The morning after his transfer dawned with a starkly different atmosphere for Kisaragi. Gone was the gentle, life-affirming energy of the Fourth Division, replaced by a palpable tension, a sense of coiled readiness that hummed within the very walls of the Second Division barracks. Today marked his first official day as the Fifth Seat and a Corps Commander within the Onmitsukido, a role that came with a weight of expectation and, as he soon discovered, a healthy dose of skepticism.
As Kisaragi followed Captain Yoruichi Shihōin and the Second Division Lieutenant, Marenoshin Ōmaeda, through the dimly lit corridors, he could feel the curious and often wary gazes of the assembled Shinigami. Whispers followed in their wake, hushed tones laced with a mixture of intrigue and outright disapproval. The news of a Sixth Seat from the Fourth Division, of all places, suddenly being appointed to a high-ranking position within their elite ranks had clearly ruffled some feathers.
Ōmaeda, a large and somewhat ungainly figure whose movements belied a surprising degree of speed, cast sidelong glances at Kisaragi. His expression was a mixture of apprehension and thinly veiled resentment. He had likely expected someone with a more traditional Onmitsukido background to fill the vacant seat.
"So," Ōmaeda began, his voice surprisingly high-pitched, "you're the… healer… who's going to be our Fifth Seat?" He couldn't quite keep the incredulity out of his tone.
Yoruichi, walking with her characteristic fluid grace, chuckled softly. "That's him, Ōmaeda. Kisaragi Shiba. And don't let his former affiliation fool you. There's more to him than meets the eye." She shot Kisaragi a playful wink.
Kisaragi maintained his calm, aloof demeanor, his gaze steady as he absorbed the atmosphere. "My skills extend beyond healing, Lieutenant Ōmaeda. I trust I will have the opportunity to demonstrate that."
Ōmaeda grunted, unconvinced. "We're the Second Division, Shiba. We deal with threats directly, swiftly, and silently. Not with poultices and bandages."
Yoruichi stopped before a large training ground, the air within charged with the energy of waiting Shinigami. Over twenty members of the Second Division stood in formation, their expressions ranging from open curiosity to outright hostility.
"Alright, everyone," Yoruichi announced, her voice carrying with authority. "This is your new Fifth Seat, Kisaragi Shiba. He'll be a Corps Commander within the Onmitsukido. Treat him with the respect his position warrants."
A murmur rippled through the assembled Shinigami. Several exchanged dubious glances. A few openly scoffed.
One Shinigami, a tall, muscular man with a scarred face, stepped forward. "Captain Shihōin, with all due respect, what qualifications does a former Fourth Division member have to lead us? We are the blade of Soul Society's shadows."
"His qualifications will become apparent," Yoruichi replied, her tone firm, brooking no argument. She turned to Kisaragi. "The floor is yours, Shiba. Show them what you're made of."
Kisaragi stepped forward, his gaze sweeping across the skeptical faces. He understood their apprehension. Actions spoke louder than titles.
"I understand your reservations," Kisaragi said, his voice calm and carrying. "I come from a different division, one focused on preservation. However, the ability to protect often requires the ability to fight. And to lead, one must earn respect." He paused, his eyes settling on the scarred Shinigami who had spoken. "Therefore, I propose a demonstration."
A collective murmur went through the ranks.
"Instead of individual duels," Kisaragi continued, his gaze unwavering, "I will face all of you… simultaneously. And I will do so without drawing my Zanpakuto."
A stunned silence descended upon the training ground, followed by a wave of incredulous muttering. Facing the over twenty Shinigami currently present, renowned for their combat prowess, using only Hakuda? It seemed like blatant arrogance.
The scarred Shinigami scoffed again. "Are you insane? You'll be overwhelmed in seconds!"
"We shall see," Kisaragi replied, his voice devoid of emotion. He took a stance, his movements fluid and deceptively relaxed. "Come at me."
The initial hesitation quickly dissolved into a surge of action. Over twenty highly trained Shinigami lunged towards Kisaragi, their movements swift and coordinated. They employed various martial arts techniques, their fists and feet aimed with precision.
What followed was a display of martial artistry that left the Second Division in stunned silence. Kisaragi moved like a phantom, his body a blur of controlled power. He anticipated their attacks with uncanny accuracy, his blocks and parries deflecting blows with minimal effort. His own strikes, though seemingly effortless, carried surprising force, each connection sending his opponents staggering back.
He weaved through the throng, his movements economical yet devastating. A precise strike to a pressure point would incapacitate one, a swift sweep of his leg would send another tumbling. He utilized their momentum against them, turning their attacks into opportunities for counters. His Hakuda was a symphony of calculated movements, a dance of evasion and precise strikes.
One by one, the Shinigami fell. Some were winded, others were temporarily paralyzed by expertly targeted nerve strikes. The scarred Shinigami, initially the most vocal in his skepticism, found himself disoriented and defeated within the first few exchanges, his powerful strikes easily countered and his balance swiftly broken.
Within minutes, the training ground was littered with the groaning forms of the over twenty Shinigami currently present, all defeated without Kisaragi ever drawing Byakko. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the stunned silence of those still standing, their initial hostility replaced by a wide-eyed awe.
Ōmaeda stood frozen, his jaw slightly agape. Even Yoruichi watched with a satisfied smirk, though even she seemed slightly surprised by the sheer efficiency and skill Kisaragi had displayed.
Kisaragi stood amidst the defeated, his posture calm and his expression unchanged. "Respect is earned through ability," he stated, his voice clear and carrying through the silent training ground. "I trust that this demonstration has provided sufficient evidence of my capabilities to those present."
A slow clap echoed through the space. It was Yoruichi. "Well done, Shiba. I told you there was more to him than met the eye, Ōmaeda."
The scarred Shinigami, slowly pushing himself up, stared at Kisaragi with a newfound respect. "That… that was incredible. I… I apologize for my earlier doubts, Fifth Seat."
One by one, the other defeated Shinigami began to rise, their expressions mirroring that of their comrade – a mixture of awe and grudging admiration. The news of the new Fifth Seat's unprecedented display of power spread like wildfire throughout the Second Division barracks. The "healer" from the Fourth Division was no weakling; he was a force to be reckoned with, a silent monster who had single-handedly subdued the Shinigami present in the training grounds with nothing but his bare hands.
Kisaragi Shiba's position in the Second Division, though initially met with skepticism, was now undeniably solidified, etched in the stunned silence and grudging respect of his new subordinates. The shadows had gained a formidable new warrior.