The courtyard garden was tranquil and shaded; only the far side was lit up by the sun, still low in the sky this early in the morning, but already the lush green carpet of grass and moss had a luster to it that sharply contrasted with the harsh granite of the rocks and airy branches of the trees artfully dispersed throughout the space. There was no gravel, save for a runnel around the edges where excess moisture could drain out under the covered wooden walkways, and no furniture—this was a place for quiet reflection where one either sat on the edge and regarded it as one might regard a painting, or took part in it directly. The greenery had been chosen for its specific texture, just as the positioning of the main features had been carefully selected: nothing about this garden was haphazard, and yet its perfection was rooted firmly in how natural it looked. It was one of Lina Tsukimiya’s crowning achievements (at least as far as landscaping went), and it was a well-hidden secret shared only with those who earned themselves an invitation to their home.
It was one of Hazuki’s favorite places in the world, and she was here now, sitting on the edge of the engawa with a cup of green tea and her sword at her side, ostensibly recuperating. She had woken some days after her fight with the Gillian Menos, still in one of the Fourth’s hospital beds, with her mother quietly reading at her side. Not a word had been spoken to anyone outside the room, and yet her father had appeared not two minutes later, warm soup and assorted goodies carefully packed in a series of lacquered containers held together in a cloth bundle. The overwhelming feeling of relief at seeing their daughter alive and well after such a close brush with death had them fawning over her in a way that they hadn’t done in years—though that had been mostly at Hazuki’s own insistence. Now, she was too weak (and secretly, too grateful) to protest, so she happily accepted their affections, along with explanations of what had transpired during her treatment. Both the Lieutenant and Third Seat of the Sixth Division were alive and well, Kyousuke assured her, and both he and Lina had personally thanked the two of them. Arrangements had been made before Hazuki had even finished her meal, and once it was clear she would be able to finish her recuperation outside the hospital, she was promptly transported back to the Tsukimiya mansion in the Seireitei Garden District and the house had been discreetly placed under guard by the onmitsukidō.
A week had passed since and while her parents had been away at work aiding in trying to figure out what exactly had transpired, Hazuki had entertained a smattering of high-profile guests wishing her a speedy recovery. Auntie and Uncle—accompanying one another, as usual—had been by first, of course, followed by a very brief but obviously heartfelt visit from her sensei. She had even received a short note from the reclusive captain of the Twelfth Division, wishing her well and thanking her for aiding her son. Her guests had all been gracefully received and Hazuki had penned a return note assuring Captain Inoue that no thanks was necessary, she was merely doing her duty, but in truth Hazuki was already beginning to become frustrated at being cooped up, even if she knew, deep down, it was for her own good.
In the stillness of her childhood home, empty as it was during most of the day, she found herself dwelling on what had transpired, what she had learned, and indeed on her cryptic dreams as she had lay comatose in the Fourth Division. Light blade practice in the outer garden whenever the opportunity presented itself had soothed her, but she took care to not push past what she knew was good for her and the self-imposed limitations chafed. She was patient, yes, but this entire ordeal was utterly unprecedented and she felt she had brushed the surface of something that went deep, deeper than anyone could possibly know, as she had dug around in the Academy archives. A vast puzzle with just a fraction of the pieces revealed, and even then only a few were even the right side up. Her own presence there had coincided with two of the highest-ranking officers of the Sixth, the Hollows had struck as a coordinated force, no word of warning or even a timely response from the Eighth or Ninth Divisions. Not even her own father, a man who in Hazuki’s eyes had always seemed to know everything about everything and everyone, had any answers—and if he did, he was reluctant to share. There was something wrong about all of this, and while she tried to gather what facts she could it felt like she was stumbling around aimlessly in a blizzard.
The cup of tea at her side was drained, and the patch of sunlight on the far wall had grown noticeably when she heard the knock at the door. Hazuki sighed and took one last look at the courtyard garden before she rose, teacup in one hand and sword in the other. A quick stop at the kitchen to deposit the cup, and a few moments later she was at the front door, absentmindedly adjusting her already immaculate hair as she donned her geta and stepped down onto the flagstones of the genkan. She slid open the front door, and the sudden rush of air gleefully toyed with the sleeves of her intricately patterned yukata.
It was one of Hazuki’s favorite places in the world, and she was here now, sitting on the edge of the engawa with a cup of green tea and her sword at her side, ostensibly recuperating. She had woken some days after her fight with the Gillian Menos, still in one of the Fourth’s hospital beds, with her mother quietly reading at her side. Not a word had been spoken to anyone outside the room, and yet her father had appeared not two minutes later, warm soup and assorted goodies carefully packed in a series of lacquered containers held together in a cloth bundle. The overwhelming feeling of relief at seeing their daughter alive and well after such a close brush with death had them fawning over her in a way that they hadn’t done in years—though that had been mostly at Hazuki’s own insistence. Now, she was too weak (and secretly, too grateful) to protest, so she happily accepted their affections, along with explanations of what had transpired during her treatment. Both the Lieutenant and Third Seat of the Sixth Division were alive and well, Kyousuke assured her, and both he and Lina had personally thanked the two of them. Arrangements had been made before Hazuki had even finished her meal, and once it was clear she would be able to finish her recuperation outside the hospital, she was promptly transported back to the Tsukimiya mansion in the Seireitei Garden District and the house had been discreetly placed under guard by the onmitsukidō.
A week had passed since and while her parents had been away at work aiding in trying to figure out what exactly had transpired, Hazuki had entertained a smattering of high-profile guests wishing her a speedy recovery. Auntie and Uncle—accompanying one another, as usual—had been by first, of course, followed by a very brief but obviously heartfelt visit from her sensei. She had even received a short note from the reclusive captain of the Twelfth Division, wishing her well and thanking her for aiding her son. Her guests had all been gracefully received and Hazuki had penned a return note assuring Captain Inoue that no thanks was necessary, she was merely doing her duty, but in truth Hazuki was already beginning to become frustrated at being cooped up, even if she knew, deep down, it was for her own good.
In the stillness of her childhood home, empty as it was during most of the day, she found herself dwelling on what had transpired, what she had learned, and indeed on her cryptic dreams as she had lay comatose in the Fourth Division. Light blade practice in the outer garden whenever the opportunity presented itself had soothed her, but she took care to not push past what she knew was good for her and the self-imposed limitations chafed. She was patient, yes, but this entire ordeal was utterly unprecedented and she felt she had brushed the surface of something that went deep, deeper than anyone could possibly know, as she had dug around in the Academy archives. A vast puzzle with just a fraction of the pieces revealed, and even then only a few were even the right side up. Her own presence there had coincided with two of the highest-ranking officers of the Sixth, the Hollows had struck as a coordinated force, no word of warning or even a timely response from the Eighth or Ninth Divisions. Not even her own father, a man who in Hazuki’s eyes had always seemed to know everything about everything and everyone, had any answers—and if he did, he was reluctant to share. There was something wrong about all of this, and while she tried to gather what facts she could it felt like she was stumbling around aimlessly in a blizzard.
The cup of tea at her side was drained, and the patch of sunlight on the far wall had grown noticeably when she heard the knock at the door. Hazuki sighed and took one last look at the courtyard garden before she rose, teacup in one hand and sword in the other. A quick stop at the kitchen to deposit the cup, and a few moments later she was at the front door, absentmindedly adjusting her already immaculate hair as she donned her geta and stepped down onto the flagstones of the genkan. She slid open the front door, and the sudden rush of air gleefully toyed with the sleeves of her intricately patterned yukata.
