~*~The Call of the Moon~*~

By: WhipOfLightHeartOfSword

Rated: Strong R

World: Semi-AU, during the Winter War. We're just going to pretend this is like the movies - we know it takes place sometime before Ichigo loses his powers, we just don't know when exactly, lol.

Pairings: Renji/Byakuya (main)

Feedback: Yes please, but no flames.

Warnings: Yaoi- don't like don't read. Also gore, it is a werewolf fic after all. *grin*

Disclaimer: Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo, Shonen Jump, etc., not me. This is a not-for-profit fanwork. The "Princess Wolf" is a classic werewolf tale that can be found in various versions around the internet. I merely borrowed it and embellished my own version.

Summary: In Soul Society werewolves are categorized alongside hollows as enemies, and the Gotei 13 have a long-standing order to slay any that are discovered on sight. For those unfortunate enough to be bitten, only death at the hands of their once-comrades awaits them. When ravaged corpses begin turning up just outside the Rukon, Renji and Byakuya are sent to investigate the rumors that a werewolf is the cause. To their horror, the rumors not only prove to be true, but just as lethal as legends say, as during an attempt to kill the beast, Byakuya is bitten. Renji finds himself faced with a desperate situation. Find a cure for a curse claimed to be incurable, or be forced to watch the captain he's begun to fall in love with be executed.

Author's Note: Welcome everyone, to my very first Halloween-inspired Bleach fic! I've always felt this show—being one about the afterlife and all—would offer up some especially awesome fun around this time of year, and sure enough, the muse didn't hold back in handing me three very juicy, or should I say 'bloody', bunnies. So, readers of my other works voted, and this was the bunny chosen to be the priority fic, as sadly my schedule's too busy to guarantee I can get to all three stories at this time. But regardless if you are one of the people who voted, or a newcomer to my writing, I invite you now to kick back and settle in for some good ol' Squad Six creature-feature fun. Enjoy!

(Two things I forgot to mention- 1. FFnet's once again fighting me with formatting. Please forgive the random omissions of spaces between italicized words, and italicized/non-italicized words. 2. This is not going to be an OC-dominated fic. But there is a trend of gratuitous psychics shouting 'doom!' at people in werewolf movies that I find amusing, and I couldn't resist incorporating it into the opening chapter. ^_^U)

~*~Chapter 1~*~

To most of the neighborhood, the old woman was simply one of those people who had a fascination for the paranormal and mythological. But considering that she had made her career teaching literature and world mythology, it was merely assumed that her love of the subject had gone far beyond her job, and still brought her much-needed entertainment even in her retirement years. Unbeknownst to them, the matronly scholar was far from a mere repertoire of ancient trivia and medieval folklore. 75-year-old Nakamura Makoto was a real life medium with a genuine gift for seeing and speaking to the dead, and ever since an unfriendly spirit had lured her off the roof of her childhood home (resulting in a severe head injury and week-long coma), she had also been able to catch glimpses of events that had not yet come to pass.

Of course, even if she had been of a mind to tell anyone—and she wasn't, after so many years of being shunned and ridiculed by her peers during her youth—it was unlikely most of her neighbors would have believed her. To the modern, scientific-minded society, psychic abilities were something exclusive to stories of fiction. This belief suited her just fine, as it allowed her an easy means to hide and live a normal life with her family.

For years she simply gave a discrete nod to the spirits she passed on the street, and left it at that. As a young professional she'd build her career without anyone questioning her competence and using it as cannon fodder to oust her from her place in the world of male academia. As a mother she'd taken careful precautions to appear especially ordinary, so she wouldn't accidentally brand her children as targets for the ridicule of others as she once had been, and gave a quiet sigh of relief when it became apparent neither of her girls had inherited her abilities. And finally, as an elderly woman enjoying retirement, she found that the quiet life of a hobby gardener and resident folklore expert was much nicer than risking being saddled with the moniker of 'Old Witch'. If her much deplored 'gift' of foresight so happened to send hera vision of something that bothered her, she would do her best to put it out of her mind, lest she cause something terrible to happen in her efforts to try and prevent it in the first place.

For almost sixty years the strategy worked, and people never seemed to think the slightest thing about her was anything but normal.

That is, until the day the Kurosaki family had moved into the house next door, and opened up their private clinic.

From the moment she'd first laid eyes on Kurosaki Isshin, Makoto had known that he was no ordinary human being. And from the way that he had held her eyes as she and her husband stood greeting the newcomers, she could tell that Isshin was likewise aware that there was more to her than she let on.

At the time of that first meeting, Isshin's wife had been seven months along with their firstborn, and Makoto had been almost overwhelmed with the barrage of images she had received of what the future might have in store for the little one. Images of a ginger-haired youth dressed in old-fashioned black garb wielding a massive sword. A frightening trio dressed in white, surrounded by sand and masked monsters as they gathered beneath a night sky. A jewel of great, malevolent power. And finally, a large group of people armed with swords and all dressed in the same old-fashioned garb, standing atop a towering hill overlooking a vast city.

For the first time in her life, Makoto had felt driven to find a moment to speak with her new neighbor alone, believing he needed to be warned of the strange destiny that awaited his son.

Except that Isshin was hardly surprised by what she had to say. He calmly explained to her his past as a guardian of the afterlife, and that it was likely any children of his would inherit such powers as well. He also didn't seem surprised at her mention of the jewel, or the three men surrounded by monsters.

"Those three are responsible for my friend having to live his life in hiding," he'd said solemnly, happy demeanor darkening for a moment. "The day's going to come when they'll get theirs, don't worry."

Frightening as the shinigami's tale was, Makoto had never been able to put into words how wonderful it was to be able to confide in someone about her visions, and since that day the two had remained close friends. Makoto had readily offered herself as a babysitter during the tough years following Masaki's death when Isshin had to work long hours and his children were too young to care for themselves. In return, the Kurosaki kids had become something of surrogate grandchildren for her to spoil; something the old woman enjoyed, as her biological grandchildren lived too far away for her to see very often.

And so it was one fine fall afternoon, almost sixteen years later, that she found herself kneeling in her beloved rose garden, weeding and setting down fertilizer to give the plants as much nutrition as possible before the winter weather set in. A few late blooms had opened, and she snipped them to bring into the house so her table could be decorated with that last breath of summer while it lasted.

"Nakamura-obaasan!"

The elderly woman raised her head and looked towards the front gate of her home, where the younger of the Kurosaki girls was holding a Tupperware and waving.

"Ah, Yuzu-chan. Come in!" she smiled brightly. Yuzu unlatched the gate and hurried over.

"I brought cinnamon cookies!" she beamed, opening the container and proudly displaying its contents.

"Mmm, they smell heavenly," Makoto complimented, as the warm scent reached her nostrils. It was obvious the batch hadn't been out of the oven long. "Why don't we go inside and enjoy them while they're still hot?"

"Okay!"

Pulling off her garden gloves, Makoto eased herself up onto her feet, bones creaking in protest from her having knelt in the dirt for the better part of an hour. She smirked wryly at herself. Once upon a time she could have spent hours tending her prized roses without feeling a thing. Now even the act of getting on and off her knees was a difficulty. Ah, the nuisance that was old age.

Beside her Yuzu watched discretely, knowing the old woman wouldn't appreciate an offer of help, but ready anyway if her friend showed signs of needing it. Once she was up the two of them made their way inside.

Putting her gloves on a table near the entrance way, Makoto watched as Yuzu put the Tupperware down on the table, and politely took her seat as her host retrieved two mugs and plates, and put a kettle on to make tea. Having the girl stop in was a wonderful reprieve from the long hours of solitude that came with being a widow, but Makoto couldn't shake the sudden feeling of something dark lurking just at the edge of her senses, and it concerned her.

"Obaasan, is everything alright?"

Makoto shook her head and smiled, realizing that she had zoned out for a moment. "It's nothing, dear. I'm pleased to tell you that you won't be getting any dire predictions of doom from me today!"

Yuzu giggled. It was a long-standing joke between them, since Yuzu had once pointed out that psychics in movies seemed only to be used as a means of giving dire predictions of doom to those poor characters meant to become victims of the creature the heroes were meant to defeat. To a woman with a real psychic ability, it was a strangely appreciated opportunity to joke around about her own abilities without rousing Yuzu's suspicions.

"Well that's good. I'm supposed to be participating in a storytelling contest next week. It'd be hard for me to do that if I was busy running for my life!"

Makoto chuckled as she brought the now-boiling water over to the table and poured it into their cups. "Indeed. Have you given any thought as to what kind of story you're going to tell?"

Yuzu shook her head. "I thought I might tell a ghost story, but I haven't been able to think of one that's any good."

The old woman looked thoughtful. "Perhaps you should tell a Western folktale. There are plenty of classic stories I know that your classmates may not be familiar with. It might help you if you told one they didn't know, so they wouldn't have any preconceived expectations of how the story should be told."

Yuzu's face brightened with excitement. As a little girl she'd loved listening to her neighbor tell stories, and even though she was getting older and was more than capable of looking them up to read for herself, there was just something about a good old-fashioned story-telling that she'd never get tired of. Especially when the teller was as passionate and engaging as Makoto was.

"Ohh, could you tell me one about a vampire? Or maybe a werewolf! They're so popular, but all the new stories about them are so similar. Are the classic folktales any different?"

The old woman smiled and gazed upwards as she thought carefully. "Some of them are. Certain details common in the old stories have fallen out of popularity in recent years. For example- did you know it was common practice at one time to wedge a brick into a corpse's mouth to stop them from rising as a vampire?"

The youngest Kurosaki looked skeptical. "They really did that when they buried people?"

Makoto nodded. "Sometimes. I remember a news article from a few years back that such a corpse had been discovered."

"Ewww," Yuzu grimaced wryly. "That makes me almost glad I'll be cremated. But vampires have been really overdone lately, so how about werewolves? What do the old folk stories have to say about them?"

The old woman chuckled. "Well, there was the story about the Princess Wolf. That one's fairly straightforward and short, so it should work just fine if all you have is a few minutes in front of your peers."

"Oohh, please tell!" Yuzu said excitedly.

Makoto smiled and began. "A long, long time ago, a King invited a Nobleman to go hunting with him. The Nobleman bid good day to his wife, and left to join the King. They rode through the forest all day, but neither managed to catch anything of particular note. Finally, just as they were about to turn for home, the Nobleman spotted a large, magnificent wolf with fur as gold as the sun. Of course this was better than any other prize he or the King could have hoped to bring home, so they chased the wolf, each eager to be the one to claim its life."

Yuzu looked disappointed. "You mean, they find a beautiful animal and all they want to do is kill it," she stated glumly. Stories of senseless violence weren't really to her liking, not if it meant hearing about cruel men killing some poor creature just because it looked unusual.

Makoto placed a comforting hand over hers. "Many people in this day and age would be of the same mind as you, child. But ours is a society that has begun to realize that it's often better to preserve than destroy. Back then, the one who slew an unusual beast was considered a hero, and those who let it live were considered cowardly and weak."

"That's so stupid," Yuzu sighed unhappily. "So what happened to the wolf?"

"The chase went on for more than an hour. The Nobleman and his King feared they might lose the beast entirely, because their horses were getting tired and the wolf was leading them further and further into the denser part of the forest, where it was too difficult and dangerous for the horses to run, and of course the men could never follow the beast on foot. Finally, though, the wolf itself tripped on a tree root, and tumbled forwards onto its back. The Nobleman was following just behind, and as he galloped by he gave a mighty swing of his sword."

"And?" Yuzu asked, looking as if she thought she knew the answer.

"Sadly for the Noble, his sword missed the wolf's head, but managed to catch its left front paw. The wolf screamed and leapt back to its feet and ran three-legged into the underbrush. The Nobleman and his King decided it would be too difficult to try and follow it, but the Nobleman had succeeded in cutting off the wolf's left foot, so they simply picked up the golden paw and placed it into a bag to bring home."

"Was that it?"

Makoto shook her head. "The Nobleman invited the King to his home to have supper and rest, where they could tell his wife and serfs all about the magnificent hunt for the wolf. But when they returned, the Nobleman's wife refused to come to dinner, claiming she was ill. Undeterred, the Nobleman proceeded to tell his story. When the castle residents asked to see his trophy, he reached into the bag to take out the wolf's paw, only to find that the bag didn't contain a paw at all! Inside was a human hand, wearing a wedding ring just like the one that belonged to the Nobleman's wife! Outraged, the Nobleman ran up to their bedchamber and threw open the door. There by the fire sat his beautiful, golden-haired wife, cradling the stump where her left hand used to be. When questioned she confessed to being the wolf he and the King had chased. Of course, the King couldn't very well allow a confessed werewolf to live, and so she was hanged, and the Nobleman commended for his aid in rooting out the deadly threat."

"What a horrible story!" Yuzu exclaimed. "What kind of guy was he, allowing his wife to be killed? Didn't he love her at all?"

"Love really doesn't bear much weight in these stories, I'm afraid," Makoto shrugged sadly. "People genuinely feared werewolves, and the King would have been seen as negligent had he allowed her to live. As for the Nobleman, you can't expect him to defy the King in the man's very presence! Had his wife's secret been exposed in a more private setting, he might have been able to hide her. But as it was, if he had tried to save her he would only have joined her on the gallows, and then the people he governed could have been put in jeopardy as other nobles fought over his abandoned territory. The lives of any other living relatives he had could have also been put in peril, as doubt would be cast over their trustworthiness."

"Ugh," Yuzu shook her head. "That's still disgusting, and whoever came up with that story was still a sick jerk! I don't want to tell a story like that!"

Makoto shrugged neutrally. Classical fairytales weren't typically happy stories. She couldn't change them without having to admit to the girl to having 'Disney-fied' them, but that still wouldn't make them any more to Yuzu's taste. Either the child would have to accept them as they were—as warnings and tales of triumphs over old monsters people once had very real fears of—or she'd have to go looking for a new genre of stories to use in her contest.

"If you dislike this type of story so much, I'm sure I can dig up a fable or something with a less bloody ending," she offered.

"No thanks, Obaasan," Yuzu declined, standing and leaving the rest of the cookies on the table. "I think I'll visit the library and see what they have. I'll let you know what I find."

It wasn't exactly the most polite way to leave things, but the old woman was far beyond the age where such things affronted her anymore. If the girl wanted to look elsewhere for a happier story, then so be it.

"Good luck then, my dear. Let me know how things turn out," she called as Yuzu left.

"Sure thing, Obaasan," the girl called back, before the door closed behind her.

Makoto polished off a few more of the cookies by herself before taking up her gloves again and finishing the chores she'd started in the garden. Seeing that it was getting late, she went inside and washed up before making a light dinner of souba noodles for herself. After dinner she settled into her favorite chair, and picked up the anthology she'd been enjoying another re-read of for the past few nights. She'd only been reading for about a quarter of an hour when weariness got the better of her and she dropped off.

The next time she opened her eyes, it was to see the friendly yet saddened eyes of Kurosaki Isshin looking down at her. As she sat up, she noticed several things that were out of place. One, the man had never taken it upon himself to enter her home of his own accord, and second he was wearing that strange black uniform he'd once called a shihakushou. Third, she felt more energized and vibrant than any nap had left her for a number of years. Looking down at herself, she was both unsurprised and yet a bit saddened to see the reason why.

From her chest hung the broken end of a chain, and as she turned to look behind her, she could see the other end dangling from the unmoving chest of her aged body.

"I guess I don't need to ask you what happened," she said as she returned her gaze to Isshin, deciding she'd seen enough of her own corpse.

He smiled sadly. "No, I didn't think you would."

"So what happens now?" Makoto asked, a twinge of fear of the unknown worming its way into her chest.

"Now you and I say our goodbyes, and I perform what we shinigami refer to as a konsou. That will give you safe passage into the afterlife," Isshin answered. "You keeping your powers as hidden as possible shielded you while you were alive, but now that you're dead a hollow will see you as a very tempting snack. At least in the Soul Society you'll be safer, especially if you offer your services as a clairvoyant to the Shinigami Academy. That'll probably be your best bet for survival there."

"Survival? I thought it was your job to send me to Heaven!" Isshin had explained the concept of hollows to her years ago, after one such monster had attacked his family and touched off the destiny she had foreseen for Ichigo, but nothing he'd ever said had led Makoto to believe her soul would be in danger even after she'd reached the World of the Dead!

The shinigami chuckled. "Oh, the afterlife's way more interesting than white clouds and angel wings, I assure you! But don't be frightened, you'll be fine. I'm going to send you to the Soul Society, and all souls enter into a part of it called the Rukon. Because you lived an honest life you're more likely to be sent to an area that's friendlier, but because your powers are the kind that'll likely stick with you even after death, I'm going to suggest you look up the Shinigami Academy once you get there. Souls with power need food, and you'll have to earn the means to get it once you arrive. The shinigami are also a bit suspicious of people with abilities like yours, so I'd recommend it also as a gesture of good faith to help you stay out of trouble."

The poor newly dead woman's head was spinning with the barrage of information, and she wasn't at all happy to have her hopes dashed that her foresight was an affliction that would only last while she was alive. At the same time she trusted Isshin, and considering how little she knew about what she was in for, her best bet would be to appreciate any advice he could give her, and take as much advantage of it as possible.

"Alright, just, please let your kids know how much I'll miss them, will you? I left them each something in my Will, but it's not the same as a real goodbye."

"Sure thing," Isshin agreed. "Thank you, Nakamura-obaasan, for everything you've done for us over the years. We're really going to miss you."

"I'm going to miss you all as well, Kurosaki-san," her eyes misted a bit, realizing it was possible she'd never see him or his family again. "If you ever decide to come back to this 'Soul Society' you're sending me to, I'd love it if you'd try to find me."

"I will," he promised, as he drew his sword and raised it. Makoto gave the weapon a look of alarm.

"You're not going to cut me with that thing, are you?"

Isshin chuckled and shook his head. "Nope. This blade's only meant for evil spirits. You, obaasan, are simply going to have the seal on the hilt stamped on your forehead. Then the spell will do the rest of the work."

"Alright," she tried very hard to put on a brave face as the end of the sword's handle came towards her face. A wave of relief swept over her as it merely pressed gently into her forehead for a brief moment, followed by another wave of cool peacefulness and calm. Suddenly she found herself surrounded by a friendly white light, listening to the echoes of Isshin's last goodbye as he and her home faded from view.

When the light dissipated, she found herself standing in the middle of a dirt street, greeted by a sight unlike any she'd seen outside of historical movies.

All around her people dressed in kimono carrying bags and baskets of goods walked to and fro. Merchants had their tables set up on the sides of the streets beneath strings of hanging lanterns, calling out their wares and prices in a currency she wasn't at all familiar with. Children ran wild and mostly barefoot in groups, some teasing stall owners while others snitched items and darted away into the throng with them. Nowhere in any of the commotion was there a single electronic device to be seen. No electric streetlamps, no cars, no cell phones… nothing! It was as though she'd stepped back in time more than a hundred years.

Looking down she noticed that she herself was dressed in a plain rust-colored kimono, with simple straw sandals on her feet. Even more shocking, however, was the fact that she didn't seem to be an old lady anymore! Rather than sagging, wrinkled, and covered in mottled age marks, her skin was once again creamy smooth and firmly set against arms that looked like they should belong to a twenty-year-old. Her waist was once again trim, her joints no longer creaked, her back was straight, her breasts weren't sagging, and the hair she could see resting against her shoulders was the deep auburn she hadn't seen since grey had overtaken it in her late-forties. Reaching up tentatively to feel her face, she was amazed and excited to feel the smooth, firm lines that had replaced the sagging jowls of her 75 year old self.

Eager to see with her own eyes, she rushed over to a stall where a man was selling silver goods, and picked up a shiny charger plate. Her reflection made her break out into a huge grin, as the long-lost face of her early twenties smiled back at her.

"I'm young again…" she sighed with wonder and appreciation.

"You're new here, right?"

Startled, Makoto looked up to see the kindly face of the silver merchant waiting patiently for an answer.

"Um, yes. I was just kon…"

"Konsoed?" he supplied. "You look like it. I noticed you seemed to pop up out of nowhere, and people with spiritual powers tend to regress in age when they cross over so the Gotei can get the maximum use out of them as shinigami."

"Gotei?" she asked. She knew Isshin had mentioned the word before, but that was all. He'd been willing to talk to her about her visions while she was alive, but maintained that he wasn't allowed to reveal much about the afterlife, the shinigami, or the mysterious organization they belonged to, which she had surmised was some sort of military based on the vague details she'd gleaned.

"Yup," the merchant nodded. "Come on, I was thinking about packing up for the night anyway," he pulled a tarp over his wares and secured it, before offering her a friendly arm. "I'll take you to the pub just over yonder, and explain everything over dinner. You'll need to know what you're in for before anyone notices you're Academy material. Shinigami life may be for some, but smart folk'll tell you beware before you go making it known you have abilities. You may think it's as simple as not signing up if you don't feel it's the life for you, until someone decides you're too powerful for their liking, and that if you didn't join the Gotei then you must be up to no good."

Not having any idea of anywhere else she could go, Makoto followed the man into the surprisingly bright and clean Edo era establishment, where a waitress ushered them over to a table and set menus down in front of them before scampering off to take another customer's order. Over the next hour or so, she listened to the man, Ryunousuke, as she learned his name was, talk about the pros and cons and ins and outs of life in the Gotei 13.

"You seem to know an awful lot for someone who's not a shinigami," she remarked at one point. She didn't sense anything sinister coming from the man, but she did think it odd that someone who was not in the military would know so much about it.

"You can thank my little brother for that, maam," he grinned proudly. "I may not be a shinigami, but he is. Member of Squad 13, as it were. He comes down here every week and we share a drink and catch up with each other. I gotta tell you, the Gotei may be a funny bunch, and downright scary if you stop and think about it, but they're a good lot overall who turned a kid who could have been a real scamp into a responsible adult, and I gotta thank them for that much."

"Indeed," she nodded, noticing a pudgy man with a jolly grin on his face making his way over to them.

"Ryunousuke!" the newcomer greeted.

"Ichirou!" the merchant greeted back, just as eagerly.

"And who might this be?" Ichirou turned his smile on Makoto.

"This here's a newcomer to these parts. Seems she might have shinigami potential so I was telling her about the Gotei," Ryunousuke explained. To Makoto he said, "Ichirou's an old friend, and the owner of this establishment."

"It's a pleasure, maam," Ichirou said, holding out his hand.

"Likewise," she returned, taking it as they bowed politely to each other. It was the last thing she remembered as the world around her suddenly flashed white, and sent her spiraling into the longest and most horrific vision she'd ever experienced in all her long years.

*Flash*

A lone figure standing just at the edge of a forest, gazing at the run-down housing at the bottom of the hill for a moment before staggering towards it...

*Flash*

The figure had reached the buildings, and the meager light showed it was merely a small girl, looking very alone and desperate...

*Flash*

The girl was making her way through the streets; scrounging what little food she could and constantly avoiding everyone, even the other children who tried to befriend her...

*Flash*

The girl was now looking up at the night sky, terrified at the sight of the nearly full moon...

*Flash*

She was huddled in a basement now, her leg badly broken. She tries to get up but the leg just won't hold her. She's crying and afraid...

*Flash*

The door opens and Ichirou the barman comes down the stairs into the cellar. He sees the girl and tries to comfort her, but she frantically waves at him to go away. Moonlight suddenly shines through the tiny cellar window, and the little girl's eyes flare an unholy black. Her body twists and writhes as her limbs reform themselves. Fur sprouts all over her body as her face elongates and fangs snap at Ichirou's hand while he stands frozen in fear...

*Flash*

The doors to the cellar burst open as Ichirou scrambles up the stairs and into the bar, a large, fully transformed wolf snarling at his heels. He tries to throw furniture in its path but large paws bat the obstacles out of the way like they were annoying bugs. In a last effort, Ichirou dives behind the bar and grabs for a knife, but as he turns his attacker is on him before he can raise the blade in his defense. The last thing he sees is a maw of razor sharp teeth descending down on him...

*Flash*

Shinigami are gathered in the bar, some trying to keep inquisitors away as others examine the blood-spattered room. Ichirou's body is lying torn to literal pieces, and a sheet is being laid over him. A shinigami with a red ponytail and black tribal tattoos seems to be ordering two other shinigami to check the basement...

*Flash*

The same tattooed shinigami is standing next to a cart in front of a different building, watching a body wrapped in a bloody sheet being loaded. He turns to see a black-haired shinigami, wearing a scarf and strange hairpiece, approaching. He bows and they seem to strike up a conversation...

*Flash*

The shinigami with the scarf is standing on the bank of a stream. The same wolf leaps from the water and he turns to slash at it with his sword, only for the beast to slam into him before he can get the blade between them. The wolf grabs his arm in its jaws and spins, whirling him around as he cries out in pain. He switches his sword to his left hand and stabs it into the wolf's neck, making it let go and run off. He falls to his knees at the edge of the water, holding his arm and staring at the wound in horror as the red-haired shinigami runs towards him...

*Flash*

The moon is full, and a white wolf stands howling beneath it atop a modern apartment building. On top of its head is a large, black, diamond-shaped patch of fur, and a tattered white scarf hangs limply around its neck...

*Flash*

Makoto came back to herself with a terrified gasp. Realizing she was still bent over and holding someone's hand in a death-grip, she slowly raised her head to see the frightened face of Ichirou staring back at her for a moment before he jerked his hand out of her hold and backed away warily.

"Ryunousuke… what the hell is wrong with her?" he demanded, voice wavering nervously.

As Makoto gazed around the bar, she suddenly noticed how quiet the formerly boisterous establishment had become, and that every single person there was staring at her with expressions of abject fear and morbid curiosity. The heat began to rise in her face as it became painfully clear just how noticeable her psychic episode had been.

"I don't know!" Ryunousuke was shouting back, "Maybe she's got some kinda problem. Have someone call a healer!"

All at once the icy feeling of being petrified beyond movement faded, and her hand darted out, catching Ichirou's again and dragging his arm closer as she desperately tried for the first time in years to make enough sense of a vision to turn it into a warning. Except this time, the stakes somehow seemed far higher than they'd been back when she'd told Isshin about his son's death god destiny.

"You have to stay out of the basement," she said earnestly. "There's a creature down there, a werewolf! You have to stay away or it's going to kill you!"

Suddenly all movement in the bar froze as if someone had hit the pause button on a TV. The color drained from the barman's face, and Ryunousuke's mouth set itself in a grim line as he gripped her arm and pulled her away from his friend, shaking her as he demanded, "What do you mean, werewolf?"

"I saw it!" Makoto cried, trying to twist away from Ryunousuke. "A little girl in your basement! When you tried to go near her Ichirou, she transformed and killed you! There was a red-haired shinigami with tattoos investigating your bar, and he was talking to another shinigami wearing a scarf and a weird hair ornament. The shinigami with the scarf was bitten, and I saw a second wolf wearing his scarf howling beneath the full moon!"

Ichirou began sputtering in alarm, but his friend was nowhere near as easily flustered.

"How dare you!" Ryunousuke hissed. "The shinigami are just as devoted to slaying werewolves as they are hollows, and they would never suffer one to stand among their ranks. I'll have you know that Captain Kuchiki is regarded as one of the best captains of the Gotei, and he is most definitely not one of the Cursed!"

"I'm just telling you what I saw," the woman cried, fear gripping her as he towered over her menacingly. "I don't even know who this Captain Kuchiki is!"

Whatever Ryunousuke might have said, a voice coming from the doorway neatly cut him off just as he seemed about to launch into a full-fledged tirade.

"Oi! What's going on here?"

Makoto was both relieved and shocked to see the very red-haired shinigami from her vision striding towards them.

"She's making unlawful accusations against your taichou, Abarai Fukutaichou," Ryunousuke growled, jerking her arm pointedly.

The newcomer, Abarai, narrowed his eyes in displeasure at the sight of her wincing from the rough treatment. "Why don't you stop bruising her up, and let me ask the questions," the coolness of his voice suggested it was anything but a request.

Ryunousuke grumbled and shoved her arm away from him in a decidedly ungentlemanly gesture.

"Now then, madam, mind telling me what these accusations are that you've supposedly been making?" he asked Makoto in a gentler tone.

She wasted no time in repeating her warning. "I saw a little girl in the basement of this building turn into a werewolf and kill Ichirou," she pointed at the barman. "Then I saw you and another shinigami wearing a scarf talking, and that other shinigami was bitten by the same wolf. Then I saw a wolf wearing an identical scarf howling on top of a building like those I remember from the Living World."

For a brief moment his kind tone when speaking to her had given her hope he might believe her, but the stern, somewhat incensed look in Abarai's eyes told her she might have just put her foot in it worse than she could have imagined.

"Madam, I've never seen you around here before," Abarai began.

"She was just konsoed here, sir," Ryunousuke supplied. Abarai silenced him with a meaningful look.

"So I'm going to give you a piece of advice," he continued. "Don't, no matter what you see," he emphasized the word just as she had. "Don't go running up to just anyone you please claiming to see werewolf attacks. And don't, under any circumstances, claim to see Squad captains or members of the noble clans suffering from such afflictions. It's bad for you, and it's bad for everyone around you, understand?"

"No, I don't!" she cried, still terrified that what she'd seen could possibly come to pass. "Don't you get it? I'm trying to help you save a life before it's taken! At least go check the basement, please!"

Abarai sighed, and regarded her for a moment as he thought it over. Around them patrons were muttering worriedly, and Makoto caught whispers that it was a trap being laid to get a Vice Captain killed, and that she might really be an agent of someone called 'Aizen'.

Makoto hadn't the faintest idea who that could be, and so she kept her gaze firmly on the red-head standing before her, desperately willing him to believe her.

"All right," he said at last. "I'll go down and take a look. But," he pointed a finger right at her face. "You are going to go with me, and if I find that this is all some kind of prank, you're going to find yourself in a world of trouble, you hear?"

Makoto swallowed nervously and nodded. The idea of being trapped in a small space with a real, bona fide monster made her blood run cold, and yet she felt she could at least trust that she'd be safe with the fierce warrior by her side for protection.

"We'll go with you," a low, serious voice said.

Makoto turned to see two more shinigami, one a blonde and the other dark haired with a scar over one eye and a strange blue stripe and the number 69 tattooed beneath the other, both striding across the room.

"It's not a good idea to go into a suspected werewolf hideout without backup, and someone should at least keep an eye on her," the dark haired shinigami continued, nodding his head towards the medium. Abarai nodded.

"Alright then. Shuuhei, you should stay back with the girl, so you have more room to launch Kazeshini if we get attacked. Wabisuke's no good if Izuru's too far away to get a shot in," Abarai suggested.

The other two nodded and the four marched their way to the cellar door, Abarai in the lead. A motion from the fukutaichou's hand had the barkeep frantically fussing with his keys to get the door unlocked, and he and Ryunousuke were asked to stand guard and keep the patrons away while the cellar was investigated, or face arrest.

Cautiously, Abarai crept down the stairs first, a strange ball of light appearing in his hand as he crouched on the stairs and used it to illuminate the alcove beneath them, so no creature could reach through the steps and trip him. Once he was certain it was safe enough, he motioned to the blonde—Izuru, he'd called him—to follow, while the other—Shuuhei?—stayed with her at the top of the stairs, his physical presence alone a warning not to try to run.

Slowly and methodically the two shinigami searched the cellar, swords drawn and bodies tensed and ready to spring. Makoto's bodyguard likewise had his weapon loosened in its sheath, ready to draw at any moment.

"Where did you see this girl?" Abarai asked. Makoto pointed to the far corner, beneath the same small window she'd seen in her vision.

He sighed, and put his sword away. The blonde followed suit and they both came back up the stairs.

"Well, I don't know what you're up to, but there's nothing but bar supplies down there," Abarai said. Makoto was about to rebuke him for dismissing her when a murmur went up through the gathered patrons, and several masked shinigami stepped into the already crowded room. With them was a small woman with fierce eyes and short hair, wearing a yellow sash.

"Alright, what seems to be the trouble here?" she demanded.

Abarai, Izuru and Shuuhei all straightened a bit.

"Soi Fon Taichou, forgive my curiosity but what are you doing here?" Abarai asked.

The woman gave him a disdainful look. "We received reports that there's a woman causing disturbances by claiming she saw a werewolf attack. Even more serious is that those reports state she's accused your captain of being one of the Cursed."

Abarai nodded. "From what I gather she had some sort of premonition, and just to be sure we searched the premises. We didn't find anything."

Soi Fon looked at Makoto. "Is this her?"

"Yes."

The woman snapped her fingers, and two of the masked shinigami took hold of Makoto and bound her arms. "Hey! Wait!"

"Stop struggling!" Soi Fon snapped. "You're under arrest for causing an unlawful disturbance, falsely accusing a noble of a capital offense, and conspiracy to incite panic."

"Is that really necessary?" Abarai asked. "Whatever this woman saw, she's newly konsoed and obviously frightened. Wouldn't it be more appropriate to take her to the Academy or the Fourth Division where someone can calm her down and evaluate her?"

Soi Fon shook her head. "She's got to answer for the public disturbance at least. We'll let her cool her heels in a cell overnight, and then figure out what to do with her from there."

"Wait, no!"

Makoto's pleas fell on deaf ears, as she was dragged outside. A dark hood was placed over her head, cutting off all light and sound. The last thing she knew was the sensation of being lifted, before the oppressive fabric and her own panicked breathing caused her to black out.

Back in the bar, the patrons had begun to return to their seats, and Ichirou was getting swamped with orders to replace cold food. Amidst the agitated chatter, Renji plopped himself onto a bench, sighing unhappily and rubbing the back of his neck.

"Something bothering you?" Izuru asked, sitting next to him.

"Other than the fact that this wasn't what I had in mind when I said we should hang out?" Renji joked. Then he sighed again. "Nah, I just feel sorry for that woman. I don't like seeing people like that imprisoned when what they'd probably be better helped just sitting in a quiet room with someone to talk them down."

"I understand," the blonde nodded. "But since it's out of our hands we'll just have to hope Squad Two turns her over to the Fourth once she calms down."

"Not like we can ask Soi Fon Taichou to give her back anyway," Shuuhei remarked wryly. His friends chuckled.

"Very true," Renji agreed.

"Although," Shuuhei continued, mischievous glint in his eye. "If you ever visit the Living World and happen to see your captain howling at the moon, at least you'll have been forewarned."

Renji laughed outright. "Don't joke about things like that! You'll get us in trouble!"

A waitress finally came over to take their order, and the conversation turned to other things. The strange woman and her frightening claims were all but forgotten.

Unbeknownst to the three fukutaichou, all the way out at the edge of town, a young girl stood amongst the trees on top of a hill and stared longingly at the ramshackle housing below. People frightened her, and she knew she shouldn't go near them, but she was so tired of being alone. The forest terrified her, and she couldn't bear to stay there a moment longer. Not since that incident a few days earlier, when that horrible hollow had tried to eat her and she'd blacked out only to wake up later and find that the creature had been torn to bloody shreds.

No, the forest wasn't safe at all, so the only thing left to do was face her fears and try to find a place for herself among people.

Taking a deep breath, she gathered her courage and began making her way down the hill.

~*~ TBC…~*~

A/N: Whew that's a long first chapter, but I didn't want to give you all just a token OC and no Rokubantai hotness, lol. Next time- the death tally begins, and Squad Six is assigned the gruesome case. Hope to see you there!

Oh, and as always, please be kind and drop a review to let me and TDM (the muse) know what you think!