Despite the appearance of his wife under somewhat dire and unpredictable circumstances, it appears as if the commander lacked the urgency that many would expect from him in a moment such as this. Was it ignorance?--A willing obliviousness that would leave those to question his position? Perhaps some would lead down this path, whispering in the shadows, casting judgment on events and minds of others of which they know nothing of. To all of this, he was immune; more meticulous, and careful than most gave him credit for. Centuries upon centuries he has seen the same faces and welcomed new ones. He has spent an endless amount of minutes, hours, and days consuming all that the Seireitei had to offer. There were few that had known and understood it like him. It spoke its own language, the many walking patterns of thousands of individuals against the different cobblestone paths. The whispers and plots that happen under the auburn-shingled ceilings. He scoffs mentally, knowing that there are few in which he can actually confide. The line between friendship, companionship, and leadership is ever thin, and requires treading lightly and dealing with a plethora of different personalities and methodologies. The antics of those under his banner are not a mystery to him. It is those very antics that give them a seat at his table.
He paces forward covering large distances in a short time, never once looking back to ensure that those he had enlisted to join him were indeed following. He assumed that his orders would be followed, and assumed that his wife would also follow in suit. He dare not ask her the meaning of the disturbance, knowing it’d quickly become rhetorical as they came upon the meeting hall. He’d be remiss not to admit to himself that his sole focus has been on the refining of the Vizard Unit over the last century. The happenings of the remainder of the Seiretei, as well as the Rukongai, have taken a backseat, the reluctant Commander hoping for independence and self-sufficiency from the Gotei 13. It was naive of him to expect such things, at least indefinitely, it was clear that after an age of focus and oddly enough, quiet, the chaos was set to return in full force, and it began
today. A widely-spread staircase lies before the group, scattered about in the shadows, members of the stealth corps surround the hall, a signature of Captain Mukuro’s presence. The Commander makes no conscious effort to erase his spiritual signature, his arrival imminently apparent far before he reaches said steps, and then the Hall’s entrance. He stares with wonder at the space between the separated doors, his eyes breathing life into the silhouettes and bodies that fill the room within. His steps become softer, well-paced.
Noticed first, just outside the hall, the relative of the fugitive Enso, comforting, coddling, cooing in a corner just beyond the meeting hall’s entrance. Through his peripheral, the commander catches glimpse of two gnome-sized persons, black and green of hair. His gaze shifts ever slightly, locking onto the black, spiky-haired child before taking a look at his own son. Young Haruki would take notice of his father, even call out to him, yet only have a lasting stoicism returned to him by Commander Kagayaki. His eyes lock onto Masahiro, and know and understands suddenly, immediately, what required his attention. As Masahiro looks upward, purple orbs lock onto the Commander’s visage and nearly sends a shiver down his spine. All of which he had already known had been given life right before him. Shobatsu’s living and breathing offspring, standing here before him as an innocent child, unbeknownst to what he could become in the time that follows.
Higen looks back forward as if the ghost he had come into contact with was never there to begin with. His presence is inconceivably loud. The very first step he takes into the meeting hall demands silence, it demands attention. If the Commander closed his eyes he would possibly feel completely alone. You could hear a pin drop. Head Lieutenant Kasumi leads the welcoming party, standing fairly close to the door. Deeper into the room lies Captain Mukuro, his detainees, and members of the omnitsukido. A stranger lies and handcuffs, and so too does two individuals the Commander knew well. Lieutenant Oda and of course, a woman that was at one point like family to him, and many others in this room: Honoka Oki. The Commander does not exchange pleasantries or conduct greetings, but as he gets closer toward the Stealth Force Commander he speaks briefly on his way to the hall’s end.
“Captain Mukuro. Send messengers to retrieve Captain Asakura, Captain Hageshi, Captain Nakamoto, and Lieutenant Hyouzoku.”
He hardly stops in stride, speaking as he passes the man before reaching the massive throne-like chair at the end of the hall. Behind him, everyone begins to fall in, the room-filling by the second. Lieutenant Oda was already here, or he’d have been called for too. Perhaps through his request those present would understand the events transpiring are not events that just concern Captains, but the Gotei 13 as a whole. The Commander falls into the stone chair crafted by his predecessor and metaphorically fills his shoes. It is from this same position that Higen was once scolded for his shortcomings; it is from this same position that the Captains had their weaknesses exposed, targeted, and exploited by the former Commander. Soon many would understand, Commander Kagayaki harbors much less patience than the perceived monster Murosaki.
“Report.”There were plenty of bodies in the room, but the one individual required to report knew exactly who the Commander was speaking to. Captain Kyomu Mukuro. Higen had accounted for this outcome but was curious how bad it had truly gotten. The phantom was kept in his loving home, the dark, concerning the surveillance and potential convincing of a parley between the Gotei 13 and the Fugitive Honoka Oki. This was admittedly, due to the respect of Shobatsu’s chosen spouse, as well as the friendship that he and the woman had during a different time. Kyomu’s flaw as an assassin was simply that, he was an assassin. To expect too much patience from him, or lack thereof was a mistake. To expect empathy, understanding, or anything of the sort was to expect the impossible. He is still a living being with a beating heart, this was true, but above all, he was a slave to his job. A job that, undeniably, he was entirely too good at. It was Higen’s anticipation to get Akarui to peacefully sway Honoka into cutting a deal, something Kyomu was completely incapable of doing, which the Commander would soon be reassured of when informed of the day’s events. Still, it is for this same reason that Higen has not overreacted to the sight of Honoka in chains, or Kyomu at the forefront of her arresting party. It simply had meant that Akarui had failed, at no discredit to herself; the task was rather tall. But Kyomu had done nothing but what the Commander had both expected and needed of him. It is not mistrust that drove Commander Kagayaki to withhold information from him, but quite the opposite, he trusted him all too well--he trusted him to do his job, no matter the sacrifice required. Higen’s hands comb through his beard as he looks outward to the meeting hall now, awaiting the Stealth Corps Commander’s report. This would be part of the very little that he would hear today, he had much more to tell than to receive.
