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Early into their captaincy, they’d become the last two surviving members of their graduating class. The Academy kept track of the biographical information for all of the students who graduated, and during a trip to see the incoming class they’d gone into the archives, which is when they’d discovered that they were the only two left.
“Wow,” Jūshirō murmured.
“I feel old,” Shunsui said, only half jokingly.
“You are going a little grey,” Jūshirō teased, gesturing to his temples.
Shunsui snorted, “You’re one to talk.”
They lapsed into silence again as they read through the list of names. They’d been quite popular at school, and many of their classmates had gone onto work in the Gotei 13, although some had gone in alternate directions. Many of the names were familiar, and it was a nostalgic experience for both of them.
“Seems like only yesterday we were seated officers and our entire life was ahead of us,” Shunsui remarked after they’d left the archives.
Jūshirō smirked, nudging Shunsui with his elbow. “That’s rather dreary Kyōraku. We’re not that old. Besides, becoming captains is a marker of prestige – it’s just one that usually comes with age.”
“None of the pretty ladies are attracted to old men, Ukitake.”
Jūshirō gave Shunsui an exasperated look. “Do you really want to me reply to that one?” he asked.
“You’re supposed to be the sympathetic one, you know.” Shunsui muttered.
Jūshirō laughed, and clasped Shunsui on the shoulder, “I am sympathetic. I just refuse to pander to you.”
“Neither will Lisa-chan. I need more subservient friends and subordinates.”
Jūshirō quirked an eyebrow, “Maybe the problem isn’t with the people around you.”
Shunsui made a face, “Don’t think that just because you’re old, you’re also wise. You’re just as alone as I am.”
“You’re right,” Jūshirō acknowledged with an incline of his head, “But it doesn’t bug me anywhere near as much as it bugs you.”
Jūshirō lightly shoved Shunsui into the wall as answer as they walked down the hall. A lot of things had changed in the hundreds of years that had passed since they’d graduated, but the basic atmosphere was still the same. In a way he shared Shunsui’s nostalgia, he did feel old when he looked at the fresh young faces of the students in the Academy. He felt even older when he encountered seated officers that he’d taught when they were students.
Both he and Shunsui had instructed classes at the Academy at various points in their careers, but after they’d become captains those opportunities had become less frequent as their responsibilities had increased. Although Shunsui pretended that teaching classes were a great inconvenience for him – and perhaps they were, in that they took away from the time he spent napping – but deep down Jūshirō knew that Shunsui enjoyed teaching as much as he did.
“Why do I feel that now I have to live up to some kind of standard?” Shunsui asked after they’d returned to the Eighth and had settled down for a cup of tea.
Jūshirō shrugged, “It’s a strange burden. But I think it’s one that we’ve imposed on ourselves, I highly doubt anyone else knows about this.”
Jūshirō waited as Shunsui gathered his thoughts, is finger absently tapping against the side of the tea cup.
“We all went through the same education, the same training…yet we’re the last two left.”
Jūshirō wasn’t quite sure what exactly Shunsui was hinting at, but he understood the general message. It was the same feeling Jūshirō got whenever he attended the funeral of a young Shinigami; especially those who were killed in battle mere months after their graduation.
Jūshirō had been born with a moderate amount of inherent power, but he’d become powerful through hard work and training, most of which had been accomplished at the Academy. Shunsui was different, he’d been incredibly powerful before attending school – he’d been sent there earlier than most because of the potential threat he posed to himself and others. However, even Shunsui had honed his talents and developed his skills at the Academy. Both of them had mastered their skills and gained their individual expertise through dedication and hard work, they weren’t special or particularly gifted. There were even some who would tell them that there were still alive through no skill of their own, but by sheer luck.
Shunsui tipped his hat back, looking up at the sky. “My, my, I’ve become quite nostalgic in my old age, eh Ukitake?”
Jūshirō smiled sadly, “It’s heartbreaking to see them die. It won’t help to question why we’re still here, though. Maybe now we can finally work to change that, as captains.”
Shunsui finished the rest of his tea in one large gulp, and Jūshirō vaguely wondered if his friend had developed an immunity to hot liquids from years of drinking warm sake. The tea was no longer dangerously hot, but drinking it in such a matter would likely have brought tears to Jūshirō’s eyes.
“I knew there was a reason I keep you around, Ukitake,” Shunsui joked. “You’re always good in a crisis.”
Jūshirō’s lips twitched, “I’m glad to hear I’ve still got some utility.”
Shunsui chuckled, “I should go find a quiet spot to nap before Lisa-chan starts to look for me. It would be too easy for her if I just stayed here.”
“You could just do the work before she has to force you to do it,” Jūshirō said mildly.
“Where’s the fun in that?” Shunsui asked with a wink.
Jūshirō rolled his eyes as Shunsui flash stepped away to go find his hiding spot. Luckily enough, Shunsui’s vice captain was a good match for him; she didn’t let him get away with anything. She’d find him quickly and later into the evening Jūshirō would be regaled with the entire story.
On his way back to his own division, Jūshirō tried to push away all the thoughts about mortality and youth from his mind. Reflection was good in moderation, but it wasn’t productive to question his own continued existence. He walked back to the division, and by the time he got there his mind was much clearer, and it put him in a much better mood.
He’d honour the memory of his fallen comrades the best way he knew how: by continuing to live and by fighting for justice. He’d honour their memory by continuing what they had started.