Jack

By: Bloodmist-Exile
Rating: Med/High T
Misc: Drama/Comedy
Warnings: Fairly adult thematically. Open mind recommended. You have been warned.
Disclaimer: I do not own Bleach.

He smiled at her faintly and hid his shaking hand in the pocket of his overcoat. It touched his weapon gently. "Afternoon, love," he said in his most charming voice, "Beautiful, isn't it?"

She glanced at him, cheeks red with the cold night air, "It is, sir," she replied politely, "Is there anything at all I can do to help you?"

For one second, he met her eyes. "You know," he said, "I think there is, actually."

Death, even in service, carries no glamor. A life well lived, well loved, holds far more meaning than any sacrifice ever could. One should live their life to the fullest and leave it only in necessity. Thus spoke Leader.

As he looked into her innocent, almost childlike, green eyes, he almost asked her if she'd finished everything. Have you lived life to the fullest, love? Oh, I'm sorry, of course I'll spare you for a few days, carry about. I'll come back later. He looked down.

"You are a member of the Thirteenth Division, after all."

Her hesitation was her death knell. "What do you mean?" she replied, barely concealing her rising panic. "I've just gotten into this part of Rukongai. I'm no one!"

Rukongai. Only Shinigami called it Rukongai.

"My mistake, love," he said, gaging her reaction, "What part of Rukon did you say you were from?"

She was so busy sizing him up, trying to see which district he'd be most unfamiliar with, that she quite forgot she never mentioned where she was from. "Z-Zaraki." she said with all the confidence she could muster.

"My," he said, shaking his head, "Without a sword? That's quite the feat."

She bit her bottom lip so fiercely it actually matched the lipstick she wore. "Very well," she whispered, looking around. The backroad was quite empty as planned. "My name is Hideko Kaoru. I am the Nineteenth Seat Officer of the Intelligence Division."

Of course she didn't say she was from the Thirteenth Division. Never specify your Division or assignment, trainees. Always leave it vague. Even if they appear to know, it may just be a guess. Don't tell them anything they wouldn't already know. Try to scare them if you can. Training had taught them that.

"What business do you have with me?"

His thumb tested the blade. "Nothing unusual," he said, "I need you to relay a message, please. Ah, and to your superiors, if I may ask that."

"We'll see," the girl stormed, drawing herself taller, trying to intimidate. "It better be good. I'm not some kind of messenger. I'm a Shinigami, you know, a soldier?"

"Yes," he said, "I know."

Ukitake Jushiro sighed and placed his papers to the side. He had informants, spies, and agents in every corner of the world – both worlds – but none of them had managed to find any trace of Ulquiorra. That arrancar was terribly persistant. He was just rubbing his eyes in frustration when Kiyone burst through the door, "Ukitake-taicho!" she yelled, as if she wasn't five feet away from him, "There's been a riot in Rukongai!"

For a few heroic seconds, nothing happened. Almost ten seconds later, nothing was continuing to happen. "Oh. Has there?"

"Yes, taicho!" Sentarou screamed, jumping into the room. That wasn't really a common way to enter a room but, as his legs were ensnared in a trap set by Kiyone, there really wasn't any other way. "In District One! You have to hurry!"

"I fully expect Tenth Division to be capable of handling it."

Tenth was in charge of law enforcement, after all. That was simply not his forte. "That's just it, taicho!" Kiyone picked up, "Matsumoto-fukutaicho asked me to..."

"She asked me as well, Ukitake-taicho!" Sentarou yelled for anyone who was listening.

"She asked me first!"

"She asked us at the same time!"

"Well... She was looking at me!"

Days like this made work fun.

"She was looking at both of us!"

"She was looking at me more!"

"Kiyone? Sentarou?" Jushiro interrupted, "Matsumoto-fukutaicho asked you to...?"

Sentarou stopped glaring daggers at Kiyone long enough to snap to attention, "She asked us, and I quote-"

"To request Ukitake-taicho to head to District One and calm the dissidents, as they were unusually violent."

"To go to District One and stop the riot since a Captain's presence will likely scare the mob into compliance."

Trust Kiyone and Sentarou to quote the same person and end up with two different sentences. "Fine..." Jushiro said wearily, his headache returning. He straightened his haori and stepped out the door. There were crashing sounds as Kiyone and Sentarou's fighting brought breakable things tumbling off his desk.

He hoped they would just admit they liked each other before everything in his office was broken.

A couple of lazy flash-steps brought him, first, within sight of District One and then the mob. At first they took no notice, with all their eyes on the person before them on the makeshift podium, in the blinding sun. "They hide behind their walls!" the man yelled, his voice trembling passionately, "When children wander their streets, utterly starving, where sit our erstwhile protectors?"

"They hide behind their walls!" the crowd screamed.

"As the weak are preyed upon and destroyed as nothing! Where be they then?"

"They hide behind their walls!" the man next to Jushiro screamed.

"They hide behind their walls." the man on the podium agreed, "As the denizens of Rukon, are we not of value? Are we not of worth? Are we not thoughts, and feelings, and heart? We must do something, brothers! We must act! We must..."

One flash-step took Jushiro to where the man stood. "Disperse." he finished. "You must disperse."

There was silence, then the man began to speak again. He seemed to be ignoring the Captain standing directly in front of him. "Yes, disperse, brothers!" he cried, "Don't leave your lives for nothing! In life, there is always hope! The hope of change! Thus spoke Leader!"

He slowly raised his right hand. "Spreading the Embers!"

"Feeding the Flames." his crowd mumbled back.

Then, to Jushiro's amazement, the crowd disintegrated, one by one, back into the streets. He had never seen a mob retreat in such an orderly manner. It was simply there, then, it was not. He was right about to turn to the speaker when a limp, pitiful figure caught his eye.

It was wearing a Shinigami uniform.

He jumped down to it, cradling the poor girl's head in his arms. Some parts of his brain screamed at the other parts to check her for a pulse. The other parts screamed back that there was obviously no point. He closed her eyes; they were still wide with shock.

Beneath the bubbling anger and howling loss, he realized that this was what must have caused the riot. He turned to the podium, but the speaker was gone. He stood and noticed a Fourth Division member running to him from the nearest gate. "Ukitake-taicho!" she yelled, "Who is that Shinigami? Does she have any identification? Does she have a pulse?"

"No," Jushiro whispered. As the Fourth Division member began the futile attempt to save a life already gone, he closed his eyes. "Her name was Hideko Kaoru. Nineteenth Seat. Thirteenth Division."

When he opened his eyes, he blinked. Even now, his keen mind was buzzing. "Fukutaicho," he said slowly, when he saw Isane concede. "Would the wound that killed her cause a lot of blood to run?"

She glanced at him, seeming unwilling to answer such a morbid question. "No," she answered finally.

"Then what do you suppose that is?"

They both looked at the long streak of blood that led away from the body, red and terrible and finally disappearing around a corner. "I-I don't know," she admitted.

Jushiro nodded. "Stay here."

A long, bloody streak from a non-running wound could only mean one thing. The body had been dragged from somewhere. Jushiro wasn't usually the vengeful type but he, particularly, hoped that the streak would lead him to the killer. He'd like to have a word or two with them.

The pursuit seemed pointless as he turned corner after corner after corner after corner. Finally, he turned one final corner and stepped into a dried patch of blood. He slowly looked at the wall before him with an increasing sense of dread. It wasn't the blood on the wall, terrible as it was, that made him take several steps back. Simply, it was what was carved there that made alarm bells explode in his head.

Jack

He'sbackHe'sbackhe'sbackhe'sbackhesbackhesback

I still don't know what to do.

He's back.


Notes: Hey. I'm glad you chose to read my story. I put a bunch of thought and effort into creating a plot that (I hope) was both fun to read and maybe just a little thought-provoking. Just hang with me because it's going to be an interesting ride from here. I'll update as soon as I can, but I have quite a bit of junk on my plate. I'm also going to try to write longer chapters so that might also hold me up a bit. I always appreciate people reading and I'd love it if you'd recommend this now, or ongoing, to someone who could like it, but that's completely up to you.

For everyone (the few) who may have been keeping track, I'm sorry for the long break in writing. Some stuff came up and gave me a hard time but I think I'm well and over that now.

Fanfiction login question: Are you human?
Answer: All too, I'm afraid.

Please review.
Everyone loves feedback, and it doesn't really take long.
I can't promise that I'll respond, but I can promise to try.

Exile.