"MATSUMOTO!"
Hitsugaya Toushiro sprinted through the tenth division's building, a stack of paper in his hand. It was by no means an unusual sight for the seated officers and soldiers, who had long ago learned when to take his actions seriously and when not. In fact, they probably knew it better than Hitsugaya himself, he sometimes thought.
Normally, they would stay out of the way, and that was that. The captain was not angry at them, if he was actually angry at all. They would not say where Matsumoto Rangiku was, and he would not ask them. It was not like it mattered, because everyone knew that you could not fit a sheet of paper between captain and vice captain whenever it actually counted.
Today, though, it was different. Hitsugaya was beyond furious, and the shaking officers did their very best to help him find his second-in-command, or at least a place far away from them. There was a fire in his eyes. This might have been what Aizen had seen when the two fought.
He found her in his office. Apparently, she had slipped in while he was out searching for her. Yet another waste of time he would add to her list.
"Yes, captain? What is the matter?" she said innocently enough. But the look in her eyes told him everything. She knew what he was angry about, and she was loving it.
"It's about your so-called 'report'," he said. "What on earth were you thinking?"
He slammed the stack of paper down in front of her, but she did not even look at it.
"I don't understand, captain. It was on time and very thorough. I thought you'd like it if I showed more initiative with the paperwork for once."
She wasn't even trying to hide her grin anymore. Sometimes, he could see why she and Gin had been close. There was none of that bastard's malice in her, but she sure loved playing with people. Specifically, her captain.
"It's all lies," he said, although he knew that he was just playing into her hands. Why couldn't she be like the other members of tenth division and cower at his rage?
"Now, that is a strong word," said Matsumoto. "I may have… embellished some things, but only to make tenth division look better. I did it for you, captain! All the other divisions are prettying up their reports, too, so we can't be left behind. I'll tell you what: How about we read through it together, and you point out any areas that are inaccurate, okay?"
Hitsugaya knew that he should have said "No". It was not like this text could be fixed. Matsumoto would have to prepare a new report, without any 'embellishment'. But for some reason, he hesitated. Actually, he had only read the first page, and even though he should have known better, he wanted to find out what else was in there.
Matsumoto saw his hesitation, and she knew how to interpret it correctly. He could tell by the way she grinned. Oh well, no use trying to back out now. If his vice captain really wanted something, then nothing would stop her.
"I'm going to regret this…" he mumbled as he started on the first page.
Too much smoke and not enough light. That was my office in a nutshell. I guess a poet would say that it was a metaphor for my entire life, but poetry pays even less.
It was a trite little thing, the office. A desk. A phone. Chairs for me and guests. On the door, a simple script read:
Hitsugaya Toushiro
Private Detective
A giant plus sign separated the two lines. It was the only bit of style I allowed myself in the room.
It had been a slow day. I'd agreed to take on one case of spousal infidelity, and I had handled a bit of research for a colleague on the East coast. Enough to keep the landlord of my back for another month. Now I was waiting to hear back from another contact, and thought idly about pouring me another, when she walked in.
An elegant coat over an elegant dress, with a neckline that would get her thrown out of sunday school. Long orange hair, the color of a beautiful sunset. A body with curves in all the right places, and a face that would give all the movie stars a run for their money. She was a woman who men would kill for, and in this town, that was not just a figure of speech. I had plenty of experience dealing with beautiful birds; they attracted problems like flames did with moths. But with her, keeping calm was real work.
"See? That's the kind of thing I mean," said Hitsugaya-taichou. "You turned an official report into a vehicle for praising yourself, there is no smoke in my office, and I'm fairly certain that I am not a private investigator."
"Details, captain. Nobody reads these reports that closely anyway. Did you like the logo?"
"The plus was a nice touch…" said Hitsugaya before he could stop himself. Damn it, he had lost this round.
"They told me you were the best" were her first words. „That's just what I need."
I chuckled. "What makes you think the best would work in a place like this? I'm happy for any custom, but I think some people didn't like you very much when they sent you here."
"Oh, don't sell yourself short, Mister Hitsugaya," she said. "I've done my homework. Others take more money and appear in the papers, and they deliver exactly what their client wants to hear, fact or fiction be damned. They do their best to spare a lady all hints of unpleasantness. I know a million of these men, and they can go to hell for all I care. What I need someone who isn't afraid to upset the wrong people, and who will not try to shield me from the truth. From what I hear, you are that man. And that is the reason why you're still only working in an office like this."
I nodded vaguely. She had hit all the right spots to butter me up, and I didn't like it. If a client tells you how great he is, he's typically wrong, which is easy enough to handle. If a client tells you how great you are, he's lying, and he'll try to lie some more. I was going to have to be careful with this one.
"Sweet words ain't getting you a special deal, honey," I said carefully. "Now what's the job?"
She began rummaging in her purse. It was an elegant red design, probably bought in a little store somewhere in Karakura, Japan. Practical, too, and it might come in handy in a fight. Not cheap, but buying this had definitely not been a waste of time and money, no matter what some people might say.
Finally, she fished out a photograph of a young man. He had light hair, most of which was in front of his left eye, and a sorrowful expression on his face.
"Kira Izuru", she said. "A good friend of mine. He disappeared last night. I want to make sure that he doesn't get in trouble, and if he did already, I want to get him out."
"Any particular kind of trouble?" I asked, taking the picture. "That was quite a speech for a simple missing friend. More appropriate perhaps for a lover. Or is there any other reason you came to me and not the police? Don't get me wrong, I don't mind your dirty laundry, but it's good to know things like that up front. So if there was anything you forgot to mention…"
"Do you accuse all your clients of lying?", she said, but from the look on her face, she didn't seem to actually mind. "What does that get you?"
"Any good PI assumes that all his clients are lying. I just say it out loud. What this gets me… well, you said it yourself." I made a vague hand gesture at the entire room.
She laughed, for a second. Then she moved in closer across the desk, so that I could smell her perfume. Her voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"Right until the start of the war, he worked with Ichimaru Gin."
A shudder ran over my back. The war was a distant thing for most of us. There were the posters of old man Yamamoto, saying "I want you for Soul Society Army", and the papers kept asking whether we should attack now or attack later, when we were stronger. There were guards at every corner. War was in the air, but it was a background smell, and we liked to keep it that way. Just one more day pretending that peace was possible, one more week, one more month, one more year. Her revelation brought to mind that for many unlucky souls, the war was already going on. Even here, in our cities.
"He was cleared of all charges, of course. Ichimaru probably betrayed him the most. But the police got curious, and if they learn that he disappeared, direction unknown, they may get ideas…"
I could imagine. Another traitor, following in Aizen's footsteps. The papers would love it. And the police would do their best to show that they could deal with spies by shooting first and asking questions later. Whether he was innocent or guilty wouldn't matter one bit to any of them. But it mattered to her, and whether I could hide it or not, it mattered to me. Too many people had been taken in by the city, trusted the wrong people, and then been spewed back out when they were no longer useful. I thought about a certain black-haired friend of mine. It was a damn shame.
"So will you take the job?", she asked.
"I'm all yours," I replied. "For $35 a day plus expenses."
"Now this part I like," said Hitsugaya.
"The appeal to your ideals, right?"
"No, the idea that I charge you money for wasting my time."
He decidedly ignored the red purse his vice captain held in her hand.
"Anyway, you know Soi Fon has access to these reports, right?" he continued. "I'm sure she'll love hearing your take on Seireitei's finest. Especially after you begged me to keep her out of this, for precisely this reason. Why go through all that trouble? You should just skip this and write straight that we found Kira in…"
"Shush, Captain. We don't want to spoil the ending, do we?"