The frantic, secretive energy of the last few weeks slowly bled into the steady, predictable rhythm of Squad 10 life. For Akio, the transition was both a relief and a strange sort of culture shock. The endless grey void of the Hakoniwa no Kagami was replaced by the sun-drenched training grounds and bustling offices of the barracks. His world was no longer just shadows and survival; it was now filled with the loud, messy, and vibrant reality of his new squad.
His official internship began with a grueling, but blessedly normal, orientation from Third Seat Sentarō Kotsubaki. The man was all business, his voice a steady drone as he outlined the squad's primary duties to a group of new recruits, Akio and few of his classmates among them.
From today the internship started officially but because Akio was Akio, he 'requested' Isshin earlier that he wanted to go on patrol on human world and learn with veterans he joined Hirata and the others a few weeks ago.
"Squad Ten is the front line," Kotsubaki stated, his posture ramrod straight. "Our purview is Patrols and Alertness. Every incident in the Seireitei or the World of the Living that requires initial assessment falls to us. We are the Gotei 13's first eyes and ears. We handle minor disturbances, contain situations until specialized squads arrive, and most importantly, we report everything. Accuracy and clarity are your weapons as much as your Zanpakutō."
Akio listened intently, filing the information away. It was the perfect assignment. A filter, a triage unit for the Soul Society. It meant every piece of intelligence, every strange occurrence, would cross their desk first. For someone with a secret to keep and a hidden enemy to watch for, there was no better position.
Then his year as an intern started. The work itself was varied as an intern, a welcome distraction from the weight he carried. One day, he'd be on gate duty, his senses subtly expanded through his shadow net to cross-check the Reiatsu signatures of incoming and outgoing patrols against the logs. Another, he'd be reviewing Denreishinki data from the World of the Living, his analytical mind quickly identifying patterns of Hollow activity to flag for higher review.
It was during these moments of routine that his decision to conceal his Shikai felt most justified. As being Nyakuya and Shunsui's disciple and also someone under Yamamoto, having won the Crimson Ascent, the expectations were a palpable weight. If they knew he'd achieved a full Shikai—something many seated officers struggled for decades to attain—the scrutiny would be unbearable. He'd be promoted, yes, but also caged. His every move would be watched, his potential measured and dissected. He'd have no room to breathe, to train in secret, to investigate. And, he admitted to himself with a private smile, he'd robbed himself of the chance to reveal it in some spectacular, future moment of crisis. Saving the day with a power no one knew he had held a certain appeal.
He along with his fellow interns interacted with the unseated members very much.
The unseated officers were a mix of recent academy graduates and older career Shinigami content with their rank. They saw him as a quiet, capable, but somewhat aloof rookie. His reputation created a slight distance. Some were envious, others wary. But his sheer competence on patrols and his refusal to brag slowly earned him a grudging respect. He was the guy who always seemed to be in the right place during a skirmish.
The seated officers were a constant source of… character.
He knew the 8th seat, Hirata was someone whom he knew. So he interacted with him quite often even though; Hirata seemed to prefer his paperwork to the training grounds.
The Fifth Seat was a stickler for regulations who could recite the patrol manual backwards. The Seventh Seat, a fierce woman with lightning-fast Shunpo, constantly challenged others to sparring matches. Akio had learned to avoid her enthusiastic gaze unless he felt like being used as a living punching bag.
And then there was Lieutenant Rangiku Matsumoto.
She was a force of nature, a whirlwind of laughter, flowing orange hair, and devastating power wrapped in a casually unbuttoned shihakushō. She'd often wander onto the training field, a bottle of sake seemingly materializing in her hand.
"Well, look at you. So focused you'd cut the same spot into dust." she called out one afternoon, watching him do some practice with his Zanpakto.
He paused, wiping sweat from his brow. "Lieutenant."
She sashayed over, a playful, knowing glint in her honey-colored eyes. "You know, most new recruits are all about the big, flashy swings. Trying to impress." She leaned in conspiratorially, her voice a warm, teasing whisper that carried just enough. "But you… you're all about the little precision with quietness. So serious. It's kinda cute."
Akio kept his expression neutral, though he could feel the eyes of other recruits, including a grinning Jiro, who was overseeing the training, on them. He decided to play along. "Efficiency has its own appeal, Lieutenant. It's… subtler. Not everyone appreciates the fineness of a well-placed strike." He met her gaze, his own eyes glinting with a hint of challenge beneath his calm exterior.
Rangiku's eyebrows rose a fraction, a delighted smile spreading across her face. She hadn't expected a retort. "Oh? And do you consider yourself a expert judge un fineness?" she purred, taking a sip from her bottle.
"I'm learning," Akio replied, a faint, dry smile touching his lips. "Though I find some things are best appreciated up close, rather than with loud, flashy demonstrations."
Jiro choked on air nearby. Rangiku let out a rich, genuine laugh, a sound that seemed to make the sunlight brighter. "Is that so? Well, don't let all that subtlety make you too boring, Kurozume-kun. If you ever get tired of breaking that poor, defenseless post, come find me. I can show you a much more… engaging way to work up a sweat." She gave him a slow, deliberate once-over that was anything but subtle before sauntered away, leaving a faint, enticing scent of sake and cherry blossoms in her wake.
Akio just shook his head, the faint smile still there. "She's testing. Seeing if I'll crack. It's just another form of sparring." But even he had to admit, it was a far more enjoyable one than the Seventh Seat's offer.
The heart and soul of the squad, however, was Captain Isshin Shiba. The man was a riot of contradictions—a noble clan head who acted like a common brawler, a Captain who commanded absolute respect through sheer, infectious charisma rather than cold authority.
He'd often crash training sessions, not to instruct, but to brawl.
"COME ON, MAGGOTS! LET'S SEE SOME SPIRIT! OR ARE YOU JUST PRETTY FACES?!" he'd roar, diving into a group of five unseated officers. He'd laugh, a loud, booming sound, as he effortlessly parried their flurry of attacks, offering loud, brash advice all the while. After a particularly swift exchange where Akio used a feint to almost land a kick, Isshin clapped him on the shoulder with enough force to stagger a lesser man.
"Nice footwork, kid! A little tight in the shoulders, though! Loosen up! You're not carrying the world on them yet!" he boomed, his eyes sharp and perceptive despite his boisterous demeanor. "Remember, a stiff blade is a broken blade! Be like water, or… well, be like sake! Flexible and strong!"
Under Isshin's leadership, Squad 10 felt less like a rigid military unit and more like a loud, chaotic, but fiercely loyal family. It was a different kind of strength than Byakuya's icy perfection or Kenpachi's raw fury. It was the strength of camaraderie, of knowing the person next to you would never let you fall, and would probably laugh with you all the way to the Fourth Division barracks afterwards.
As the months turned into a full year, Akio slowly shed his outer layers of Rukongai caution. He began to understand what it truly meant to be a Shinigami of the Tenth. It wasn't just about power or duty. It was about the shared groan at 4 AM patrol assignments, the collective cheer when a tricky Hollow purification was completed, the simple act of sharing a meal and loud stories after a long day.
He grew. Not just in power—though his secret training in the pocket dimension continued relentlessly—but as a person. He learned to navigate the social currents of the barracks, to offer a quiet word of advice to a struggling recruit, to truly watch his comrades' backs without making a show of it.
Standing on the ramparts one evening, looking out over the peaceful, lantern-lit Seireitei, he felt a sense of belonging he had never known. This was his place. These were his people to protect.
The threat from the Tsunayashiro clan was still a dark cloud on the horizon, a secret he carried alone. But now, that secret was guarded by a newfound resolve. He wasn't just fighting for his own survival anymore. He was fighting for his home. And he would become strong enough to silence any threat to it, from within or without.