Chapter Text
“He’s an asshole,” says Kanda, grouchily.
“I’m Reever Wenham,” says Reever Wenham, the asshole.
“Ignore him,” says Kanda.
“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the scientist says to Hanatarou. “I’m afraid I didn’t catch your name?”
“Yamada Hanatarou,” says the pipsqueak, voice breaking as he tries to speak his name as fast as possible. “4th Division!”
“That’s the pipsqueak,” says Kanda.
“I see,” says Reever, who probably does. Kanda hates that about him.
“Whatever,” says Kanda. He means, of course, that what Reever thinks doesn’t matter, not that Reever’s presence is something that doesn’t matter. He exists, he plans, he executes-- of course he matters. “We’re on a mission,” he tells Reever. “Days out, weeks back.”
“I’ve missed field work,” says Reever, smiling.
So that’s that, then.
One more person to defend... he’s defended a whole world before, and lost (everything) nothing except his choice of death. Kanda can feel the familiar weight of chains settling around him like the stinging kiss of alma’s wings, his hair, his final breath--
Inescapable, unending duty.
It almost feels like home.
“Do you have a plan?” Kanda asks abruptly, a day out from the 17th Rukongai. “For where you came from.” He could have asked earlier, but he didn’t want it to be his problem.
“Well, Kanda,” smiles Reever, “I’m your long lost uncle, here to--”
“Something believable,” says Kanda. His eyes flick to Hanatarou. “You’re not listening to this.”
“No!” squeaks Hanatarou, flapping his hands while also trying to use them to cover his eyes and ears. “I don’t know anything!”
“I came from the Land Down Under,” continues Reever, now sticking a bit of a drawl into his voice. “A poor medical student from an impoverished background...”
“Everyone here is connected to Japan,” says Kanda, flatly. “Pick a district between 20 and 40.”
“44,” says Reever, just to be obnoxious.
“There aren’t any good healers above 40,” says Kanda. “Pick a different district.”
“22,” says Reever.
“Pipsqueak,” says Kanda. “Ever heard any rumours about district 22?”
Hanatarou shakes his head so wildly it looks like it’ll fall off his neck.
“You’re from District 22,” says Kanda. “You want to take the Shinigami test so you’re following the Shinigami patrol you happened across for safe escort back to the Seireitei. You’re well educated, you learned from your mother--”
“Father,” says Reever.
“From your maiden aunt who was the healer before you, but now she’s dead. You don’t want to talk about it.”
“Does she have to be dead?” Reever asks plaintively. “Maybe she’s sending me off with her best wishes--”
“Of course she’s dead,” says Kanda. “You’d never leave her.”
Reever stares at Kanda for a second and sighs.
“Right,” says Kanda, moving on. “We’re wasting daylight and fighting in the dark is annoying. Come on, you fucking turtles. I want to be heading back to the Seireitei by tomorrow.”
Reever snorts, but falls in beside him. Hanatarou stumbles over a completely bare patch of dirt and flails around behind them.
They aren’t attacked once in the hours it takes them to reach the main part of the 17th Rukongai.
The bad luck is accumulating, waiting for something truly awful to fall on Kanda’s head.
Kanda pats his sword. He can take it.
Reever is watching him again.
Kanda had thought that was something Reever did because he was an exorcist. Exorcists have to be watched, carefully. An unstable bunch, more aware of the chains that bind them to the Order than even the Finders, who die like flies.
Not like flies, Lenalee had corrected him. Like moths.
Like lambs, Levi had said, and laughed.
Allen had walked in, just then.
“They die like people,” he’d said, very softly.
And that was that.
Kanda had been an Exorcist for all his life.
“Are you okay,” Hanatarou whispers.
“Shut up,” snaps Kanda.
“It’s the Shinigami! They’ve come to save us!” Another voice screams out from the edge of the town. And, well. They’re wrong on both counts.
A crowd of terrified civilians starts to form around the three of them, reminding Kanda far too much of the way that Akuma liked to get close to their targets under the guise of curiosity and panic. His hand tightens around his sword. It’s better to be prepared.
Hanatarou seems to feel similarly, if his fidgeting and constant scans for the best way to flee are any indication.
It’s Reever that steps up to face the crowd. He’s not even dressed like a Shinigami, instead wearing a long wool coat over slightly old fashioned english clothing. But these people don’t want a Shinigami, they just want...Kanda isn’t sure. Hope? An indication that someone cared they existed? Both of those things seem paltry to him, but Allen and Alma had lived and died by them.
Reever finishes up whatever bullshit he was spouting and indicates to Kanda that it’s his turn to talk.
“I’m Kanda, from the 11th Division. This is Hanatarou, from the 4th Division. We received a report that there was..” Kanda takes the notice from his bag and reads it. “A request for a healer for the heir of Clan Kitamori.” The murmurs from the crowd get worse, but Kanda doesn’t care. Hanatarou tries to hide behind him, which is both pathetic and a failure because
Kanda’s body is currently shorter than him. “I assume you have another issue. What is it.”
Kanda randomly points at one of the people in the front of the crowd.
“You. Start talking.”
The woman straightens up, for some reason seeming proud that he’d pointed at her. But the words that she has to say don’t seem very proud at all, only very tired.
“We are all citizens of this Falling Leaves District, and the Kitamori Clan rules here... they keep us safe from Hollows. Kept us safe, I mean.”
“Was this.. A result of the clan heir’s illness?” Reever suggests. He’s got his hands stuffed in his pockets, trying to appear casual. “Or is this something that has been happening for...” He trails off, since he doesn’t know when Kanda received the report. Inquisitive asshole.
“The report was filed last month.”
Kanda can see the look Reever is giving him, and wants nothing more than to grind his head into the paper file he now has that’s categorized ‘Over a decade since submission.’ See what nightmares he gets from that.
“Only last month..” Now the woman seems pissed. Good. “Only last month!? We’ve been unprotected for over a year.”
Kanda nods.
“For as long as I’m here, that won’t happen.” Because all the Hollows would target him. “Now move out of the way, I have an assignment to complete.”
The woman gritted her teeth.
“We’re willing to.. Pay..”
“Stop.” Kanda cuts her off. He’s had this conversation before, so many times that he’s going to have to be careful in order to say ‘Hollow’ instead of ‘Akuma’. “I attract Hollows. While I’m here, even more Hollows than what you’ve experienced will come, and they will come because they want to eat me. On the bright side, this will clear out the area, on the other bright side, no one should risk standing too close to me.”
Hanatarou shrieks and pulls away from him.
“Not you, idiot.”
Kanda grabs him by the collar and starts dragging him through the crowd that parts around him.
“I want to come with you.” The woman was still talking. “If you won’t help.. Then I need to talk to the Clan Head.”
Kanda doesn’t stop her.
The Kitamori Clan’s estate is located on the hill above the basic village that forms the heart of the district, and Kanda walks at a very brisk paste despite his shorter legs. He doesn’t have time to be impressed, he wants to go and get Lizard and Fishbone back from the 11th Division and feed them gross things.
He’s more attached to those dogs than anything he ever owned at the Black Order.
How strange.
Kanda notices that Reever is looking at him again, and snarls.
“We’re the Shinigami patrol,” Kanda repeats for the fourth time, bored out of his mind as he talks his way through the numerous guards that the Kitamori Clan seems to employ based on ratio of brain cells to forehead. If he has to say it for the fifth time he’s saying it with the sharp end of his sword.
“I’m Kitamori Tokisada, lord of the estate,” an older man dressed in dark green finally gives Kanda the right answer. “You’re here about my son.”
“Sure.”
“He’s been on his deathbed for weeks!” Anger and frustration crackle throughout his voice.
“Oh, he’s not dead yet?”
“Kanda!” Reever snaps. Ugh.
Kanda snags the back of Hanatarou’s robe and drags him forward. “This is the healer, and this--” He points at Reever. “Is his assistant.”
“You won’t be joining them?”
This nobleman is pressing his luck.
“I find my presence does more to inspire people to die,” Kanda says.
It’s funny the way the man’s face blanches, and he quickly turns to follow Hanatarou and Reever down through the inner corridors of his mansion.
“Wait!” Kanda had almost forgotten about the tired looking woman who had followed them from the town. “Damn it....” She sighs.
Oh yeah.
“You said there was a Hollow problem,” Kanda says.
She stares down at him, eyes dull.
“I’m not some..” She trails off, then regains a surge of spirit. “I’m not the type of bloated personage that would dump my problems on some kids!”
Some kids... Kanda blinks a little. Sure, he looks like this, but Hanatarou-- wait.
The pipsqueak also looks pretty flimsy. And Reever doesn’t count.
Kanda rolls his eyes.
“I’m....” How old is he, really? What age did he die? Young, sure, but not that young. 30...? 40.....
He can’t remember.
“I’m competent,” he says instead. “And I’m the only help you’re going to get.” Accurate, but not comforting. His specialty.
Kanda bites his tongue down on the urge to tell Allen to shut up.
She stares down at him for another moment, then crumbles.
“It’s one giant Hollow,” she tells him. “It’s got this-- it’s got this awful scream, it screams every night. It gives the children nightmares. We think it's nesting... nesting near the lake where we used to send the children to get water. It corrupted the water as well, so everyone’s been getting weaker....”
Her words continue to echo in Kanda’s ears as he follows the river out through the outskirts of the overgrown town, as he wades into its blackened, murky depths. As a single taunting tentacle protrudes out of the water to bait him into attempting to follow its Hollow owner down into the oily depths.
He’s alone right now. No one can hear him.
His small, uncalloused, unscarred, unfamiliar hands grip his most faithful companion.
“Breathe, Mugen.”
Blue fire burns across the surface of the lake.
Reever and Hanatarou are both waiting for him when he returns, Hanatarou in particular looking like he got mistaken for a kitchen rag, wrung, and hung out to dry.
“You look terrible,” says Kanda. He casts his gaze to Reever, who hasn’t changed at all. “Both of you.”
Reever snorts.
“Thanks, Kanda. Your little friend has successfully wrapped up his end of the bargain, I have to say. The healing techniques of the... Seireitei? Was it? How interesting.”
He’s got a certain gleam in his eye. Well, that’s none of Kanda’s business.
“I didn’t really,” Hanatarou says, shuffling his feet. “The child was-- it was very strange. He had these dark veins around his mouth, it looked so scary. And he would refuse to drink. Nothing anyone gave him. He wouldn’t touch it-- I’m very unskilled I don’t know what to do about hallucinations I should never have come I’m a failure I’m--”
“The local Hollow lived in the water supply,” Kanda says.
He turns to start walking back to the Seiteirei. He miscalculated in oscillating between hating the city and hating the districts. The chains that bind him have already solidified, dragging him back to his job and his papers and--
His papers.
Disgust for himself churns deep in his stomach. Is he so eager to nest?
And in such an ugly city.
...
It’s a quiet return trip.
Almost.
“He’s a shinigami candidate,” Kanda repeats, bored.
“He doesn’t look like a shinigami candidate,” the Gate Keeper says, staring down at the trio with great suspicion.
“You don’t look like a corpse, but that’s not stopping me,” Kanda says. He’s done with this argument. Mugen leaps into his hands, eager for an opponent that sheds actual blood.
“Who looks like a corpse, Kandachii~?”
Kanda instinctively flinches back from the little pink lieutenant of the 11th.
“He does--” Kanda cuts himself off, realizing that the giant he’d just been in a bitter argument with has suddenly vanished, running away so fast that only a dust cloud marks his path.
Terrifying.
Kanda stares at Yachiru, who just stares back at him.
They probably would have been locked in silent battle for some time had Reever-- the fool-- not stepped in front of Kanda, breaking his line of sight.
“Hi,” He says. “I’m Reever Wenham.”
Yachiru pouts.
“You’re boring,” she says, then vanishes back into the city as quickly as she appeared.
“Who’s she?” Reever asks.
“My superior officer,” says Kanda.
He hasn’t had one of those in a while.
Kanda stares at the open gate in silence.
“I think shinigami candidates have their own residence...?” He suggests vaguely, looking at Hanatarou.
“Oh!” Hanatarou squeaks. “Yes! Uh, I mean, maybe? I don’t know...”
Not his problem.
“Find out.” Kanda instructs. He’s done dealing with people. Using his new skill, he shunpoes towards the 11th District, content with the knowledge that neither Reever nor the pipsqueak are capable of keeping pace.
For now, his foolish mind reminds him. He tells that part of him to shut the hell up.
There shouldn’t have been anyone in his room.
Should have gets him nothing in any world.
Kurotsuchi Nemu stares at him from where she sits on his desk. She’s made no effort to hide the fact that she’s been going through the different piles of paperwork, though thankfully-- should he be thankful? She hasn’t messed up any of the piles. If it had been Kanda’s lieutenant, the entire place would look like a papershredder’s wastebasket during the tax collector’s visit.
Her eyes widen slightly, but she shows no other signs of startlement.
“My calculations need to be readjusted,” she says instead. “All previous data implied your mission would take much longer to complete due to the inefficiency of 11th Division and 4th Division partnerships.”
Now that he’s much closer, Kanda can recognize the slip of paper she’s found.
Despite over a decade of backlog, there’s only one task that requested both 11th and 12th Division participation-- and that one is one of the oldest ones here, dated by the signature of Urahara Kisuke, Captain of the 12th.
“If all you want is a sample of his signature, you didn’t need to hang around,” Kanda says. He doesn’t care what she wants with that. Hopefully she’ll take it with him so that it’s one less thing to accomplish.
“Having a sample of this signature is worthless to me,” Nemu says. She taps the barely legible request with her sheathed dagger. Kanda half considers trying to kill her, then forces himself to look at the paper. Trying to kill her will not be fun or useful. Probably.
... He’s definitely going to kill this Urahara guy, though. His writing makes many members of the 10th’s letters seem like they were striving for straightforwardness and legibility.
“Wanted for combat testing,” Kanda says, eyes narrowing. “An open request for your most bloodthirsty recruits.”
His gaze flickers over to Nemu.
“He should have phrased it as a challenge instead of a request form if that was what he wanted from the 11th.”
“Your advice is noted,” Nemu says, her monotone unchanging. “A similar form of this nature was also sent to every other division, including the 4th. Copies of it were used in the trial that condemned Captain Urahara for treason against the Seireitei.”
That has nothing to do with Kanda.
“When asked if he had also received a form, the Captain of the 11th said this: “How should I know? If he wants a fight, I’ll fight him! Let me at him!” Nemu folds up the form and tucks it into her uniform pocket. “I’ll be keeping this.” Then she carefully places both hands on her legs and gives a short bow before vanishing with a sharp push of dislocated air.
Kanda stares out at the window, face twisting into a frown.
There’s corruption here, layer after layer of dirt and grime piled on top of each other so high that no one can see what used to be on the ground.
Or maybe, from the very beginning, it was always just.. Mud.
He feels the brush of Karuyami’s spirit as his fingers tighten on his katana, and he relaxes.
:We’ll find the surface: Kurayami says. :We won’t be trapped without stars.:
He sleeps, and dreams of the end of his world.
...
Kanda wishes the world had ended while he slept, so he wouldn’t be subject to this.
On either side of him, Ikkaku and Yumichika grin down at the noisy battlefield that has erupted in the 11th Division’s main courtyard. It sort of reminds Kanda of when he’d fought his way directly into the 4th seat, but much worse because he’s not fighting.
“What’s the point of this?” he mutters. “I could take them all.”
“They do look kind of ugly,” Yumichika agrees, a contemplative edge to his voice. “I should show them how it’s done.”
Ikkaku pops one eye open and glares at both of them.
“You know the rules. No interfering with promotion fights beneath your rank. If we can’t get a good fight out of this, at least someone will.”
All three of them turn their focus to a fight that’s going very badly.
“Maybe that one will even die,” Ikkaku finishes. “They could bleed out before getting their ass over to the 4th. You never know.”
Kanda isn’t hopeful. Aware that Yumishika will hunt him down if he tries to duck out of this, he casts around for any even vaguely promising officers down in the scrim.
“That one,” he says suddenly, pointing at a man with slightly messy dark hair. “Who’s he?”
Ikkaku grunts.
“Masayoshi,” He says. “13th officer, but he’s working his way up. Yachiru’s friends with him.”
There is nothing Ikkaku could have said that would have made Kanda drop his hand any faster. He quickly looks away from the man, as if even that little of an association with their lieutenant would bring her popping out of the woodworks. Thankfully, something else pulls him away from contemplating the fact that Yachiru has “friends”.
The first victim to fall and fail to get back up is carefully yanked back out of the whirling brawl by a tall man that wears his brown hair in a mullet, the length at the back tied into a loose ponytail. His movements display strength and confidence, but instead of joining the fight, he pulls out some medicinal salve and begins tending the groaning shinigami’s wounds.
Kanda opens his mouth to comment on it, but Yumichika gives him a savage pinch, glancing over furtively at Ikkaku and drawing a sharp line across his throat.
Like that would stop him.
“And who’s that?” He uses his chin to gesture at the man with the salve. “Doesn't seem like the 11th Division.”
Ikkaku’s gaze holds a cold rage, but he refuses to even look in the direction of the man, or acknowledge Kanda’s question. Ignoring his own statement about all of the highest numbered officers being forced to remain present, he strides away, Yumichka snarling at Kanda before bolting after him.
Kanda rolls his eyes. Drama queens, both of them.
He hops down from his seat and makes his way over to the ‘medic’ of the 11th.
“Hey,” he says, annoyed at how much he’s forced to look up. Was he really this short when he was 12? Pathetic. A vague memory stirs of Alma being taller than him. that. “Who are you?”
The man stiffens.
“I’m Harugasaki Seizo,” he says. There’s a clear pause where Kanda can feel the man-- Harugasaki-- contemplate whether he needs to show some respect to a superior officer. Many of the 11th don’t bother. But this one does, giving a full salute. “Do you have a task for me, Kanda-san?”
“Why are you in the 11th Division?” Kanda notices the shinigami on the ground giving him a wide eyed stare and kicks him in the ribs so that the pain makes him black out. There-- some privacy.
The more he stands next to Harugasaki, the more he can sense something is.. Off. His aura.. What had Unohara called it. His reiatsu, that hungry thing he carries that slowly eats the world around him.. It can’t touch Harugasaki at all. It’s as if the shinigami is missing a fundamental part of his soul.
Kanda’s already just a soul in hell. What’s a soul that’s lost their soul? What is a shinigami’s soul, anyway? Death, tragedy... something else.
“I belong here,” Harugasaki says, voice slow and cautious as if talking to a trapped wild animal. “I earned my place.”
“I didn’t know the 11th celebrated sacrifice,” Kanda says.
That had always been Allen’s thing.
What an idiot. If you’re going to die, you should do it in a way that only pleases yourself. And if you aren’t even going to die...
:Kanda:
If you aren’t even going to die, then it’s all the more reason to make sure you won’t be left trapped in your own body, slowly rotting away.
Kanda blinks, and then does a little shake of his head to get rid of thoughts like those. If Harugasaki had answered his question, he didn’t hear it.
“I’ve got a job for you,” he says, voice flat. “You can read, right?”
He’s pretty sure Ikkaku can’t.
“Barely,” the shinigami says, unaware he’s signing the warrant of his own doom. Kanda almost feels a tinge of pity for him.
Almost.
If Harugasaki hadn’t wanted to spend the rest of his life chained to Kanda’s desk and helping sort all of the 11th’s damage reports and complaints, he shouldn’t have lost his reiatsu.
It’s that simple.
“Kanda-san?” The man in question says tentatively, staring at the charnel house of paper that is Kanda’s bedroom. “What is--”
“This,” Kanda says, giving the man a very predatory smile, “Is your new job. It used to be Lieutenant Iba’s, now it’s yours.”
He’s just found an Eleventh Division member who’s calm, capable, invisible to reiatsu senses, and acts as Ikkaku repellent. It turns out Yumichika was right-- it really is worthwhile to watch the promotional spars.
Kanda cheerfully slams the door in Harugasaki’s face, leaving him to do battle with the forms all on his own. Still in a good mood he turns around-- and nearly walks face first into Shirogane, that absolute idiot who had sent him out on a mission with the Kuchiki heir. He might have also said he was the 3rd officer of that division, but Kanda doesn’t really remember. Or care.
Kanda recoils back, instinctively making a low whistle meant to call his dogs.
He hates being caught by surprise.
“Why are you here,” he snarls, hand falling to his sword. This glasses guy takes up far too much space.
“To find you, of course!” The man says, belly rising and falling as he gives a jovial laugh. “Lieutenant Kuchiki made sure to tell me that this missive should be delivered. Personally. Ah, what were his exact words... yes. ‘Give this only to someone you trust, Shirogane. They need to make sure Kanda doesn’t throw the letter away into a river.” He laughs again. “And who is the one I trust with such an important task? Only myself, of course!”
Responding to Kanda’s call, Lizard and Fishbone also begin barking as they run up and down the hallway, rendering the entire dorm a loud, echoing nightmare.
“I’ll feed it to the dogs instead,” Kanda threatens, yanking the letter free of Shirogane’s hands and tucking it away.
Shirogane doesn’t leave.
“Don’t tell me--”
“I really don’t feel like my job has been properly fulfilled,” the smiling shinigami says, refusing to budge. “Wow, I could just stand around all day, content in the knowledge that I am fulfilling my duty to the best of my ability~”
...
Kanda reads Sojun’s letter.