more into focus, what did Watari want from him?

It was a battle for his life.

He had no doubt now that it was so, uncertain then but he'd since found clarity. What had left him further uneasy was the glimmer of life that he had felt within himself during the struggle. For a moment he felt at ease with the state of the world and that disquieted him far more than the retrospective realization that his life was on the line.

Then, the blow was struck against the nobility and if not for that sense of something in the back of his mind about Watari Suzumei he wouldn't have given it a second goddamn thought. But when he'd heard, when he heard about those who survived a sense of unease returned and for reasons he couldn't help but look. Each thing he dug into, he became more interested in being wrong than right, but the moment never came and he only found himself more and more convinced.

What to do about it though? Nothing. Of course. What place was it of his to intervene, what could he even do? None would believe him, and he'd simply paint a target on his back for having done it.

So he graduated. Joined the fifth division. Stuck to the plan. Accepted his duties and set off for Earth when assigned. Whatever the sense of unease that plagued him was, he trusted it would pass with time. If not, well, better to deal with that then to bother at all.