Cosa Nostra

"Kuchiki Rukia, thirteenth division, sniper," the man, wizened and old lifted his eyes from the small brown file to gaze upon the young man with the shock of white hair.

Juushiro Ukitake smiled and nodded, it was his little protégé after all, a little genius that little girl, she had began her training when she had been a wee child, not even twelve and by the time she had been fourteen, she already had a name, Ice bitch. You couldn't help but to proud of that.

"The thirteenth division is not the sort of division which engages… are you sure about this Ukitake?" Yamamoto questioned, his brows knotting with the lines of his face.

Ukitake smiled, waving his hand towards his superior officer, "You mean that we typically are Gotei's underground sources, that we are weak?" The man's eyes hardened, the brown irises flashing yellow under the dim light.

The old man, looked benignly at the younger man in front of him. Placing the file on the small table, he faced his student, a hint of a smile lingering on his lips, the subtle indication of the bloodthirsty killer he had been thirty years ago. Tenderly fingering his cane, Yamamoto savoured the tension in the room. How long had it been, he wondered, since he had felt his student's calm disregard wash over him. Ukitake was a dangerous man, he smiled, patting himself on the back for a student well taught.

"If you regard her so highly Juushiro," Yamamoto smiled, "I am highly inclined to use her."

"You will not regret it," Ukitake replied, his face crumpling into it's old pleasant grin. "Rukia, she's one hell of a fighter." He continued, the sharp and harsh quality disappearing upon the mention of his subordinate. Reaching forward, he picked up the earthen teapot which lay on the table and poured out it's contents into the glass of his mentor.

"More tea, Yamamoto sensei?"

The old man sighed, luxuriating in the bitter scent of tea, Chinese Puer tea, top quality. Ukitake always did get the best. Nodding faintly, he pushed forward his glass and tried to enjoy the calming effects of the tea over his frazzled nerves, if the Kuchiki could not get it done, he would get it done himself even if that meant tying up all lose ends.


Kuchiki Rukia wiggled her toes. This was nice, she sighed, lying under the sun, doing nothing, daydreaming her life away, after how long did she really get the opportunity to do this sort of thing? Ukitake no matter his appearances or his illness was a workaholic and kept her working day and night, doing paperwork, she shuddered, no one should ever have to face the evil of the vile contraption. At least she wasn't in the sixth division, the business side of Gotei would have meant more paperwork and there would be Byakuya nii-sama to deal with, Rukia plucked a daisy out of the grass twirling it in her hand, bad news for Renji.

People passed her, couples holding hands, mothers with their children, joggers and walkers, Rukia closed her eyes, this was what it felt to be absolutely normal. No paperwork on which Irish gang killed which member of the new Russian mob which had sprung up, no information on who was dealing what, no files on the weapons which the Arabians were using. Hell, she could even forget about her guns, just a normal Japanese girl lying in the sun in a white dress, like in those sitcoms. Rukia sighed, thank god for her Sundays off.

Her phone rang, the shrill mechanical noise which constituted for a ring tone filled the air and Rukia snapped, immediately out of her reverie. Shit, she muttered, as she rummaged through her bag, digging through the pockets to find the offending contraption. She never had wondered what the ringing meant, her personal cell was always on viberate and her work phone ringing meant either one there was more paperwork to be done and more slimy bastards to threaten for information or weasel it out of or two there was someone to kill.

Finally finding the small cellphone, she checked the caller id twice, a district five number, excellent, that meant it was friendly. Snapping the phone open, she efficiently replied like a well-rehearsed secretary, like Ise Nanao, "Kuchiki Rukia."

After a series of nods and muttered affirmations, she spoke.

"I'll meet you at Checkpoint Charlie in an hour."


Out of all the checkpoints, the least one Shiba Kaien liked was Checkpoint Charlie. Why? Simply because it was loud, it was dirty and there were people. Not that Kaien was a misanthrope of the first degree, he actually relished attention and company. People at a checkpoint meant that it was easier to intercept messages, packages, it was easier for ignorant or even worse informed people to hear them and it was also easier to risk a shootout which would mean that Legal would come in and then would he get hell from Ichimaru, that bastard.

The dark haired man in a white shirt and blazer sat outside the Karakura Chow Place, situated just by the only amusement park in Karakura, which made it all the more crowded on a Sunday. His head ached from the noise, the heat and the strain from crowd watching, his eyes flicking from face to face inconspicuously, of course he had been doing this for too damn long after all, searching for Rukia.

Rukia was late, Kaien checked his watch for the umpteenth time, five more minutes and he would leave, feeling for the slight bulge in his jacket, he urged himself to relax. Five more minutes, he told himself, five more minutes before I call Ukitake to abort the entire thing.

"Kaien-dono," Kuchiki ran towards him, her hair flowing behind her like a short train of night. Grinning, his trademark grin, Kaien ran his fingers through his thick shock of hair and rose to meet his old student.

Short with pale skin and the largest eyes he had ever seen on a girl, Kuchiki Rukia looked the part of an average school girl. Hell, she even looked like a middle school kid if she tried, no one would ever have thought she was twenty two or even a ruthless, cold blooded mercenary. After nobody was scared of short cute little girls and no one could doubt those large indigo eyes which screamed innocence and could easily flood with tears just as long as Rukia willed herself to. And that was why little Rukia was his pride and joy, the ultimate killing machine.

"Kuchiki, you're late. What did I tell you about punctuality? You're only punctual if you're five minutes early." The dark haired man lectured her, his face contorting into an expression of annoyance which barely masked the relief he felt at seeing her, as he began to ruffle her little head. In this business when you weren't or time early it meant that either you were alive or dead and Kaien was just almost sure that Rukia was buried in a shallow grave, after all, the girl was never late. Damn Kuchiki perfection.

"I'm five minutes early, Kaien-dono," Rukia smiled wryly, showing him the face of the small watch she wore, "Two fifty five, five minutes before time."

Kaien glanced at the garish numbers which lit up the watch face, blinking red, and glanced back to his own watch, it had stopped. Well fuck, this was peachy, how was he going to run a fucking business with a stopped watch and the worse part was, he didn't even fucking realise it.

Kaien swore again and Rukia grinned as she watched her old teacher curse about inaccurate watches, going on a seemingly endless tirade about twenty first century time-keeping practices and how watches had been better back in the 1990s. She cleared her throat, staring at her mentor meaningfully until he understood the subtext of her actions, which took rather long due to the absorbed nature of his rant.

"Oh yeah, sorry about that Kuchiki. Here's the file, that's one little bugger they've got over there."

"Kurosaki Ichigo? Why him? He's just another frat boy," Rukia remarked cautiously, her brows knotted as she saw the image of the scowling boy with the unruly mess of orange hair, so bright it practically glowed. The colours people dyed their hair these days, Rukia thought disdainfully, shaking her head with the old grace her brother professed, how garish.

"It's that Kurosaki Isshin, he's under witness protection but Ukitake found out about it somehow. You remember good old Suoh Kishimoto don't you?"

Rukia nodded, remembering the grizzled Kishimoto who loved his sake and a good cigarette, he used to give me sweets, she thought back to her childhood when her brother had been a business man not part of the mafia. Kishimoto had been Byakuya's associate, foreign relations, he used to tell her, tweaking her nose and handing her a lollipop, lemon flavoured always lemon flavoured, her unspoken favourite flavour.

"He disappeared about fourteen years back," she replied softly, she remembered liking Kishimoto, who had carried a picture of his wife in his wallet, Masaki's my everything, he used to tell her, I'll do anything to keep her say.

"Well he squealed on us after his wife got gunned down in a shootout with Sugietsu, so after years of hunting him down, Ukitake, that creepy bastard, found him somewhere in Tokyo."

"So why him?" Rukia pressed, interested by the sudden plot twist, "I thought Suoh Kishimoto was dead."

"Well, Yamamoto wants to tie up all lose ends and that includes Kurosaki Ichigo, Kishimoto and his wife died when the boy was eighteen and as for his siblings well, they have all been targeted,"

"Targeted?"

The man glanced out of his reverie back at the little girl, disgruntled, pulling a hand to smooth the unruly shock of black hair, he forced himself to look at the girl. He always did hate being the bringer of bad news.

"Kurosaki Yuzu, that girl was killed two years back, car crash, which if you asked me, stank of the Fullbringers. While Kurosaki Karin, that girl she's a lucky one, two accidents, she's been shot twice but she's still alive and kicking, the worst she got away with was a broken rip and a fractured arm. Either way they're kids they know nothing unlike Kurosaki," Kaien smiled, the girl was a fighter and she wore her hair almost like Rukia, he had seen the pictures. "Information is all in the files," he added helpfully.

Rukia frowned, as she poured over the statistics of the boy in front of her.

"So just take care of the boy, his sister knows nothing and it would look bad if they both died," she stated, calm and composed, as she pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, glancing at her mentor.

"Just get his entire database of information and everything in his house needed to find out about Kishimoto, that's all. Do not kill the boy."

Rukia raised an eyebrow, "I cannot kill him?" she asked. "Then how the hell do I get the information?"

Kaien averted her gaze, instead pulling out a pack of cigarettes after having fumbled around the pocket of his jack for a while, he was feeling nostalgic already, all this talk about the past. And he hated talking about old friends like this, they weren't just targets anymore, he sighed. Shoving a cigarette into his mouth, he lit it with gusto and sucked in the nicotine, breathing in it's heady scent, this was a good way to relax, he decided, smiling wryly.

His cute little student frowned at him, Kaien's grin widened and he closed his eyes, Rukia never did accept his smoking habit, another thing she probably picked up from Byakuya, that little stick in the mud.

"Well Kuchiki this ain't you typical kind of assignment, you're supposed to protect the boy."

Rukia blanched, this was different… "He has information on the whole of Gotei so why the hell just not finish him off," she glanced at the area around them, looking for stationary figures amid the frenzy of children and parents following tugged hands. "The dead don't talk," she added, "you taught me that."

"As much as I would like to tell you everything," Kaien yawned, the cigarette tipping dangerously out of his mouth, "I know nothing, but what I do know," he murmured smiling conspiratorially at the girl in front of him, "is that Yamamoto is a devious old bastard and Ukitake is a dangerous man and together, you have the two most twisted minds thinking up this extremely twisted plan. Don't worry sport, just follow the information and never question orders."

Nodding, Rukia picked up the file and stuffed it into the bag which she carried, before leaning over and kissing her mentor on the cheek, the kiss of a sweet little daughter. Kaien rolled his eyes at the pseudo act of affection, just another dimension of the little cruel killer he created. He watched as Rukia moved off into the distance, a little cute school girl, with a little cute rattan bag, who walked like she was dancing. There was a slight bulge in her sleeve, he noticed and smiled, good girl, not leaving home without protection.

Breathing out the steady stream of smoke, he picked the cigarette out of his mouth and tapped it on the table, watching as the ash daintily fluttered out rimmed red by glowing cinders. How long had it been, he wondered, since Rukia left home without her guns and her knives? Closing his eyes, he tried to remember but could not.