Shaded Challenge

“Sensei ni rei!” the voice of one of the practitioners rang out strong and clear, and the line of Shinigami, dressed in training uniform, bowed sharply before turning to collect their equipment and exit the dōjō. There was a practiced efficiency to their movements, and a sense that everything had occurred with the upmost sense of naturalness. Takashi had bowed, less deeply, in return, and now he stood with his arms folded in his sleeves as he quietly observed the jovial conversation and bantering laughter that normally preceded each training session. He only served as an instructor at the dōjō three times a week, and as his primary skill was in Zanjutsu and Kenjutsu he did not have very many classes to offer. He nevertheless enjoyed the sessions, as it was a break from the mundane norm of his other duties and, to him, a very satisfying responsibility. But today, with the golden light streaming through the open windows high above him and revealing motes of dust that floated lazily in the air, he could not help but feel a twinge of melancholy in the pit of his stomach.

The Sixth Division, as a whole, stressed excellence in all four areas of Zankensoki. This was no doubt an influence from its own Captain. To that end, the division’s training complex was among the largest and most sophisticated in the entire Seireitei. However, there was a stark imbalance between the extent of the training fields along with the numerous halls enclosed within one dignified complex, and the drastically low number of recruits. While the few Shinigami there might have kept themselves busy with training, the dōjō still seemed empty and barren. The wide floors were bare and silent, the high, elegantly designed ceilings only projected hollow echoes, and the refined architecture seemed like ludicrous extravagance.

The sentiment had crossed the Lieutenant’s mind as he dismissed the session in kenjutsu. He was aware, at least on an instinctive level, that the division was still reeling from the war nine years ago. Today that was made painfully obvious as he watched the few number of Shinigami file out from the room, their feet brushing like whispers across the polished floors. He recalled the time he had spent serving under the Sixth’s former Lieutenant and how lively the dōjō had been then. Perhaps there was a taste of bitterness in the memory, but with a sigh he quickly pushed the thought aside. He had too much on his hands to reminisce about old times.

Takashi began to collect the various shinai and bokutō that had been used by the students, carefully cleaning the hilts with a white cloth before placing them in their respective racks along the walls. His own skin gleamed with the healthy sweat of exercise, as he had purposefully challenged himself in the routines he himself had assigned to the other Shinigami. He might have been the “instructor,” but at the same time he had been training himself, as training was a constant process for any who considered themselves a warrior.

You should have been more careful in reserving your strength, Kohaku pointed out. She was on a tall perch that Takashi had placed near the alcove that contained the dōjō’s shrine, which had offered her a vantage point of the entire training hall.

“It’s nothing,” Takashi replied, somewhat gruffly. He knew the hawk was referring to the sparring match that had been scheduled to begin after the training session had ended.

Wasachiru should arrive soon, she told him. Takashi did not respond, instead picking up a bokutō and pacing back to the center of the dōjō’s floor. He began executing a series of vertical cuts, each movement as precise and strong as the one before. He needed to stay limber, as his partner, despite being ranked at sixth seat, was probably as skilled as the third. It was only a perfunctory match, based on a rotational schedule of training sessions between seated officers, but he was eager to engage Chitose in battle nonetheless. Kohaku read his thoughts and seemed somewhat concerned.

Remember, it’s only for practice, Takashi. He paused from his kata and stared evenly at her from a distance for a quiet moment before resuming his practice.

I know. he stated.

Chitose was walking on sunshine today. He was three days into his waking period and still energetic. On the other upside, he'd get a workout besides weightlifting for once, the old quartermaster thought he was too small and kept trying to bulk him up.

Upon thinking this he muttered "bloody old man..."

He banished these thoughts from his head as he approached the training complex, about five minutes after the previous training session had been completed. He had a sparring match scheduled between him and the lieutenant of the division. Byakuya liked keeping everyone in tip top shape, so who could really complain.

After entering the dojo, he walked to the second gym, the kenjutsu room, and knocked before waltzing in on his Lieutenant practicing the same swing thirty times while the bird watched. "So, waiting for me?"

Takashi paused and turned towards Chitose as the latter entered. “Ah, Wasachiru-san, you seem to be surprisingly prompt today,” he noted with some surprise. “I assume that you are ready then?”