Post by Deleted on Jun 9, 2023 17:45:01 GMT -5
The prisoner cells were usually quiet in the morning. Perhaps because it was still way too early and there was little else to do than to sleep to conserve energy and wait for the next meal, everyone typically didn't bother getting off their beds unless explicitly told so. Maybe some hopeful idiots did, but that usually wore off by the third or fourth day. Then, everything returned to the same calm before the storm, before any of their sentences irrevocably came. Yes, there was absolutely nothing to do there other than wait, and enjoy those last few moments of 'peace', if one could call it such. The sound of outside birds, nesting in the trees that reached up to the even the higher floors of the prison was soothing, a sort of white noise that facilitated sleep and allowed them to relax. All in all, those things considered, the quiet times within prison were not that bad.
Which only made the breathing and intermittent grunts coming from prison cell number 24735 all the more annoying for those unlucky neighbors just trying to sleep the rest of their time off. The usually chill air within the prison was getting damper and warmer by the minute, as if the shared ventilation between cells was not capable of keeping up with the man who was there. Prisoners number 24733 and 24737, for the even numbers were on the opposite side of the corridor, rolled over on their beds, trying their damnedest to quiet the noise by placing their free arm on their ear and rolling onto the other side, wishing to their lucky stars that some sort of meteorite, or Hollow, or Quincy, would magically manifest in their neighbor's quarters to rip him to pieces. A little extreme? Maybe. But people who've been mercilessly torn from bed tended to be very, very moody.
Inside cell 24735, Aoshi Kuzan, wearing only the bottom half of his prisoner uniform, was doing the last set of pushups. Or rather, he had been telling himself it would be the last set, but couldn't bring himself to stop that easily. Unlike his neighbors, the recent Academy Graduate couldn't keep himself tethered to the hard bed and clearly handed-down covers that were provided for the prisoners there. He had never done well with tight, enclosed spaces, and even if the cell had enough room to walk around for a bit, his claustrophobia was starting to kick in. He was getting uncomfortable and anxious, wanting to get out of there. Soul King knew what would happen if he didn't act now, do something to keep his mind off of things.
And so, he trained. Exercise kept that growing feeling of wanting to let loose well buried within him, or at least channeled in a healthier way.
He maintained a controled descent until his chin touched the floor and then pushed himself off the floor with ease, returning to the starting position. Despite clearly holding back at 150 Strength, well below his maximum, Aoshi's arms and chest still didn't feel much of a burn, even after half an hour. At that level, lifting his own weight was far too easy, and so he eventually began mixing things up by adding a clap at the top of the repetition, changing the aperture so that he would target different muscle groups; anything, as long as it gave some variety. He wasn't even counting, to be perfectly honest. Instead, his mind was going back to the last few days at the Academy, when he had been given the okay to graduate. Aoshi was not sure that it was yet time to do so.
When told that he would be taking the exams with the current batch of candidates for the squadrons, he had been surprised, at the very least. He had expected it would take him longer; that they would rather keep him under the watchful gaze of all teachers in the institution, but it seemed there were other plans for him. The final evaluations, of course, had seen him fail his Kido exams miserably. He couldn't conjure up even a simple Hado without his Spiritual Pressure going out of control; either the bolt of lightling exploded on his face due to an excessive amount of Reiatsu being poured onto the technique, or it simply faded away, targeted by an ability that was still unknown for the new Shinigami. Regardless, he had completed his time in the institution without being able to use even the simplest forms of Kido and Bakudo. He hadn't been even considered as a Kaido user, since it already required far more precision than the other two as well as medical understanding of the body. How in the world would anyone expect that Aoshi would be able to use those, when he couldn't even use Sai in the first place?
On the other side of the spectrum, his physical evaluations had been... pretty much outstanding. Top grades, in absolutely every single category that involved making use of his body. Strength, speed, combat ability... He couldn't understand why, as he had lost absolutely every single match he had fought under the attentive gaze of all the instructors overseeing the exams. Of course, the future Shinigami was unaware that they had clearly realized he had been holding back, allowing the opponent to gain the upper hand. To them, it looked like he was afraid of something, something that anyone who'd bothered to read the arrest report that had paved his way into the Academy would know exactly what he was afraid of. And, of course, that was the case for those Shinigami in charge of whipping the next generation of the Gotei 13 up into shape.
Aoshi pushed himself off the ground completely with the last pushup, having decided that he had grown tired of the pushups. Taking a few moments as a breather, he felt droplets of sweat trickling down his temples, all the way to the jaw and then the neck. His body, hot from the exercise, immediately began to cool off even with that single moment of respite. It was a pleasant feeling, but one that was lost in the effort of keeping his breathing under proper control.
Aoshi then widened his stance, lowering himself a little to shift his center of gravity. He extended one arm forward, palm pointing in the direction he was looking toward, and kept the other one arm tight against his body, elbow back, fist tightened. From that stance, the Shinigami Hopeful fired one punch forward, rotating his torso and putting his back and leg behind the fist, greatly increasing the power behind the attack through proper technique alone. He then brought the arm back, and fired another from the opposite, shifting his stance so that it would also have as much strength behind it as possible, while still holding back his maximum.
Once he had graduated from the Academy--much to his surprise--, he had been immediately approached by yet another parole officer, the ones in charge of overseeing his sentence. Aoshi had been immediately stripped of all pretenses of 'freedom', had his Asauchi taken off his hands, and was taken immediately to prison, where he was to remain until any news of his assignment returned. While the decision to take away his blade seemed questionable at best--it wouldn't have too much of an effect, since he'd rather fight with his body anyway--, the rest had admittedly put him on edge. Aoshi hadn't been given any indications of how long it would take for a decision to be reached.
When he asked about it, it turned out they weren't even sure, as which squad would he be sent to did not depend on them. The final call was, of course, not one for his judge or his sentence to make; it would be the Thirteen Court Guard Squadrons who would decide where Aoshi Kuzan went. The possibility that none of them would take was also still very much on the table. And if that came to be, his exact fate was not particularly clear either. Truth be told, he didn't want to find out what would be, but he had a pretty good idea in his mind, considering his original sentence.
Aoshi changed his stance again, this time to let out some kicks. He drilled high, mid and low attacks with each leg three times before jumping on the other and repeating the same cycle. Despite the days in prison, working out regularly had kept him rather sharp, although he did miss having at least a proper training doll in front of him to practice. Spacing his blows was pretty difficult with nothing to gauge distances with, and picturing an entire combat scenario in his mind required far more battle expertise than he currently had.
Regardless, Aoshi timed his breaths to expel air whenever the kick needed to be strongest and brought the leg to a halt, simulating a hit and the recoil from it. The style he had picked up revolved around strikes rather than grappling, and he hadn't had much time to learn the latter anyway. The future Shinigami attempted to focus his mind solely on his training now, feeling the contraction of each muscle as he shot each kick forward, trying to picture what it might feel like had there been some resistance. He took note of his positioning, of the way he shifted between his legs, of when something felt off, of when something felt right.
Once he was done with kicks, he felt the need to run around even more, but there simply wasn't enough space within his cell to do so. Instead, Aoshi was faced with needing to get more creative with the exercises to stave off his boredom and anxiety, at which point his cell neighbors were already yelling all sorts of obscenities through the shared ventilation, uttering empty threats against a man that they very well could not reach in any way, shape or form.
"It's a beautiful morning, numbers 33 and 37!" he said with a smile on his lips, promptly ignoring their complaints. He had no idea what their names were, and when asked, they hadn't been bothered to tell him. "Why don't you join me? I think it's handstand pushups next." Promptly, the young soul threw himself to the ground hands first, tightening his core and straightening his legs for balance and stability. Once the position was secured, he began pushing up and down, feeling the exercise in his deltoids. "It certainly beats death by fire chicken, which I'm not sure any of you would enjoy. Unless you're just serving time, and not on death row?" His voice sounded a bit different upside down.
Some more obscenities came from the other side of the left and right walls, but Aoshi didn't pay any more attention to them. It would've been nice if they'd wanted to converse to pass time, but they were far too entrenched in their own misery to actually do something worthwhile with that idle time. Well, he didn't have that luxury. He had the feeling that if he didn't keep moving, he would go crazy, and that was not something he was ready to experience yet. He consistently forced his wandering mind to return to full presence by concentrating on the exercises at hand, making sure that he was as resting as infrequently as possible. Only once he felt to tired to even consider his future demise would he allow himself to stop, and it looked like that was not going to happen any time soon.
While upside down, Aoshi took the time to look up at the ceiling, trying to find something, anything, that he could use to grab onto for some pull-ups. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing of the sort, save for the small indentation for the window that let in some light. Not wide enough for a proper grab, and thus useless for his purposes. The young man had already resigned himself to do some tricep dips using the bed frame upon which he'd been resting over the past week and a half, which was an exercise that didn't burn too much and, quite frankly, was far too simple. But what else could he do with the limited means he had? No shadow sparring would do in that enclosed space, and it wasn't like he could go away and-
A loud banging on his cell door almost made him tip over, but quickly tightening his core muscles allowed him to regain composure and finish the last repetition as a voice came from the outside. "Kuzan. Get yourself presentable, for Soul King's sake. You're getting out of here." Following that declaration, the neighboring cells erupted in cheers and curses, not even questioning why he was getting out and they weren't. They were just far too happy that their insufferable companion was finally taken away; they didn't care where that 'away' was in the slightest.
The shock was too big for Aoshi, whose worries had suddenly been snuffed away, and so he remained in position for a second before another insistent beating on his door made him tip over and land back on his feet. Since he would not be returning to that cell--hopefully--, he took the chance to use the bedsheet to clean himself off a little bit, wiping away the sweat from his body. His clothing was not in a decent state, of course. He didn't know what he was going to wear. As if to answer his thoughts, the opening from which they slid in his meals opened, only black fabric was hanging from it now. It shook, following the impatient hand holding it from the other side.
"Didn't you hear me? You got your assignment. Get changed, we don't have all day."
The Kenpachi walked to the door to grab the uniform, the black Shihakusho that even the lowest ranking Shinigami sported. It was not a new uniform, clearly it had been refitted quite a few times now; Soul Society really was not spending too much on him. Still, better than to run around in sweaty, dirty clothing. As such, Aoshi quickly changed into the uniform, making sure that everything was a proper fit and that he could at least move comfortably in it. Immediately, he already felt that the hakama and long sleeves were far too much. He'd have to make some modifications when possible.
When he was done, the door opened, allowing him to see the corridor. It was just as damp and dark as his cell, but the feeling of extra space immediately calmed down his claustrophobia. "Ah, thank you~" he said in a singsongy voice, as if he hadn't just been held in possible death row.
"Like I said, we don't have all day, Kuzan. Let's get going."
The officer was a new one, which Aoshi immediately noted. Between his initial sentence and his time at the Academy, he'd never been assigned the same one more than a few times. "Can't wait to go outside and see the sun again. So, what's your name?"
Silence was the only answer.
"Come on, don't make me call you 'Parole guy number 4'. Doesn't really roll off the tongue, don't you think? It's a bit unoriginal, and what would Parole guys 1, 2 and 3 think of me? That I'm a loose man who can never settle with their one, true officer? That is a pretty bad reputation to have, don't you think?" Aoshi said, crossing his arms behind his head as he walked down the corridor with him. He didn't need to energy sensory skills to know that he was pissing the man off, and he had to admit that part of him enjoyed it, but a bigger part wished he would at least try to make some conversation. It was just a harmless joke, for Soul King's sake.
"...You're heading out to the Tenth," was the only answer he recieved. No names, nothing else to make conversation. But this man was sorely underestimating just how much Aoshi could hold his own against that kind of bad cop pressure.
"Playing hard to get, I see. Well, I think I'm going to call you Maurice, then. Sounds right, Maurice?", he said, then paused for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, somehow that still doesn't sound right. Can I call you Maury?"
'Maury' looked at him as if he had just cursed his unborn child. He made a remark under his breath, but then regained his professionalism and decorum and returned to his dutiful job as his designated officer. At the very least, he was committed to his job, Aoshi would give him that much. He did make an addition to it, however.
"...I can't help but to feel sorry for Capatain Shindazu. The Tenth gets wrecked during the last invasion, and not only does she have to focus on rebuild, she also has to take care of you."
"Oooh, that 'you' was a little too personal, Maury. Don't be like that, I'm sure I'll grow on her! Well, eventually."
The gaze 'Maury' gave him was nothing short of grave. "Look, she's been gracious enough to decide to take you into her squadron, somehow. I wouldn't have hesitated leaving you for execution, had I been in her position. So whatever you do, don't fuck this up. A murderer like you has been given a second chance by a Captain of the Gotei 13. I wouldn't go around squandering it if I were you."
Aoshi's smile never left his lips, but inside, he felt a spark of rage in his stomach. He had killed those people, yes. But those same people had entered their home, killed his father, and attacker his mother. He didn't even know why they'd done it; he knew he had never seen them before... but nobody believed him, and whomever testified, did so against him, as if they wanted him dead. How he hadn't ended up immediately beheaded was beyond his understanding, but there he was, annoying a clearly unfriendly parole officer. Still, he controlled himself, denying his sudden desire to grab the officer by the shoulder. Instead, he breathed and returned to his usual way of being.
"Ah, if you say so, Maury."
Luckily for him, the sight of the first rays of light filtering through the prison door captured Aoshi's attention. As he stepped back out into the streets of the Seireitei, clad in black, what he saw was... a rather damaged area. This was the result of the invasion that had taken place, the one that he had missed on virtue of being locked up behind bars. Granted, an Academy Student wouldn't have been able to do shit then and there. Although the sight left a bit of a pit in his stomach, his eagerness to run and jump around now that he was back in an open space again trumped everything else. He was practically beaming when 'Maury' told him to follow, and began leading him straight to the Tenth. It would be quite the hike, but that way Aoshi would bask in the sun. Without even thinking about it, he let the black jacket fall to the sides, allowing his skin to take in as much Vitamin D as possible.
The marks of a criminal were fully visible, tattoo'd on his wrist and forearms.
Which only made the breathing and intermittent grunts coming from prison cell number 24735 all the more annoying for those unlucky neighbors just trying to sleep the rest of their time off. The usually chill air within the prison was getting damper and warmer by the minute, as if the shared ventilation between cells was not capable of keeping up with the man who was there. Prisoners number 24733 and 24737, for the even numbers were on the opposite side of the corridor, rolled over on their beds, trying their damnedest to quiet the noise by placing their free arm on their ear and rolling onto the other side, wishing to their lucky stars that some sort of meteorite, or Hollow, or Quincy, would magically manifest in their neighbor's quarters to rip him to pieces. A little extreme? Maybe. But people who've been mercilessly torn from bed tended to be very, very moody.
Inside cell 24735, Aoshi Kuzan, wearing only the bottom half of his prisoner uniform, was doing the last set of pushups. Or rather, he had been telling himself it would be the last set, but couldn't bring himself to stop that easily. Unlike his neighbors, the recent Academy Graduate couldn't keep himself tethered to the hard bed and clearly handed-down covers that were provided for the prisoners there. He had never done well with tight, enclosed spaces, and even if the cell had enough room to walk around for a bit, his claustrophobia was starting to kick in. He was getting uncomfortable and anxious, wanting to get out of there. Soul King knew what would happen if he didn't act now, do something to keep his mind off of things.
And so, he trained. Exercise kept that growing feeling of wanting to let loose well buried within him, or at least channeled in a healthier way.
He maintained a controled descent until his chin touched the floor and then pushed himself off the floor with ease, returning to the starting position. Despite clearly holding back at 150 Strength, well below his maximum, Aoshi's arms and chest still didn't feel much of a burn, even after half an hour. At that level, lifting his own weight was far too easy, and so he eventually began mixing things up by adding a clap at the top of the repetition, changing the aperture so that he would target different muscle groups; anything, as long as it gave some variety. He wasn't even counting, to be perfectly honest. Instead, his mind was going back to the last few days at the Academy, when he had been given the okay to graduate. Aoshi was not sure that it was yet time to do so.
When told that he would be taking the exams with the current batch of candidates for the squadrons, he had been surprised, at the very least. He had expected it would take him longer; that they would rather keep him under the watchful gaze of all teachers in the institution, but it seemed there were other plans for him. The final evaluations, of course, had seen him fail his Kido exams miserably. He couldn't conjure up even a simple Hado without his Spiritual Pressure going out of control; either the bolt of lightling exploded on his face due to an excessive amount of Reiatsu being poured onto the technique, or it simply faded away, targeted by an ability that was still unknown for the new Shinigami. Regardless, he had completed his time in the institution without being able to use even the simplest forms of Kido and Bakudo. He hadn't been even considered as a Kaido user, since it already required far more precision than the other two as well as medical understanding of the body. How in the world would anyone expect that Aoshi would be able to use those, when he couldn't even use Sai in the first place?
On the other side of the spectrum, his physical evaluations had been... pretty much outstanding. Top grades, in absolutely every single category that involved making use of his body. Strength, speed, combat ability... He couldn't understand why, as he had lost absolutely every single match he had fought under the attentive gaze of all the instructors overseeing the exams. Of course, the future Shinigami was unaware that they had clearly realized he had been holding back, allowing the opponent to gain the upper hand. To them, it looked like he was afraid of something, something that anyone who'd bothered to read the arrest report that had paved his way into the Academy would know exactly what he was afraid of. And, of course, that was the case for those Shinigami in charge of whipping the next generation of the Gotei 13 up into shape.
Aoshi pushed himself off the ground completely with the last pushup, having decided that he had grown tired of the pushups. Taking a few moments as a breather, he felt droplets of sweat trickling down his temples, all the way to the jaw and then the neck. His body, hot from the exercise, immediately began to cool off even with that single moment of respite. It was a pleasant feeling, but one that was lost in the effort of keeping his breathing under proper control.
Aoshi then widened his stance, lowering himself a little to shift his center of gravity. He extended one arm forward, palm pointing in the direction he was looking toward, and kept the other one arm tight against his body, elbow back, fist tightened. From that stance, the Shinigami Hopeful fired one punch forward, rotating his torso and putting his back and leg behind the fist, greatly increasing the power behind the attack through proper technique alone. He then brought the arm back, and fired another from the opposite, shifting his stance so that it would also have as much strength behind it as possible, while still holding back his maximum.
Once he had graduated from the Academy--much to his surprise--, he had been immediately approached by yet another parole officer, the ones in charge of overseeing his sentence. Aoshi had been immediately stripped of all pretenses of 'freedom', had his Asauchi taken off his hands, and was taken immediately to prison, where he was to remain until any news of his assignment returned. While the decision to take away his blade seemed questionable at best--it wouldn't have too much of an effect, since he'd rather fight with his body anyway--, the rest had admittedly put him on edge. Aoshi hadn't been given any indications of how long it would take for a decision to be reached.
When he asked about it, it turned out they weren't even sure, as which squad would he be sent to did not depend on them. The final call was, of course, not one for his judge or his sentence to make; it would be the Thirteen Court Guard Squadrons who would decide where Aoshi Kuzan went. The possibility that none of them would take was also still very much on the table. And if that came to be, his exact fate was not particularly clear either. Truth be told, he didn't want to find out what would be, but he had a pretty good idea in his mind, considering his original sentence.
Aoshi changed his stance again, this time to let out some kicks. He drilled high, mid and low attacks with each leg three times before jumping on the other and repeating the same cycle. Despite the days in prison, working out regularly had kept him rather sharp, although he did miss having at least a proper training doll in front of him to practice. Spacing his blows was pretty difficult with nothing to gauge distances with, and picturing an entire combat scenario in his mind required far more battle expertise than he currently had.
Regardless, Aoshi timed his breaths to expel air whenever the kick needed to be strongest and brought the leg to a halt, simulating a hit and the recoil from it. The style he had picked up revolved around strikes rather than grappling, and he hadn't had much time to learn the latter anyway. The future Shinigami attempted to focus his mind solely on his training now, feeling the contraction of each muscle as he shot each kick forward, trying to picture what it might feel like had there been some resistance. He took note of his positioning, of the way he shifted between his legs, of when something felt off, of when something felt right.
Once he was done with kicks, he felt the need to run around even more, but there simply wasn't enough space within his cell to do so. Instead, Aoshi was faced with needing to get more creative with the exercises to stave off his boredom and anxiety, at which point his cell neighbors were already yelling all sorts of obscenities through the shared ventilation, uttering empty threats against a man that they very well could not reach in any way, shape or form.
"It's a beautiful morning, numbers 33 and 37!" he said with a smile on his lips, promptly ignoring their complaints. He had no idea what their names were, and when asked, they hadn't been bothered to tell him. "Why don't you join me? I think it's handstand pushups next." Promptly, the young soul threw himself to the ground hands first, tightening his core and straightening his legs for balance and stability. Once the position was secured, he began pushing up and down, feeling the exercise in his deltoids. "It certainly beats death by fire chicken, which I'm not sure any of you would enjoy. Unless you're just serving time, and not on death row?" His voice sounded a bit different upside down.
Some more obscenities came from the other side of the left and right walls, but Aoshi didn't pay any more attention to them. It would've been nice if they'd wanted to converse to pass time, but they were far too entrenched in their own misery to actually do something worthwhile with that idle time. Well, he didn't have that luxury. He had the feeling that if he didn't keep moving, he would go crazy, and that was not something he was ready to experience yet. He consistently forced his wandering mind to return to full presence by concentrating on the exercises at hand, making sure that he was as resting as infrequently as possible. Only once he felt to tired to even consider his future demise would he allow himself to stop, and it looked like that was not going to happen any time soon.
While upside down, Aoshi took the time to look up at the ceiling, trying to find something, anything, that he could use to grab onto for some pull-ups. Unfortunately, there was absolutely nothing of the sort, save for the small indentation for the window that let in some light. Not wide enough for a proper grab, and thus useless for his purposes. The young man had already resigned himself to do some tricep dips using the bed frame upon which he'd been resting over the past week and a half, which was an exercise that didn't burn too much and, quite frankly, was far too simple. But what else could he do with the limited means he had? No shadow sparring would do in that enclosed space, and it wasn't like he could go away and-
A loud banging on his cell door almost made him tip over, but quickly tightening his core muscles allowed him to regain composure and finish the last repetition as a voice came from the outside. "Kuzan. Get yourself presentable, for Soul King's sake. You're getting out of here." Following that declaration, the neighboring cells erupted in cheers and curses, not even questioning why he was getting out and they weren't. They were just far too happy that their insufferable companion was finally taken away; they didn't care where that 'away' was in the slightest.
The shock was too big for Aoshi, whose worries had suddenly been snuffed away, and so he remained in position for a second before another insistent beating on his door made him tip over and land back on his feet. Since he would not be returning to that cell--hopefully--, he took the chance to use the bedsheet to clean himself off a little bit, wiping away the sweat from his body. His clothing was not in a decent state, of course. He didn't know what he was going to wear. As if to answer his thoughts, the opening from which they slid in his meals opened, only black fabric was hanging from it now. It shook, following the impatient hand holding it from the other side.
"Didn't you hear me? You got your assignment. Get changed, we don't have all day."
The Kenpachi walked to the door to grab the uniform, the black Shihakusho that even the lowest ranking Shinigami sported. It was not a new uniform, clearly it had been refitted quite a few times now; Soul Society really was not spending too much on him. Still, better than to run around in sweaty, dirty clothing. As such, Aoshi quickly changed into the uniform, making sure that everything was a proper fit and that he could at least move comfortably in it. Immediately, he already felt that the hakama and long sleeves were far too much. He'd have to make some modifications when possible.
When he was done, the door opened, allowing him to see the corridor. It was just as damp and dark as his cell, but the feeling of extra space immediately calmed down his claustrophobia. "Ah, thank you~" he said in a singsongy voice, as if he hadn't just been held in possible death row.
"Like I said, we don't have all day, Kuzan. Let's get going."
The officer was a new one, which Aoshi immediately noted. Between his initial sentence and his time at the Academy, he'd never been assigned the same one more than a few times. "Can't wait to go outside and see the sun again. So, what's your name?"
Silence was the only answer.
"Come on, don't make me call you 'Parole guy number 4'. Doesn't really roll off the tongue, don't you think? It's a bit unoriginal, and what would Parole guys 1, 2 and 3 think of me? That I'm a loose man who can never settle with their one, true officer? That is a pretty bad reputation to have, don't you think?" Aoshi said, crossing his arms behind his head as he walked down the corridor with him. He didn't need to energy sensory skills to know that he was pissing the man off, and he had to admit that part of him enjoyed it, but a bigger part wished he would at least try to make some conversation. It was just a harmless joke, for Soul King's sake.
"...You're heading out to the Tenth," was the only answer he recieved. No names, nothing else to make conversation. But this man was sorely underestimating just how much Aoshi could hold his own against that kind of bad cop pressure.
"Playing hard to get, I see. Well, I think I'm going to call you Maurice, then. Sounds right, Maurice?", he said, then paused for a few seconds before shaking his head. "No, somehow that still doesn't sound right. Can I call you Maury?"
'Maury' looked at him as if he had just cursed his unborn child. He made a remark under his breath, but then regained his professionalism and decorum and returned to his dutiful job as his designated officer. At the very least, he was committed to his job, Aoshi would give him that much. He did make an addition to it, however.
"...I can't help but to feel sorry for Capatain Shindazu. The Tenth gets wrecked during the last invasion, and not only does she have to focus on rebuild, she also has to take care of you."
"Oooh, that 'you' was a little too personal, Maury. Don't be like that, I'm sure I'll grow on her! Well, eventually."
The gaze 'Maury' gave him was nothing short of grave. "Look, she's been gracious enough to decide to take you into her squadron, somehow. I wouldn't have hesitated leaving you for execution, had I been in her position. So whatever you do, don't fuck this up. A murderer like you has been given a second chance by a Captain of the Gotei 13. I wouldn't go around squandering it if I were you."
Aoshi's smile never left his lips, but inside, he felt a spark of rage in his stomach. He had killed those people, yes. But those same people had entered their home, killed his father, and attacker his mother. He didn't even know why they'd done it; he knew he had never seen them before... but nobody believed him, and whomever testified, did so against him, as if they wanted him dead. How he hadn't ended up immediately beheaded was beyond his understanding, but there he was, annoying a clearly unfriendly parole officer. Still, he controlled himself, denying his sudden desire to grab the officer by the shoulder. Instead, he breathed and returned to his usual way of being.
"Ah, if you say so, Maury."
Luckily for him, the sight of the first rays of light filtering through the prison door captured Aoshi's attention. As he stepped back out into the streets of the Seireitei, clad in black, what he saw was... a rather damaged area. This was the result of the invasion that had taken place, the one that he had missed on virtue of being locked up behind bars. Granted, an Academy Student wouldn't have been able to do shit then and there. Although the sight left a bit of a pit in his stomach, his eagerness to run and jump around now that he was back in an open space again trumped everything else. He was practically beaming when 'Maury' told him to follow, and began leading him straight to the Tenth. It would be quite the hike, but that way Aoshi would bask in the sun. Without even thinking about it, he let the black jacket fall to the sides, allowing his skin to take in as much Vitamin D as possible.
The marks of a criminal were fully visible, tattoo'd on his wrist and forearms.
