10-30-13 Update: I realized about a day and a half after I posted this that there isn't any real explicit content in this chapter. As a result of getting a follow from someone who is obviously a girl, I need to put it out there that this is a fucking depraved story of sex and... sex. Sure there will be some unimaginative plot of someone who hasn't read the manga in four years, but it's just a heads up.
Yoruichi clumsily crept through Rukia's last known location. Kisuke, ever the outwardly optimistic, had quickly grown from increasingly worried to frantic to full blown panic as the the Hōgyoku's container had vanished from everyone's radar. Everyone who mattered, anyway. Even the all-knowing, perfect enemy Aizen had not yet determined the seated officer's location. Which is why Yoruichi, who had been lurking around the Rukongai for the better part of the century, had been called in.
Kisuke had given the seated noble the trapped gigai a month previous, when a fight with an Adjuchas in the streets of Karakura had left her temporarily without power or communication. But in the space of three hours, an empty gigai had appeared in front of their shop, void of the Hogyoku or a trail for Yoruichi to follow. So she was tasked with canvassing the city in a vague attempt to find the missing jewel before Aizen made his move.
It was supposed to be a difficult chase to find an elusive target. But as Kisuke and Tessai's presence left the periphery of her sensory capabilities, her bones creaked under a massive presence that suddenly materialized around her. But Instead of fleeing back to Kisuke to report the energy spike, she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Realizing her breathing had immediately become labored, she began to Shunpo towards what she hoped was the epicenter of the anomaly, disregarding that it was very likely that she was about to pass out. But even in her streamlines transformed body, one she had grown accustomed to in her century long absence, her sleek body felt like it was moving through molasses as she struggled to remain nimble.
Almost like a moth to a flame, she drifted closer to the anomaly. What could cause such a blanket effect on the city? No matter how far she moved in any direction, the pressure did not seem to lighten up in the slightest. Pluses with Hollow holes meandered down the streets. Interacting with fellow pluses without malice or ill-intent. Anomalies within themselves. The city was filled with rich spiritual energies, yet no tainted presences were trying to claw their ways through the souls. The eerie tranquility unnerved her as she pushed on.
And then she saw, or rather felt him. Causally, a living man was walking up to the dead, talking to them or touching them. Delirious, she noted that he was completely unencumbered by the weighty power that strained the muscles in her body not to implode. Even the spirits that he had spoken to seemed to feel the extreme weight, though they bore it better than she. Only as he passed her, hidden as she was in an alleyway, did her legs and her vision blacken. He was the source. And yet somehow, he had remained an unknown variable. Kisuke had no idea he existed, and by the looks of it, neither did Aizen. His passive, unrestrained output of power dwarfed what she thought possible, completely dwarfing Yamamoto's Shikai output.
Ungraciously, her nose skidded across the asphalt, her face meeting the ground. Returning to her feet, she reminded herself of her mission. Which was to... find the girl. Right. Still disoriented, she drunkenly made her way down the street, pausing only to take large gulps of air.
Then another Reiatsu made itself known, no longer eclipsed by the monster who had nearly knocked Yoruichi unconscious by standing next to her. Swiveling her head to the right, the Shihōin heir eyed the innocuous looking house that stood there. It was faint, but a Shinigami's signature was detectable inside the house.
Having tormented Byakuya for many centuries, Yoruichi could describe with certainty what the man's spouse looked like. So as she peeked through the window, she was understandably shocked to see Hisana standing in the living room vacuuming. Silently slipping through the door, she realized that the woman was not in fact Byakuya's late wife, but instead Yoruichi's intended target. She was as Yoruichi had expected except for a few differences. The most glaringly obvious was the bunny tux.
Rukia had been candy wrapped into a sheer black one-piece leotard. Matching white gloves and heels with white cotton fur covered her extremities, while black rabbit ears drooped on either side of the girl's head. Other key differences were that the girl had somehow jumped to her mid-twenties and, Yoruichi realized with a start, was now a living human. Though the Shinigami Reiatsu was unmistakable, her soul had reattached itself to a genuine flesh and blood body.
But Yoruichi had not been a captain only for her sensory skills, but for her mind as well. From the posture that her target stood, to the tune that she hummed, Yoruichi could immediately deduce that either Rukia had become brainwashed into staying off the radar, or more worrisome, that she had chosen to stay.
All reports of the girl had said that she was overly polite, by the book Shinigami. Due to Kaien's death some decades prior, she had not ever deviated from the base skills that she had learned in the academy. So coupled with the still present, overpowering Reiatsu, Yoruichi was not prepared for the girl to confidently spin towards Yoruichi's location and spray catnip directly into her face.
Yoruichi yowled as the drug overtook her higher brain functions, her already battered mind surrendering her body to instinct, something that she had not succumbed to in centuries. With dilated eyes she strode forward, even as she watched the bunny girl pour knockout medication into a bowl. Zoned out, she patiently waited as milk and cream were poured into the tranquilizer ladened bowl. And she drank it all.
Only when the cocktail of medication and Reiatsu suppressors were deeply ingested did Yoruichi's mind finally take note of the man with bleached hair, who was standing with a twisted smile in the foyer. Even as instinct finally lost its hold, she found herself jumping coquettishly into his seated lap to curl up. And as his fingers tugged at the sweet spot at the base of her ear, her mind blanked, her leg twitched, and eyes shut as a content purr rumbled through her body. With coherency fading, the thoughts of her friends sunk into her subconscious. Without any preamble, she let herself go, surrendering herself to the ministrations of her new owner.
