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Chapter 24: Social Animal I
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Akashi awoke early, the faint light of dawn seeping through the thin paper walls of his room.
The quiet hum of the Fifth Division barracks surrounded him, punctuated by the occasional sound of footsteps outside.
His body felt stiff, the dull ache of his wounds still lingering beneath the surface, but he ignored it.
The injuries were deep and painful, but he used Kaido on them every single day til they became nothing but an itch, background noise in his life.
He rose from his futon, brushing away the creases in the fabric as he moved to the small basin of water by the wall.
The cool liquid splashed over his skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and leaving him refreshed.
His reflection stared back at him from the polished surface of the water, sharp and inexhaustible.
Akashi's face, unmarred by scars, was handsome in a way that was almost disconcerting; save for his eyes.
Those inky orbs, dark as the abyss, drew attention immediately. They were not windows to the soul but mirrors to something far darker.
'My eyes... They look different,' Akashi blinked, eyeing his reflection strangely, and the more he looked, the more he realized.
There were no pupils nor iris, just pure ponds of darkness that could be called eyes as if the ocean of Ink within his spirit world.
'When did they change?' He wondered as he acutely noticed the darkness in his eyes move about like waves of the ocean.
He reached for the comb resting by the basin, its teeth smooth against his scalp as he untangled his long, inky hair.
The strands, thick and silky, cascaded down his back like a shadow brought to life.
With practiced movements, he gathered the hair, tying it neatly at the back of his head.
The action revealed his face fully, sharp features accented by the faint morning light.
His gaze lingered on his reflection for a moment longer.
"No scars, huh," He murmured to himself, his voice calm and devoid of vanity.
It was an observation, nothing more. His last battle could have marked him and marred the canvas of his body, but luck; or perhaps fate; had spared him.
Not that he seems to care much about his appearance, treating his body as a vessel, a tool for his ambitions, nothing more.
Akashi turned to the black Shinigami uniform folded neatly at the foot of his bed.
The fabric was smooth beneath his fingers as he slipped into the garments, tying the sash securely around his waist.
The outfit fit perfectly, tailored to his lithe frame. He adjusted the collar slightly, ensuring it sat comfortably before taking a step back.
A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he regarded himself in the small mirror by the door.
"Not bad," He remarked, "Not bad at all. It rather fits me well." What he wore was the Shihakushō, the standard Shinigami uniform worn by all members of the Gotei 13.
It consists of a black kosode and hakama paired with a white inner robe, secured by a sash at the waist. It's functional yet ceremonial, its flowing design tailored for ease of movement and combat.
The only thing Akashi changed was also wearing a tight black long-sleeve underneath to hide some recent scars on his arms.
Sitting cross-legged on his bed, Akashi took a deep breath before picking up a calligraphy sheet resting beside him.
Akashi let his thoughts wander. Could art be a tool, a weapon? Would his idea work? The calligraphy he had seen wasn't just decorative; it conveyed meaning, emotion, and intent.
He thought of Kurayami, his Shikai, and the Eldritch presence that had become a part of him.
The idea was forming, coalescing into something tangible.
He traced a finger along the edge of the paper, the blank surface almost daring him to make the first stroke, 'It will be a lot of work, but if it succeeds...'
The sun climbed higher in the sky as Akashi set the sheet aside, his mind still buzzing with possibilities.
For now, though, his focus had to remain on the present. His first day in the Fifth Division awaited him.
"Paperwork," The officer said bluntly. "You'll be handling these until further notice. No special duties yet."
Akashi accepted the stack without complaint, settling into his new role with the same calm detachment he carried through everything.
The repetitive task of organizing mission reports, patrol schedules, and supply requisitions came naturally to him, his years of diligence in the academy translating seamlessly to his new responsibilities.
But paperwork wasn't enough for Akashi. He knew what had set him apart from others; his Shikai, Kurayami, was a rare gift. Few manage to learn their Shikai before graduation.
Normally, only high-seated officers know their Shikai, and it requires years and years of experience and meditation to do so. Akashi managed to achieve it, and very quickly.
Yet he was also painfully aware of his shortcomings. His talent in fields like hakuda, shunpo, and even zanjutsu was average at best.
He may be more talented than average at Kido but he is nowhere near monsters like Aizen.
Without Kurayami and the special bond he shares with it, he was just another nameless Shinigami.
And that thought was unacceptable.
The division library became his second home. Nestled within the barracks, it was a treasure trove of knowledge on everything from combat strategies to Soul Society's history.
The shelves were lined with ancient scrolls and meticulously bound tomes, their spines bearing the names of forgotten authors and scholars.
Akashi spent hours poring over their contents, his focus unbroken as he absorbed every detail.
He read about the intricacies of Reiatsu manipulation, the theory behind kido incantations, and the tactical brilliance of past captains.
With the help of his second brain; the First Eldritch; Akashi found that he could memorize things easily.
It almost felt like The First's empty brain was the perfect data bank instead of the chaos in his own mind.
The fifth division's library was no doubt home to some of the strangest books, Aizen's public collection.
There were some that Akashi found too complex to understand or too weird and messy to follow.
Still, despite his self-reliance, Akashi understood that books could only teach so much. He needed real-world insights, practical advice from those more experienced than himself.
And so, he turned to his fellow division members.
The resentment they harbored toward him was palpable. Whispers followed him wherever he went, hushed voices questioning his capabilities, and his place among them.
Yet Akashi paid no mind. He approached them with calm persistence, asking question after question without a hint of embarrassment or hesitation.
"How does Captain Aizen control his reiatsu so precisely during combat?" He asked one senior member.
"What's the most efficient way to transition from a defensive kido into a counterattack?" He inquired of another.
"Why do some zanjutsu stances prioritize balance over speed?"
The responses he received were varied; some answered begrudgingly, their irritation evident in their clipped tones, while others refused outright, dismissing him with a scoff.
But Akashi didn't falter. For every door that closed, he knocked on another.
They may resent him, and envy him for skipping ranks, but they couldn't do much about it. It was, after all, Aizen's descision.
At first, the division's resentment deepened. His relentless questions were seen as arrogance, and his lack of hesitation interpreted as entitlement. Yet as the days turned into weeks, something began to shift.
The sheer consistency of Akashi's inquiries became impossible to ignore.
Every day, without fail, he sought out his fellow Shinigami, his calm demeanor unshaken by their initial hostility.
His persistence was unrelenting, his thirst for knowledge insatiable to the point of annoyance.
They sought a reaction out of him, and that they got in the form of more questions.
If you were to program an AI with the sole purpose of seeking improvement, then its behavior would somewhat mirror Akashi's.
He seemingly knew not of embarrassment, nor did he understand hesitation.
The emotions and resentment of others were like air to him. No 'Dignity' nor 'Pride' to stop him from approaching those who resent him.
Gradually, the resentment gave way to something else.
Speechlessness.
Akashi's willingness to approach them, despite their disdain, was disarming in its own way.
There was no arrogance in his questions, no ulterior motive; just an uncompromising desire to improve.
One evening, as Akashi practiced kido formations in the training grounds, a fellow division member approached him.
"You've been asking a lot about reiatsu control," The man said, his tone blunt. "Show me what you've learned."
Akashi raised a brow and nodded, stepping into position. He knows the man, the fifth seat of the fifth division.
He formed the incantation for Bakudo #37, Tsuriboshi, and released it with relative ease.
The energy formed a shimmering net in the air, its threads glowing faintly in the dim light.
The man studied his technique, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he nodded and asked. "Not bad. But why did you delay the Bakudo release?"
"I didn't. I just have a hard time with spiritual energy control," Akashi explained, and indeed, he sometimes feels like his spiritual power hates him.
"Strange," The man was surprised but he continued either way, "Doesn't matter. Practice makes perfect. Follow along."
The man demonstrated subtle adjustments while explaining along the way, and Akashi followed his example.
Akashi mimicked his movement and followed his advice, taking in the man's experience. The result was better, although ever so slightly.
"Better," The man said, his voice calm, "Keep practicing. It will come like second nature to you. Practice. Do it again and again and you will suddenly find that your spiritual power flows as you wish."
Akashi bowed his head in gratitude, "Thank you."
The encounter was brief, but it marked a turning point.
From then on, Akashi's interactions with the division became more frequent, more productive.
Though some still refused to engage with him, others began to offer advice, their initial resentment tempered by his unwavering determination.
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