{( Fin )} The Cutting Edge.

{( Thread Song )}

Scattered candlelight cast long shadows along the 4th Division's walkway, a humble thing of small white stones lined by the very flowers which his division insignia immortalizes; bellflowers. Yogenhoshi strolled along to the soft crunch of shifting pebbles, listening to the rhythmic footsteps of a passing patrol just beyond the courtyard's outer wall, and up onto the barrack's planed and polished porch. There was a chill in the air tonight, and the sky was overcast by clouds of all shapes and sizes, slowly stretching out into the infinite while the moon stubbornly shone through as roving moonbeams. I may as well be out on patrol, too, he thought, having spent the past few hours wandering the Court of Pure Souls, just now returning before the nighttime curfew.

He was restless, no doubt about it. After his acceptance into the medical division a few months back he had taken every available opportunity to learn from his seniors, taking tidbits from one or another to refine his own approach. The standard method was a simple process of rejuvenating a patient's spiritual energy before proceeding to heal them, focusing on any critical wounds first and foremost before wiping away their fatigue. Very simple, and his reiatsu control made the whole thing a breeze to accomplish but so far it only worked in theory, which brought him back to what was really bothering him. Is what I've learned so far enough to be applied? he wondered, having never been tested.

It wasn't that he was eager to see battle, or its garish results, but he wanted to know whether or not he could be a successful healer and there were only so many ways to go about finding out. Yogenhoshi was keen and often enjoyed puzzles, so he came to a few conclusions as to how he could try his hand at healing without being actively deployed, and truth be told he wasn't sure he had the strength to make it in a raging battlefield yet anyway. So far he had only manifested one "unsealed" ability, and that soon after his inauguration as a Shinigami, a straightforward boost to general swiftness which he had learned to couple with Flash Step. He prided himself in swiftness of body and mind.

Shikai was still beyond his reach, and his career as a Shinigami wasn't likely to take off until he attained the bond with his Zanpakutō spirit necessary to bring that power out. Sometimes he was troubled by thoughts of never forging such a bond as he was loathe to use his Zanpakutō during combat, and wasn't that the first step toward mastering the profession? Maybe Zanpakutō actually liked being wielded in such a fashion, and that just wasn't something he was truly prepared to do, thus he had poured himself into becoming a proficient healer in the meantime. He didn't view that as running away from the dilemma as it was an obligation he took upon entering the division but it often haunted his thoughts and caused these restless nights. The only way to progress that training any further was to practice on an actual patient.

Taking a seat at the tidy desk aligned with the foot of his bed, Yogenhoshi set his Zanpakutō down and considered it with appraising eyes, seeming to search for what it truly was and weigh its worth.

If its spirit is a manifestation of my being's core, I should at least be able to figure out what its purpose and capabilities are... Imagining the myriad of things it could be was all too easy, but that was a problem all its own as he couldn't even begin to form an algorithm of probability.

"Well," he said aloud, firming a resolve to advance his skill in healing even if it killed him as he seemed good for little else in the grand scheme of things. "At least you're good for one thing..." he finished while baring a few inches of glistening blade. The full scope of diversity among the Shinigami was overwhelming, with a variety of specialties and primary functions spread across the 13 Court Protection Squads, and he would be regarded as a reliable healer if nothing else... Training began tonight.

Only a few inches of bare blade were necessary for what he had in mind, the first step toward applying his healing skills on something more complex than the broken nose or sprained ankle which the 4th Division's raw recruits were normally responsible for, the mishaps of sparring sessions or training gone awry. He needed something more challenging.

A quick flick of the wrist was enough to slice it open, spurting globs of dark blood across the dark wood of his desk, creating a wound deep enough to qualify for a challenge but nothing extensive enough to threaten his life before he had a chance to heal it. All done stoically.

The resolve he had firmed for advancing his capability in healing was such that he was willing to inflict physical pain upon himself just for an opportunity to practice, to push beyond what he had already learned and become familiar with, and so he began. The end will justify the means in this case, he thought, curling one hand about the other wrist as it began to radiate a luminous green aura. Within moments the flow of blood was reduced to a trickle, then stemmed entirely as his flesh knit back together, leaving skin only a little paler than the rest.

"That wasn't so bad," he said, shaking the hand he had used to heal with in the air, spattering crimson droplets across the smooth planking. He realized just how messy a business it was after one look around, however. Things are only going to get messier before the night is out...

Yogenhoshi set about his own form of training, systematically inflicting wounds to the various muscle groups found throughout the anatomy only to heal them and thereby learn the finer nuances of healing methodology; how different types of tissue, its density and functionality were more or less receptive to alterations in technique.

Continuing this would be painful, especially once he moved on to more intricate forms of healing, though he wouldn't get too carried away and attempt healing critical damage that might be fatal. Sacrifices had to be made in the name of progression, sometimes, and what could possibly be a more worthy cause than healing the pain and suffering of others?

Hours had passed since Yogenhoshi had shut himself away in his private quarters, deep within the darkened interior of the 4th Division barracks, with probability leaning toward no-one else being awake to disturb him even if he did make a peep. He hadn't anyway, as groaning and whimpering would seem undignified in lieu of his determination to see this through regardless of personal expense. It was a worthy price.

At this point he had already expanded his repertoire to healing tendons, ligaments and the regeneration of bone by targeting specific points of the body where such things were possible without death.

His desk was already slick with blood in spite of his best efforts, as was the floor all around it and the chair he had occupied throughout this endeavor, and his body ached all over. Partway through the training he realized that conserving reiatsu would be essential if he was to get very far tonight, and so he had long since abandoned erasing the fatigue everyone suffers when wounded; his wounds had been many, and already he felt completely drained. That should be enough for now...

Exhaustion threatened to drag him to the ground from where he slumped in the chair, mind hazy and lulled by the rhythmic drip-drip of blood trickling down from the tips of his red-stained hands. He needed sleep, time to recover from the rigors of repeatedly wounding himself just to heal it, and not all his trauma had been physical. His threshold for pain had increased drastically in that short span of time, but time was such a relative thing, as he perceived it as a taxing lesson in which time seemed to drag every second into an hour of self inflicted torture.

I'll clean up in the morning, he thought as he hoisted himself up, deliberately retaining his balance while getting to his feet and making the few steps to a bed that had never looked more comfortable. Falling face-first upon the mattress without bothering to pull back the covers, he was fast asleep before his body stopped bouncing, absentmindedly leaving a single stub of a candle to illuminate the scattered bloodstains until burning itself out. He never stirred despite being fully dressed.

The Zanpakutō that Yogenhoshi was presented during his time with the Shino Academy was still unnamed, still hadn't connected with the fledgling Shinigami, and it had absolutely nothing to do with not wielding it like anyone could come to wield a sword. On the contrary, the fact that Koudou was a manifestation from the depths of Yogenhoshi's very core meant that he, too, was essentially an idealistic intellectual who had nothing but disdain for violence yet recognized that it was sometimes necessary to stand firm and defend priorities.

For now Koudou was temporarily forgotten amid the blood spatters on the desk, where his origin and partner had left him, but the Zanpakutō spirit had not forgotten Yogenhoshi. As the two shared a soul, and the way of Zanpakutō spirits was to be receptive to their host whether the same courtesy was returned, he could feel the resolve and aspirations burning within the boy through every individual drop of blood spilled by his blade, and the amount coating the furniture and floor ensured no small amount of scrubbing to remove all traces of the long night's work.

The dedication Yogenhoshi was showing to healing was commendable, even admirable, and Koudou knew just how to reward such diligence. The last few wounds which Yogenhoshi had inflicted upon himself were only partially healed, as he simply didn't have enough reiatsu and concentration left to mend them completely, seeping blood into the dark covers. Those same wounds began to heal a moment later, slowly calling upon the last vestiges of spiritual energy remaining to accomplish it as what would eventually come to be known as Ecliptic Regeneration-- Yogenhoshi's second "sealed" ability-- manifested for the first time.

By the time Yogenhoshi awoke in the morning he would feel completely refreshed, as if the physical exhaustion of last night never happened, and it would probably happen in time for him to breakfast before tackling morning chores and training. Koudou would space out the process of erasing the fatigue to allow his spiritual energy time to revitalize, but from then on he would only evoke this ability in Yogenhoshi's stead under the most dire of circumstances. Teach a man to fish... the Ecliptic Monk thought, quoting part of a proverb so ancient that most would doubt its origins. And so the rest of the night passed, with Yogenhoshi having accomplished more than he knew.

For some reason he dreamed about fishing on some remote island off the coast of a vast mainland, blooming with all manner of nature.