Section Warnings:
Bullying – name calling, implications of sexual favors for privileges, hints of potential steep escalation in the near future
(Things get lighter after this part, though.)
Ichigo holds his magic in close, exactly how Hat’n’Clogs taught him years ago, and moves with careful steps through the knights’ hall. He’s invisible, but neither intangible nor soundless — Shiro’s never been interested in learning the finer points of illusion and sensory-deception magic, and Ichigo has even less of an aptitude than his twin.
So he keeps to the walls and strains his hearing, moving between conversations and trying to find any hint of the rot that apparently exists.
He thinks he knows how he could have missed it for so long; almost everything he’s overhearing is innocent, just common chatter that he’s heard time and time again. Except here and there…
“—can’t wait to see him get his—” “—he’s a loner, that’s reason enough—” “—fault if he gets separated—”
Ichigo scowls and tries to determine if whatever he’s overhearing is trouble or he’s just reading into things. If it is trouble, he doesn’t like where it’s leading; with a war on the horizon and deployment inevitable, talk about loners and being separated leads his mind down a dark path that he’d rather not tread.
(But that’s not enough to go on.)
(He hates sneaking around like this.)
He circles the room again and closes in, wending his way through the tables and straining to pick out the different threads of conversation going on all around him. He scans expressions as he moves, looking for something, anything obvious, and knowing he isn’t going to find it.
“—mag-null, right?—” “—say we didn’t know—” “—sounds good, let’s—”
Ichigo freezes the instant he hears ‘mag-null’ and tilts his head, turning in a slow circle and trying to find the source. He spots one of his knights sporting an uncertain look, and steps closer to the table the man is at.
(That’s not language he has ever approved of.)
(Mag-null. Someone born without magic. Someone of lesser value because of it.)
(He despises the word and the intent behind it.)
“—should be easy enough,” another knight is saying, her hand waving absently. “He likes solo missions, right? And the commanders are always giving them to him.”
A second knight scoffs and pushes aside his empty bowl, then sets his elbow on the table and props his chin on his hand. “It’s about the only way a mag-null like him can get any missions, solos like those.”
“Mag-null or not, who’d want to work with him?” a third asks incredulously, gesturing about with her spoon before digging it back into her food. “He’s insufferable enough around the castle, constantly showing off. I’d hate to imagine what he’s like in the field.” She gives the whole table a look, and Ichigo is disgusted to see every knight there nodding in agreement, even the ones who are only listening.
(Even if this isn’t about Ishida Uryuu, Ichigo isn’t about to let talk like this slide.)
“I dunno,” the second knight says with annoyance. “His superiors seem to like him. He only has to ask, and off he trots on a solo.”
The first snorts and shakes her head. “Kenta, you poor, innocent soul.” At the man’s frown, she leans forward with a wicked smirk and says in a low tone, “There’s a reason his superiors like him, and it’s certainly not his attitude.”
Ichigo bites his lip hard enough to taste blood when one of the other knights snickers and makes a lewd gesture. He’s had more than enough of this conversation, even if he doesn’t know for sure who they’re talking about. But if he lingers here any longer, he’s going to be too tempted to just… start bashing heads together and pitching everyone involved out of the knighthood.
But Shiro’s right, they don’t know how far this goes, or how many people are involved. So instead, Ichigo turns to memorizing each knight’s insignia; he’s never been able to put names to faces reliably, but he’s found ways around that as he grew older.
Like the insignia, unique for every knight under his command, and attached to a dossier he keeps in his office. He’ll be able to make a list of everyone in this conversation, and he’ll make sure to mark the apparent ringleaders.
Halfway through memorizing the insignia, though, one of the knights makes an excited noise and stands. There’s a cruel gleam in his eyes, and his smile is less than friendly as he waves at someone walking through the door.
“Hey, Ishida!” the knight calls out, then narrows his eyes when the newcomer doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “Hey! I’m talking to you!”
Ichigo frowns and scans the rest of the hall, taking in the way the other tables have quieted down a bit, and the way some knights are hunching forward. None of them are speaking up, though, not even the ones that appear unaffected by the call-out. They’re all studiously ignoring what’s going on, except for a few covert glances.
(How did he miss this? How long has this behavior been going on under his nose?)
The standing knight growls in frustration and leans forward, resting his hands on the table. “Well, if you want to sit by yourself, be my guest,” he drawls. “I was only going to invite you to sit with us, since everywhere else is full.”
“Are you certain you don’t require glasses, Faran?” Ishida asks, tone dry as dust. He gestures at the tables around him, many of which have at least a bit of room, then shrugs and turns away. He starts to make his way towards one of the nearly empty tables in the back, throwing over his shoulder, “Perhaps you should look into that. The battlefield is no place for poor vision.”
The first knight barks a laugh, her smile sharp. “Speaking from experience, Ishida? Is that why you’re always taking solo missions, because you don’t want to look helpless in front of your peers when the enemy knocks your glasses off?”
“You should let us help,” Kenta pipes up, voice heavy with fake sympathy. He flashes Ishida an insincere smile when he freezes and turns back, and continues, “There’s no shame in weakness, after all. That’s what we’re here for, to help.”
Ichigo swallows his disgust at the words, and hastily finishes memorizing the insignias of the knights at the table. Forget listening further, he needs to leave and return openly, before the darkness he can see in Ishida’s eyes turns into something worse.
(No wonder Urahara decided to work around his promise at last.)
“Your help?” Ishida repeats, lips curling up to expose the tips of his teeth, disdain in every line of his body. “And what help would that be, Matsunu? If it’s your usual brand, I feel the need to warn you that Swallow takes… poorly to those she believes are threatening me.”
“That old nag? I don’t see why you still ride her, Ishida,” the first knight says with a scoff. “Just because your mother gave her to you as a child, doesn’t mean you should still be forcing her into battle. All she does all day is sleep in the stable.”
Ishida gives the knight a blank look, then glances at the others around the table, looking for something that he clearly doesn’t find. His shoulders slump a bit, and he pinches the bridge of his nose, saying, “If you want to be that blind, be my guest, please. Keep proving to me you’re all failures as knights.”
“Damn mag-null,” Kenta mutters darkly, then bares his teeth at Ishida in a pretense of a smile. “Failures, are we?” he asks while rising to his feet, one hand settling over the pommel of his sword. “I think it’s the opposite, isn’t it? At least we’re capable of working as a team and supporting one another. All a mag-null bow knight like you is good for is getting into trouble and being shot down by a mage.”
(’Shot down’?)
(Ichigo doesn’t have any aerial knights under his command…)
Ishida stalks closer, chin tilting up and expression a blank mask hiding a fury that Ichigo can nearly feel. The sight makes Ichigo stiffen and cast a confused look at the group of knights; he knows that expression, that look of leashed fury, and it’s enough for his mind to finally link faces to positions to names.
Ishida Ryuuken is one of the strongest War Priests that Ichigo has ever met. For his son to lack magic beggars belief; magic doesn’t simply die out in a single generation. It dwindles, lingering in the bloodline for generations and providing skills and abilities that those without a drop of magic cannot duplicate.
(So who taught Ishida Uryuu to hide himself so thoroughly and consistently?)
(And what does Ishida’s dossier say about his ability — or lack thereof — with magic?)
Ichigo shakes his head and digs his nails into his palms, trying to clear his mind. It doesn’t matter who taught Ishida what, not now. Not when he can almost taste the coming violence.
(He wonders if intervening now is too little, too late. If there’s anything of Ishida’s loyalty left after who knows how many years of torment.)
(Torment that Ichigo has been blind to the entire time.)
He can’t afford to think like that, though. Not now and not ever. The only thing he can do is try, and right now ‘trying’ means breaking the coming violence up before it begins.
Ichigo hurries out, keeping his steps as silent as he can, and slips into a hidden passage. Everyone knows that there are hidden passages in the castle, and everyone knows that the passages are shielded against people sensing those within them.
Ichigo strips Shiro’s spell from his body, allows his magic to unfurl from his core, and breathes a sigh of relief.
(He hates hiding. Hates restraining his power so thoroughly. But needs must.)
Then, squaring his shoulders and gathering himself, Ichigo strides from the hidden passage and towards the knight’s hall.
He has a fight to stop and a group of knights to examine carefully.
Maybe he’ll even figure out why he’s missed this mess for so long.