Disclaimer: I don't own Bleach or any Bleach characters. This fanfiction is for entertainment purposes only and no profit is being made.
Warnings: This fic will contain violence, gore, bad language, sex, a relationship that's abusive on both sides, and other mature themes. The main pairings are Rukia/Ichigo and Rukia/Byakuya.
….
Chapter 2:
Jushiro Ukitake fought the urge to sigh in frustration. Gin Ichimaru was viciously teasing Toshiro again, making the boy's eyes bulge with anger.
They were in the middle of a war council, with Byakuya, his generals, and advisors all gathered in one room. The sun hadn't quite risen yet, and more than one of them were yawning into their hands.
Toshiro Hitsugaya, whom they called a child prodigy, was offering up a possible battle strategy. He was too young to become an official military officer, but he was brilliant and surprisingly well read for a farmer's son. Early on in his life, he had been taken into Byakuya Kuchiki's service, much to his own pleasure and the displeasure of his family, who had lost a son and a farmhand.
However, no matter how talented Toshiro was, he was still just a boy, one who hadn't yet learned to develop the temperance that came with age. He was easily baited and quick to anger, something that Gin Ichimaru exploited with relish.
"As I was saying, before I was rudely interrupted," Toshiro said, "if Kurosaki manages to push us back further south, we must evacuate the 53rd district and send at least two battalions to make a stand there. The rocky terrain would be ideal for one of the formations suggested by Commander Ukitake-"
"I'm sorry, but which district was it that you said?" drawled Ichimaru, an exaggeratedly puzzled expression on his face.
"The 53rd," Toshiro replied through gritted teeth.
Ichimaru turned quizzically towards the hanging map, one so large that it spanned an entire wall and reached from floor to ceiling.
"You mean here?" he said. He pointed a thin finger at a spot on the map, above Toshiro's head. "But that's a terrible place to use the Commander's formations! Surely, you know that marshy land is-"
"It's a terrible place because you're pointing at the 25th!"
"Oh my, my. I suppose I am. Forgive me, Mr. Strategist, I'm not as familiar as you are with the more remote areas. Would you please do the honor of pointing me, then?"
Ichimaru's lips curved upwards into a sickeningly sweet smile, while Toshiro flushed.
"It's that area right there," said the boy, pointing upwards.
"Where?"
"Right there!"
Toshiro was straining upwards as much as possible without losing his dignity by rising to his toes or hopping up and down. His dilemma was obvious, as the 53rd was actually at the very top of the map, and Ichimaru seemed to be enjoying the situation immensely.
"I'm sorry, where? My dear boy, you're not making much sense."
"It's up there, you half-wit!" Unfortunately, even with the wooden pointer, Toshiro couldn't quite reach.
"Insulting your elders? Now that's a bit naughty, isn't it, 'Shiro? It isn't my fault that you don't seem to know your way around a map."
"You're the one insulting me!" Toshiro ground out. He was clutching the wooden pointer so tightly it creaked and threatened to break.
Jushiro fought back another sigh. The boy got worked up too easily, and Ichimaru was a scoundrel for taking advantage of that. Still, this was nothing. The smirking man had words like barbed arrows, sinking in and tearing flesh whenever he saw a weakness. This was just a light teasing, though it infuriated Toshiro well enough. The boy had yet to see the man's true viciousness, the bared teeth that could strip away any enemy's defenses and bring them down to nothing.
Thank goodness there wasn't a man like Gin Ichimaru working for the other side.
One of the other officers in the room stepped up to the map then, and jabbed the 53rd district with a loud thwack.
"The 53rd is right here, Ichimaru, as you well know. Stop antagonizing the boy. Stop wasting our time."
"Oh my, is that it?" said Ichimaru, putting on a act of innocent confusion. "Well, why didn't you say so, Toshiro? You could've just pointed it out to me and then we wouldn't have had to resort to harsh words. Ohhhhh, I see. You couldn't reach it, could you? Oh, how silly of me. I should have thought to offer you a footstool!"
"Keep your footstool!" snarled Toshiro. "In fact, why don't you just leave, if you have nothing better to do than make fun of me?"
"Gentleman, please," said Jushiro, raising his hand to stop their bickering. "We're all friends here-"
"He is NOT my friend!" Toshiro shouted.
"Yes, but we are all his Highness' advisors, and-"
"Well, I wish he wasn't," Toshiro said. He was nearly spitting with anger. "In fact, anyone else in the world would make a better advisor than Ichimaru. A beggar off the streets would make a better advisor! He's nothing but a low, two-faced-!"
Ichimaru interrupted this tirade with a lilting laugh. "My, my, 'Shiro. You look like you're angry enough to bite my ankles."
This roused several guilty chuckles around the room, and even Jushiro had to hold back the urge to laugh.
Ichimaru, more the scoundrel, had described Toshiro devastatingly well. At that moment, the child looked very much like an undersized dog, nipping helplessly at someone larger.
The thought occurred to Jushiro that this boy had once been engaged to Rukia Kuchiki, a deal offered to him by Byakuya Kuchiki to cement the youth's future in his employment. The betrothal was quickly broken off when it turned out that Toshiro Hitsugaya, unsurprisingly, had no interest in marriage and wouldn't for many years.
It was a bad match, Jushiro thought, whether anyone intended to go through with it or not. More specifically, he was no match for her, this prickly little boy whose eyes flashed with emotion far too often. Paired with Rukia Kuchiki, who exuded passion and ferocity in a glance, he would have either died of love for her or died of fury.
Out loud, Jushiro said harshly, "That's enough talk from you, Gin. And calm yourself, Mr. Strategist. We are not here to fight amongst ourselves."
"Indeed, Commander," said Ichimaru, facing Jushiro with that maddening smile. "You are not here to fight at all."
There was a gasp among those assembled.
It was a known fact that Jushiro's sickness had pushed him into an early retirement from combat. It was also a known fact that the Commander hated to be reminded of this weakness.
The people in the room, even Toshiro, looked on uneasily as Jushiro's eyes narrowed. He gave Ichimaru a cold, hard stare, one that told the younger man that Jushiro Ukitake wasn't so easily cowed or baited.
"Haha," said Ichimaru, putting his hands up in mock defeat. "I meant no disrespect, sir. You must forgive a poor, unfortunate joker like me for not knowing better."
"Forgiven," Jushiro said shortly. "Now, to the matter that was being discussed…"
He trailed off when Byakuya stood and headed for the door without a word.
"Lord Kuchiki? Where are you going?"
"I'm done here," said the Warlord, without turning around.
"But we haven't even finished discussing the 53rd! Lord Kuchiki, the reports say that we might be expecting an attack any day now and we need to work out a proper strategy!"
"I've heard enough. This meeting is over." Byakuya slid open the door and left.
There were a few indignant mutters among the generals as his white robe flicked out of sight. For a noble to turn his back on his subordinates, and leave without even formally dismissing them by name was a breach of protocol. Jushiro, however, was more concerned that there was work left to be done.
"Wait, Byakuya!" he called, and followed him out. He trailed Byakuya all the way to his private study and barged in, unannounced.
The Lord Kuchiki was standing at the window, looking outwards with one hand braced on the sill.
"What was the meaning of that?" demanded Jushiro, abandoning formality. "Come back. There are many more things we need to discuss."
Then, he heard Byakuya make a sound, a very low groan. Jushiro was all too familiar with it, and noticed that Byakuya was slightly shaking. His other hand was clutching his shoulder. Despite the front he put on, Byakuya Kuchiki was about to collapse.
The Commander instantly softened. "Is it the old war wound?"
The Warlord sighed and turned to face him. "I'm sorry, Willow. I'm afraid it is."
"I'll send for the physician immediately."
"No. No must know of this besides us. The pain will pass by itself."
"You must not push yourself too hard," Jushiro admonished, coming up to stand beside Byakuya. "If you died, then us Southerners would have no leader."
"I will not die yet," said Byakuya, fighting back the strain in his voice. Slowly, he eased the pressure from his shoulder. Underneath the heavy silk, Jushiro knew that there was a ragged black scar, the result of Kurosaki's "unstoppable" sword.
"On the day I got this," said Byakuya, "that boy slashed the air at a hundred paces. His blade never even touched me, but I was cut. It's been years now, and I still feel it, as painful as the day I was cut. How can it be that I still feel it?"
"I don't know."
He groaned again and Jushiro grabbed his arm, leading him to sit on the sofa.
"Damn this war," said Jushiro, troubled. "It seems that after all these years, all we've managed to accomplish is to outdo each other in cruelty, again and again. They raid our villages, we attack their supply routes. They take hostages and torture them, we take more and execute them without trial. They set our camps on fire, we send our spies to sabotage their ships, so that their sailors die screaming, trapped in a watery grave. They poison our water supply, we set rabid dogs among them, infesting them with disease."
"And now they have devised a new cruelty, a sword that cuts at a hundred paces," Byakuya finished for him. "We'll just have find something crueler that can stop it. Kido works, but only to a certain extent."
Jushiro moved to sit across from Byakuya, so he could look into the younger man's eyes. "A new weapon won't stop the war. Maybe it's time you listened to me about a peace treaty."
"No, Ukitake," said Byakuya, his voice harsh. "I've already told you my opinions on that."
"But think of the people! Surely you can see that-"
"I said, no. Maybe ten years ago would have been the time for peace, but now, that time is long past. Ichigo Kurosaki does not love peace. There is no point."
Jushiro sighed heavily. "So there's no persuading you?"
Lord Kuchiki didn't reply, but closed his eyes. They sat in silence for the next minute, Byakuya wincing every now and then, with Jushiro watching carefully for any sign that he should run for the physician.
"Will you go back to the council?" asked Byakuya eventually, his voice tired and soft.
"If you'd like me to, yes."
"Will you listen to what they have to say, then command them like I would? And then afterwards, will you come and tell me who said what, and how the rest of them responded?"
"Of course, Byakuya."
"Thank you. You know, Willow, sometimes, I feel like you're the only one I can truly trust."
Jushiro smiled at that, though he looked a bit pained. "I'm glad to hear that, Byakuya."
He stood to go, but before he could make it to the door, it burst open and a low-ranking guardsman charged in, dropping into a hurried bow.
"Your Highness! Commander Ukitake! I have been ordered yesterday to inform you when it would be time for Lady Rukia Kuchiki to depart."
"Oh, is it time already?" Byakuya asked wearily, getting to his feet.
"Well, the thing is, sir, she's gone!"
"What?" gasped both men.
"She's disappeared from her chambers. We've searched for her everywhere but found no trace!"
"Contact Lieutenant Abarai immediately."
"We did, Lord Kuchiki. But he's nowhere to be found either!"
"Then send a search party throughout the encampment and into the surrounding villages. Immediately."
"Yes, sir!" said the guard, who saluted and departed.
The two men looked at each other, stunned.
"Could they have eloped?" whispered Ukitake, eyes wide.
"No! Rukia wouldn't…"
But Byakuya trailed off when he realized that he never really knew what Rukia would or wouldn't do.
X
"Shibata!" Sergeant Ganju Shiba called out in his gruff voice. "Watch that back leg when you lunge!"
Rukia ignored him at first, then jumped when she remembered that she was the one being called out.
"Y-yes, sir!" she squeaked, and corrected her stance.
Her squad was in formation, completely synchronized in their movements as they practiced with their spears.
A shout and a stance. Parry left. Parry right. Another shout, and lunge.
She could hear the lad next to her panting with exertion. The sun was hot on the back of her neck.
Another shout and they repeated the motions. The sergeant was coming near her row now, scrutinizing every move, checking for weaknesses.
"Shibata!" he shouted, just as he reached her. She jumped again, wondering what was wrong this time.
"What did I tell you about that back leg?" said the sergeant, and whacked her with the butt of his own spear before she could respond.
With a yelp, she collapsed and banged her elbows on the ground.
"You're weak! One push and you're down. If someone jabs you like I did, fall on one knee and strike from the side. Fix that back leg! Another mistake and you're on kitchen duty tonight."
"Yes, sir!"
"Don't worry, Shibata," whispered Hanataro Yamada, who was standing to her left. "I'm on kitchen duty tonight too and I'll keep you company."
"No talking!" yelled the sergeant, then turned to the rest of the men. "Again!"
Rukia sighed and got up. She had to be more careful.
They had let her enlist as Yuichi Shibata, the son of a poor merchant. She faked a northerner's accent, and was prepared to say that she often traveled with her father to the south and therefore picked up some of the southern dialect, if she ever slipped up.
It was hot during the days, but she kept her scarf wrapped around her head, no matter what. In the barracks, she slept with nearly all her clothes on and was grateful that she wasn't a larger girl, as there would have been more of her to hide.
She never used the latrines or the smelly bathhouse that the rest of the men did, but would sneak off to the woods instead. It was rough, but she managed. And soon, she stopped washing as often as she used to. Everyone smelled of sweat, horse, and grime, and she got used to it.
She found out what it was to be truly exhausted, worked to the very limits of her endurance. Though she had studied swordplay and hand-to-hand combat at her brother's house, those lessons had always ended whenever shewanted, whenever she was slightly tired. It was exhilarating and frightening at the same time, how little control she had here. It was her commanding officer who decided when she was done, when she was ready to return to the barracks and heave herself into bed, when she ate, when she got up again in the morning for the training exercises.
The long marches, the hours of training, and the manual labor pushed her body to become stronger, leaner, more powerful. She knew hunger, not the miserable aching hunger from her pauper days, but a roaring hunger that came at the end of a day of hard, physical work.
The enlisted men in her squad ate like Renji ate, without caring how they looked as they buried their faces in their bowls, without caring how the food looked, if the vegetables were the right color or if the meat was cut right. She learned to eat just like them. And soon, she relaxed enough to laugh and talk loudly with them, as if she wasn't a noblewoman at all.
Day by day, her fingernails lost their pretty shape and her hands became calloused. She was sunburned and her skin lost the dainty whiteness that the ladies of her brother's court tried so hard to keep. But she was happy that she no longer needed to care about things like that. She was woman dressed as a man, and she had no need for white skin or pretty hands.
Unfortunately, she hadn't yet figured out a way to get close enough to Kurosaki or his sword. The Warlord rarely visited the enlisted men, preferring the company of his generals and friends. She knew he had his own living quarters at the center of the encampment, but it was heavily guarded at all times.
In her free time, she took to walking around alone, memorizing the lay of the land and trying to think of a strategy. It was on one of these walks that she discovered something tactically important. Climbing a tree, she looked out over the area and noticed that while the Southern side of the camp was virtually impenetrable, the northwest was nearly defenseless.
There were guards posted and watchtowers, but not much in the way of defense. Not too surprising, since the South was where Byakuya's troops would most likely attack.
She itched to draw a map of the area, and jumped down from her perch. To her horror, she landed onto Sergeant Shiba and brought them both tumbling down.
"Hey!" he grumbled, pushing her off and standing up. "What d'you think you're doing? Watch it, girl."
"I'm so sorry, sir!" she cried. "I didn't see you, I swear, and I was just climbing a tree for fun! I didn't mean to knock you down!" She bowed from the waist, but froze when she realized what he addressed her as.
"S-sergeant? Did you just…?"
"What? Call you a girl?" He spoke as if what she had done wasn't a serious crime. Casually, he bent down and dusted off his pants, not even bothering to look at her.
"B-but how did you know?"
"How could I not know?" he replied simply. "But don't worry. I'm sure your secret is safe where everyone else is concerned. I only figured it out because I'm smarter than most." He chuckled.
"Are you going to report me? Please don't! I'll do anything!"
She hated the way that fear crept into her voice, shrill and desperate. She hated that despite how strong she'd become, she could still grow weak with fear.
"Anything? I don't recommend you going around telling people that." He laughed at his own wit and waved his hand nonchalantly, as if her life wasn't at stake.
"Oh, don't look so worried," he continued. "It doesn't matter to me, as long as you can kill enemies when the time comes. Man or woman, the only people I don't want here are the ones who act all tough but then scream and blubber and piss themselves on the battlefield. You're not like that, I can tell."
He slapped her on the back with his meaty hand, making her stumble.
"You may be weak now, but you'll get stronger. You want to get stronger, I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm… but sir, I…"
A bell rang merrily in the distance, the sound that she had come to associate with warm food and companionship.
"Chow time," said the sergeant, smiling as if they had been talking of nothing more serious than the weather. "Go on, before it's all gone."
He gave her a shove towards the dining pavilion.
"Th-thank you, sir!" she said, and bowed to him before scampering off.
She was happier, after that day. Knowing that someone knew about her identity, and supported her, was a good feeling, a pleasant weight in her belly.
But at the same time, guilt gnawed at her conscience when she remembered that she was, in fact, the enemy. She was only playing a charade and one day, she would be back on the other side of the battlefield. She would be wearing her brother's colors and cheering for her brother's victory. What would the Sergeant think then?
"Harder, Shibata! You won't kill any Southerners with such a weak attack," he said in his gruff voice, during practice one day.
Her face tight with concentration, she tightened her grip on her practice sword and swung again at the dummy. Shouts echoed through the training grounds as each squad member swung theirs as well.
There was a loud crack as the Sergeant stepped beside her and struck her sword with his own. To her satisfaction, she didn't lose her grip.
"Hmph," he said. "So your grip's better. Now make your attack stronger. Like this!"
With a grunt, he stepped up and struck the dummy with a blow to the head. It shook and bits of straw landed on Rukia, who sneezed.
"Pretend that it's Byakuya Kuchiki himself," said the Sergeant. "Go for a killing blow."
Instead, she pretended that it was the youthful face of Ichigo Kurosaki on that dummy and landed a blow that was quite impressive indeed.
"Way to go!" cheered Hanataro Yamada, who was practicing not far away.
"Don't get cocky, Yamada! You're next. Show me what you've got!"
"Y-yes, sir!"
Rukia liked Hanataro Yamada. She and Hanataro called each other by name and whenever one of them was issued the punishment of kitchen duty, the other would always somehow do something wrong by the end of the day and wind up scrubbing dishes too. There was something inherently likable about him, though he was often bullied for his shyness and nervous stammering.
"My father is scholar," he told her one day, as they took their shift at guard duty. "But, it doesn't bring in much money. I enlisted so my family would have one less mouth to feed. The work is hard here, but the pay isn't bad, so I send most of it back to my family."
He blushed a little. "That's why I never have enough money to buy you a drink. I'll save some next time, so you won't always have to treat me to drinks."
She laughed, knowing that one of her hair brooches at home could have paid for 10 jugs of wine. He laughed with her, thinking that she was making fun of him and taking it in stride.
X
The bar was smoky and dark, and stank of stale liquor. Most of the men were sprawled out at their tables, drunk and mumbling.
Sergeant Shiba was smoking a pipe, and it had Rukia coughing whenever he blew smoke in her direction.
The higher-ups had given their squad a day off, and the Sergeant had invited everyone to drinks, at a nearby village.
"Are you going to finish that?" asked the Sergeant, pointing at her half-full cup.
"No, sir. You have it," she replied, and he took it from her, tipping his head back as he downed it in one go.
She looked around. No one seemed to be conscious enough to overhear them, and the bartender was busy wiping down glasses. She mustered up the courage to ask.
"Hey, Sergeant Shiba?"
"What?"
"I've been wondering… why have you covered for me all this time? Impersonating a soldier is a pretty serious crime, from what I know. I'm grateful, of course! But you must be putting yourself at risk too, if you're letting me get away with it."
He sighed and wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "Well, I think it's because I understand your situation."
Rukia froze for a moment, then realized that if he really knew who she was, he would have reported her without hesitation.
"Your family must have wanted a boy, huh?" he said, peering at her. "Or they already have a boy, and you're second best for not having a pair of stones. Typical, that kind of thing."
Rukia nodded, figuring that the best thing to do was just to go along with it. "Yeah," she said. "Typical. But how did you know?"
"It's the look on your face sometimes. Your resolve is stronger than that of most men in this army. You look like someone with more than a goal, more than love for your ruler. You look like you want to prove yourself. You want your son-loving parents and your brother to look at you and see you for what you can do. You want the kind of glory that you make with your own hands."
She frowned, lost in thought. Was he right?
"I know what it feels like," he said, staring glumly ahead. "I know how it feels to be second-best to your own sibling. My older brother, Kaien, was a war hero. He must have killed a hundred of those Southerner bastards. My sister Kukaku really looked up to him. When he died, it seemed like there was a hole in our family. I was the only brother she had left, but I think she never admired me as much as she did him. She never had as much confidence in me.
"This is why I joined Kurosaki's army. I wanted to prove myself, just like you're doing. I want Kukaku to look at me and see that I'm just as good as Kaien was. She's here, you know, as part of the Women's Division."
"There's a division for women?" Rukia gasped. "I thought it was forbidden for women to fight in the military."
"Not if you're in the Women's Division. But don't be fooled. The name might not be flashy, but the Division is made up of only the most elite fighters in the land. No one without the skill of a trained assassin can hope to join. The Division doesn't train soldiers; it kills enemies and that's that. A novice girl like you couldn't hope to make it there."
An elite women's fighting force? Did Byakuya's side know about this? She stored it in her memory, another scrap of precious information.
Ganju Shiba glanced sideways at her scarf-bound hair.
"By the way, you should chop some of that hair off. None of the men here have such long hair. You're more likely to give yourself away with that, and it can't be easy to manage either."
"No, I couldn't!" she said. "If it gets too long for regulations, then I'll trim it, but I want it to be long. I want to go home with long hair."
"Oh?" He grinned at her blushing face. "You've got a sweetheart at home you want to show off to?"
"S-something like that…"
She smiled as she imagined Byakuya's fingers running through her long hair. How she missed him! Was he missing her?
Sergeant Shiba grunted and downed another drink. "Well," he said. "I'll see Sis again tomorrow. The Women's Division is returning to base after their latest mission. And just in time, too. It's his Highness' birthday soon. There'll be a huge celebration for him."
"Oh?" Rukia's mind was spinning with thoughts. A celebration! Did that mean Kurosaki would leave his quarters? And maybe the guards would be off-duty as well, if there was such a big celebration. Would this be the perfect time to sneak into his rooms and see if she could find something?
"I think I'll turn in, Sergeant," she said abruptly, wanting to spend some time thinking her plan over. "Good night."
"Wait," he called, just as she was getting up. "After all that, you at least owe me your real name. I know it's not Yuichi Shibata."
She told him the only name possible, the one name that was perfect for this situation.
"Sir, my real name is Kiyone Kotetsu."
He nodded, eyes half-closed, and signaled the bartender for another glass.
She left him then, sitting alone. If she had known that Sergeant Shiba was a doomed man, she would have stayed a little longer. She would have talked with him, smoked with him, bought him another drink.
But her thoughts were full of other things that night, and she left him there, nodding sleepily into his glass.
X
Next day, there was a stir in the camp.
"They're here! They're here!" whispered the men, smiling wide.
Everyone gathered in a huge crowd as the gates opened, letting in a somber procession of armored women. They were dusty from the road, and looked weary, but there was almost a palpable feeling of danger around them. There was a collective sigh among the men, and Rukia, who had gone out of curiosity, was nearly crushed by those who were trying to get a better look.
The Division marched in, headed by a muscular, dark-skinned woman.
"That's Yoruichi Shihoin," someone said. "She commands the Women's Division."
But the one who caught her eye was the dark-haired lady who brought up the rear. Rukia gasped and pushed her way forward to get a better look. The hard, cold face turned towards her for a split second, and gray eyes widened in surprise.
Soifon!
Rukia had only met this woman a handful of times, but she knew that Soifon worked for her brother. She was the only woman Rukia knew that actively participated in the military. But Rukia always thought that Soifon was more of a strategist, not a fighter. And what was Soifon doing here?
Realization dawned on her as she remembered Renji's words. Something about a codeword: Suzumebachi.
Apparently, Rukia wasn't the only spy in Kurosaki's camp. And apparently, Soifon had recognized her. She bit her lip as the procession passed. What should she do? Should she find someway to contact her only ally?
It was only a short while later that Soifon answered that question for her.
That afternoon, Rukia was walking alone with her thoughts when suddenly, the woman appeared in her line of sight. Before she could react, Soifon grabbed her mouth and jaw in a bruising grip and slammed her into a nearby post.
Ow!
"Don't speak," hissed Soifon, eyes ablaze and looking absolutely terrifying. She looked around to check that they were alone.
"Don't say anything, except to answer my questions. What the hell are you doing here, Rukia Kuchiki?"
No one, who actually knew who she was, ever spoke to her that way. It was strangely exhilarating.
"I… I…" Faced with such a direct, angry question, Rukia found herself afraid to speak. "I'm s-supposed to be undercover. I wanted to… to…"
"Idiot! You snuck away, didn't you? You thought you'd be a hero? You thought you'd come and make some trouble, then go home and get a pat on the head from your brother? You have no idea how serious things are!"
"I…"
"No wonder I found Abarai skulking around in the woods! He's looking after you isn't he?"
Rukia gasped at that. "Renji's here?"
"I saw him hanging around the outside. He's managed to stay hidden for now, but if I saw him, then others can see him too."
Rukia felt her cheeks heating up in indignation. She was being stalked, the whole time! Renji obviously thought she couldn't take care of herself, and stuck around to watch her. The idiot! He was putting himself in danger as well!
"Don't give me that look," snapped Soifon. "You're not the one on a dangerous mission here. I am. You're not the one whose life is on the line. I am! If you cause trouble here, what d'you think will happen? They'll search this place high and low for any other sign of foul play, which will cause problems for me!"
"But I won't be any trouble! I won't even-"
"Damn it! You have no idea, do you? You have no idea what you've gotten yourself into. There are lives at stake here, not just yours and mine, but whole battalions of your brother's men who are relying on the information I sneak them. If that's compromised, we're done for!"
Soifon groaned in frustration and slammed her fist into the pole, next to Rukia's head. Rukia gulped and waited for Soifon to calm down, which she did after awhile.
"Go home, Rukia Kuchiki."
"I can't! I came here to do something and I can't go home with nothing to show for it!"
"Fine, then don't go home. I don't care what you do. I won't look out for you. That besotted idiot, Abarai, is doing well enough on his own. Just don't draw attention to yourself. Don't do anything stupid. And don't get in my way. If you cause problems that interfere with my mission, I will not hesitate to thrash you within an inch of your life, tie you to a horse, and send you back home myself. Understood?"
Intimidated beyond words, Rukia nodded.
She blinked and Soifon was gone. She didn't realize she had been holding her breath until it came out in a trembling whoosh.
There was a burst of soft laughter to her left. She turned her head to see a group of soft, pretty girls, walking across the training grounds. They were entertainers, dancers that were hired to put on a show for the men. They would probably dance for the birthday celebration.
An idea came to Rukia and, even though she was still covered in a cold sweat from her encounter with Soifon, she started forming a plan.
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