In the days that followed, Shuichi felt like rice paper soaked in water—every edge had been worn smooth, every color faded.
Every morning, he woke in the Thirteenth Division barracks, washed up, put on his Shihakushō, draped the white haori over his shoulders, and went to sit in the pavilion.
The Third Seat had already sorted the day's documents onto the tea table. The ones on the left needed his signature. The ones on the right were for him to read. The ones in the middle had been handled and were waiting for his review. Thus began the day's work.
He went through them one by one, signing what needed signing, reading what needed reading, and calling someone over whenever he had a question. The Third Seat stood beside him, occasionally adding a sentence or two of background. Shuichi did not need to ask much. The Third Seat knew what he would ask and had already prepared the answers. Before long, the documents were finished. The Third Seat left carrying the stack, and Shuichi was alone in the pavilion again.
The time that remained became long and broad, like an empty field where he could choose whichever direction he wanted to go.
Sometimes he went to the training grounds to watch the division members practice. The Thirteenth Division's training grounds lay west of the barracks. They were not large, but they were sufficient. The Third Seat stood in the middle with a roster in hand, calling names one by one and assessing each item in turn. Shuichi did not interfere. He merely watched from the edge.
Sometimes he did not return to the barracks, instead strolling slowly through Seireitei's streets, from south to north, from east to west, with no destination in mind. He simply walked. Most of the buildings